%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Includes my personal journaling and works submitted to Mental Health Writers Alliance |
| One of my books... |
“What the heck is a minotaur?” The question was in my mind before I could finish reading the prompt instructions. Not being a fan of mythology and related subjects, I felt challenged. Thus, I took my computer on a research journey exploring the minotaur and associated labyrinth. To my surprise I found the mythology of the monster, Minotaur, interesting. I learned the minotaur is a creature which is a cross between a bull’s head and tail, and the body of a man. The minotaur came to be as the offspring of Pasiphae and the snow-white bull which was a gift from the god, Poseidon. The Minotaur dwelled in a great labyrinth according to mythology which was designed by Daedalus and his son, Icarus, as commanded by the King Minos on the island nation, Crete. The minotaur was eventually killed by Theseus. As I read a brief history of this mythological creature, I was, also, exploring the labyrinth known as Writing.Com 101. I know so little about the ins, and outs of WDC, that I could pick just about any topic and learn something new. I wandered through the tangle of topics and chose to become acquainted with the Full Screen edit tool which is available to Premium and above members. The text box is larger allowing for increased viewing area which helps with complex documents. The more you can see of a document the easier it is to rearrange and edit. Also, included is the formatting button bar. This bar lets you choose fonts, colors, and reformat full parts of the document. For a more in-depth explanation of the Full Screen edit tool be sure and enter the labyrinth of WDC 101. As an afterthought to the first blog of the month, I must admit that I wrote this blog without needing a cookie, paperclip, or a toy truck. I honestly didn’t know what to do with them. |
| A Lesson I Learned the Hard Way Trust is a quality that most of us take for granted until someone in our lives destroys our faith and confidence. Learning that lesson came in my early years of high school. To begin with, I was the child of strict and exacting parents. Trust was a hard to come by commodity. Especially, when I was an imaginative and precocious teenager. I always tested the boundaries. I think it’s funny to think back to lessons learned in high school days. The lessons learned then often seemed unfair or inconsequential. And to this day, some consequences still seem unfair. While in high school, I was enrolled in a college level night class in history. The only way to attend this class was to drive. As a teenager, I loved to drive my 1963 white Chevrolet Impala, two door. I was an adult and felt independent while driving. One night I decided to skip half my history class, and I took my Chevy for a joyride. I had it all figured out. I could skip class and have an hour to take my car out on the road. Well, I did that and drove the river roads of Spokane, Washington until it was time to get home by the curfew. When I arrived home, I was disciplined. My dad had monitored the odometer. I put way too many miles on the car for driving to school and back. Oh my, was I ever disciplined. My folks grounded me for a month and sold the Chevy. Lessons learned: Taking advantage of someone’s trust can have severe consequences. And no matter how a person tries, if you sneak around, you will be caught in the act. Also, bad behavior can only hurt yourself in the long run. ******************** This challenge was difficult for me. It brought up many buried memories. So, I hope you bear with the lack of continuity in this piece. |
| Unfortunately, I don’t speak a second language. One of my goals in life has been to learn French or Spanish and I have attempted French. However, unless one practices the art, the results are limited. I travelled to Paris several years ago in a whirlwind trip, and I tried to cram the French language down my own throat. I picked up a few phrases that I didn’t use in my visit. Turns out that most of the French people I met spoke better English than I do. Who knew? All four of my children have bilingual skills from high school and college days. My oldest son, Peter, majored in Japanese Studies at the University of Montana (Go Grizzlies!). He is quite fluent in the language and customs of the country of Japan. My daughter, Stephanie, and my middle son, Brett, studied Spanish. My youngest son, Mitchel, studied German. With what I have read, I think that learning a language is well worth the effort. A few cognitive benefits of learning that second language are: improved memory, increased problem-solving skills, advanced multitasking and listening skills. I, personally, could use help learning or becoming more adept at many of these skills. At some point in the future, I want to learn the French language, because I hope to visit Paris, again, in a more leisurely fashion. I want to listen to the language, explore the Versailles palace, Louvre museum, and the many cathedrals, cafés and bridges. With a little stick-to-it-ive-ness, I can learn the language through experience. My goal will be to understand the culture and language of France while enjoying the sights, sounds and tastes of the country. |
