Blog @ Work

No, there has not been a situation like this in the past, but I am in the middle of a possible outcome of cancellation right now.

A friend of mine wants to go to New York City in 2017 but doesn’t want to travel by herself. So she invited me to come along with the promise to pay for my trip since I am not in a financial position for such an expensive holiday. A few months into the idea she is backing off a little bit and she seems less enthusiastic about the whole idea (or am I imagining things?). Anyway, I meet with her next week to talk things through and I am really interested in what her cause of action will be. Is she going to cancel the trip all together? I would be disappointed of course but not too much since I am so busy lately, there is hardly time to plan a trip in early 2017 due to my writing schedule at the moment. So either way, I am comfortable with what she decides to do.

What happened all those years ago? I remember standing on the bridge of all things and in my hands the salvation of the universe. Just as I attempted to save us I heard a loud noise and startled by it I slipped the salvation of the universe into the river. With a splash it was gone, drifting away in the stream of anonymous consciousness, waiting to be rescued by someone somewhere along the river bank. Every year I go back to that same place mourning the loss of the most important rescue of human development, hoping that someone will find it and be able to save the galaxy for eternity. There is little hope, though, since the stream is long and winding and humans are freckle beings and not that smart. But the Universe is infinite and wise, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens and wonder if there will be a permanent place for us among the stars or that we will be just a small, insignificant spec in the realm of all things.

War has been of all ages, it seems ingrained in our DNA. There has not been a single era without any war somewhere. I think it is an evil lurking inside of us. And yes, definitely are we making permanent and really bad decisions based on temporary feelings. In the context of war, but also with regards to our care of the planet, which is real, real bad and the use and exploitation of energy, endangered species and Nature in general. With the speed we are going we will be extinct pretty soon ourselves.

I feel lucky that my crib stood in this part of the Western world. In a lot of other countries, you face war, devastation, famine or rape and death on a regular basis. Being born female is great where I live, it is still not so great in some other countries where life is predominantly ruled by misogyny, racism, hate and greed. History has proved minorities only thrive within safe borders. I live inside such a safe border and I feel lucky because of that.

Feeling lucky for me means being happy for something outside of your own control. Where you were born is beyond your control. I feel lucky with what I have been graced with and the possibilities of the free Western world to operate in.

Curses are a form of black magic. I am not familiar with that but to be on the safe side I try to protect myself from it. I am doing research on black magic and black witchcraft for a story. Since this subject makes me a little apprehensive I have protected myself with a little mirror in my study. It is said that mirrors are protecting you against bad influences and spells. I think black magic can have power without you been able to control this totally. It operates beyond my realm of understanding; perhaps you can pick up things unconsciously and be influenced by it.

Subsequently, all other concepts of life have power. Because you believe in it (the force of prayers for some) or because it simply exists (negativity in general). Not everything can be ‘willed’ and controlled. There is more out there between heaven and earth than we know.

” To try to do too much; to take on or attempt more than one is capable of doing.” I did that in the past up to the point of burn out. Now I try not to do that anymore and I try to keep my balance within my boundaries. I think this quote refers to setting up and defining borders or not. When you are young there are no limitations you think and you will take on everything, sometimes too much. I have learned from that and am very cautious nowadays with regards to being involved and taking up new challenges. The elements of play, joy and lightness have to be in it otherwise it is a no-no for me. It has to fit in my schedule and my life easily to avoid stress. I don’t take stress very well. Furthermore: if there is balance in your life the energy is flowing back and forth in a healthy way. If you take on too much the energy will get stuck in the middle or turn negative. I only thrive by positive energy.

Disagreeing with someone is saying that your own thoughts are different from the other; you take another stance at it. It’s good nor bad, it’s simply different. Judging someone is saying that you disagree but that the thoughts of the other are bad, or even worse: that the other person is bad.

The difference is that you make it personal in the last take. Judging is criticizing the other person; it adds a negative value to it. On the other hand, real Judging: as in a contest or something can be without negativity as well. You make a distinction between what you like best and what you like less. It has no bearing on the person itself.

That’s why I like the phrase: we agree to disagree. It gives room for disagreement without the critical undertone of negatively judging the person.

