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 |  Am I supposed to write? |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Documenting the trials and tribulations of sharing my writing. I know it will be a grand adventure. I'm sure I'll get a sore butt from the bumps along the way, but they are just part of the ride. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I must share a story with you. Yes it is true. This did not happen to me but a very close friend. She won't care I told, it's funny. My friend, we'll call her Miss V, had never seen Pirates of the Caribbean and was curious to see what all the fuss was about. While doing errands she stopped at a local video store. Not a chain, but a little independent place. It took her a couple minutes to locate the DVD but she did. If you knew her, you would know this is an accomplishment in itself. She wandered over to the check out counter and a clerk young enough to be her son. She slid the DVD cover the counter to the young man and proceeded to tell him how much she was looking forward to seeing the movie. His response? "Did you know they made a porno version? We have one in stock. Are you interested?" It's hard to leave Miss V speechless; many have tried. This young fellow truly managed to shock her and she found herself struggling for something to say. The best she could come up with? "Do I look like someone who needs porn?" She tried to create a feeling she was offended, but not a prude. Not backing down, the kid shrugged his shoulders and replied "Well..... ya." This caused the more mature gentleman, patiently waiting in line behind Miss V to experience a spontaneous outburst of laughter and make a feeble attempt at covering it with a false cough. Beet red, Miss V paid for the PG version of Pirates and left the store. At lunch the following day, Miss V shares the story with her friends. It is lucky we were the only people in the diner because we would have embarassed ourselves. I believe Ms. C even shot coffee out her nose. While we were drying our eyes and trying to restore our dignity she delivers the final blow which literally causes Ms. C to fall off her chair in laugher. With the most sincere look of concern on her face Miss V asks us "Guys?" And in an almost whiny tone "how do you think he knew?" Our laughter could not be contained. Yes, Miss V is our own little porn whore. She can't get enough of the stuff. We don't judge. We play jokes and call her names and laugh at her for our own amusement but we do not judge. We rely on Miss V for stories like this. Such is her life. While Mrs. M held ice on her goose egg, received when she buckled over laughing and bounced her forehead off the wooden table, we tried to figure out what about Miss V said "I need porn.". We never came to any conclusions. Next time you look in the mirror ask yourselves what others might see when they look at you. What secrets does your body language give away? Do you look like a person in need of porn? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please be sure to visit my port: http://sweet_scribe.writing.com |
| As I signed into WDC this evening, I couldn't help but notice I apparently give an average a rating of 4.06 stars. Usually I don't read the fine print however, today this number jumped out at me. I'm a bitch! I don't rate that high. An investigation was in order. I knew the extreme ratings, 5.0 and 2.0, skewed the ratings. I've given a few twos. I didn't want to be mean but the writing needed work. I don't recall giving so many twos the overall stats would be affected. I have only credited a couple of authors with a 5.0. The writing deserved the mark. I have to consider the number of perfect ratings I have given to images of all sorts. Usually they are of a personal nature, such as a photograph; how can those not be perfect? Sigs are another expression of individuality. They are perfect as they are. Lots and lots of three point fives and fours. I'll also confess to some four point fives. So maybe the math is right? As I contemplated my reviewing statistics, I recalled how I chose what to read. I read many, many contest winners hence high ratings. I won't read unfinished work or work in product. To myself, these works need editors, not reviewing. I'm a bit anal and find it difficult to honestly review the ideas in a draft because I am so distracted by all the errors. It's just how I am. When I consider I look to read great writing and go out of my way to avoid what may be of a lesser quality, I guess the math is right. I do rate that high. |
