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My daily personal blog based on prompts from Blog City. |
This began as my first blog for WDC . Now, after a few weeks of being on this great site and learning my way around, I'm able to give voice to this blog. Please be kind as you read through my first attempts at making myself heard.
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| Imagine a long coat, imagine the pocket of that coat, imagine what is inside the pocket... oooohh noooo... You are being followed aggressively...keep in mind all of the above details what are they going to discover when they get to you and grab your pocket. Surveying the crowded thoroughfare, Leona began to have second thoughts about her role in all of this. She needed the money; her brothers needed to be released from that hell hole that was called a prison; her sisters...God only knew where her sisters were...needed a way home. Thinking of her siblings and the predicament that her family was in brought sudden tears to her brown eyes. She sniffled unexpectedly drawing the attention of a small brown man selling spices from a kiosk on the dusty avenue. He looked almost sympathetically at Leona. Leona averted her eyes and proceeded into the crowd. She didn't have time for sentamentality. |
Prompt: What books do you plan on reading this summer? I'm going to consider that my summer starts on June 1, and I've already read two books: The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry Dance Sisters by Alan Clay Other books on my list for the summer include... The Crusades by Thomas Asbridge (I began that this morning, but then got sleepy and fell asleep) Extreme Productivity by Robert C. Pozen (I'm sure that he's going to tell me that if I want to be more productive, then I can't take naps in the middle of working) Just Kids by Patti Smith I'm sure that there will be additional items for the month of June as I'm a fast reader. The Crusades is going to take me about 10 to 12 hours to read, so I'm not doing that in one day. I haven't decided on my books for July yet, but there will be at least five for the month. |
| Prompt: Life is strange. Like: Did the skipper of Gilligan's Island rescue you when you wondered off from your mother when you were four years old in Tucson, Arizona? Did a big bright star hang around your house two weeks before Christmas every year for years? These things happened to me. Do you have a story like these? I want to hear about them. Yes, I do have a story about a strange event in my life, but I'm reluctantly to tell it. It seems kind of childish now that I make an attempt to write about it. I suppose that all strange events in one's life are like that...they seem miraculous until one is asked to talk about them. I can't remember the title of the movie, but when my now-twenty daughter was about fifteen she and a friend watched a horror movie. It scared them tremendously, and they swore that it was the scariest movie that they had ever seen~and I needed to see it. I agreed to watch it with them. Within the first few scenes, I became snarky and was laughing sarcasticly at the plot, the premise (that it really happened), and the horrible acting. The girls saw the same silliness that I did when I watched it and pointed out the flaws in the story. Both admitted later on that it really wasn't that scary afterall. My point? Strange things are only strange until someone points out that they're not really strange or until you realize yourself that there is a perfectly logical reason for the event. Such is my case. I still remember the event~I can close my eyes and be in my bed in Fort Riley, Kansas~and I can remember what I asked for (a sign from God that he really existed~how presumptious of me) and the response (paper dolls flew off the top of a dresser). I promised God that I wouldn't tell, but I've broken that promise many times~God knows that I'm not good at keeping secrets. That is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me that I can associate with another world or realm. There have been some disturbing things that have happened to me that I've never told anyone about and never plan to. Some things are better left unspoken. |
| Prompt: “When you’re awake, you know you’re awake. But when you aren’t, you don’t know you aren’t. The question is, how do you know you exist?” by Maria Popova in Brain Pickings Write whatever you wish about this, through any form, style, genre, fiction, non-fiction or poetry. How do I know that I exist? There has always been this conflict between the human need for self-awareness: Why am I here? What is my purpose? and the reality of never being able to prove that I am real or self-aware. Albert Camus referred to this as "the absurd." I'm thinking more along the lines of "absurd tragedy." Camus went on to say that our efforts to find inherent meaning in our lives will ultimately fail, but that we must continue to look for meaning in our lives. And this introduction leads me to my answer: I do exist. I know that I exist because I am trying to find my purpose as I have always been trying to find my purpose. I learned of existentialism in high school, and I knew then that I was real. The folks around me are real also. They exist. It would be so egotistical of me to believe that I don't exist, yet I am the center of my universe. The universe is meaningless. We are...that is it. We are simply cosmic beings in a cosmic universe that has no end. My version of this world will end with me, just like my dad's version of the world ended with his death. If I didn't exist, how would I have memories? Believing that memories are shades of a past life are a bit presumptious about our importance in things. I have grown past the idea that I am that important. I used to believe that it was my role/job to make the entire world happy. I now know that it is impossible. Each of us is real...we exist...therefore, we are responsible for our own happiness. Or lack of. This leads me to a thought about the Constitution (or was it the Declaration of Independence?)~we have the right to pursue happiness; no one guarantees us the right to happiness. But what if our search for happiness trods upon someone else's right to the pursuit of happiness? I suppose that is a topic for another blog. *I just looked it up~it's in the Declaration of Independence. Thank goodness for Google. |