1. Arie my dog makes me smile every day, I cannot stress the importance of having him in my daily life.
2. Writing.com makes me smile; I am so thankful I found this site and am learning and enjoying myself.
3. Lately, my Muse makes me smile, after a hiatus, she is back and I am enjoying her presence.
4. Experiencing Autumn makes me smile with its beautiful reddish colors and its crispy days.
5. Some people make me smile, because they add positivity to my days, or because they are just funny.
6. The sound of playing kids outside makes me smile; it reminds me of how fortunate I am in this part of the world where there are peace and safety for kids to play outside without being harmed.
7. Awardicons, MBs, Gps and winning contests make me smile; I am a sucker for those incentives to my work at WdC.
8. Having fun with my writing makes me smile since I am a rather serious person, I love it that I am having so much fun in creating.
9. Using emoticons (especially the and the like) make me smile; I think they are so great in expressing virtual emotions.
10. My life in general at the moment makes me smile, and I am feeling quite thankful for that.

Strangely enough Music doesn’t play an important role in my life, it never has. I sometimes find myself listening to Schubert or another great composer, and I feel good about it, but there are times when I never listen to music at all. I am from the generation where concentration has everything to do with silence. I love silence; it makes me focus better on my writing. But there are some precious moments I find a piece of music I absolutely adore and then I can enjoy it tremendously.

I am a bargain hunter so I am on the lookout throughout the year for Christmas gifts. Up until last year, we always celebrated Christmas at my father’s house where he and his wife would entertain us. We usually went to have dinner out and presented gifts around the Christmas tree. We, being the three kids and my sister’s two boys. So we were a group of seven each year.

My father died very suddenly and was buried the day before last Christmas. So we never celebrated Christmas last year, as you can imagine. I was full time at my stepmom’s house for fourteen days helping out and supporting her in those dreadful times.

This year I invited my stepmom at my place for a stayover of both days (we celebrate two days of Christmas in my country). I am going to cook for her and we have a dinner out the following day. So there is only the two of us, we are not celebrating with the rest. Perhaps I’ll invite my brother who lives nearby for the first Christmas day, but I am not sure yet. My sister lives very far away and cannot come, and her boys have other plans I am sure.

I already bought two gifts for my stepmom. The celebration this year will be a frugal one because it is the first year of my father’s dead.

A few weeks ago I had my bi-annual clinical breast cancer exam. I had put the date out of my head and postponed it three times because the whole thing spooked me. I already in advance saw myself lying down in a contemporary hospital bed on a drip of fluids for my chemotherapy. I was that terrified by the whole idea of having to deal with breast cancer. I felt a loss of power. I was totally freaked out for a few weeks just thinking about it, something I now regret because it made my life miserable for a short period of time. It was those greedy thoughts of survival and a touch of hypochondria that made me feel this way. Since there was nothing wrong at the end, it was a total waste of time. I put out balloons to celebrate though and made myself a promise not to go those places in my mind worrying when the time is not yet right to do so. I hope to put that into practice in a short while since I am up for another bi-annual exam for cervix cancer in one month. I keep my fingers crossed!

See my blog "How to start a scary story" . I am writing a duo piece at the moment with another member of the Rising Stars Project and we are following the guidelines written in that blog. I think a horror/scary story is very difficult to write due to the building up tension and the element of surprise. But I am submitting stories to SCREAMS!!! sometimes, just to get the hang of it.

Harry Houdini’s Hoax ~Bess’ longest wait

Houdini kissed wife Bess in wake
rehearsed for when he was dead
With signs and secret items to share
~At the other sphere side they met

Bess did the séances for ten whole years
Lighting candles with a flame
She never met her man again
Thought it a hoax, and it was lame

The society on the other hand
claimed to have proof of strive,
stating Harry Houdini did his act:
escaping death after life.

Today, on Halloween, I am celebrating my first completion of "Give It 100!" ! I did the 100 days of blogging. . I have to thank "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  [13+], "Blog City Prompt Forum"  [E], and "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum"  [E] for that because of the prompts. It wasn’t hard to do at all. In fact, it was fun and I am continuing blogging since I really, really love doing that. Happy Halloween to you all! .

The subconscious affects us all a great deal I believe. I am an adept of Sigmund Freud who wrote: “The mind is like an iceberg, it floats with one-seventh of its bulk above water.” The rest of it is subconscious material. I loved his Interpretation of Dreams. Dreams are a great way to explore the subconscious mind. And of course, my Muse lives in the realm of the subconscious!

Expecting the good prepares your mind on the good things to happen. It is therefore more receptive to good things and will force you in a way to ‘will’ the good things happening in the universe. It influences the outcome of what’s happening in your life. Not so much that you master its outcome totally, we don’t have that degree of control, but you focus on the good things rather than the bad. I think to a certain extent Positive thinking is tribute to that. I only don’t like the way Positive Thinkers are dominating the conversation by stating everything is the conscious mind. For the most part it is subconscious and unconscious material beyond our immediate control.

