%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Bare and uncensored personal expression. Beware!!! |
|
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "This is pretty much what journals are all about, at least to me. I knew as I wrote them that even though they provided an excellent place for brain (and heart, and psyche) dump, they were mainly a map of me." --- Colleen Wainwright "Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it." --- David Sedaris "Please write again soon. Though my own life is filled with activity, letters encourage momentary escape into others lives and I come back to my own with greater contentment." --- Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey "In giving of myself onto these pages every day I allow myself to write regardless of the depth and meaning. I share myself with others without fear of recrimination for these are my thoughts, my feelings and my very being, and there are non who's opinion of me matters more than my own." --- Rebecca Laffar-Smith   The Writer's Round-About |
| Went to sleep with the blog not done last night. *blushes* Yeah I know, very naughty of me but I had plans that lead me to midnight and then just when I was going to log off and crash a friend needed me so it wasn't until more like 1AM that I managed to sleep. Yet another late night. I swear all these late night are going to catch up with me at some point. I feel like I got quite a few things accomplished yesterday. I have a hovering sense of accomplishment which is very nice to feel considering a lot of the time I feel like I'm getting nothing done. Reflecting however I can't bring to mind all the things I accomplished. I made a bunch of signatures for friends of mine and I'm hoping to chase up their image numbers and link to them all from a static item so I can show them off. Either that or upload them in my own port as an example of what I can do when I put my creativity and Paint Shop Pro together. *perves at the images again with pride* I'm putting pressure on myself to think of something interesting to write about today but there isn't a whole lot coming to mind. I used to think I'd keep this journal for my writing endevours but I came to realize that my writing is so deeply interwoven in my life that I can't keep the two separate. When I'm not writing I'm facing reality wishing I was writing. Well, some of the time. *chuckles* There are occassions when I'm away from the words and completely in the moment with what I'm doing. I recently bought calenders and diaries to tide me through 2007. Calenders cost an extraordinary arm and leg but I got some with beautiful pictures. One in particular has a soft purple cover and sets out each day to a page with lots of lines. I've decided to make it a Poetry Journal with each page designed to hold my 'poem of the day'. Part of me wants to begin already but it's not like the dates start in November or December. January 1st will be my first entry there. I guess that doesn't give me an excuse not to write a poem a day prior to then. I wrote one on Thursday while I sat waiting for my mother to finish what she was doing on the computer so we could go shopping together but I'm undecided if I like it. I might put it in my port and let readers decide. *** Ok I went and put it in my port after all. It was a practice of allusion since I set the lesson for the Tools of Poetry Workshop and don't practice it often enough myself. I mixed in some internal rhyme. It's a very deliberately written peice which is probably why I don't like it as much as the poems that just arrive on the page when I write. "Invalid Item"  I enjoyed writing this however, and I'm going to put Allusion into practice more often. In this case knowledge of Steve Wariner and the Two Teardrops song isn't important. It really doesn't negate from the message and emotion in the poem but if you know the song and can hear the music in your head it adds depth to the words. At least I hope that's what I accomplished *blushes* I guess the readers will have to tell me. My thoughts are still scattered today. Thinking of all I want to do and making very little headway in any of it. Do you ever face the fleeting fragments of thought and struggle to focus. The flitter like hummingbirds, never still and unobtainable. Perhaps it's lack of sleep or the fact I haven't had breakfast yet. Do you realize there is less than a month until Christmas? I haven't even started shopping for that although I know I really should. I'm having to face the mortgage in a few days first so I guess I'll see where I stand financially after that. I promised my daughter some skates so I suppose I should go on the hunt for those in the next week or two. Meanwhile, I also promised her we'd go to the park so will do that before it gets too hot.  |