| I enjoy the contests here at WDC. I have plugged many in my port and in my blog. On those occasions time does not allow me to enter contests, I use the prompts for writing excercises at a later time. HOWEVER... nothing pisses me off more than someone who runs a contest and never closes it nor judges the work entered. Get off your fat ass and finish what you started! I know contests are hard work. No, I have not hosted a contest, I know my own limits. I do choose to sponsor several contests in recognition of the very hard work it takes to run a great competition. This is my contribution to the community. At this point, I will not name names. It is suffice to say I am still waiting for the results of contests which closed in March. Contest holder number one had the decency to send out e-mails with apologies and an explanation. Sometimes life gets in the way. He has assured us he has not forgotten the contest and will post winners the first week of May. Thank-you for respecting the fact I spent my time on a project encouraged by you. I truly appreciated the note explaining the delay. As for the other two contests, screw you both. No winners posted. No notice of when we can expect winners posted. One of the contests has not even been closed. The actions of the few taints the spirit of the many. I'm trying hard not to let me be discouraged from entering other contests. I know there are responsible members out there who are true to their word. There are lots of great forums in which to find wonderful writing activities. I needed to vent about the few assholes out there who can wreck the site for everybody. I have vented and return you to your regular daily activities. |
| When I am gone and people are ridding my house of any hint I ever lived there, someone is going to find the hidden treasure. I've stashed some good stuff over the years. It is actually an eclectic collection of symbols of our society and tools of our generation. Somewhere, in a secret place, is a bevy of important items which I tucked away for safe keeping. These items are so secure, not even I know the location. Yes, that's right. I hide things from myself. It is not intentional rather it is genetic. My mother suffers from the same habit. Every year, come the end of January, she finds Christmas gifts she had put in a "safe place" and then forgot about. My grandmother also has one of the magical, hard-to-find safe places. My sister appears not have inherited this gene. She is more like my father; a place for everything and everything in it's place. I've tried this, I've failed at it, I've moved on. It's not like I set out to make my life difficult when I put things in the safe place, it seems like a logical thing to do. For example, the shitload of D size batteries I bought when they were on sale. I knew I had close to 20 batteries, the question was where? I needed them for the flashlights for my upcoming camping trip. I gave up and got more from the dollar store. As I continued to take inventory of my camping supplies, I found the batteries. They were packed away safely in the utility box with the RADIO because music is a necessity and it made perfect sense to pack them with the RADIO at the time I put them away. There is method in my madness, most of the time. I confess I have yet to offer any explanation, a hypothesis even, as to why my cordless phone handset was found in my deep freeze. I know it is obvious I put it there. I know phones don't grow legs and walk away. I just can't imagine why I did it. For now I chalk it up to lack of concentration. Almost two years ago I added two furry friends to my family, Milo and Otis, and it seems they also put their things in my safe place. On a couple occasions they have even retrieved things from my safe place. Milo returned a ring and I found Otis with a house key. These gifts do not make up for the dozens of things they have swiped from my dresser or the bathroom counter. They are however, things I probably never would have found on my own. A sampling of the Items I am still in search of include a potato masher (I know I could buy a new one but it's the point. I had one, where did it go?), my copy of The Tao of Pooh, a bag of oregano, a remote control and my favourite bra. Yes, my bra. Contrary to what you have read on the internet, I am not the type of girl who takes off her bra in strange places. I go out wearing a bra and come home wearing the some one. Hence, my bra should be somewhere in the house. It has not been seen in months. I'm out of ideas of places where to look. Anybody is welcome to come look through my home. It's a joke among my friends. While we sip our coffees, they very non-discreetly look through my drawers and cupboards. Treasures have been found by some. A missing watch was found in the fold out bed one evening. A guest discovered a WINNING (It was only a $10 winner, but it's the point) lottery ticket in their shoe. Being nosey in my house can pay off. |