My significant other would dress up like a dog, since I am a dog owner. In Greek mythology, Cerberus, often called the "hound of Hades", is a monstrous multi-headed dog, who guards the gates of the underworld, preventing the dead from leaving. My own costume would be that of Barong a lion-like creature and character in the mythology of Bali, Indonesia. He is the king of the spirits, leader of the hosts of good, and enemy of Rangda, the demon queen and mother of all spirit guarders in the mythological traditions of Bali. The battle between Barong and Rangda is featured in Barong dance to represent the eternal battle between good and evil.

At the party, we would dance a mythical dance, do fun palm reading, tell the future and generally have a good time. We would drink that wonderful white wine that’s been served and we would try not to get too drunk.

I am a dog owner at the moment, but I have had cats in the past. My first cat was a male dark gray shorthaired Russian dude called GIJS (pronounced GICE). He was adorable. He died eleven years old and I was devastated because of it. My cat prince was not very agreeable to others, though, since he suffered from trauma in his early years so the story goes when I got him.

One day, my boyfriend and I decided to eat on the sofa in front of the television set, the doorbell rang and we both went to attend to the door. When we came back my 150-gram steak was missing and Gijs was nowhere to be seen. My fault really, so we had a laugh and shared the other steak.

We have a Dutch saying: “don’t tie the cat to the bacon.” It means: don’t give anybody the opportunity. I guess we did just that.

I worship WdC. I cheer a lot at its presence on the World Wide Web. It’s coming to the point that I have to break this somewhat unhealthy habit of entering the site every minute of the day and part of the night. So I make plans to leave the shiny MBs and gaudy awardicons in my portfolio for the day and organize a field trip away from the computer. I have to breathe sometime.

I decide to go to Madurodam, an open air museum with all of the most famous buildings of the Netherlands in miniature. It is fun, it is an outdoor activity and I am actually moving my body instead of sitting still behind a desktop. So win-win. I hope my car won’t crash into a tree on my way over there, that’s all.

But first I check the site again. Ohh…I have to do the prompts for today and enter a contest or two! So I put some piano music on while checking my emails.

Maybe I stay in after all!

It's been said," the reason we hold on to something so tight is because we fear something great can't happen twice." Do you agree or disagree? Share with us about a time you held on tight, was it the right thing to do or not, or was it simply fear that paralyzed you. (BC)

I am cranky right now and I have to rant about it. I am irritated, don’t feel like myself, am tired and just in a foul mood.

And the reason is fucking unbelievable: it’s the fact that I am trying to make a poem with another writer and I cannot seem to get into the groove. Poetry is always something I do solo, and doing it with another writer just doesn’t work for me today. The other writer is lovely enough, that’s not at all the problem. The problem is the assignment itself. The making of a poem with fixed patterns.

I can’t understand the specific rhyme pattern, and have difficulties with grasping the meaning of ‘feet’, ‘iambic meter’ and ‘stressed and unstressed syllables’. I normally do free verse so anything else is totally out of my comfort zone. And I am still in the middle of poetry class at Dave’s and haven’t finished that yet.

Furthermore, I have to translate everything first into English or back into Dutch before I get the meaning. This is fucking me off big time!

The first time in five months something is difficult and I totally hit the wall and crank up. What am I? A sissy? A wuss? A stupid ego-tripper? Why can’t I just embrace the idea of learning something new and be glad and comfortable about it?

What’s wrong with me? Is it the fact that everything has been so wonderful those past months that I believe in the fairytale of being a writer myself? I am a newbie for crying out loud…five months ago I didn’t write in English!

I am new at this so cut yourself some slack and don’t fall apart at the first wind of difficulty! Try to be mature about it and don’t get so emotional if something is not working right away. I feel like a stupid moron. I am an idiot!

There, feeling slightly better now.

A Valkyrie is one of a host of female figures who choose those who may die in battle and those who may live. Selecting half of those who die in battle, the Valkyries bring their chosen to the afterlife hall of the slain. I think I got one appointed to me at the age of 25 since I have struggled and came through. My mother always told us about the fairy attached to your shoulder, now I know; I don’t have a fairy but a Valkyrie. A warrior type of female figure. I like the sound of that. Demon or Angel wouldn’t do it for me at all. I think Karma is definitely working in my life since I don’t know where else the challenges I had to face are coming from. It had to be about the residue of past lives.