The Literary Penguin  's entry in his blog today inspired me to write about some of my childhood memories. I came to my blog tonight unsure what to write about and then read about the charity work and was pulled into memory lane, yet again. Please beware that these memories are tainted by youthful oblivion, chances are the reality of it differs for those who experienced these same events but I was a young girl, dearly in love with my life-loving brother, and full of joy and peace in the world. I accepted life, and death had not cast a reality and inevitablity or fear on me. Many years ago, gosh I can't even remember how many or how old I was, my brother was in hospital. Gaelon had a terminal illness and was in hospital quite a bit over his years and I only have precious snippets of memories that involve the hospital. I believe I spent some time there as a patient as well but I don't remember any of that. Perhaps I'll ask Fizzgig if she remembers and would blog about it. *chuckles*Anyway, in those days Gaelon was full of energy. He wasn't always too happy about having to be in hospital because it meant a lot of restriction to everything he did. It also meant a great deal of pain I expect but he bore it well, so well that his little sister often forgot where they were and why. To me this was normal. Hospitals weren't scary places people went to die but where sick kids went to get better. I'm lucky in that hospitals are still a place of healing to me. There are three strong memories coming to the fore when I think of the time Gaelon was in hospital. I suspect each was separate occassions but again, time and situations are foggy. The first is the room down the end of the ward. I swear for a child this room was a magical haven of fun and excitement. The walls were vibrantly painted with pictures and childrens TV characters and fantasy. Beanbags were strewn across the floor with cushions and the kids would gather to read books, play with toys and games or just chatter with each other. This place was freedom. Freedom from the ward, from the beds, from the watchful eyes of the nurses, and the worried faces of the parents. In here everyone seemed to smile and the children were equal and 'normal'. I also remember, the wheelchairs. *chuckles* Ok, so sick people have to be pushed around in wheelchairs because they're not allowed to walk. Often my brother would have skin graphs on his legs where they took skin from his thigh to use as replacement for sections where they had cut cancers from other parts of his body so his legs were often in bandages. This lead to the introduction of wheelchairs into our lives. I'm sure the ward nurses must have disapproved but I remember darkened wards and my brother and I perhaps even my older sister in wheelchairs racing up and down the hall. I can't remember ever getting told off for doing this but I doubt very much that it was encouraged. lol It must have been particularly dangerous but OMG it was fun. *grins* We got pretty clever with those chairs, we'd have agile turns and be able to break on a dime. I used to drive a wheel chair better then I drive a car these days. lmfao Even still I expect Gaelon would be faster and more able then me. He also kicked my but in car racing video games. Speaking of video games I remember Donkey Kong. DONKEY KONG!!! Fizzgig do you remember Donkey Kong? *chuckles* One year while Gaelon was in hospital Mum bought him a gaming console. These days that means Playstation, Dreamcast, Nintendo, or Gameboy but back in the day we had little hand held single game games. Donkey Kong was a little orange box with a grey screen. Black dots on the screen turned into logs and coconuts and one big gorilla.This game was a hit, it kept Gaelon entertained for hours and it kept the rest of us enthralled as well. On reflection I bet it cost Mum a pretty penny to buy but it was worth every dime. That game lasted years. I wonder where it is now. *ponders* I know that it definately made that hospital encarceration more bareable and by then Gaelon was getting into his teens and could get pretty fed up with his condition. It might even have been the first time he could no longer be in the children's ward and was placed in the dull, and maudlin cancer ward instead. Speaking of enjoyable hospital stays I have one that's no where near as enjoyable as the three above but was still delightful. The difference is I faced it not as the sister of a patient but the mother. Three years ago my daughter had a daystay in a private hospital. She had Early Childhood Caries, a condition where her teeth had decayed very badly. We believe this was probably largely related to the reflux she had as a baby and the mistake of letting her go to sleep with a bottle. Anyway, this hospital was beautiful. Strange to call a hospital beautiful but for the price it cost to send her there for a few hours it had better be. *chuckles* She was booked in for 9 extractions and would go under general anasthetic so would remain in the hospital until she was awake and the orthodontist was happy