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 |  Daily notes and timed freewrites but mostly my blog |
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All comments are encouraged, I am interested in what others think and feel along the topics I choose to write about. Highlighted entries: [#732826] "In Memory"        ![Merit Badge in Supportive
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| I was going through a box with old printouts of poems and other writings back in the day of Stories.com. July 2002...Bert and I were still together and I still believed in the stability of our love for each other. My mind was free to imagine and safe to express. I'd forgotten about this simple premise and am pleased to find it. Living A Circus? Have you ever lived a circus? Tell me, Have you seen the tigers and elephants do their tricks at the demand of controlling person cracking the whip? Tell me, you have seen the clowns either smiling through their painted down turned frown or the ones crying in spite of the upturned grin? Then, of course, you must have seen the high show and those walking that tight wire or reaching for the swinging catcher or bar of the trapeze? Is there a net below? Maybe. So, tell me, have you seen the jugglers multitasking and the acrobats who always land on their feet? I don't know about you, but even having never worked in one, I know I have lived a circus. I have not just seen but I have done all these things. Debora A. McKinsey 7-18-02 |
| I have visited my blog several times since the 20th of April, but the words weren't forth coming for me to write. Eleven days ago I copy and pasted a rewrite to an older story with which I was quite pleased; but, nothing of blog style has happened. Today I think I will push a bit and see what may come out of the ol' Just Be There and Write, dammit! I haven't had that spirit in a while. As I mentioned on the 20th of last month, My son has wanted me to be closer for some time. When his older brother died, I must have appeared a bit fragile because his invites were persistent for several years. My reasons for declining his invitations over the years, I believe, were necessary, however. During the time from 2011 and now I had a lot of emotional baggage to sort out. I still had the adult-survival of childhood trauma to deal with, as well as the break up of my last love partnership, and the sudden death of my oldest child. I knew, instinctively, that I must be alone to get myself together. It took six years, but today, I can see the benefit of those six years. I've found myself. I know who I am, not through the reflection of others, but from inside me. Maybe being over 60 has had something to do with my ability to finally mature passed my painful personal history. I'm sure living with only myself has had a major impact on the success of my present maturity. I believe that while I was playing at live in relationships, I was burying the past: or at the least, ignoring the past; so that everyday life could be dealt with. In other words, although it was necessary for me to attend to my children's needs when they were younger, my personal growth needs were not attended to. The same with living with the love of my life. Her needs always seemed to overshadow and distract me from attending to my own. I wish the dynamics of our separation could have occurred differently, I think I am finally the person she could have loved as much as I loved her. I say loved...I could never let that door open between us again. Her method of separation pretty much burned that bridge. My ability to trust her with my heart was shattered. I think we can be friends, but as most people may have figured out, to be my friend is a hit and miss sort of thing. Unless I see ya everyday, I tend not to think about you. I get too focused on who and what is immediately in front of me. So much of that is related to the self defensive behaviors I developed from my childhood experiences. "Out of sight, out of mind." Every moment was spent in self protection and survival mode when I was a kid. I could only see that which was effecting me at the time. And as Kenifyd's dialogue reflects, sometimes the past hurts take a lot from a person. Kenifyd was a story I wrote to get me to see what my potential future would be like if I didn't deal with my childhood trauma's. I could see myself at 90 years old with dementia and consumed by my personal pain. Kenifyd was set in a Mesopotamian type, rural setting because I like to write in fantasy settings. I personally can reflect so much more through fictional story telling than with realism. Reality tends to give me writer's block.  |