| In life, there is always give and take. Do you remember as a child having to choose cake OR pie? An apple OR orange? This TV show OR that one. What the hell happened to make us, as a collective, forget this fact? We continue to want more but we want it for free. Folks, NOTHING is free!! I hate to be cliche but I lack any more direct way of saying this. Everything has a price. Nobody can keep getting without giving. We cannot have safer airports without increased security. Don't expect one without the other. We want our children to get a good education and be in safe schools. In more recent years, the schools have become safer. At what cost? Less money spent on the actual educating of our kids. We demand our free health care but bitch about waiting times for medical procedures. Our culture wants good jobs with great pay but we don't want to pay high prices for consumer goods. Nobody wants to pay $10 for a Big Mac. Despite the bad press, Wal-Mart continues to be the number one retailer in North America. We demand the most we can get for the least we want to give. When one makes a choice, he/she cannot remain oblivious to the consequences of their actions. My favourite example is the illegal alien problem in the United States. The Mexicans come to the US because they can. American citizens hire them. If you don't want illegals in the country, don't support their activities!! If they didn't have jobs to come to; If they didn't have the opportunity for a better life, they would not come. There is a scientific principle which states "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction". There are no exceptions. The next time you demand safer streets, ask yourself if you are willing to pay higher taxes. When you complain about low wages be sure you are willing to pay increased prices. Don't complain about reality TV, turn the boob tube off. When you choose the cake and ice cream over fruit salad, don't bitch about your fat ass. We are a compilation of our actions. We live in the world we created; melting snow caps and all. I am not judging, only saying it as it is. |
| Does anyone have a copy of Emily Post nearby? I need to know how to escape the dreaded cycle of good manners. Being polite consumes too much of my time; online and in life. There must be a rule which addresses this situation. I received flowers this morning. They are a thank-you for a thank-you for a thank-you. Are you confused? You are not alone. My mom was a grammar teacher and my grandmother a prim and proper lady. Once I learned to print, I was taught the value of a thank-you note. This small investment of time has paid off over the years. It makes people believe I am appreciative and kind. Hehe.... we know the truth. However, there is a nasty cycle which occasionally happens and I don't know how to avoid the situation. When I first joined WDC, a stranger, another newbie, posted to my blog. I, being a good WDC member, responded. She then proceeded to e-mail me again. This process continued for weeks until I worked up the courage to say "WHAT THE HELL?". This happens all the time, the flowers are another great example. A colleague did something very kind. Something, which frankly, saved my ass. I sent a small, bouquet of fresh cut spring flowers. Many people would not have gone out of their way to find someone else's mistake. I wanted her to know I recognized her effort. I didn't know what I had started. A couple days later, I received an extremely kind "thank-you" note. Don't get me wrong, I loved the note. It made my day. However, I didn't know how to respond. Do I say "your welcome" for a "thank-you"? Hey, it was I who was saying thank-you in the first place! I run into the same problem on WDC. I get a review and I respond. BUT then they send a message back. I can't ignore it and return the e-mail. Soon, my day is spent doing nothing but returning e-mails or making comments. I never get to the productive stuff like writing!! As much as I like keeping in touch with many of you, the vicious TY / YW circle must stop. When I say "thanks" and you say "no problem", our conversation is over. We are free to strike up a new discussion at any time. Ask questions, exchange ideas, but STOP the evil cycle of good manners. If you review my work, I will acknowledge your review, perhaps with some GPs. Please don't send an e-mail back. The WDC comments / review system is wonderful. Feel free to review another story, but please don't e-mail me back telling me you received my e-mail. I know you got my message. Then their are the blogs. Momma Mia!! I may not be politically correct but I don't respond to comments in my blog, (it's not like there is a lot them  ). I read them and appreciate them. I even pop over to your blog and have a read, leave a remark but I don't respond. Am I evil? I cannot imagine how much time some of you (those lucky enough to get 10+ comments in your blog) spend on replying to comments.When are we supposed to write? |
| Many of you out there seemed to forget basic, grade school astronomy. Please check your ego at the door, I'm about to shake things up. The world does not revolve around you. I'm not talking to all of you. Most of us have a grasp of our role on this earth. We interact with others with very little difficulty. We practice good manners. As much as some others may piss us off, we smile and accept the fact not everybody can be as perfect as ourselves. I am addressing you morons who are oblivous to your surroundings. The idiots who stop in their tracks to answer their cellphone regardless of the fact they are in the centre of an entrance to a public store. The fools who abandon their carts in the MIDDLE of the grocery aisle. The man who chooses to putz in his woodworking shop at 3:30 in the morning and does not understand why his neighbours don't like him. The driver who cuts you off and then flips you the finger. Those of you who don't know a