to send her home. She was such a brave and wonderful little girl. She understood that her teeth, which by then were hurting her so much she could not eat properly, would be getting taken out. She wore a cute blue and colored gown that tied at her sides and her bed was firm and big and comfy. We watched cartoons and played with the wide arrange of toys while waiting for her surgery. Of course while she was away it was a very anxious wait for me, her father, and her Nanna. We had a meal and read and talked. When she came back I was so very glad to see her but concerned because she was still sleeping and even when she eventually stirred was very sleepy and mostly out of it. Her mouth bled a lot, soaking the sheets which was pretty scary but apparently normal and considering she had 9 holes in her mouth not surprising. The teeth in a little jar were not pretty to look at and I felt like a pretty useless mother to have let them get so badly decayed. As she came to we watched more cartoons and I lay and held her close or stroked her hair or just sat watching her, conscious of her and letting myself feel within her space and calm down after being pretty strung out over it all. It's amazing how intensely important you realise someone is to your existence when you face something like that. This surgery was not really a big deal but it was still very, very scary. *ponders* Strange that story doesn't really seem to tie in with the ones above. Except that it was another wonderful children's ward. It's not the same seeing it from the point of view of an adult. The memories are wrapped up in the emotions, the fear, the love, instead of just having fun. Anyway, it's so late I should be fast asleep. It's wonderful to look back on the past and remember fondly. I've had some great experiences that very few people might experience and it's not until these memories are dedged up that I've come to realise how full a life I've already lead. |
| *groans* My head hurts. I think the lack of sleep I've had over the past week is truly catching up with me and my head is pounding it's retaliation. It's strange how this sort of tension radiates down the neck and across the shoulders as well as across the skull. My eyes and sinus are feeling the strain too and I'm still considering the option of pain killer. I might take it because it's Thursday night and I'm not going to sleep early or I'll miss Stargate. *sighs* Two nurofen and enough time that it should be working later and head is still hurting. I am however enjoying an episode of Bones but I might head to sleep after it Stargate or no Stargate. I obviously need the sleep. Or maybe I'll have a hot bath instead and see if that helps. I pulled out The Dating Game today and really knocked my self esteem flat. I read the first couple of pages and I hate it. The original story, the plot, the concept it's all good but the exercution is abysmal. Too much crud and not nearly interesting enough. The characters are flat and there is very little emotion pulling readers in to wanting to care about them. Internally I've been having this concept stretch, become more intricate. If I wrote the story today it would be a completely different story. A part of me wants to just forget the original draft and rewrite from scratch. Another part knows I need to do more work on the plotting and characterisation before I can really begin writing again. Yet another part is tempted to just admit defeat. I'm a terrible writer and there is no way I could write well enough that Harlequin would publish this let alone a book a year. Yes, that is my goal, one romance book a year to cover the cost of living. I figure that would be my day job, then any other writing project, such as focusing on high fantasy instead would be a bonus. Of course to do that I have to get the first book finished. I remember feeling on top of the world when I completed the first draft of TDG but now I don't know why it seemed such an accomplishment. *sighs* it's frustrating to find it so difficult to have faith in my ability. How can I truly be bad at something I've loved and aspired to all my life? There has never been anything but writing for me on a long term. Of course life has had it's misdirections and I've focused on many things over the year, letting my writing fall behind but there in the deepest, sacred sects of my soul it's been lurking, waiting for me to give it permission to rise to the fore. Now I want to write, I need to write, but it's gone. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking. Perhaps I'm simply kidding myself that I can do that. Maybe I simply don't have anything to offer with words and I should get a job as a check out chick and face the fact that I'm not qualified to do anything. Of course I won't, I can't not write. *chuckles* Love a double negative to make a point. It's strange because despite all the self doubt I know that my happiness is tied to my writing. When I don't write I feel like I'm not myself. I know it's just a case of working hard, focusing, and sticking with it. Words are a huge part of my life and I can't imagine facing each day if I'm not bringing them into the world. I just have to keep reminding myself that what I have to say will make a difference. I picture my name on shelves in book stores and look forward to what I want so that the rock ahead of me right now returns to a stepping stone rather than a boulder. Meanwhile this headache is still ripping through my head. I'm going to go and see if a bath eases tension. Odds are I'll fall asleep right after. It's almost 10PM and with the way I'm feeling right now sleep is definately a higher priority than TV. |
