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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 ** |
| Woe is me. Too many books, too little space. Getting rid of any single one of them is out of the question. I’ve been collecting most of my life and every book is sentimental to me. My poor toes however, are becoming permanently scarred from being stubbed against various piles around the house. Many nights I wake to a thunderous noise. Another stack of books has tumbled to the floor, nudged by a furry four-legged friend. As I have no plans to add floor space to my home, I must think vertically. I need to shelve my old friends but not any old shelves will do. This must sound funny coming from someone who doesn’t mind leaving her books on the floor but it’s how I feel. If I am going to invest in a new home for my pals, I want it to be just right. This creates a problem, I must think. How much space do I need? How deep should the shelves be? How high? Do I want some shelves to have doors, with glass fronts? This would be a nice way to store the books I don’t refer to often but won’t part with. My Chronicles of Narnia, the entire Little House series, L.M. Montgomery’s Anne series. Yes folks, Anne saw more than just the Green Gables. I also have almost the entire works of Agatha Christie. I know I need lots of open shelving for books I access constantly. This includes books about writing, an atlas and of course, my dictionary and thesaurus. I need somewhere to accommodate lots and lots and lots and lots of magazines and other periodicals. I’m going to have to decide how I’m going to organize them. By author’s last name makes sense, but I’ve never been good at knowing who wrote what. By title is another option but then all my books are intermingled. I’m not sure how the non-fiction and reference manuals would feel about hanging out with works of make-believe. Let me think about this for a while. I think it might be more work than I thought. And Anyea   don’t be trying to sell me any of your IKEA stuff. I’m just too lazy to put it together. I want those shelves that appear when you snap your fingers and then organize your books. Anyone have any leads? |
| Some days, even good days, are so full of distractions, I can do nothing with intention. I can walk and chew gum fine. If I pressure myself, I might possibly be able to boil water. Everything after this is a painful effort. My tongue has been tripping over itself all day. On several occasions I caught myself slapping my face to force the words out. On many more occasions I stopped mid-sentence, distracted by something sparkly, and then was never able to go back and finish my thought. I turned on the kettle eight times in order to make one cup of tea. I derive no pleasure from grocery shopping yet I wandered around the store close to forty-five minutes. I left with an 8 piece chicken finger dinner from the prepared foods counter. It was simple but I couldn’t seem to think of anything else I could buy. I couldn’t even remember I had a short list in my pocket. On the drive home, I actually waited for a stop sign to turn green. * * Practice focus and concentration * * I have repeated this to myself over and over today but nothing truly got better, only funnier. If I can’t laugh at myself, I lose the right to laugh at others. Besides, it is my coping tool of choice. Yes, that’s right. I laugh at what are often the most inappropriate times. If I’m going to cry, I’d rather shed tears of joy than pain. (I think that’s my first coherent thought of the day. And it’s only 10:30 in the evening.) I haven’t been able to work or read; I can’t stay centred long enough to get anything accomplished. It’s more like I’m just passing time. Hell, I got lost in Blogville tonight. It took me over two hours to navigate through a minimal amount of blogs. Some I read repeatedly because I wasn’t sure if I had read the entry or not. Surprise, surprise, surprise… I not only read the entry, I commented, a mere four minutes prior. I couldn’t even enjoy something mind numbing on the idiot box. I’m not worried. I haven’t been sleeping well and my body is rebelling. It doesn’t seem to understand I have no objection to a good night’s sleep. I want it on the record I would welcome one |
| Today, more than any day before, I believe technology is killing the imagination of our children. Four branches of the public library are being closed. I get it, shit happens…old buildings, rising costs, lack of funding, yada yada yada. But my heart shattered when I read a primary reason for closing these facilities is they aren’t being used. NOT BEING USED!?! I don’t want to live in a world where libraries are obsolete. I don’t know when being a depository for books became a bad thing. I’d think it’s marvelous, especially if the building to which you are referring is a LIBRARY. Apparently there is no longer a need for these institutions. The desire to spend time reading books has given way to net surfing, virtual experiences and nano technology. The three library branches remaining open are the ones with media centers; books are an afterthought. Is there a reason we have decided our children will benefit from a world without libraries? Have you been to a bookstore lately? Books ain’t cheap. I’d think libraries would never go out of style. Alas, I am wrong again. Why read a book when you can buy an audio book? Better yet, wait for the movie. If there’s enough gratuitous sex and graphic violence, maybe the story will one day become an online gaming experience, to be played with one to five of your friends. I’m hoping this is only a local phenomenon and I won’t hear the same story over and over again, from all over the globe; sagging books sales tell me I will. While reading will always be around, reading is going out of style. This is not great news for those who would like to support themselves with their writing. As disheartened as I am, the greater misfortune is the million of stories that will not be shared; the paper treasures never to be discovered. Life has gone from being an epic tale to a collection of sound bites. It’s not only the stories we lose when a library closes. Without stories, there is no imagination. There is a reason “the book” is always better than “the movie”. Books encourage our minds to run wild and believe in the impossible. They are portals to other worlds. They expose us to experiences that can be revisited again and again. Libraries will close but stories do not have to be lost. We can save them. Spread the joy, buy a book for someone you love. |
