%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   A place where everybody can feel easily offended - my head! |
|
I'm gathering quite a collection of blogs. "Invalid Item"  is a bit-of-a-rant. I've got a big gob, and it would be a shame not to use it. "Invalid Item" is just that. It's the product of the bits of me mentioned above  filtered through my subconscious."Invalid Item" dealing with all things to do with battling sexes, especially exes.Want to know something trivial or obscure? Not really bothered about whether it's right or wrong, as long as it's believable? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WELCOME TO THE HUMAN GOOGLE!  I may never have mastered the art of tying shoelaces, but I win every time I play Trivial Persuit. Friends place bets on how many people I can, unintentionally, upset on a night out. I am the place where boundless enthusiasm meets embarrassing arrogance. Important Information - Please Read I realise some folk do not get Satire. I love a little baffoonery and believe, rather like the jesters of old, you can say quite a lot more than kings when people think you are an idiot. If you are literal minded, best not read on. If you can tell your arse from your elbow, and recognise when an attack isn't an attack then please read:
Heck, even if you can't tell your appendages from one another, read it anyway: who am I to tell you what you can do and what to take from my writing?  The XGC rating is due to the unknown content of many minds - it may be fluffy bunnies or....not! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Welcome to my world! Acme  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** http://twitter.com/acmetweet Skype me at acmetoo template thing-a-ma-bob: {c:green}Write{/c}: {c:green}Edit{/c}: {c:green}Kids{/c}: {c:green}Relationships{/c}: {c:green}Physical{/c}: {c:green}FFF{/c}: |
| Tiger's here. Ooh, she's a one. The year ahead promises to be all that everyone makes it to be. Tiger years are times of courage, of determination, of empowerment. They are not years to sit back idly, but years to work for what you want, and keep your teeth and claws sharp. It is a restless year, and one where hasty decision making may not be the best option, even though circumstances demand them. Suspicion rules, but at heart Tiger is generous, affectionate and sincere. You just have to know how to keep a hold of her tail... Happy New Year  |
| What is it with 2010? What the heck can a year have against a body? I'm supposed to be editing like the clappers, but another dose of bad news just got rammed in via the medicine spoon: a friend of mine (Writing Cafe member) has died. We wondered why he didn't reappear at meetings after New Year, and then all heck broke loose at home, so I never investigated. Another member, my Tasmanian friend, did investigate, knocking on doors in his neighbourhood for answers. I don't think anyone expected the finality of the result. Nigel was not, by modern standards, old. He was in his fifties and, although he had heart problems earlier in his life, bypass surgery some years ago proved successful. He was always passionate about writing, and offering advice to others. He had a keen interest in all forms of writing, but excelled at script, where characters came to life before our imaginations as they spoke. I never heard a harsh word issued from his lips, and naught but a warm smile was ever etched upon them. I think of that smile now; a slightly raised eyebrow, as if the whole of the universe was in some way amusing, and a quick wrinkle at the sides of his eyes that made his good-humour infectious. He will be missed. Nigel Hague, rest in peace. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Just on more thing: I think I may be getting ill, somewhere inside my lower abdomen. Why? Well, because when I stick my middle finger in my belly button hole, up to the knuckle, it comes out gooey and stinky. That can't be right, can it? It must be the symptom of some horrifying disease. It can't be considered right and proper to carry on typing with the same finger striking the E, D and C keys  *shuffles off to wash hands before bed* *shuffles back to wipe keyboard* |
gosh darn it! I never proofread before I post a blog entry; I do it after I've saved it (erm, publicly, too  ). Every now and then, TA's 'puter freezes, then it starts to do weird, miserable things to annoy me; such as when I click edit all my work is missing from the text box. Why's it peeing me off so much? Well, because there's a comma splice and I hate them almost as much as over-used exclamation marks  Forgive me, oh great grammarians of the site. It's just not my night for commas. Heck, I've just seen a couple that I seem to have popped in for no other reason than they look pretty. Sam Heck and Betsy Jane, I'll be fecked if I'm going to keep on proofreading when there's not a thing to be done about editing. |
Silk asks the copper why these people are raising such a rumpus in the street, instead of being home keeping warm, for it is colder than a blonde’s heart, and there is plenty of ice around about. Damon Runyon ~ 'Broadway Financier' A little note about my choice of degree course. I love American literature. I was, as readers of my blog will know, a 'book snob' in my early teens; if the author hadn't been dead at least a hundred years, you'd find me hard-pressed to bother reading the blurb. Happily, thankfully, and gladly, this changed when I was forced by a boy I was trying to impress to read my first Clive Barker book, and my thirst for all sorts of fiction, by dead folk or living, was stimulated. Sure, I still loved a classic, but soon realised the joy of modern classics... as well as pulp fiction... and chick-lit... and sci-fi... and--well, the list goes on, naturally. I remember standing in my local bookstore and not knowing what to do with myself. Gone was my single-minded pursuit of