| Prompt: May 31 is Walt Whitman’s birthday. He wrote: ““I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.” And he also said: “The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing.” When it comes to writing or reading poetry or life in general, what do you think of his above quotes? Empathy is such a strong sensation. It is good for both the victim and the caregiver. Being empathetic means putting yourself in that person's shoes because you have experienced that feeling before. Many folks confuse sympathy with empathy. Until last October, I had never experienced the death of a parent. While I was able to sympathize with those who had lost a parent, I didn't truly know what it felt like. I could only offer my condolences. I had no words, no voice, as to make my feelings truly known to that person. I now can offer a heartfelt response when someone is confronted with a personal loss. As a teacher in the public school system, I've been teaching kids with ADD and ADHD for years with no true understanding of how it impacted that child and his family. My son was diagnosed with Torette's Syndrome and ADD while in the third grade. I became a better teacher because of that diagnosis. I was able to better empathize with those students and their parents. I knew what they were going through on a daily basis in the public school system. I teach writing. Because I write myself, I'm able to give expert advice to my students. I show them my own attempts at different pieces. I explain to them how I, as a writer, work through a writing problem. It makes me more credible to be able to say that I am one of you while teaching. How does this quotation relate to poetry? How can you write with such emotion without being able to close your eyes and feel it too? Writers must write what they know or the prose and poetry will ring false. We must gather our own experiences in order to fling them onto the page. There are certain topics~ideas~that I could never write about as I have no experience with them. I have no passion. My heart just isn't in it. I think that's why I can't write certain short stories, I just don't enjoy reading that category. To ask me to do otherwise would be pointless. How do we know what Whitman really meant? We don't. Like the poet, the reader of poetry must take away his own meaning of the words. Whitman had different experiences that I have had. His experiences as a man are so juxtaposed against those of mine as a woman. We mush understand words and poetry and experiences through our own ideas and use our own voice to express our understanding~or our lack of understanding. |
| Sunday Morning Coming Down! That is a line from an old country song...Saturday nights are filled with such sin and debauchery and it takes a slow Sunday morning to get right again. I no longer get it loose on Saturday nights. My Friday and Saturday nights are much the same as all of the other nights. I go to bed early~before nine-thirty usually. My two furry family members wake me up early so I tend to get in a full day. I think it was Mohammad Ali who said that if we're the same person that we were twenty years ago, then we haven't grown. Or maybe it was Mike Tyson. See what getting old does to you? Tomorrow is my youngest's birthday~he will be seventeen. Are you thinking of that Abba song? Or was it Janice Joplin? Or perhaps it was neither. He is an old soul in a young body and does not celebrate birthdays. He likes no fuss over anything. He's not even sure that he will go to his own high school graduation. He's a loner. He's got a few select friends, but we've never had to worry about him going out partying with a large group of underage drinkers. He and his dad are going shopping for new tennis shoes, some hiking pants, and a rain jacket as he is heading to Big Bend National Park this Friday to hike and canoe in the park.That is the sort of thing that he likes to do. I'm not sure if my daughter has to work today or not; she usually does have to work on Sundays, so I'll probably be alone for most of the day. I really do like being alone (my son takes after me) because it gives me a chance to write and read. I've got a FIVERR gig that I need to complete anyway, so I can work on that. I will also work on several posts for ad-revenue sharing sites as well as writing on my blogger. I've got plenty to keep me busy. It's a good thing that my husband does the housework or it would never get done. Speaking of housework, my hubster is cleaning the bathroom as I write this, and then he said that he's going to settle down to pay bills. By then, he and the male teen spawn should be about ready to go shopping in town. While the hubster is using the computer, I will try to work on that gig. I hope today finds everyone blessed and good karma floats your way. Remember though, you get what you give. |