| If you are reading this, it is of you own freewill and I appreciate your choice to spend your time here. There is nobody making threats and forcing people to read my post. To my knowledge, it’s not required reading for any type of class and I can’t see employers making it mandatory reading. All I can do is hope there is something here you like and you’ll come back again. If you don’t care for my style or subject matter, if you don’t enjoy the read, it’s your right to not come back. I get that not everyone will understand my brilliance and it doesn’t bother me at all. Freewill is a fantabulous gift. It allows us to enjoy our passions repeatedly and ignore the shit which gets under our skin. Freewill lets me turn off Umbrella when I hear it on the radio. Freewill means I don’t have to watch Dr. Phil solve the problems of the world nor listen to any judge dispense television justice. I don’t have to read any of the books on the N.Y Times Bestseller list but I choose to do so anyway. If you are doing something you don’t enjoy, have you asked yourself why? I’ll limit this to your activities outside working hours. I disagree with people when they tell me they have to work. Debating choosing to work or having to work is an article itself. Consider only your time outside of work. Why do you things that don’t give you pleasure? Writing brings me great joy. I’m finding this blogging experience incredible. All day I think about what I can write. From the many ideas that pop into my mind, only one makes it to the blog. The remaining ideas end up on a stickie note, with a hundred others in a shoebox. Freewill allows me to choose my topic and write what I want, how I want to. Freewill lets me scream FTW and Stephen King encourages the outburst as well. Writers (or any artist) must develop thick skin. You will be criticized. It’s not a matter of “if”, it’s a matter of “when”. Any evaluation of art, writing included, is subjective. This means personal opinion; no right and no wrong. Should I accidentally offend a reader, and I mean truly hurt them, I apologize. But if you just don’t like what I have to say, exercise your freedom of choice and read something else. Negative attitude will not scare me. Some people believe if you aren’t pissing people off, you aren’t trying hard enough. I agree with those people. I want to write stories that challenge the way you think about ordinary things. I want to bring attention to the unsung hero. I want to write because it makes me feel good. To write honestly and openly, I can’t worry about backlash. To be a great writer, I must be free. Damn the torpedoes and FTW! |
| I exhaled a monster sigh of relief when The Green Bay Packers won their football game. I’m a big fan and feared for their playoff life earlier today. I went 0 for 4 last weekend; every single team I wanted to win, lost. Am I cursed? I don’t mind saying I was a bit nervous before today’s game started. What if I cost The Packers their Superbowl dream? Some may think it’s arrogant to believe I have any impact on an NFL game. I choose to say it’s superstition. The players don’t like to publicly admit it but I’m sure if they knew my record from last weekend, they’d be hoping I was cheering for the opponent. Superstition is rampant in professional sports. Did you see the city of Dallas run Jessica Simpson out of town, all in the name of football? To be fair, it is not only football players. Every pro athlete believes what they do before the game will affect the outcome. The ugly beards NHL players grow every spring? Players wearing a certain number on their uniforms? No sex the night before a big game? We call it superstition, the expensive sport psychologists they hire, call it the pre game routine. Same thing. Many undersell the merit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I myself have great belief in the idea. There are craploads of success stories about people accomplishing heroic tasks, for no other reason than they believed they could. Failure has knocked over just as many, simply because they were waiting with the door open. How many times do we reinforce, in those around us, the importance of a positive mindset? What we believe, we become, within reason.  Today, I believed I was a jinx on The Packers. The way the game started only compounded my worries. Twenty seconds into the game a fumble leads to a touchdown for the other team. Another minute lapses and a second fumble leads to another touchdown. I was starting to think I had to start cheering for the Jaguars but was afraid the fickle football fates would detect the lack of sincerity. Fortunately, I found the strength to stay faithful. I reminded myself of Favre’s status as a football ubergod and telepathically sent the entire team positive vibes. Do you think it’s just a coincidence it was a tie game by the half? If I can hold myself accountable for their losses, I’m sure as hell taking the credit for their wins.  * * carefully puts away 4 leaf clover and lucky dollar until tomorrow’s games. ** |