the Russians or the English ladies; it was as if I'd won Willy Wonker's golden ticket. I felt like Augustus Gloop--only, instead of a choco-river, I was drowning in words as I slaked my reading thirst. At that time (late '80s/early '90s), Penguin Publishing released a vast series of author 'taster' books. They were tiny things that could fit in your jean's pocket, and cost about 60p each. I scooped up a load of them: different authors/genres/styles/ancient/modern--whatever they had! One of them was The Snatching of Bookie Bob by Damon Runyon. He was the first American author that I read. I found myself immersed in a world where English was a second language. It was exciting, vibrant, dangerous, and had an accent, which sounded a lot like Jimmy Cagney. I was hooked. I loved film noir, and Runyon's words struck me like bullets from a tommy-gun. Odd, but I never read anything of his after that. I have a vague recollection of spending a few weeks searching for his name amongst the spines in the local Library and giving up. It wasn't the last I heard of him, though. In fact, I got to know him best for his influence in cinema. Still love his style, though. I found this old article on on't'tinterweb, and it made me realise the extent his humour and language have influenced my writing: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/01/weekinreview/01runyon.html?_r=1 I'll always remember my first dalliance with a foreign accent from the pages of a book. That stretch acrost the pond to connect with a different world was mind-blowing and led to Steinbeck, Poe, Twain, and to countless others. Golly, even if I don't manage to get a place on that degree program, I'm going to revisit some old books that have been dusty for far too long. What's the first 'foreign' voice you ever took notice of in literature? What was it that appealed to you? |
| Yesterday was another day of goodbyes, but in a very different way from the stranger/zombie/ex-hubby split. A man died. He was 51 and suffering. He suffered most of his life, and spent most of his adult life being cared for in various respite care homes. I didn't know him, but I did know his mother, S. She died last year, having already buried her husband and daughter, and knowing that her son also shared that most horrid of genetically passed on diseases, Huntington's1. Her family lived under the disease's dark shadow for decades. If you didn't know about the tragic toll on her family, you would never had had an indication of the weight of sorrow that S carried. She was one of the cheeriest, patient, caring, and joyous people to be around. There was a real strength of faith and peace in her heart, and it touched all those who came in contact with her. Not surprising then, that half the congregation at her son's Requiem Mass, including me, had never met her son, but felt as if we had through S's updates and fond recollections. In saying goodbye to her son, I got another chance to pay my respects to one heck of a lady. It comforts me to think that this family's suffering is over and that they can find peace in the presence of the Lord. Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord, and may light perpetual shine upon them. May they rest in peace, and rise in glory. Footnotes |
| Write: Worked a bit on my sonnet. Hated what I did, so didn't save it. I haven't really had a spare minute today, which has been wonderful, even if it is ultimately a writing excuse. Edit: Again, no. Kids: They've had a good day, but after seeing their dad, they begged him to come home and stay and, of course, he couldn't. Poor things. They don't see why it can't be simple. Relationships: I said I would spend more time in the company of friends and tonight I made the effort. I shaved my legs, let my 'fro go wild, wore my pre-marriage trademark Johnny Cash black (gawd, I do suit it, you know), and drove to an old friend's (J's) pub. I was on the driver's favourite: Coke on the rocks. Sunday night is Pub Quiz night. I do like J's pub. Unlike the majority of town pubs, full of cocktails and young flighty things wearing nightwear, J's pub is a bit Irishy/Slaughtered Lamb from American Werewolf in London, which means that it's full of colorful personalities and regulars, rather than colorful vomit stains in the loos. Wow. I saw a whole host of faces from mine and TA's past. Sure, I had the onerous task of repeating the 'No, we're not together anymore--I'm going through a divorce' thing, but the good news is that I won't have to go through that forever, and their company was so stimulating that I didn't go on about it. It was good just to catch up with folk, share a laugh, marvel at my excitement of recognising celebrities in the picture quiz round, and generally breathe out. I only stayed out for an hour and a half, but it was a good hour and a half. I'm looking forward to doing it again soon  Physical: Yes. A lot of stairs, and a good ole walk around the block at J's--we were hunting a lost bag that could have been left on the roof of a departing car, so we walked the block to see if it had fallen off anywhere. It hadn't. A customer was sitting on it, thinking it was a cushion. FFF: Food Two, good, solid, well-rounded meals today, and lots of coffee, of course. Fags Now that it is illegal to smoke in British pubs, I have to say that I didn't feel tempted. Sure, I've smoked today, but not half as much as I have been doing. Fermented Grape Juice No, but I did pick up a nice bottle of Shiraz for 'some future point'. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Write: Yes. I've had a very productive day. Saturday is Writing Cafe day, and I was so glad I went along today. I set a 15min writing exercise called 'the phone call'--it's basically just another way of writing AB dialogue, but the different slant took all the writers in very different directions. There were 12 of us today. Not bad for a wintry Saturday in a small town. Two of my favourite people turned up (not that I don't like 'em all), but Michael is one of the first writers I met years ago during a college creative writing course for adult learners. He's a retired Math teacher with a background in private education, quite posh, and very passionate about his writing. In fact, because he is so passionate about the craft, from grammar to plot, he gets very frustrated if hit by writer's block. I've not seen him at the cafe for months because he's had such a hard time fighting a recent bout of writer's block, but he wrote a smashing piece of dialogue and was genuinely greeted by all like a long-lost son. I think he enjoyed himself, and, even with the my current personal life up the swanny, I can say that I enjoyed myself, too It was great to tune out the world and fall under the spell of his wordsmithying. Sefton came along, too, and he's another face I've not seen in a while. He gets itchy feet, so tends to work, earn, bugger off somewhere exotic until the money runs out and then come back again. He's so driven to succeed as a children's story writer, and has even had an artist friend of his create fabulous illustrations for his latest kids' book. Being dyslexic doesn't deter him at all, and, after getting rid of one agent, he's now approached a couple of new ones with his latest project. Carolina was such a sweetie and brought me a bath pamper kit to soothe my aching heart, and the rest. Lesley bought me a jar of decaf coffee, because she's seen first hand the amount of regular I'm consuming! The rest of the wonderful writer-ladies fussed about me, making sure that I ate the thick broth lunch and potato scones that were on offer today. I came away feeling enthusiastic about my writing, and just a tad less woe-is-me about the personal journey ahead of me. Edit: Other people's work. And by that, I mean reviewing. I don't like to make people wait for things, and am very conscious of the fact that the History Contest entries need to be read, reviewed, and judged. I have left a note in the forum letting the contestants know that I will award places by 15th Feb, and so have started to do my reviews. Reviewing is a great way to focus my mind, and I'm loving the variety of entries in this bunch. Kids: I wanted them to have a laugh today. BA spent the entire day (10am - 7pm) at a friend's birthday party/mall/cinema trip. She came home full of junk food, smiles, fake tattoos and face-paint. I dropped Jnr off at one of her school friend's houses, and she baked batches of cookies, brownies, and fairy cakes. When BA came home, I bundled us all in the car and went, with my sister R, to a good old friend's house in Yorkshire. Her and her partner were a huge part of my life pre-TA, and like all good friends, they're there now that I need them. Stu is a fab guitarist, and H is a rock chick. Because both BA and Jnr are budding guitarists, and because the only reason I ever hung up my six-string and left the band was to become a mother and wife, I thought a jam session would be just the ticket. It was. Gawd, these ole fingers are a little rusty, but I still managed to remember a few songs from my band's hayday set-list, as well as turn out a half-decent rendition of Biffy Clyro's The Captain. I've got my music mojo back and the kids were well impressed. Jnr did a few numbers of her own and Miley Cirus's, much to the karaoke delight of all us wanna-be singers! I can't tell you how delightful it was to see them smile, sing, and laugh again. For the first time since their daddy left, both have gone to sleep in their own beds without a single tear-track running over their cheeks. I love them. Relationships: What can I say? I feel blessed to have the Writing Cafe and such good old friends. My family rock, and so do my WDC family. Physical: No. All the running around has been in the car, but, hey, it's been a day full of fun activities and good company, so I'm not telling myself off for not working on the guns  FFF: Food Very good day. I had pancakes for breakfast with the kids, thick broth at the cafe, a slice of pizza with Jnr, and some chips and dips at H & Stu's place. My appetite is back, and I'm making the most of it, in case it buggers off again. Fags Again, not bad. I've certainly cut down on these, if not the coffee, but I have decaf now, don't I? So maybe that will get better, too. erm, the jury's out on that one. Fermented Grape Juice No--not ready to get heady. F**kwit Saga A fuckwit free day  Scores for today: Cafe = Friends = Kids = Music = All-in-all, a day akin to finding yourself standing ankle deep in shite, but your friends are ready to rescue you with clean clothes and a hosepipe. A very good day, indeed. |
| Write: like the clappers--for work, that is. With everything that's been going on, I'm hopelessly way behind and the Bishop is arriving this morning. Aikes! I've showered, brushed teeth, and slapped on some deodorant, in an effort to look as if I'm capable of functioning. I'm a strong believer in the power of routine. It may be the only thing that drags me through the days ahead. Plus, I can't afford to feck up my only form of income, limited as it is. I'll have to write a list of incomings and outgoings and try to budget more than I do already (which will be hard, because I've always been a sensible shopper). Edit: Mum's going to help me edit those items for the anthology which got caught in my maelstrom. I will email them over to her after this blog entry. Bless her. Kids: Both are hurting, but enjoyed spending time with TA. He's reassured them that he loves them, but I had to bite my tongue when Jnr told me that he'd said that he would have left me years ago if it weren't for them. ouch. Relationships: Trying to function in the wider world. Will let you know how it goes. Physical: Stairmaster... well, up and down the stairs all day long because I forget what I'm going up for and get all the way back down before I remember. I've also spent more time on the bog than ever in my life. My diet of coffee has me climbing the banister every half hour or so. FFF: Food no. But believe me, this won't last. I will take care of myself. Fags lots. This may last a while. Fermented Grape Juice no. Funny, but I only got a thirst for it in the company of TA... shit, what does that say? Similar to the food, I'm sure this one will be temporary, but I can only see it as a good thing that I'm sober while my brain is turning to goo. |