I totally disagree and I hope I am right about this one because it would freak me out if someone was staring at me without being in the bedroom. A ghost of some sort? A dream materialized? I would be spooked. I am not alone most nights since my dog is in the habit of finding its way on top of the bed. I like it that he in a way protects me from spooky materializations since he would bark to alert me if something came up. Or I would like to think he did that.

In my previous house, I have suffered from bad vibes in the house, I think due to the fact that my friend’s baby died in that house when my friends were living there before me. I have had some real bad experiences in that house due to the negativity captured in the atmosphere of that house. I really think you can suffer from bad vibes in a place and pick those vibes up although you are not consciously aware of it. Maybe the house was haunted in a way. Anyway, I have survived the place and live now in a ghost free apartment, or so I think. I sleep sound as a baby, and when I wake in the middle of the night, it’s my blather.

A table is moving from the center of the room to the side. The table legs do the quick step:

Quarter turn to right, Natural turn, Natural turn with hesitation, Natural pivot turn, Natural spin turn, Progressive chassé, Chassé reverse turn, Forward lock, Heel pivot (quarter turn to left).

The Librarian looks up, adjusts her glasses and looks again. She can’t believe what she’d just seen.

Two more drawers open up and cards are flying everywhere in the air, circling around the Librarian who is now frightened to death. The cards fly through the open window. The window shuts after them. Everything is silent for a minute.

With a bang the bookshelves pop out hundreds of books. The covers open up and the stories come alive with witches, goblins, princes and princesses all marching from the pages into the passageway between the cupboards. It’s getting crowded.

The ghostly figures are all chatting. Then one wizard starts to sing and all the other apparitions join in.

“If there’s something strange, in your neighborhood, who are you gonna call. Ghostbusters!

The Librarian sneaks to the side of the room and takes out her cell. “911? I want Peter Venkman, Raymond Stantz, and Egon Spengler to come here right away. I’ve got a really nasty case of ectoplasm in the library. I don’t know what to do”

Just behind the Librarian, the ghost of Shakespeare is hovering over her.

She drops the phone and starts running.

If there’s something weird and it don’t look good. Who are you gonna call? Ghostbusters!”

When she arrives at the door it opens and she jumps into the hallway. The door closes again.

The ghosts take over the library.

When the ghost-o-mobile arrives with the three scientists they find a hysterical Librarian running towards them.

The tree men go inside with their gear and sizzle the ghosts into their machine.
Outside everybody is applauding and singing:

“If there’s something strange, in your neighborhood, who are you gonna call. Ghostbusters! If there’s something weird and it don’t look good. Who are you gonna call. Ghostbusters!”

There is only one dark place in my life right now and that is my addiction to smoking. That’s the only negative I can think of and it is a severe and pertinacious one. I am a smoker since I was seventeen years old and only have been off the cigarettes for one weekend during a field trip to jail in my early teens. No, I haven’t been incarcerated but I was in a group that played volleyball with inmates as part of a social program. At the time I gave up the smoking for one weekend. Have been smoking ever since. I am not particularly proud of the fact but at this point in my life I am not able or want to stop. It’s a mind thing, not a physical addiction. I can get over the nicotine I believe. It’s the ritual of rolling my own cigarettes, of being busy with my hands. It’s about that silly (and untrue) notion it relaxes me and it enables me to live a fairly stressless life. I use the time to smoke behind the computer as time to think, to contemplate about my writing. All the excuses made by an addict, I am aware of this. To this dark place I've come, and come again. I just cannot help myself!

No special plans since I am not celebrating Halloween other than on WdC. I have the weekend off since my computer job finished today and I can be a full-time writer from this day forward. Yippee. I am happy to devote all my time to writing now. I canceled my new plans to be a librarian for a couple of hours a week since it was not for me. The old job is gone and my new life as a writer will begin. This Halloween weekend is my fifth month into the adventure of writing in the English/American language and it’s been great so far. I’ve blossomed. So I continue this path, looking forward to what it will bring me. Lots to learn, to write, to review and have fun!

And hey, I have put my real face in my port. Thought it was appropriate after five months of being anonymous.

Near a high school in the west of the country, hellish lights appeared in the dark night. A UFO landed silently between the trees in the middle of the big field of the sports center. A metal bridge appeared in one of the corners of the space ship and three green figures with oval heads and no ears looked into the dark night with their big eyes. They looked at the right, at the front and straight ahead before they noticed the big building in front of them. The American School was brightly lit and several teenagers dressed up for Halloween were walking in and out of the entrance.

The three men from the moon started walking towards the school. While approaching some kids they saw weird fumes coming out of their mouths while they lurked at short white sticks. What a strange phenomenon!