| Writing a publishable text has far too many challenges to be discussed in one entry. Hell, some of the barriers themselves have entire books written about them. Have you walked through the How-to section at a chain bookstore? Better yet, hit the local college or university bookstore. * * Don’t wander now, focus. * * Getting an idea for the piece is a huge obstacle, often the first to be overcome. Journalists, whom are assigned stories, make them their own, by looking for an obscure approach to an old subject. A field of many novelists may be considered for ghosting an autobiography and all could be equally capable. The author who best tells a single chapter of the hero’s adventures, is going to be the one to write the entire life story. As I often do, I’m making a short story long. If you have several writers telling the same story and success is measured in their words, should it not follow that words are more important than story? If you say yes, then I ask you to explain J.K. Rowling. Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t think either one of them is more critical than the other. It’s a balancing act. A writer MUST use their individual strengths. You can always tell when someone is faking it. Certain talents may be learned as you go but you must start with your own, personal genius. If you’re over 25 and still believe in unicorns and pixie dust, I’m thinking you’re the creative type. Tons of story ideas but you struggle to find the words for the images inside your mind. At the other end of the rainbow, far from leprechauns and pots of gold, are the lexicologists. Give them a notion and they create a different type of magic; they make words dance. OMG! I have an amazing idea that could change the world of writing!! Collaboration!! Pair up somebody who freewrites using the 128 colour Crayola colour box, with someone who reads the dictionary for fun! I’m a genius. They’re going to name a literary award after me! WHAT? I’m not the first person to think of this? Say it ain’t so. For lots of reasons and many more, when it comes to things of a creative nature, partnerships are fragile. In the factual world of non-fiction, sharing a byline is not uncommon. Add a falsehood with a teaspoon of imagination and everybody starts fighting over whom is the best liar. Until each of us find the ultimate writing soul mate, we must try to find our own balance of story and words. Neither can stand alone, they must work in conjunction with each other. Where one is weak, the other must pick up the slack, all for the greater good and let’s face it, hopefully our wallets. |
| I confess… I seriously considered not blogging this evening. I had other commitments and I’m tired and not feeling the least bit creative or witty. All good excuses but not one is a good reason. I made a promise to myself that I’m going to blog everyday and damnit, I should be able to keep that word for at least a month. If you’ve never given yourself permission to truly try the free writing experience, hold on. You are about to bear witness to one of mine. It won’t be pretty. The freedom of the freewrite is liberating and powerful. You want to make that effort to be brilliant yet that defeats the purpose of the freewrite. One is to let the words flow, put them on paper and allow yourself to make mistakes and think about the impossible. There does not need to be perfect. It’s perfectly acceptable to make mistakes and not worry about them. Grammar might not be impeccable and it is unlikely there will be a consistent theme but I’m doing it. I’m incorporating the free write with my daily blog entry and I’m gonna like it and let you see it. Feel free to turn away if you must. Perhaps the whole gawker thing will come into play. This might be so ugly, people can’t help but look and stare. I wonder why that’s human nature, the gawking I mean. You must have had occasions where you know the right thing is to ignore a situation or not look in a certain direction? We can’t ignore the urge and must stare. It might be an accident or somebody’s cute ass but we look when we should not. We do a lot of things we should not. How many of these impulses do you think are innate and how many do you think are learned? Do you ever think about it? What do you think about when you have too much time on your hands? I love to think about my retirement retreat. First, I have to let you know I will consider myself retired when I can financially support myself solely on money earned from writing gigs. Gigs? Where did I get gigs from? Didn’t that term go out in the eighties? Practice focus and concentration So anyways, I plan my oasis from the world. My first vision was very vague but now I can tell you about the several blues in the lake. The dock, a floating dock, juts out into the lake about 30 feet. It’s constructed of red cedar. It is deep on one side, where a small boat can be docked and a gradual sandy slope on the other side. Ideal for a beach. The dock goes out so far to let people dive without fear of getting hurt. Remember, this is my ideal retreat. The sand is soft and almost powdery. It never gets too hot, even when there are several hot days and hot nights. There is just enough sand to have a rockin’ beach but not too much that it is always getting tracking into the house. Between the beach and the house is grass. Not grass that needs to be cut all the time. Grass that can grow a bit longer but stays soft under the feet. Scattered across the grass are trees located in perfect locations allowing multiple hammocks hung around. Have you noticed what’s happening? As I continue to write, it becomes harder to come up with more words. I may have been able to wing it through the first part, but then it gets tough. Don’t you find sometimes you have something in your head that you think will make a great story and when you put it on paper, it’s no more than a page. It’s like a the good stuff pours out easily and then BAM! I think that’s what makes NANO such a challenge. The first 10000 words are easy and then it hits you how monumental a task it is you undertook. Man, I wish the timer would ring. I can’t consciously slow down my typing or the typos get really bad. I allow myself to go back a few letters and make corrections. If I was writing with pen, I’d scribble out the spelling mistakes and write is as many times as it takes until I get it write. Since I’m on the keyboard, I’m letting myself and correct some things. I don’t want to take too man lib TIME!! Thank goodness. |