| a rewrite...I changed this story from present tense narrative to past tense. I wrote this 15 years ago. Kenifyd "There is a swirling darkness there just behind the eyes." The old woman smiled showing her toothless gums as she brought up both her hands to place her index fingers to her face just behind her eyes. The young girl who sat beside her, squinted from the bright afternoon sun as she tried to understand the old woman's ramblings. 'Why?' The girl thought to herself. 'Why does she try to make sense of what this senile old woman tries to say? It never makes sense.' But the old woman's cackling voice persisted. "And then the thickness numbs and builds a painful pressure in the front of your head, right here." The old woman rubbed her forehead as if to sooth an ache away. "But no matter you see, because it is nothing to me; just some phantom and ill gotten memory." The girl winced as the old woman laughed. "It just gets all swirly grey and numb thick and pain and they comes in the night and take the very spark of life ands they twists it tight with afraidness and shamefulness and the youth energy hides it's fresh laughter being torn from thems that can't get away." Gently the girl placed a hand on the old woman's shoulder as she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and rocked herself gently. Her tears flowed freely from the clear insane grey eyes. "It is okay Dame Kenifyd. The bad man has gone away and won't return." Again, the woman's harsh cackle made the girl wince. "Theys coming I tells you. And theys never stays away. Theys always here, right here I tells you in the grey swirly behind these eyes." There was a silence then as the old woman and the girl sat by the hut. Fennris wondered if she should attempt to get Dame Kenifyd back inside. She was agitated and it may be wise to get her out of sight. But Fennris wasn't up for a struggle and Kenifyd was always non-compliant when she got agitated. No, it was best to sit here beside the old woman and try to sooth her through the roughest spots in her tirade. In a soft voice, almost a whisper, the old woman warned her great-granddaughter of the evils life brought. "Theys can do those things and never guilt touches thems. In the nights when they not suppose to be there. Ands they tells you be quiet or theys going to kills you. Always same. Theys coming again in the grey swirly behind these old eyes." Again, the woman wept as she rocked herself. Fennris rubbed the old woman's shoulder and crooned to her gently trying to calm her agitation. The girl looked around to see if anyone else may be able to hear what Kenifyd witch said today. Fennris frowned, though no one had yet taken notice. Always, when Kenifyd grew agitated, the evil filth that spewed forth was not far in following. As the grey haired woman found a moment of quiet, Fennris stood with the intention to persuade her grand-dame into the hut. She was no harm except to herself when she got this way. She incited the fears of the villagers and someday what she said would be her death. 'Her death and any who try to defend her.' Thought Fennris. 'She is crazy, this old woman.' Fennris knew there was no help for it. She grimaced at the thought. "Please Grand-Dame Kenifyd, the sun is terribly hot and the hut so much cooler to sit in." Fennris gently lifted the thin blue veined hand to assist the woman in her standing. But the old woman looked up into the blue brightness of her grand-daughter's soul and shook her head with slow sadness. "No Fenni girl. The shadows fill yonder hut. Only in the bright hotness of the sun am I safe. Theys no coming to the full light of the day you see, only in the shadow and the deep night they use for their deeds. And they says be quiet or they kill you. But every-time they come you dies and you no knowing your death till they be gone. They take piece by piece till you are no more and leave a sliver only, to keep your body living. No little Fenni, I stays right here in the safe hot light. I only a sliver left and they coming to take my death and making it theirs to own. My soul in peril great it is. I stays here in the sun and be safe." Resigned to the inevitable the young girl sighed from deep inside her growing fear. "Yes, Grand-Dame. Do you want some water then?" The old woman nodded slowly but said nothing. She looked around her and the old grey eyes glazed over as she was teleported to a past long gone and lost to the dust of time. A smile crept over her old face and she was young again. Fennris sighed in relief as she entered the hut to fetch a cup of water. Kenifyd would quiet down for a while. The smile always preceded her growing weariness and she would soon succumb to sleep. © Copyright 2002 DyrHearte writes (dyrhearte at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