“Hey dudes, totally dig your costumes. Come on in.” A Big Panda with fluffy paws greeted them.

The three moon men entered. Loud noise reached their delicate eardrums and since they had no outside earlobes the noise entered their brains immediately. It shook them up completely and for a few minutes, they were paralyzed, not able to move or speak.

A girl in white and red leather hosen and pig tails on her head saw the confusion.

“What’s wrong guys, music too loud for you? Why don’t you chill in the Kiss and Hugs Room upon the first floor? It’s nice and quiet there.”

She motioned them to a big wooden stairs and the moon men ascended with care.

On the first floor, a dark room was dressed up with black and white cloth, small colored round objects hanging from the ceiling. Some candles were lit.

Curtains. Balloons. One of the three translated into his mind while passing the information to the others by telepathy.

Two persons dressed up like storybook figures (Hansel and Gretchen, clicked the first moon man inside his head) were standing close to each other participating in a strange ritual involving mouths and saliva. It was gross! It looked dangerous too because of the germs transmitting that occurred.

One of the three jumped in and pulled the two kids away from each other. To the rescue!

“Hey, what the hell?!” shouted Hansel and lashed out to the moon man. A well-placed punch and the moon man was out on the floor.

Gretchen approached the two other moon men, checked them out and decided to take action as well. She took a rope hanging from the ceiling, made a lasso and caught the aliens with one throw. Then she tied them up.

The pair left in a hurry leaving the tree extraterrestrials helpless in the middle of the room.

With extreme efforts, they managed to escape, flee from the school into their spaceship and left the earth. Violent offspring they jotted down in their virtual log.

For the next couple of decades, there would be no sightings from the moon.

Imagination is the name of the house my Muse lives in. It is the dwelling from which she operates. She has the key to the door so I can enter at her will. It is an obscure building somewhere between Birth and Infinity. It only contains of one room in which all things imaginable can appear or disappear. Outside is inside; the possibilities are limitless as far as she is concerned. All colors are there, although the main furniture is brown with green. It is a sealed off room without any windows, there are bars at the door to keep it private, for my eyes only. Weeds, grasses, and flowers are growing in front of the house, recognizable, so I would find it no matter what. I hope my mood, my brain, and my senses will allow me to visit every day. If I can’t find the directions to the house for some reason, and there have been reasons in the past, I am devastated. Finding my Muse’s house, finding Imagination, is necessary for me. It is the fix to my addiction, it is the place I love being. It is my mind’s eye.

Arranging furniture can be like arranging words, dressing up the rooms, making it feel like home, a place you want to be. Poems are like little bits of furniture you take inside, you arrange words, add meaning, pimp up the appearances with color and scented flowers as in adverbs and adjectives. When you are finished you can proudly look at it and enjoy your work.

I don’t agree with this quote. If people burn themselves up it is usually a sign there is something amiss in the equation. Good people or people doing good (there is a slight difference here) give others light I agree, but they shouldn’t burn themselves down. Giving others light should give light in return. It should rekindle the flame of kindness by giving light and energy in return. That way the flame of doing or being good never dies.

I’ve been burned out in the past by giving too much of my energy, time and effort in helping people through my profession. There was no balance between what I gave and what I got in return. In the end, I quit my job and choose another path in life”

I am not sure how to interpret today’s prompt right, I have trouble with its meaning but I give it a try.

I think memories of childhood’s dreams can be a guide towards the goals and aims later in life. They can be like a premonition working its way into the reality of the grownup. They can work as wishful thinking and guide you through life. I have no idea how to put this thought into action in writing. Perhaps the character can have flashbacks from his childhood memories that strengthen his development later in life, or it can become the motivation for what the character wants to achieve in the story? Childhood memories can influence his or her tastes, likes, and dislikes. So it may be important for character building in the story.

An ideal world would consist of more happy people due to a more balanced economic structure so the wealth of this earth would be for all instead of for the happy few. There are far too many countries still with poverty, human trafficking, and exploitation. The resources are there to feed everyone on this earth, yet there is famine. Not everyone has access to proper health care. I would want that all changed.

The wars have to end: the Syrian war is already taking more than six years with devastation, demolished buildings and roads and people in dire situations. And millions on the run or in refugees camps. There are still wars going on in Africa, where whole villages get slaughtered, people being tortured, vanish or get raped. That has to go!

An ideal world would be one where people care more about others, the preservation of the earth and the focus on good news rather than bad news. An ideal world would be a utopia. But it’s worth aiming for: in thought as well as in practice.