| Yep, I got the Tools of Poetry Workshop lesson on allusion written but I'm not very confident that I've made it clear enough. Allusion is a surprisingly complex topic and I wonder if some literary folk add twists and turns to the poetic device that aren't strictly necessary. Or perhaps Allusion is actually two tools and they've come together indisinguishably. Either way the article is written and I'll have a good read over it in the morning with a fresh mind. Hopefully, it makes some semblance of sense. Unfortunately, allusion is not a tool I'm overly familiar with. I can think of only once that I've ever called it into play myself and obviously that makes it much harder to try and explain to others. I think I'll insist on completing the assignment I gave the ToPW students this week and make more use of allusion in general. Ohhh, twice, I've alluded in two poems. *chuckles* One I wrote last night had some allusions to Cinderella and fairy tales. I don't have that one in my port, I don't know if I'll add it to my port either. Still undecided but allusion are there. lol I guess perhaps a part of me was already processing this article that I attempted to begin yesterday. My focus this week has mostly been on the Persevering Poets group. Sometimes I wonder if I put too much time into my poetry. It's easy to use poetry as an excuse not to complete what is more important to me. Seriously while many have commended me for my poetry it's a hobby to me. I love being able to use and abuse language, to twist it and shape it, producing captivating pictures, macro in literate ink. (wow, poem-worthy prose)  It's almost midnight already but I'm having this urge to work on The Dating Game. Emily and Jake are calling to me in that sense that I need to pull into focus what is important to me again. Too long I permit myself to wander away from my goals. This book sits, gathering dust and I KNOW there is a nugget there waiting for a bit of spit and polish. It's not a step toward writing something new, which I also know I should get on to. But completing TDG is important to me and I think on a writing sense, it needs to be brought into prominance. Then I think about Persevering Poets and all that I've put into myself there and the importance of keeping the workshop running and having weekly lessons there. The Poet of the Week, and Forms Seminar are screaming for attention as well. Speaking of writing, I've technically done a lot of it today. Emails *chuckles* Chat Room and the article and then here as well. All up I've probably had a significant total wordcount. I feel pretty pleased with that over all since any writing is better than none. I know it's not progressive for a story in the future, although one never knows, all life is a pantry for the imagination, especially for a writer. I thought I should be tired by now because I stayed up late yesterday to get the blog entry written and then an email after that and that poem I mentioned had to get out of my head so I could sleep. But while I'm starting to feel the edges of sleep on the eyes my mind is still sparking, raring to go. My mind is flittering over all the things I could work on but I'm trying not to begin doing anything of them at this time of night or I won't sleep. Tomorrow is again, another school day so I have to be up for 7AM to get my oldest ready and there on time. Then probably stuck out and about for the day again. I've been doing that a lot lately but I sense my mother needs me or something like that. It's a good thing we get along so well so I don't mind spending time with her. It can get frustrating if I don't get as much time at home as I'd like but I enjoy being out and about as well. Socialising is important for pushing me out of my phobic shell and being with family provides a safety net that makes it easier to manage. Alas, it is however time to start thinking of sleeping. I've got a dozen songs left on my playlist so I might let it play me out for the night while I chat in the chat room and then head for some shuteye. |