| TA came home, phoned me, demanded my presence and then dumped me. Turns out he's lied about a lot of things, one of which that he wanted to make it work between us. He admitted that he lied in the marriage counseling when he said he wanted to make things better for us; he wanted to stay together for the kids. I'm numb. I'm lost and scared, right now, but my lovely family and friends are very supportive. BA is in the front room, laughing and joking with her nana. I'm waiting for Jnr to get home so I can break the news to them together. I only hope he hasn't beaten me to the punch; it will be hard enough to hear that laughter turn to tears. Must dash. Back later. Will be strong... ish. |
| Oh, I cannot express how uncomfortable my stomach is. Maybe my spidey-senses knew that I wouldn't fancy eating soon, and so gave me the yen for all those pork products. I've woken, after 2 hours sleep, to a whole heap of gnawing bile rising in my throat. TA let me down. *sigh* He started working away again yesterday. I spent sometime on the internet looking for public domain imagery and found a drop down search box with some odd stuff in it. One of the oddities was a search for a hotel near the motorway. Not one near his work, not one near to our house, but one somewhere in the middle. Why? What for? When? Who? I guess the usual perplexed thought process of a recently wounded spouse. So, instead of letting these questions fester inside me and take on a life of their own, I thought I would embrace our new 'honest and open communication process'. I asked him why he'd been searching for that particular hotel. He hadn't. He was annoyed. Just what was I suggesting. It was nothing to do with him. My paranoia was beyond belief. I apologised. I'm not sure why. I tried to go to bed. He's lying? Why? There's only me and him use the computer (Junior has her own, and I'm pretty sure she's not in the market for a hotel room at the age of 12). Let it lie? Or, investigate? His bank statement was handy. Sure enough, he'd paid the hotel £48 for one night's stay on the 11th Jan. He left on the 10th and told me he was at his mother's. He asked me to consider marriage counseling on the 11th, and made a date with me for the 12th. At no point did he mention a hotel, miles away from his work (which he took a week off from), me, and his mother. Also, he left at 6:00am on the morning of the 10th, so when was he googling hotel rooms? It must have been prior to his intention to leave me. Feck. I'm going to give him a chance to explain this. I phoned him up at 2:00am. I asked him to be understanding and to think very hard before answering. Was there anything he wanted to tell me about the mysterious hotel room search? I told him that having both said we were willing to make this marriage work, we needed complete honesty and openness to rebuild trust, and that the truth, no matter how odd, painful, or embarrassing was better than a bed of lies. He lied. He knew nothing about any hotel. I was driving him insane. I asked him if he wanted us to work. He said he didn't know. I said that if he did, he needed to be honest. Had he booked a hotel room and if so for when and for what reason. He hadn't, and I was wearing his patience thin. Good Lord, he was making every effort to work on our marriage and I was undermining it. I told him I had his bank statement in front of me. The line went silent. I asked him again, if there was anything he wanted to add and that it was unfair for him to keep making me out the bad guy when I didn't know what to believe. Right now I needed the truth, no matter what the cost. He said I would think he was a c**t. I told him that I already assumed he was and he could either confirm it and we'd move on, or put my mind at rest and we'd move on. He said he booked it when he left me. ouch. I don't know how, unless he can bend time. I didn't say that. I just ended the call. He's lied lots of times during our relationship. He is a good liar. He never admits, even with the opportunity, to anything other than his original story. He's only ever confessed to the contrary when presented with cold, hard, irrefutable facts. This makes believing him rather hard. He's coming home tonight. I have no idea what awaits me. I'm so desperately confused and lost. I don't know what he wants, and I don't know what the feck he expects of me. |
Write: What noise does an angry pirate farmer make? Aaarrrggghh! (You knew that. I could tell you knew that.) Write? Moi? No. I'S BEEN EDITING  Edit: My bum cheeks are numb. My eyes are googly. My mouth is dry and my breath tastes like wet dog. I've spent far too long in front of this burning computer screen today. My own fault, I know; if I'd got off my arse sooner, I wouldn't have had to do a bulk edit in one go. However, I can safely say that I've been a good girl and edited all those items that I think I had to do. I have a nagging suspicion that there's a great big pile of paperwork somewhere that I've conveniently blocked from my memory and used as an impromptu door-stop, or something  I've asked The Grammarian (wonderful editor lady) to let me know if there's something I've missed. I'm sure she'll tell me. She has a memory as vast her her knowledge about where things are supposed to go in sentences... only she uses some lovely words that I can't remember to describe them. She's very supportive of my editing efforts considering that all I really know about is punctuation. (don't you feckin' laugh! I do know about commas and such-like, I just don't tend to exercise that knowledge in my own writing.  )Kids: Junior has come home with news of great advances in French. It's all Greek to me. Well done her. She has told me that she is going to save up her pocket money for the next decade, in order to help her when she's at University. Bless. BA has come home from school four hours ago and sat at the kitchen table with her imagination, a stack of white A4 paper and a packet of felt tips. Occasionally, she's ordered food and drink from the Acme Café, but other than patting around for it with her pen-free hand, she's remained fixed on rendering a likeness of a girl being swallowed by a sea cave, and a diplodicus (sp?) eating leaves from the top of the canopy (different pictures, off course). Relationships: I keep falling in love with random WDCers. Of course I've always loved my staples, Lornda~ House of Martell ~  , Lauriemariepea  , MaryLou and zwisis, but every now and then I get a huge literary crush on someone. It starts out innocent enough: I get an encouraging review, thank them, and then get a delightful response to that response that makes me all warm and fuzzy in my dangling participles, until all I can think about is running my fingers through their verbs and softly caressing their ellipses. First it was SendintheClown , then it was MetaphorSquared , and now I'm all in love again. I shan't say who. They may feel embarrassed. Whereas I know that my clown and my Irish lovely would simply pat me on the plot flow and encourage me to develop my character. *sighs in a whimsical way and gurgles a bit*Physical: No. I've been an out and out slob. I couldn't even be bothered undoing my belt when I went for a wee; I just sort of pulled and tugged at my jeans until my arse fell out. FFF: Food More pork. Heck, I'm a living, breathing Discworld city. I can't remember what a fresh vegetable looks like. I'm lethargic and it's no wonder. Must improve dietary intake, before I devolve into a puddle of pastry. Fags Weird. I was so busy shoving crap food into my orifice that I didn't have time to pop a smoko in until 4pm. Have now stopped eating and started smoking. Fermented Grape Juice Nope. Coffee is my new friend. Actually, we never not been friends, but I'm definitely experiencing coffee-thirst today, not grape juice. |
| Write: No, because I WILL edit. Oh, yes, I will. Edit: In a minute. Honest. Kids: Both tired and grumpy. Junior loved London, and her brush with theatre-land has made her want to write scripts. Ace. BA still doesn't want to go to school. Who can blame her? Her bruises have yellowed, but not her memories of how they got there. Boys smell. On the plus side, her attacker chased after her again on Friday and she out-Gumped him in a run. Relationships: Progress! I've managed to change my automatic 'No' response, when invited to spend time with people. After the Café on Saturday, one of the writers invited me round for coffee. Instead of my usual 'Thank you, but I can't--I've a million things to do' knee-jerk answer, I said 'Yes'. I'm so glad I did. She's a lovely woman, and we chatted about nothing for ages. Physical: Walked to church and back yesterday. Other than that, I'm a lazy owd codger. FFF: Food: I'm fed up of pigs, basically because I've been feeding on nothing but pork products. Sausages, bacon, ham sandwiches, chops... I can smell spring around the corner. I keep thinking about all those lovely little lambs gamboling around and tasting lambish. No more pigs. Lots more lambkins. Fags: *cough* Fermented Grape Juice: No, but isn't the world weird? I'm helping a friend out with some Market Research today. I'm off to the wine aisle in a major British supermarket. Wonder what I'll have to do. It's going to take all avo, so I better disappear and crack on with my editing. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Write: The last thing I wanted to do after Bacardi Night was go along to the Writing Cafe today However, seeing as though I was up at 6:30am, driving people to train stations, doing a full supermarket shop and cooking bacon for Church, I went along to tell them all that I was 'poorly' and needed a lie down... and a bucket. They lured me to stay with a whiff of freshly ground coffee and a big cheery welcome... erm, and sausages in onion gravy. I'm so glad I stayed We worked really hard and enthusiastically today. There was a smashing 15min writing exercise in the 'Write Here, Write Now' time, which spawned a character's diary entry that's ended up being a smashing idea for a story. I want to know how it ends so I'll have to write it. A lot of members brought material to read out and get feedback on, and there's a lot of momentum behind the short story anthology. I get to help out organise the launch party! Faboo. Edit: No. I'm a very naughty person. I shall have to be punished. We're meeting with the printer on Wednesday avo, so I'll have to get those edits done by Tuesday night at the latest  Kids: They've gone! Junior's in London, and BA's gone to stay over at her Nana & Granddad's house tonight... leaving me and TA alone. Relationships: Rather than spend a night with nothing but ourselves, we're going to make the most of the babysitting and go to the cinema. I'm finally going to be able to watch Sherlock Holmes... although, everyone keeps going on about how ace Avatar is, so now I'm in a quandary. Physical: Rolling around on the floor drunk does not count as physical exercise. FFF: Food SAAAUSAGES! Fags Fermented Grape Juice Never again, until the next time |