| My commitment to blogging is due to my belief it DOES help my writing. I write everyday. I use complete sentences and punctuation. More importantly, I share what I write. I’m not sure how many people read my blog (I do know the numbers are growing ) but I know it’s more than I’ve ever let anyone read prior to joining the WdC comunity. Yes, I know, I have issues. And by the way, will someone make up my mind? Is proper form WDC or WdC. I see both of them everywhere. Am I being ridiculed when I use one over the other? Do I accept them as interchangeable and move on? * * Practice focus and concentration. * * Back on topic… I choose to blog and do so with purpose. I have a plan. I started this blog with rants and lists. It didn’t take a lot of creativity, nor were the items controversial. I’m starting to share more now and be more creative in my presentations. This means growth. I want to slowly shift to entries of more substance; post articles that incite conversation and force the reader to examine an old topic from a new perspective. Healthy discussion never hurt anyone. People exchanging INFORMED opinions is an aphrodisiac for me. If you truly want to get me excited, disagree with me.  There you have it, the plan for my humble little blog. I hope you picked up on the key word in the previous sentence…MY. You should feel free to do with your blog, whatever you will. |
| Reading the blogs of those whom are examining their lives, I did some walking through the past myself. I’m not dissecting my life, only recalling some specific events from my youth that I can’t seem to let go. My first stop along memory lane is in kindergarten. We get a new boy to the class half way through the school year. On his first day, he throws up on the building I am making, from Linkin’ Logs. Perhaps the experience is the explanation of my fear of sick people. And of course the rest of the class laughed at me  and not the barfer because he was being shown to the washroom to get himself clean. Maybe I don’t know how, but, I’m sure the event made an impact on my life.Stop number two on today’s tour is the girls’ bathroom, grade 3. I had my ears pierced that year. I must have been showing my ears off too much around the girls at school. I can see myself walking into the washroom to find a group of girls making fun of me and my, dud studs. The only way my parents were allowing me to get my ears pierced was if I went to a nurse. Going to a nurse meant no choice of gold or diamond studs; I had two boring stainless steel chunks of steel. I think that’s the first time I was hurt by a group of people. I cried when I got home and I refused to go Martina Somethingorother’s birthday the following Saturday. The final stop on tonight’s tour is the walk home, wearing my purple coat. I loved it and it’s big, gold buttons. I was excited when the weather finally got cold enough for my new coat. I wore it the first day it snowed. School went well but on my walk home I ran into a group of kids who teased me and told me I thought I looked like a walking eggplant. That coat was worn once and only once. My mom finally donated it to the Sally Ann. Out of all my experiences of the negative type, these are the three which I carry with me, always. I can’t seem to get rid of them. I’m at the point in my life I’m used to them and I think I’ll feel old when their colours fade. |
| I am putting all my energy into practicing patience and gratitude while the idiots of the world unite in an effort to measure my determination. I’m all for making things better but how can anything improve unless these morons are told about the error of their ways? Attention jackasses, you are a minority whom are ruining civilization for the rest of us. Of course the accident was your fault, ya stupid wench. You were so frickin’ focused on your phone conversation you forgot to notice the red light. I bet you’re glad the old bitty saw you coming and hit her brakes. You forego your right to ever complain about old people and their driving. Dude, it’s prime commuting time and the first day back to school for kids. On one of the busiest mornings of the year, you want the clerk to check a gazillion lottery tickets because you THINK you put a free ticket winner in with your collection of losing tickets from the last year? The gentleman behind you offered to buy you a ticket; it’s one more ticket than you have now. Say thank-you very much and head home. If you’re lucky, nobody will run you down in the parking lot. The students of Burro Secondary School did not get any more intelligent over the holidays. Bouncing balls of energy, running through traffic, believing drivers will stop for them, risking lives. Is it really going to take the death of a classmate to remind you, you are mortal? As an alternative, I could kick the crap outta you. You survive but suffer and I relieve some stress. Yo, Jack. I do appreciate you wanting to stop at an ATM on a Monday morning. We’ve all had the empty wallet blues. I especially appreciate your arrogance in parking on the road with your fourway flashers on. It’s amazing how those blinkers make your car skinny so traffic can easily pass. What words can be used to describe you? Loser, asshole, fuckwad. All this, during my 35 minute, regularly 10 minute, drive to the closed market. Mondays rock! |
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