| Yeah guess I will. I should head to sleep in 5 minutes but odds are I won't. I figure I'll toss a blog entry up here. Why the hell not. Well I would if the darn Chat Roomies don't keep roping me back with hilarious converstaion. Why do people have to be so interesting and fun? *chuckles* G'night nutters. Anyway, finally free of their clutches for the night now lets get a blog entry in here about, um, something. I was supposed to have written an article at some point this week. Except I wasn't inspired by anything in particular and as I normally do it I ended up leaving it till the last minute. So today I judged the Tools of Poetry Workshop and handed out the goodies then settled in to write the article so I could put up week 11's lesson. And I sat and I settled and I stared at the screen for a bit them wandered off, and came back, and wandered off, and came back, and wandered off. Now it's gone midnight and all I've written is: Week 11 - Allusion. *grimaces* I'll write it tomorrow at some point. I won't got to sleep until it's written and that could be challenging since odds are I'll be out all day. At least until dinner time. I get up and have just enough time to check my email before I take my daughter to school. Then it's over to my mother's house to share breakfast with her and we're meeting with my grandmother for lunch later in the day. By the time that's done it'll be time to pick up Kaylie from school then drive half way into the city to drop mother off at a friend work. After that however I have her car for the night and drop it back to her at some point on Thursday. Busy day, might lead to take away. Probably shouldn't *sighs* I'm trying to be good. Haven't had chocolate all week and OMG I WANT SOME!! *sighs* But I know how bad it is for me. For some reason all sugar is detrimental to any idea's of having the kind of figure I want. I had a short moan about it earlier today with my mother. *grimaces* I sound like I'm still on her apron strings but she and I have a great relationship, we're like friends, it's weird. lol She suggested I start dating again. Apparently for her the prospect of a man gives her motivation to lose weight but I've found the reverse happen for me. When I'm single I go after what I want and when I date I go after what HE wants. For some reason all the guys I've dated like curvy. What's up with that. I swear, having a guy absolutely love you the way you are and share meals with you that are terrible for your health is not the way to stay motivated to get healthy. Sometimes I think I should hook up with a health freak. One who'll yell at me any time I even look at Golden Arches or Cadbury's. Or at least find someone who can relate to the fact that I want to drop ten kg's and will help keep me sane while I go after what I want. Where are all the guys you see women bitch about in movies? You know the ones where she goes, "MY BOYFRIEND THINKS I'M FAT!!!" sob sob lets eat two forkfuls of lettuce. *winks at Ger* Be seriously, I'm full of it since I don't want a guy like that either. I've realised the biggest reason I'm having trouble staying on the healthy lifestyle straight and narrow is because I'm pretty darn happy with who I am right now. Sure I could stand to drop 10kgs but I'm not about to starve myself to do it. Chocolate keeps life interesting. lol Yep, excuses excuses. I'm going for the happy medium. Where I can have a little chocolate and feel a little guilty but when I'm good, most of the time. With diet anyway, no promises on me being a good girl with anything else. Anyea teased me today about my writing. I know she was having fun but I have to admit it drags a few home truths up I'd rather not face. I know I'm a professional procrastinator. Can't write worth a damn because I just don't sit down and actually do the writing. I know I should but I come here and I find my keyboard and I can chat for hours and write 1700 word emails (sorry Ger) but the stories aren't ready for the page yet. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Seriously I just have to get on my ass about it because the truth is I'm not taking myself or my career seriously enough. I can't even blame being bipolar the moment since I've been on fairly even keel for a few days now. Not particularly high nor particularly low. A steady swing between one emotion and the next all day long. This is the comfortable me. The place I know I'm doing ok. When I'm high I feel INCREDIBLE but I accomplish a LOT and if I could remain there I'd be in heaven. But highs always lead to lows when I don't even want to get up. This medium is nice, I get up and I get a little done but man I wish the inspiration and motivation would come with normality. Again, just got to sit and do it at some point. But not tonight. Tonight I'm heading for bed. And tomorrow I face RL. I should face the housework at some point too. *pouts* Maybe I should set a goal reward. FINISH TDG and when I sign a publication contract I'll hire a housekeeper. *grins* Now that would be motivational. lol Time for sleep. G'night all. |
