%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  Blog and other works of literary sense |
| Here is a collection of ruminations and whatnot. |
| I wrote Love in the Time of Terror at the height of the terrorist attacks in London. Thankfully, those days are gone and London is safer. But the story I wrote is not really about the terror but it is about how love can be the best way to see things with - the lens with which to look at people, jobs, country and everything else that you have in your life. Without the love of a good person in your life you drift through and go through the same old thing every day, not looking past the thing in front of you, and getting duller in your thinking every day. Pretty soon you're a withered branch of a once impressive tree where the tree is the human race and you are one of its branches. So this story is about that, and about what it means to a man who's focused so much on his job which makes him unable to understand at first the meaning of what a tryst with a woman who gets under his skin means. He talks about it with his boss, his colleagues, and then he makes that decision - rash to some people, and yet understandable to others. When have you ever met anyone who left everything behind to follow his heart? This is what this story is about. |
| Eversince I found out my genesis I've become somewhat unable to determine who I am in reality. I've been born somewhere else than what I was told by liars in the family that I was given by bad people who conspired to lie to me and make me believe that I was someone else's child to protect the person who they felt they had to, and more important, to protect his Wife who is the Queen of England. |
| I am Mary Faderan, born Ione Mountbatten. Adopted by Paul McGreavey and his family to become Annabelle McGreavey, from Lancashire, England. Paul was a carpenter by trade. I grew up to about twelve years old before I was kidnapped by the people who obeyed the ruling Queen, Elizabeth Windsor. I became transformed to look a bit like someone who was from Asia. I was given parents who were Asian-looking. I was programmed to believe that I had a life in that Asian country, called The Philippines. I was made to believe that I had a large number of cousins who were people I grew up around. These people were all actors hired by the Queen or, worse, made up to look real to me. These people were grown up in test tubes to become people who were some ones to me. These test tube people were started a while ago and include the Queen of England Elizabeth II. These scientists were from Oxford University, England. The reason the Queen wanted me to be 'taken' out of my peaceful existence was because her husband Philip Mountbatten was my real father. My real mother is Maggie Smith, the dramatic actress from England. |
| This morning was a pretty one. Had sunlight streaming into my kitchen as I worked and had my morning coffee. The pups are as they usually are, very loving but the younger one is very much a handful. But he's a loving little boy anyway. I decided that I might try a different flour to make bread. It came from an online flour stockist and so I think it could be good enough to try again. In the past I used it according to directions and it didn't really come out right. So today I'm winging it and hoping it will turn out ok. I've written several paragraphs to my next novel The Bridge. I think it's coming along well enough. I've also revised my first non-fiction book with a new cover page. I also made a Kindle edition of another book that I call "Life With Headwinds" that I co-wrote with Colin Firth. I think it will be a great idea for everyone to buy these books as they are good things to keep in mind - at least - the content has good ideas. I'm also busy with my other business sidelines. I'm taking some time this weekend to bone up on what it may take to get these sideline businesses up and running. I could also take my dogs for a walk but I'm not really that much into walking two different paced dogs. The older one walks right enough but the puppy tugs and pulls at his leash. I cannot take them by turns to walk because the older one will feel sad that I exclude him from the walk. I hope everyone has a great day! |
| I woke up early around 4 or 5 am. My puppy was acting up again so I kept him leashed by my chair. He likes to nose about the stuff hanging off of the table - bits of thread or yarn that I have so he grabs these with his mouth and it takes a lot to persuade him to give it up so I have to cut the yarn and let him have his part of it. And there are other things he likes to drag off with his mouth - magazines, books, etc. A very irrascible puppy and he's not even a year old. I tell him "No" but he seems to have a devil in him that ignores me and my exhortations. I'm easily unhappy these days and the puppy adds to my sad feelings. I have had some ok moments today, but a great big thud came over to my chest and made me so uber sad that I cried out to my God and asked Him to help me. It's sad how these happens but that has happened several times. Sometimes it's the sensation of being knifed, stabbed in the chest or some part of my anatomy. Other times it's the sensation of being kicked in the kneecap or somewhere near it. Other times it's the sensation of being smothered, or made to not breathe or breathe right at all. Then there are times when I feel as though a knife is cutting my finger, or thumb. Or a spark of something is being put into my eye, and making it hurt. And my scalp is a field of scabby feeling bumps and that I can't understand but it's like it's gotten picked on by invisible hooks and leaving a scab. I get a lot of that lately. And the dry feeling of my scalp. It's a pestilential life. |