| I didn't think I'd be writing for this round of Project Write World. The two picture prompts from Haiti are truly moving and inspirational, but it was the Thomas Mann quote that really got to me. Perhaps it's because recent home events have left me questioning who I am, and if I still recognise myself. Indeed, instead of recognising myself of old, I've started recognising some core truths about myself that have left me pleasantly surprised. They've revealed a constant part of me that's always been there; someone who is stronger than they thought, less shallow than they thought, less dependent than they thought. alfred dropped me a comment on a previous blog that stuck with me. He mentioned the animal practice of a momma looking after her cubs. I've kept that tiger image with me ever since. She's there, pacing, waiting to be unleashed. Like any form of energy, it's how a person channels it that matters. I recognise her behind my own eyes. And that in turn has changed my perception of myself--changed my preconceived notions about myself, and, ultimately, changed me. Okay, so this sonnet is still very rough around the edges, and doesn't fully engage the Thomas Mann quote, but I do hope that Team GB consider it as an entry. I caught a glimpse of mottled bruisey bags beneath the hooded furrows of my eyes; all lines and grey, all aches and pains, displayed. I'd thought myself a tiger, unafraid. I saw instead a captive wrapped in lies. I was not strong; this weary heart, drear, sags. Then all at once it happened that I knew-- that I who shouted 'All for love!' had lost the little piece of me that made me roar, the little piece of me that wanted more. So, out the tiger's cage the key was tossed, and all those stripes flared orange, burnt anew. In finding myself lost I paused to see, there'll always be a tiger within me. |
| Write: Liturgy, liturgy, liturgy... I love my job, but some weeks I feel like I could drown in the Roman Missal. Third Sunday in Ordinary Time's liturgy planner & readings = done  Sunday's 3:00pm Association of Local Churches Order of service & readings = done Monday's Solemn Mass for The Conversion of S. Paul & readings = done Readings up to Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C = done It's going to get busier. Easter is earlier this year, which means Lent is looming... Oh, and I was typing up minutes until 10:00pm last night. I've got to get an Annual Report together, the Parish recipe book, and the monthly magazine has to get put to bed next week... along with a Requiem Mass and Confirmation... Edit: Just the online Jerusalem Bible; some readings have typos and missing quotation marks. I was supposed to spend any spare time this week editing the short stories submitted for the anthology. Whoops. Tonight is Bacardi Night with the girls so I won't have time. I'm staying over at my sister's house, and then up and at 'em for 6:30am. I'm driving mum, little sister, and Acme Jnr to the train station first thing on Saturday for their trip to London. I have to hightail it straight to church because one of my friends is being baptised at 9:30am. Straight after that I'm at the Writing Café. I have no excuses. I shall have to be brave and tell the authors that I got squiffy instead. Of course, I'm a conscientious drunk, and have no intention of drink driving in the morning, so I shall be well behaved and only have a little tipple. It is, after all, the quality of the company that counts, not the quantity of libation. Kids: They've been at each other's throats. Little terrors. I think the London trip is good timing; BA and Jnr need to spend time away from each other! Relationships: Been having a cool time with friends, by focusing on them, not me. Sitting on the sidelines instead of being the centre of attention is rather refreshing, because, believe it or not, I don't like the universe revolving around me. Physical: Go me! I'm a workout demon. Yes, I've reverted to a lazy car driver, but am still keeping up the exercise where possible. Baked bean tins have become fabulous weights for two very important reasons:  400g per tin makes a smashing, lean muscle weight When they've been tossed about a bit, the beans go all mushy in the pan--I love a mushy bean FFF: Food Mushy beans. Tis slightly windy of an evening in these here parts Fags eeew. I's got yeller fingers. Lord knows what my innards must look like, but then, like Bill Hicks once said, we'd have been made out of transparent skin if we were supposed to see that kind of thing. Fermented Grape Juice Got a lovely case of Australian Shiraz. I'm saving it for a rainy day. I live in the North of England. It's always raining. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Feck. He's got my eyes. Feck. He's got my pucker. Feck. He looks just like me. Twat. Pretty fecking, pretty twat, though, ain't he? I was looking at my feet today. Actually, I was looking at my left foot. No, I was not having a Daniel Day Lewis moment. I was having another mini-epiphany. Yes, it involved Rembrandt and George Michael. Anyone who knows me knows my amazement about the physical attributes of George Michael. When I was a kid, my sister was in love with him. I didn't know why. He was strange to me. She loved Wham! I didn't. I think that was as deep as my thought processes went. I liked Echo and the Bunnymen, The Jesus and Mary Chain, basically, any 80's band that had the decency to hide behind a fringe (US = bangs?). She loved a man who had FINGERS FOR TOES. Oh, yes he does. There was a Club Tropicana poster on her wall (very Miami Vice), and his bare finger-toes were splayed in the sand. Gawd, he could have played Chopin with those babies. I remember doing a weird Bruce Lee move to place my own foot beside his picture. My foot was normal. In fact, my foot was beautiful. My toes were toe sized, they were in perfect proportion with a beautifully sculpted arch, delightful airy ball, and precision swivel heel. My God, I thought, I have the prettiest feet in the universe. Tonight I rediscovered them. Sure, George Michael has gabzilliontrillions in the bank, but that bastard has shit feet. My feet, on the other hand, are as perfect as a Rembrandt pucker. When my little sister was emerging from the shadow of the rather large personality shadows cast by twinny and I, her love of line drawing and pen and ink culminated in a near-perfect example of the Rembrandt pucker picture above. I never would have discovered it, were it not for her. I owe her a huge debt. The first time I saw it I thought, That picture is almost as perfect as my left foot. Any artist who can let me raise them up to me is a worthy mirror of my life. It got me thinking of my top ten favourite piccies of all time. I'd love to know yours, but for now, here's the last half of the Acme Fine Art Top 10! 