| What is the point of a blog? I was reading someone else's blog entry, and she asked the question: Should blogs be put together into one book. I have another blog that I write that is just for curriculum and lesson plan ideas. The goal is to someday have enough for a year's worth of lessons that I can publish in one piece. I would make definite revisions though so that they flowed better. Most of my blogs here and other places take the role of daily diaries or personal journals. They have no cohesion, no flow, no fluency, no togetherness. I wish I could make them flow together better, but that would somehow defeat the purpose of my reason for writing a blog. I want my blog to be a place where I can rant, rave, organize, think about, ponder, and put forth ideas without having to worry about all of the basic qualities of writing...although I do still pay attention to spelling and basic grammar, usage, and mechanics. I am a writing teacher for goodness sake. Today I have been pondering on whether to ask my boss for a transfer to another department. I've taught reading, English, and writing for twenty-nine years. I need a change. I would really like to teach history. Thirty years ago, I got two degrees: one in English and one in history. It just so happened that I got my first job teaching seventh grade English, and I've been in middle school English Language Arts the whole time. I will send her an email after the 4th of July laying out my reasons why I need a change. Today, I managed to read two books and write two book reviews~all before eight this morning. I also posted articles on all of my revenue-sharing sites and explored WDC a wee bit more. I've still got several bits of exploring to do before I feel really comfortable with this site. There is just so much to do here. I've requested to get emails from Blog City~I'm not really sure what that is, but I want to have more folks read my blogs and other pieces of writing. One of my personal rules for writing on sites is that for every post that I write, I read and comment on three. So, I'm off to read and review for a while. |
| Friday afternoon in Middle Tennessee. Today has been fairly productive. I have published on several sites today. For the most part, the pieces are a good representation of my writing style. I still feel like I waste time, and I need to find that hole in my schedule. I want to make sure that I update my store. I don't want the same products in both. I want each one to be unique in what I am selling. I wanted to explore this site more today. I still have time for that today. The laundry was partially completed. The dishwasher was emptied. I don't know if Thomas did his chores or not. I need to type up all of my books so that I can get rid of the books. If I type things up, then it is so much easier for me to read. I need to write the lessons for next year. I need to look at what I have so far. I need to think about what I am going to read. I need to plan my writing for tomorrow. I can outline all of it. I need to go into Evernote to work on those pieces. I need to read more on this site to know what other folks are writing. I really need to explore the contests. I have so many ideas that it is difficult for me to organize all of it. |
| Well, I believe that there just might be peace in the world after all. Today was the last day of school for the students. They don't realize that teachers anticipate the end of the school year more than the students do. It's a wonder that the teachers don't knock the students down as they run for the door. I've gotten a great start on my curriculum for next year. I'm being very specific even about the lessons that I'm teaching. There is still just too much to cover. It's alsow somewhat of a conundrum to know what I should cover in the beginning. Everything seems equally important. What will remain consistent is that the students will have a reading and/or writing task every single day. It will not be about me. I need to get them in the groove with writing. In fact, that needs to be one of the lessons. How do I get into the grove of writing? Perhaps I should call it the writing zone. We need to write everyday. They will ask, "What do I write about?" That needs to be a lesson with that question? What are we calling them? Our guiding question. The students will keep a table of contents and keep their lessons in order. They need to organize their notebooks somehow. I will need to keep one myself. I can put all of the lessons in it. The overview is going to be a great thing. I'm thinking that I will keep the notebook chronologically from first (back) to last (front). I will try to remember to get that big notebook from the classroom. These will be my lessons for this summer. I can make the lessons and the presentations for them. I've got plenty of worksheets and reteaching worksheets for me to look at and pull ideas from. It is getting late; I'm thinking that I will go and take a bath. I then can settle down to read. I really need to organize my day tomorrow. I've got quite a bit that I want to acccomplish. Perhaps if I set my writing goals on Persona Paper in the morning that will motivate me to go further with it. I love the quotations on the McClure webpage. |
| Monday evening. Four days to go. As the little engine said, I think I can. My students will be reading a graphic novel about Constantine the Great tomorrow. Afterwards, they will write an essay about how he changed Christianity. It is pretty deep. Most of my students will do just fine with it, but a few will act like it is damaging their psyche. Grades are due by Wednesday afternoon. I have got a truckload of work to do. I will need to work diligently to get it all complete. Again...I can do it. The clouds burst open and dropped a bucket today. I managed not to get too wet. I went to the grocery store. Tonight, I fixed taco salad for supper. It was okay. I am getting bored just writing this. I am too tired to spruce it up. I am afraid that I must head on to bed. I am tired. |
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