| Oct 2 Blogging Challenge—Pet Peeves I am considered an easy-going kind of gal. However, even I have a peevish side that shows itself as irritability or annoyance. One definition of pet-peeve found on Wikileaks is “ornery or ill-tempered.” I am tickled by that definition because it describes my behavior when I feel peevish. So, now we come to one of my pet-peeves which is lists of pet-peeves. When I googled the words “pet-peeve”, I found several lists of other blogger’s pet-peeves. One list contained at least 76 peeves. I became irritable with these writers because some of the peeves seemed petty. As a tolerant person, these lists irked me. However, recognizing my humanness, I must accept that I too have an ornery side when it comes to certain folk’s behaviors. Let me begin with the internet. Selfies: some internet users like themselves a little too much. The number of profiles and face shots become redundant and seem self-centered. Oh, dear, out comes my judgmental side. Another irritant for me is the excessive use of hashtags. I know they are meant to direct a reader to further sites beneficial to a subject, nonetheless, the use becomes distracting. Some of my more common pet-peeves include: 1) when a friend or acquaintance tells me he/she will meet me at a certain time and place and doesn’t show or are very late. At the very least, I expect a phone call; 2) smacking lips or chewing with mouth open. I would appreciate table manners; and finally, cluttered kitchen tables. The last thing I like to do before serving a meal is to clean off my table. Whew! As I go through my list of pet-peeves, I conclude that maybe I am not as easy-going as I might like to believe. I have my picky side and I need to become more tolerant with less orneriness. |
| October 1 Blog--Personal and Professional Goals I gave a lot of thought to the October 1 challenge. It never occurred to me that October could be a goal setting month. It’s always been a month for celebrating Columbus Day, picnics and celebrations; National Bosses Day, office antics; or Halloween, parties and trick-or-treating. However, as I read the wise words of another blogger (www.keepinspiring.me), goal setting can help me believe in myself, increase my ambition, and hold myself accountable. I like the idea that I could believe in myself to fulfill my set goals. As a result of my thought processes, I came up with several goals that will keep me occupied for the month of October. Those goals are: 1. Complete the 30 Day Blogging Challenge—what a way to get back into the writing habit. 2. Workout at the gym 4 days per week and keep a diary of my successes. 3. Keep a fitness tracking program that tracks calories and foods that I have eaten. 4. Write 300 words per day on my book titled, “A Modern Lottery”. 5. Begin leatherwork projects for Christmas gifts. (I know. It’s the “C” word.) At this moment, I am thinking of goals within goals. I know, many times, it takes several steps to achieve one goal, and fulfilling my goals will take some doing. However, I know that with a little belief in myself, ambition and personal accountability, achieving these goals can be a reality. |
| I went through my files tonight. Real paper files. Not the computer type. What I found intrigued me. I found my novel. Started and stopped writing this challenging piece several years ago. I looked but couldn't find any copies on my laptop. So, here I am with 6000 words of a dark manuscript that I can't even name the exact genre. Sheesh! What's going to happen is that I will be retyping my manuscript into my PC, my cloud account, storage media and my Writing.com account. That way I should be able to keep track of this challenge. The real plus in this lost and found event is that I will be able to share as I go with my WDC compadres. |