| I met an interesting guy today and I feel like bloginating him because he got me thinking. I read his blog, beginning to end over a few hours while also hanging out in chat. I had a great chuckle at a number of comments and was so delighted by his writing that I couldn't resist sharing it with the handful of people I was chatting with. Who is this gifted writer? The Literary Penguin and his blog "Invalid Item" . Anyway, it got me to thinking about anecdotes from my own life. I've known a number of people who've been able to successfully reproduce snippets of their past in humorous stories and blog entries. These entries were a joy to read and always managed to bring a smile to my lips. The man who goes by Penguin managed to keep me enthralled through his entire blog and after I write this entry I plan to return to his port and haunt his other works. Ok, back on point, it got me searching my mind for events in my life that were utterly embarressing, humiliating, or fun and happy. But why does putting the pressure on to remember such things inevitably lead to a blank wall. For some reason my past is and always has been difficult to recall. I remember strangely apparently because most people remember in images. They can bring pictures to mind of events unfolding before them. Writers in general do this too, watching scenes play out in their head. Others do it when they read etc. But me? I'm odd. Very odd. I don't see with my mind's eye. I sense. I can't bring images to my mind but I hve more of a spirital knowing of the way things are. Sometimes it makes my memories tainted with things that aren't. In a way perhaps that is where some of my imagination comes together because I can so easily slip things that aren't into reality through my sense of being and sense of remembering. One of my sensed memories is the loss of my first tooth. I remember being six and walking across the top oval/courts of my school with my oldest sister Tracy. I'm not sure where we had been, obviously too the shop because I was eating an icecream cone but over that road also leads to the library so it's possible we had been there. She was walking me to school. Ok this is where I start wondering if this memory is flawed because I can't understand WHY she'd be walking me to school in the middle of the day while I ate an icecream. Nevermind, who ever said that memories had to make sense, they're like dreams, they're the past... So I was walking with her, I was about six and I was heading to school when I bit into this icecream and my tooth came out. I lost the tooth in the icecream and was very freaked out and excited at the same time. *sighs* Alas, I have no sense of humor. I fail to make my anecdotes funny. Surely there is some way that could have been twisted to be comic. Nope, somewhere along the gestation of my life my funny bone failed to develop. Lets try another. *ponders and starts sifting through sensed memories* First kiss. *chuckles* Do you remember being 11? I remember it fondly as it is one of my most cherished ages in life. I was in year six and all the boys adored me. Wow, now that was a memory. No wonder I loved being 11. Thankfully I loved all the boys too but one special one was my darling and I'll remember him fondly always. Laurie, was a sweetheart and I've often considered attempting to chase him up and see what he's done with his life. I haven't seen him since I was 12 which is more than ten years ago now. Perhaps it's time for a primary school reunion. How does one set something like that up? Anyway, Laurie and I would often play together during and after school. HEY!! Not like that you pedophilic freaks!! We were kids. Back in those days kids playing involved the freedom to roam around the neighbourhood between 3 and dinnertime. We fit so much fun and adventure into those 3 hours. I had a lot of friends but Laurie and I got together frequently and had a favorite hang out in the bushland beside the oval just across from my house. My living room window could technically look out on the tree's but it was too dense to be able to distinguish anyone in there. Part of the trees had grown together we made use of the cubby house that had been moulded by others before us and make it out hide out. I remember having a chuckle with Laurie one time over finding underwear strewn about the place one time we visited. There were other guys and girls we hung out with as well and we'd over gather there for hide and seek and chasey. It was a lot of fun to tear through the paths we knew by heart. We never got lost, eleven year old instincts and the comfortable safe feeling of knowing the world was a great place to live kept us in joyful obliviousness. It's strange how those sorts of impressions are so crystal clear and yet the actual memory of a first kiss happening is a blurr of uncertainty. I have this connection to that place and to Laurie and I'm pretty sure at the time were we sitting on a branch in the cubby. I