| I woke up about a half hour ago. I slept last night feeling sad. I wanted so much to have a heavenly sleep but then a bad thought came to my mind and told me that would rquire my soul leaving my body and dying, having a corpse to leave behind. I was saddened by it and cried bitter tears because I wish to go to a heavenly place without having to give up anything of my body. I'm scared what will happen to my body after my soul leaves it. I'm afraid that the ghouls in the world will descend upon it and make hay with it. I don't want to die. I want to keep being alive. There's more to do now that I've got a business in writing and selling items from four different businesses. I want to know how to be successful at marketing my products, at promoting them and gaining customers. It's a different kind of work that tests my intellectual abilities, being a persuasive writer at that. I think that the MFA I gained from NU is like this - it helps to persuade people through the written word on what they ought to do, or what they should buy, at the least. So dying isn't in my plans at all. I am made to feel sad a lot but I'm not dead by any means. I want everyone to know that I am still going on with my work and my self-employment, my businesses in Norwex, Mary Kay, Thirty One Gifts and LuLaRoe. I'd like to see some of that work grow and help with generating income to help my stepfather with the bills and with putting food on the table. |
| What do you do when you're 63 years old? I'm still spry, have my health, do have some addictions to coffee and cigs. Some of my physical infirmities include a wonky knee, and some bunions, lol. But they're fashionably covered up by Lucky flats, haha. I have a few businesses that I have as a contractor but the most of my day is spent chatting up about it on social media. I'm learning how to use Adobe, and some odd website called Photofy (sp?) and then going on Zoom meetings with several of the business mavens that own these companies who teach us newbies what to do, how to do and be happy girls and boys. I'm still trying to find a writing job either in regulatory or as a proofreader/editor. I don't find some of the recruiters who contact me to be sure things. These big jobs they 'promise' aren't available because they're probably scams. I am suspecting many of these emails are from spammers and they only want to see what I'm doing or am about so I used to send them my resume but I'm guessing they're all going into the round file. Or worse, I'm getting nicked as a new person somewhere who's pretending they have all these skills that I have on my resume! I'm probably catastrophizing but well, what ever. But, the fun parts are going on YouTube and chatting about this and that, or about one or more of my businesses, trying to drum up some business, as you might guess. YouTube is quite good at their analytics, I'm seeing and that helps me feel as though people are interested enough. Many people come from some of these same businesses and that's alright. In the meantime, in between time, I crochet, knit and do some needlework. I've got some patterns for sewing if I ever get enough table space to cut a pattern. But that's not happening as there isn't. I could even cut hair if you wish to have me cut your hair - I can do a man's hair or a woman's hair, (mine mostly) to cut. My stepfather can't risk going to the haircutting place due to the COVID problem. So he's had to condescend to ask me to cut his hair! I did that today, after he washed it (I demanded he wash his hair first) and that went well enough. He has a few hairs on his head yet, haha. I almost asked him for a fee to cut his hair but the man's broke like me. Haha. So at this age, I can do more but I somehow can't get a paying job but well, what does one do? I'm hoping that 9 days of being on ramen noodles won't kill me or my stepfather. I think ramen is safe, don't you? Unless you believe these scientific wonks who claim it has polyacrylamide which is rather not what I'd like in my body. But, if one has to have ramen that's what I'll have. I've discovered the joys of broth. The asian store has packets of them, so I have a broth soup ever so often. It's good going down your gullet. Quite a hearty meal, except it has nothing else but water (hot) and some sort of chicken precipitate. I guess this old body of mine will be alright. I just need to do some exercise like lifting my 30 pound baby puppy and hauling him around the house like a baby, so it will keep my biceps firm (haha). Other than that, this is life in the 'fast' lane. |
| The day has been too quiet. Not done much to write home about. Guess that's why this blog. Business is not doing well. No buyers nor any more looks on my businesses that I've contracted with. But I keep doing this just in case some miracle happens. It doesn't hurt, does it? It's a faith thing. I've got enough faith that good things come to those who are patient and wait on the Lord. I've done it in the past. I used to work at a factory,a manufacturing plant. I was in a technical lab. I worked four hours a day. I wore steel toed boots. I wore a lab coat and safety glasses. I would do my job and in between tasks I would stare out the windows and see the railroad track that crosse the path in front of our little lab. I'd pray and ask God when will it happen that I'll be out of this God-forsaken place? I took the job because I needed to pay bills. I could have stayed at home till the "right" job came along, whatever it might be. I could have let my aging step parents pay for things, do the grocery, and cook and do things in the house while I stayed in my room and tried to do something else. Maybe. But in those days I felt an obligation to do this. So I did get out in less than a year of work there. I landed a job as a pharmacy tech. Talk about another sad job. It wasn't fun, and it was harrowing. I had to prepare medicines for the patients. I was fucking scared I'd screw up and they'd get mad at me or worse, fire me. i prayed again, each day I worked there. I asked Jesus to help me get through the day without getting into a scrape. I had some company who were friendly enough. But everyone I'm guessing was scared that things could go wrong in a heartbeat. There'd be 'codes' where patients in the hospital would go into distress. The PA loudspeaker would call out where the 'code' was, and one of the pharmacists would bring a big bag of medicines and i.v. fluids to take to the patient's room so the doctors would be able to resuscitate the patient. We all would jump when this 'code' would be called. I went home many many