10. Rembrandt = eyes wide self portrait (see above) 9. Rembrandt = De Nachtwacht (but this is the Pratchett front cover which blows me away: http://photo.goodreads.com/questions/1232176809p7/34064.jpg) 8. Edward Hopper = Nighthawks (biiiiiig window. So voyeuristic: http://nsm.uh.edu/~dgraur/Images/hopper.nighthawks.jpg) 7. Picasso = Guernica (horrible, horrid war in startling vivid stokes: http://www.artchive.com/artchive/p/picasso/guernica.jpg) 6. Banksy = Flower Thrower (oh, yes, out of the many, many, Banksy classics, this one speaks to me: http://www.thestencilstudio.com/ekmps/shops/thestencilshop/images/flower_thrower...) I'll leave my top 5 until another entry. They may surprise you, or maybe not. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Write: No, but I have a list of things to do which is steadily growing--not least the new round of "Project Write World" [13+] Edit: Again, I have quite the list. I'm part of the editing team for the Writing Café's anthology. I realise that many readers may raise an eyebrow in amusement at the thought of me left alone with other people's commas, but I can be trusted. Like many writers left to edit/proofread their own work, my errors can be invisible to me, but I can pick out someone else's misplaced apostrophe at twenty paces. I'm actually looking forward to doing it, but have 29 stories to go through with a very tight deadline. The other editors and I have had a chat about uniformity. We've decided that as long as each edit is consistent to each story, then we're not going to lose sleep over whether the whole anthology goes for an Oxford comma or AFP. Gawd, what a bunch of exciting people we are. I may be pretty quiet while I wade through the stack of stories in front of me. That might make a nice change! Kids: Delightful. The house is an absolute tip, their toys are everywhere, and they've left half-chewed pieces of toast on the arms of the chairs. I don't care; they're playing together wonderfully and imaginatively. BA has a crystal that, when concentrated on an enemy's brainwaves, can make their personality the opposite of what nature intended. I wondered why Junior was being so pleasant. Relationships: I have taken the plunge. I have spoken to people in authority in institutes of higher learning. I start my Preparation to Teach in the Adult Learning Sector (or something like that... it's City & Guilds ) after Easter. The application is being sent out to me by the end of the week, and enrollment will take place mid-March. The great news is that a successful bid for funding by the Writing Cafe means that this training will be paid for.Physical: Work out machine. I've been sure to invest as much time in myself as I dare (baby steps), and thought that setting aside 30 mins a day was an achievable goal. I've also looked into Karate classes for BA and I: her latest dream is to become a superhero/international espionage ring-leader/paid assassin. Who am I to stand in the way of such delightful ambition? Junior wants to start playing Badminton. TA can do that with her. I want the fun activity. FFF: Food: I seem to have re-discovered veggies. It's not that I've ever gone off them, but with us living out of the store cupboard/freezer ingredients during the bad weather, I've been pining for green leafies. Have made a mountain of broccoli-flavoured treats. Fags: Woke up, slapped on a patch, made it until lunchtime and then ripped it off and smoked it. Not really--I didn't smoke it. The whole half-hearted attempt proved that I'm in desperate need of an intervention/boot camp if I want to stop while my heart's not in it. Fermented Grape Juice Finished the other half of my South American. Will not be doing that again for a while. I made the mistake of asking TA if he loved me. He rolled his eyes, screwed up his face, tutted and replied, "For f**ks sake!" mmm Boiling frogs? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Write: No. I'm reading, and find it so hard to do both at the same time. I finally gave in and bought Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol. A romp's a romp to me, so I like the high-octane pace. I do admit, though, that if he'd posted it on WDC, I'd have quite a few suggestions for the next time he edited. How bad is that? Edit: Other than the urge to offer richer, more successful, authors my two-penneth, no, I haven't edited. Kids: They move in pairs. BA made me go and see her teacher because she worried that she wasn't being given enough work and did nothing but 'colour in' all day and chat. After speaking with the teacher, it suddenly became clear that BA doesn't think she's working if she isn't writing. Drama, social development, group discussion, art and science are not 'work' to her. Why? "Because anyone can come up with a bright idea and something clever to say, but not everyone can write it down for someone else to read and understand." Feck. She's 7. Where does she get these things from? Relationships: I have embraced my fellow man ... and he's a bit smelly. No, seriously, I'm having a whale of a time putting myself into social situations and becoming actively involved. These range from queues in shops, queues at bus stops, waiting parents at school--basically, anywhere I have a captive