bottle of perfume/cologne is more than three applications. The egomaniacs whom arrive for appointments an hour late and don't understand why they won't be seen. Who the hell do you think you are? Why do you think you rule the world? Did I miss a memo? I don't care who you know, what you do, who you do or the size of your wallet; your shit stinks too. In case you haven't noticed, you share this planet with many others. I've asked, but Wal-Mart and McDonald's won't build me my own personal stores. They won't clear the streets when I want to go for a drive. We are expected to share basic services and therefore exercise basic manners. Until you rule the world, you are a peon like the rest of us. Take your head out of your ass and join civilization. I appreciate your attention and return you to your regular activities. |
| I cannot write on demand. It is something I'm trying to change so there is stil hope. However, at this point in my writing life, I am one who contemplates. Said contemplation takes time. I'm sure you are wondering why I bring this up. I do this now because it is my excuse for not commenting in the many, many blogs I read. There is a lot of pressure in leaving a comment. Some of you write so brilliantly I feel there is nothing I can say in comments which will be equally insightful. Many of you make me laugh, over and over again. If you've been through my port, you know humour is not my strong suit. There are those of you whom choose to bare your soul in your blog. You are experiencing something traumatic in your life and chronicling your emotions. To those of you doing this, I say you are not alone. I do not comment because I know I have no words to make you feel better. I want to say a thank-you to the bloggers who share moments of joy in their life. It's been awesome to hear about a variety of celebrations around the world. It seems too lame to leave "Congratulations" in your blog. I will continue to read all about your trials and tribulations. Each and every one of you should know you have a fan in me. |
| I know I am not alone in experiencing frustration. We have all been there multiple times. In a single day, frustration can make several visits, each time for a different reason. Lately, I have spent so much of my time being frustrated, I'm actually beginning to appreciate the sentiment. Why is being frustrated a bad thing? Frustration has pushed me to deal with the smelly things growing in my fridge. It has forced me to deal with issues causing me gray hairs. On very bad days, it has inspired me to write. Can an emotion which does all this truly be a bad thing? |
| Housework lives permanently at the bottom of my "To Do" list. I never have difficulty thinking of other tasks to deem more important. I'm not a slob, but I don't mind a bit of dust. My bathroom is always clean; fungus in my toothbrush and mold in the tub freaks me out. At most, dishes sit two days in my sink. My cats treating the collection of food caked plates as their personal smorgasboard usually motivates me to keep the sink empty. Everything else waits. Once a sufficient amount of cat hair, dead skin cells, spilt food and various dirts from the outdoors have collected in obvious places, I get the urge to clean. The urge is especially strong this time of year. A good spring cleaning is quite therapeutic. The first task is to put in a load of laundry; towels and underwear. I'm not a fan of going commando and that is what will happen if I don't tackle the dirty clothes. I think the wet towels are starting to grow a new ecosystem. Besides, my pile of laundry is starting to smell worse than kitty litter. This cannot be good. While the clothes are being born again, I begin the process of dusting. The days of leaving notes to myself on any surface in the house are over. I live to regret the notes. The oils from my finger have stayed on the furniture and can't be wiped away with a dry swiffer. I need to put effort into this endeavour and use furniture polish which I don't have. I will live another day with my notes but not the dust. One more job done half assed. I drag the vacuum out and decide to say farewell to the dustbunnies. It's funny when the cats chase them; not so much when they chase they cats. After filling the vacuum bag with enough cat hair to clone my furry friends, I must stop this task. I'm out of replacement bags. At least I got the carpets done. I find the broom and start sweeping the hardwoods. I quickly stop when I realize I'm sending the dirt from the floor into the air and it falls upon my newly dusted furniture. The floors will get done when I get the new vacuum bags. Back to the laundry... The new washer is almost twice the size of the dryer. I can put some of the wet clothes into the dryer but I'll have to wash another load later. I still need to run to the grocery store for the furniture polish and vacuum bags so I can complete my unfinished tasks later. I'm going to be very busy later and if I'm going to be working hard later, I think I should stop working now and do everything later. I don't want to overexert myself. |
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