| I haven't blogged for awhile. So, I thought I would share a poem that I wrote in 2016. With all the environmental upheaval in the world today, I thought the poem might be appropriate. The title: "Once A Special Place." Hope you enjoy its basic message. Andie "Once A Special Place Aloneness feels good, melds gently with awakening light. Loneliness creeping defeats itself, Battling the buoyant sunrise and solitude. The forest awakens, gently unfettering the floral delight, inviting all to ancient trammeled trails and roads. Gaze upon the switchbacks; follow the mountain’s ridge, keen-sight the crest, the headwaters; a thundering waterfall drawn to an emerald and Elysium lake, hurtling water that pounds, deafens and stuns. The day sends rays earthward filtered by needles and cones. I pause. I feel the sun. See silver mists drift over the green. I move toward a giving lake seeking solace and reprieve. Not so the tail-teasing skittering chipmunks, and the disharmonic ravens and jays. Sitting quietly in the field of flowers that crowns the ridge, eyes resting, sensing the busyness of life, harmonious; bees, beetles and birds joining flowers, moss and trees, nature’s promise and Spirit’s guarantees. Vines, ferns seeking ever upward, leading me to the summit. Panoramic pedestal of vistas and valleys, creeks and streams joining with nature, succumbing in reverence, kneeling in grief. Asphalt corridors, dikes, and dams dissolve all without mercy. |
| Montana spring is such a tease. Seven days of crisp but sunny weather. Now, three inches of snow and blowing. Had outdoor plans. Now, I have indoor plans. |
| Pottery and Words Knead, caress, sculpt, glaze; actions that create pottery, a simple bowl filled with hollow space. Time determines how the hollowness fills itself. While sitting at my desk, the small pottery bowl soon fills--a paper clip, a handful of coins, three copies of the same business card, a stick of gum and fingernail file. Over time, the emptiness becomes a whole with purpose. Some days, the pottery creates excitement when a young person finds a lost earring or the lip-gloss forgotten. Other days, the pottery bowl is upside down, contents emptied as the mother searches her house for that one last cigarette. In time, the pottery bowl refilled and replaced on the desk, where all is well. Little spaces in life are challenging yet comforting. Like the pottery bowl, kneaded, formed, sculpted and fired, I am a bowl filled with hollowness and emptiness. Tossed and turned upside down, I set out to fill that emptiness. I discovered writing. I discovered my talent. I began to fill the hollow space. Filling space is challenging. While facing life’s challenges for many years, I wrote very little of substance; all the time, yearning to release characters I meet on my journey, to put words to paper that describes the shining sun through treetops while cool air remains beneath the tree limbs, or to show how small fish can nibble the bubble of a leg hair. I write on with the hope that one day my readers will smile at the characters or events that I put on paper, and that my hand-formed pottery self-fills with words of wisdom and humor. |
| The Mohawk hairstyle is the first thing I notice about the boy in the cafeteria. His hairstyle is three inches tall and extends from his blonde eyebrows to the fuzzy nape of his neck. With his soft wavy ash blonde hair and dark brown tips, the hairdo suits him. Brown and wide open, his eyes glint with humor. The smile of this ten-year-old boy is dimple-to-dimple, bright and beautiful. I fall in love with this young man as I would a grandchild. He is adorable. We met at the local warehouse cafeteria as I held a greasy cheesy slice of pizza. Looking around for a table, I saw one in the corner. The boy and I arrived at the same white vinyl table at nearly the same moment. He and I look at each without worries. In seconds, we sense a common competitive streak. I believe he sees a trustworthy grown up who feels no anger towards this serendipitous situation. Peering at each other, again, we see the humor, and grin. Our initial eye-to-eye contact takes seconds. We are kindred spirits without an age barrier sharing a forever moment. Short seconds later, I take a risk. I raise my fists in an old-fashioned boxing style. After all, I am somewhat old fashioned. Without hesitation, the boy in the cafeteria raises his arms and hands with the perfect karate block and parry stance, and that smile. The interaction takes a few more seconds. Within that moment of fun and camaraderie, I know the table is his. I surrender graciously and ask, “How many are in your group?” His reply is puckish yet respectful. Raising a handful of fingers, he says, “Five.” That is it. All is lost. With a warm feeling toward him, I say, “Okay, young man, you win.” I walk away from the white vinyl table waving a wiggly finger good-bye. He waves back. Three seconds later, he is pointing with enthusiasm towards a vacant table in the middle of the room. “Hey lady, there’s a table for ya!” he says with enthusiasm. I love him for that enthusiasm. I return a thumbs up. The ten-year-old, whose name I may never know, rewards me with a vibrant smile that only an innocent young man can share with a grown up. He is happy. My steps are lighter. My shoulders lose their slouch. My day is more carefree. The boy is my gift. I am happy. I will never forget the cafeteria boy. |
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
.