audience. You know those annoying strangers who seem determined to strike up a conversation with you as if you were a long lost friend? That's me. Am I proud of it? Yes, goddamit, I'm making people say hello to the rest of the world around them. If they don't like it they can punch me on the nose. Physical: I am getting fitter and fitter everyday. I know the walking started because I had no car, but I sure hope I keep it up. Not only am I reducing my carbon footprint, but I'm reducing my own physical imprint on the planet, too. I do wonder where fat goes. After all, if you're not shitting it out, because your exercising it out, does it dribble out of your pores with sweat? If so, does that mean I'll end up with fat stains under my arms, as opposed to sweat stains? The human body is a wonder to behold, isn't it.FFF: Fags: Not as bad as I was, but, yes, still puffin' away. Food: Have cut my own nose off to spite my face. I soaked chickpeas over night and spent 3 hours making a chickpea dahl with home made chipattis (sp?). Hubby doesn't like it, but part of my new frog boiling regimen is to do things I like and he either fits in with them or sorts himself out. I'm not totally heartless; I did a quick family head count of who else would rather eat their shoelaces than mum's curry. erm, everyone. So, I used the same curry base and when it came to putting my chickpeas in, I added them to a separate pan with 1/4 curry base, and popped a couple of cubed chicken breasts into the family pot. They loved theirs. Mine tasted like slightly Asian wallpaper paste with lumps in. Feck. Next time everyone eats the horrible healthy version, or else Fermented Grape Juice After a week of sobriety, a hot-blooded south American red flirted with his full-bodied beauty and I was charmed. |
| ... and they're out of the starting gate for 2010... ... the early pacemaker is Acme, out in front on 'Bolt from the Blue', behind her is the irrepressible Ma Acme riding 'Where's there's a Will', followed by a neck by Twin Acme on 'Crash Test Dummy', but 'Beat the Banker' is closing fast... In the Shit Stakes 2010, our family has quite a few runners. Bolt from the Blue I'm up to hear with my crap, and no doubt you will be too, so here's a mini update, and then I'll shut up about me:  I keep up my daily mantra regarding 'boiling a frog'. Good things take time. I'm doing well in learning the subtle art of patience... oh, who am I kidding? I'm not patient, but I am learning. I can't change overnight, but I'm making inroads. I am, indeed, boiling a frog. I quit my second part time job as relief driver for the chemist. Good intentions pave the road to hell, and, while I hoped I would have been better help to the pharmacy, as a relief driver I made a marvellous hat stand. I will be going ahead with the teacher training (ADULTS only... I don't think it would be wise to let me too close to impressionable young minds). I need to get enrolled by Feb. Picked up another second job to replace the chemist. Hope it works out, but I'm used to being my own boss and it's hard to get out of that mindset. This time I will be near impressionable young minds, because I'm going to be a midday supervisor at the local primary. Will it fit in with college? Who knows. I'll have to make the magic happen, because I could sure use the trickle of income. The snow has melted. A bit of a charge to the old car battery, and the Parish Rover is purring like a kitten. I took her for a spin along the motorway and she loved it. So did I. How nice it is to have the freedom to run away. Went to the Cathedral today. Manchester Cathedral is not the prettiest, the quaintest, nor the most dazzling, but it's mine, and I think it's wonderful. I love the 'Misericords' (http://www.manchestercathedral.org/content/view/38/44/), which are intricately carved 'standing stations' for the canons who would have had to attend numerous masses and psalmodies. They are situated above the laity in the quire, and have armrests, small perches at bottom height and a little seat in case perching wasn't enough. I realise I should have been paying much more attention to the priest, but the building speaks to me, and it would be rude not to listen. Made every effort not jump the bones of the returning hubby. Didn't do very well. He didn't complain, though, so I figure no harm, no foul. Other than the occasional sexual harassment incident, I'm giving him space, and, more importantly, I'm not letting him take mine. Boiling frogs, Acme, boiling frogs...Where's there's a Will Poor old mum. She's still battling cancer, eking out every spare moment she can, even though they've told her that the chemo is just there to slow it, not defeat it. She had to go back to Christies on Friday, and while they gave her the tablets she needed, they were concerned with rising levels of technical things in her blood work. Poor girl. She's fighting that, fretting for me, and worrying over my sister, too, now. She said she hoped 2010 was vomiting all its horror at her upfront, so that she can enjoy all the good shit that the year will bring on the way down. I love the way she looks at things. I just thought that it had been shit. 'Crash Test Dummy' and 'Beat the Banker' It's not for me to highlight other people's crap--they might want to keep the personal personal. So I just want to say that my poor twinny has had a rough start to the year, too. Her family has been hit hard by the recession and associated financial instability. While contending with all that, she's had more bad news: her hubby and son were in a car crash. Both survived, both were relatively uninjured (more than can be said for the car) and the hospital has checked them over and let them go. 2010 has a long way to go. I'll be there to watch it play out. I just won't be placing any bets. |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
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