many days feeling grateful that my job wasn't as bad as i thought it would be. Then I prayed on my knees asking God to give me a better job. It came in enough time - three years and three months to the day. I got a better job, got trained to do writing technical documents, and it made a difference in my life in that I could afford to help when something went wrong at home - the garage door, the heater, the water boiler thing would break down. Things that people encountered when they owned a home. (We'd moved into a single family house in 03). Then, after eleven years and eight months, I left. I was burnt out. Now I'm retired but still working and associated with four new companies hoping that I could sell their products. It's part of life. The ups and downs of working in the USA. Gotta work. Gotta pay taxes. Gotta be part of the fabric of life. I'm not grousing. Retirement isn't as great if you haven't got a lot saved up. So I'm self-employed. I stay home and work all the time trying to find a way to keep up my mood, and not let the depressing thoughts get to me. I stay home with my 91 year old stepfather. He's another one of those who when he gets it into his mind about a problem he'll talk about it nonstop. What do you do with a senior like that? Hes garrulous sometimes. He asks me to help him talk to somebody on the phone (he's partly deaf) and then he just sits and focuses on his Facebook and he says he prays to God all the time. That's the life I have now. How's your life like? |
| I've had a day. I had the worst head ache and I had to down two big dose aspirins. Then I had to give my stepfather some cash to get to buy groceries. we have less than two weeks till he gets his check from Social Security. I already went through most of my money from Social Security. i had to move money from one account which was reserved to pay my income tax bill. I'm afraid that money is no longer available. I have to give money to help with these types of emergencies. It seems to happen every month or so. So I think that next month I'll be paying the Indiana IRS two checks, or one check for more than 300 dollars. It's sad but what can I do? I need a good job, nothing like a spectacular job that many executive types like, but a constant income. My little sidelines are not getting me any income so far. I'm trying my best to gather more people who can buy from me from my sidelines. this is a hard job because I don't want to be pushy and just friend anybody on Facebook so they can be my patsy to buy into my business. Granted my businesses are all good, and they are value but nobody wants to be used, do they? I made some flatbreads today. i got the recipe from Pinterest. They came out ok, but the stove suddenly flared up in flames. So i had to get my stepfather to get it doused. I moved my griddle pan to another range on top of the stove. it happens sometimes that this stove gets that way. We need a new stove/oven and this will set us back a few hundred dollars, plus installing it and ridding us of the old stove/oven. if this sounds like a catalog of sad problems imagine living with a 91 year old man who only talks about his problems too. i have nobody much to tell so I blog about it, that is all. Other than these problems, I was working on a crochet project and while I was making flatbreads on the stove, there was a tinkle on the floor. It was my crochet project on the floor. My quick terrier glommed on the crochet thing - and I had to let him have it. He got bored with it quickly. So I retrieved it and now it's back on track. No need to worry, I'll wash it once it's finished. I don't know that I'll sell it on eBay. eBay and I are on the outs again. A troll complained that the item she bought was not good. she demanded me to have her return it with a refund to her. sorry but that money has been spent. I brought her to eBay to survey her and now eBay seems to be siding again with this troll. She's a bastard from Hell. That's why i took all of my stuff off of eBay. They won't be seeing me selling there at all. I can't stand eBay now. I think they ought to have a more fluid way of dealing with disputes and stop trying to say that the customer is always right. What if it happened to all their more prosperous sellers? Is it because I've not been making them money for a while that they think my account is expendable? think again eBay. So I'm venting and I don't care. It's what blogging is for these days. If it's not about you, it's about some politician or some asshole that's made you sad. My whole life seems rather a sad life. But we're toddling along, as far as God will let us. I trust in my God more than ever. He is the one who makes things happen, and if happens that i get sad about things, there's a reason for it. I don't know what it might be, but I am sure that someday I'll be rid of all these awful negativity in my life. Yes, life on earth is a bastard life, but we all need to reach for Heaven whenever we can't figure it out by ourselves. |
| I once was a girl who got into trouble for having short hemlines. Terrible problem for the nuns who made a rule that the hems had to be below the knee by at least 1 inch. I had a belly problem - a bit plump there - so when I put on my uniform and had the belt it went with, the hemline rose to about the knee length. Or perhaps I could be too immodest and say it that it was above the knee. Problem was that the person they assigned to measure these hemlines was a supposed friend. Turned out she was a fiend. She lied to the nuns about how very short my hemlines were. I was so sad to hear that all week of measuring hemlines that the first person on the list of offenders was ME. Little old me. So I went home with my stepmother with tears running down my face. Our maid, Lolita took care of letting out the hems. I never spoke that fiend who lied about me again. And I hear she's a KGB agent and works too for MI5 as a mole. How's that for a fictional story? I'm still working on this. It might be like a YA novel or story. Except that the person who was in school - convent school - grew up and never cares about hemlines anymore. |
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