look back thinking how adorably sweet we were. I have crushes over that memory but I'm sure many of us reflect fondly on puppy love. When I was in primary school boys were all darlings and could do no wrong. It's when they grow up into men the problems begin. I hope my baby boy never grows into a man. I want him to remain good, and true and the beautiful boy he is now. Other memories of those days that are less fond are the girls I knew. For some reason girls seem to be capable of back stabbing bitchery from the day they are born. Friendships to those girls were a barter tool and one of the things my daughter got the biggest backlash about when she first started school was the "You're not my friend anymore" comment. OMG I hit the roof when I first heard her use that. Ripped into her sweet little 5-yo heart about it but I assure you she has NEVER bartered friendship to get her own way since. Of course, I look forward to the "I hate you", "I wish you were dead", and the ever loved "I don't love you anymore" she'll undoubtably bombard me with in the years to come. I've already faced and cried over "I don't want to live with you I want to live with Daddy." Wow, tangent again. lol Well that's me, deal with it. *grins* Back to school girls. I had my friends, some were nice, most of the girls I was friends with had been outcast by the popular crowd and so was I. A recurring event in my life was to get outcast by the popular crowd in school. Mostly I suspect because I refused to conform to what they wanted or remain shadowed by them. Of course that didn't stop the girls calling me a 'sheep'. No idea where they got that idea from since while I might have been willing to hang with them I certainly didn't follow their guidelines which is why I believe they got pissed off to begin with. It was the same in primary school. I was bright and bubbly. Had lots of friends and there were squabbles between the various social structures but I had my in with all of them. I really loved primary school, I wonder why high school was so different. I wonder when the sociaphobe gene kicked in. My mother tells me I was reclusive from day one and perhaps it's because the kids I knew in primary school had years of history growing up together but I remember being liked and popular. The only other time I've experienced that since primary school is online in Second Life, and occassionally when I can suppress the fear that people secretly hate me and laugh behind my back I feel it here in WDC too. So, I guess I better pull off the walk down memory lane while I can. Alas, I fail to be funny with my anecdotes. I guess I'm just not a comedy writer. But I hope you managed to stomach that drivel. In future I'll have to regal you with my more interesting adult life. Perhaps a few Second Life memories. Those are more fond ones that involve fun and games and a few tears too. |
| *sighs softly remembering* Yesterday was fantastic. One of those rare and beautiful days that stay with you forever. I woke expecting a normal nothing kind of Sunday but when I checked my email there was a message from the Amethyst VIP group on Second Life. For those of you who don't know, Second Life is an online game where you live the life of an avatar. In April this year my avatar, Rebecca Logan, built and opened a nightclub called, Amethyst. The club was a huge success and we had a ball but by the sixth week I hit the wall and closed down the club, leaving the game a few days later. Yesterday a close friend on the game, to whome I'd passed on the land, declared an Amethyst Reunion. They created a club in his mall that was reminiscent of the old club with photo's from back in those wonderful days. So many of my old friends gathered and I was put on pedestal again. It was amazing to feel so loved, and cherished. To hear how much so many people loved the club and remember it fondly. They talked me into DJing for about 30 minutes and while I was racked with nerves I did it and had a ball. We played some of the songs from the clubs past. Ones that related to certain people and ones that were very special to the club in general. We shared memories and danced the night away. I had a ball and it was tempting to come back to the game on the long term but I know it really isn't good for me. I mean there is a lot of wonderful people and things in that game but the bad comes with the good and I'm not a strong enough person to face it. It's too much like reality without the restraints of reality. I don't do too well in social situations and that game was all social. My heart doesn't withstand the heartbreak. My bank didn't withstand the club owner aspect either. *chuckles* Costs a fortune to run a nightclub. Still, it was a wonderful night. I spent my whole day in SL and hung out with old friends and new. I know I'll have to visit more often. MC (the guy who hosted the party) is talking about holding regular events so I'll hopefully be able to make cameo appearances for those. Reflect on the past and make a new future. Thankfully many of the closest friends I made in the game I still talk with outside of the game via Yahoo and MSN. But as with all things, time moves on, things and people change. It's fantastic to look back and remember the joyful times but it's even more important to look ahead and make new ones. My deepest thanks to everyone involved in the Amethyst Reunion. We'll do it again in another 6 months huh? *chuckles* |
| *frowns* Well I know it probably isn't really your fault but you did get my thinking and while I didn't act on it then I didn't manage to get myself off to bed until I had. I've not added it to my port yet. Prompt: Sonnet and Family. How's this one Forge? A Mother's Vow To hold her hand across the bridge of life and brush each strand of hair, each fallen tear. To cradle her in arms, sheltered from strife and battle monsters, hardships, fate and fear. To stand up tall and proudly say she's mine and cheer and honor all her hard-won dreams. To smile as times swift clock rings out a chime and then remain the strength down rapid streams. To know her own mistakes must be her own and step away, watch anxiously and wait. To let her take first steps as if full grown and watch her eagerly skip through the gate. She is the embodiment of my heart I vow to give her every blessed start. |
| I know, I've been very, very slack lately haven't I? *sighs* Been focusing on things other than my writing and while I miss feeling a sense of accomplishment with my career it's been nice to step away from the pressures I put on myself in that forum and do less intense activities. I've been watching movies and playing games, spending more time on my house and outside of my house and focusing on my family. In a way all of this is very good and yet a part of me feels absent and frustrated when I'm off doing all these other things. I know I'm letting myself down by failing to write every day but at this point I've not reached the stage where my will to succeed surpasses my will not to. *sighs* Having said that the break is regenerating and while I might not accomplish much in my long term goals it's good to be able to just step out of that and go with the flow for a while. I'm giving myself permission to continue in this manner until New Year's. With the holiday season swiftly approaching it's a good time to reduce stress by taking a break. |
| Well it really isn't a question. I'm here, blogging. But basically it's a statement of the lack of desire to do so. I'd like to write a poem but that's not happening either. I spent the day being completely unproductive. I'm moody and in a thouraghly unpleasant mood which I'm trying not to take out on others. What I need is a good chick flick. Alas, free TV isn't cooperating, so I have three choices, Independence Day, one of the chick flicks I've seen two dozen times already from my own meager collection or a book. Actually there are four options, the other would be to return to Sims 2: Pets and play that for another couple of hours until bed. Or, really there are five and six options, housework, or an early night. None of the above are of any particular appeal. Talked to my ex today. He'll be visiting the kids tomorrow afternoon to say goodbye and flies back to the US on Monday. I thought he'd already left. *sighs* Now I know I'll have to deal with another bounce from my kids and I thought I'd got around a bad one by having him leave without a drawn out goodbye. It's rough on them and while I understand that it's important they have a relationship with their father I can't help but wonder if what little they do have does more harm then good. I know that being subjected to the stranger my father became was pretty detrimental to me in the long term. Of course I was already in a bad mood before I found out he'd be visiting tomorrow. Kaylie hurt herself today. She probably has whiplash. She was bouncing on the living room chair and before I had the chance to turn around and tell her to sit down she fell and wacked her head against the windowsill. No concussion or anything like that, no blood, no unconciousness but she had a sore head and neck. I gave her something for the pain but I expect she'll really know about it in the morning. I'd feel more sympathetic if I thought she might have learnt from the experience but I expect to find her bouncing on the chair again sometime soon. *sighs* Right now she's settled in on the couch watching The Wizard of Oz. It's interesting seeing the old classic again. It must have been quite intense for children back in the day. It deals with some aspects that young kids would find terrifying. Still, it's based on some good morals and I know it turns well in the end. Well there it is, a blog entry, if you can call it that. Hopefully I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
I'll let you know when I get it done.