| The excitement with the final steps taken to arrive at my son's home has me pausing in wonder regarding how Fate may work. Since the moment when I knew I was for sure jobless once again in the Bitterroot and I accepted the choice my son has offered to have me move closer to him, my path appeared under my feet like the visual floating stone bridge in a game system. Once I took that first step of acceptance, I found no other opportunities that might detour me from this move. When I needed it, the money was there. When we needed the help, my neighbors pitched in and what would have been another two days of packing was reduced to one day. And my truck made it over the pass and survived the haul right up to the point where help was convenient before breaking down. The clutch cable went out at the edge of town. I feel a sense of wonder that the breakdown didn't occur sooner. Obviously the opportunity was there. I am a believer that certain times in a person's life are meant to happen. This experience is one such bit of proof that I will cite in the future in regards to what will be will be and nothing can be done to change that. |
| Situation Update: The year 2016 had it's moments. It was the year I struggled to keep my job simply by working more at not making mistakes than making product. The first three months of 2017 nearly saw me successful in not making a fatal mistake. But alas, I find myself presently unemployed because I am human and mistakes are impossible for me to avoid. The result is, I've thrown in the towel and have decided that living with my son and his family isn't such a bad thing for me after all. Tim is very excited that his stubborn mother has finally given in to the inevitable. So now I am packing and tossing and arranging 14 years of accumulation to fit into a U-Haul. The feeling of being overwhelmed is resolved in part by looking at one room and one particular box at a time. I've made a little progress. He will be arriving to help around the last half of April. His excitement has settled my own misgivings of the situation. I've lived alone and independent since 2003 and I'm used to having no responsibilities except to a pet and myself. My only obligations have been to my job, or job search over the last decade. But, I've also struggled with depression, grief, and writer's block these last 14 years. I think my mistake at work reflects how mentally tired I've become. My hope for the remaining year of 2017 is that I will find my balance once again and be able to relax and be who I am really meant to be with family. Now back to sorting, tossing and packing. I have a future to prepare for. |
| Anne sat watching the data unfold upon the small 12" computer screen. The numbers and colored bands told her a story of which she had read many times, over the years. Yes, there was the marker showing the first migration of humankind from the Earth continent of Africa. Anne leaned forward as the data continued to stream across the screen. Her stomach gurgled, she must eat her evening meal soon; but, there was at least another hour of data left to transfer from the DNA samples extricated from the ancient jaw bone of the giant woman found on Titan. (10:33am) (11:53am) What was a human skeleton doing on Jupiter's moon when as far as history knew no man had set foot on Titan until fifteen years ago? That was the first big question. October 7, 2219 had been a big day. On that day, all theories of human evolution was set on it's ear. The discovery of Hrist, so named by the Icelandic scientist on the First Titan expedition, was initially surmised to be of complete alien origin. As Captain Harrald Gisterr reflected later, The oversized humanoid skeleton was as nothing found on Earth. He named her Hrist being the first named Valkyrie in the heroic poems listed in the poetic EDDA. But later after initial dating and genetic decoding, the questions got even bigger. Radiation dating showed the skeleton as over 70,000 years old. Carbon dating was done also and showed the remains as even older...but given the inaccuracies of carbon dating when found on worlds other than Earth, the majority of the anthropological world went with the newer more accurate dating of gamma radiation developed around fifty years prior. The ancient female stood nine feet seven inches tall. Her genetic code matched current Hindi-Eurasian populations some 99.999997%. The 0.000003% difference amounted to two areas of code mankind shared with every hominid since Australopithecus. So how could this being exist? Where did she come from. How'd she get on Titan? (12:45pm) |
| Running toward the sound; Iron on bronze. Can't mistake the ring of sword hitting sword. The technology is off balanced but the skill of the swordsmen seem equal. Must hurry. I draw my own iron and smell the fresh honing oil. Grunts of effort are now following the clang of swords. Someone is desperate to end the match. The sounds of battle are closer but I can't see who fights. I slow my approach and peer around the corner of the doorway. In the gloom of smoky lantern light I must see who struggles and who commands the moment. A man in bright armor parries the heavy bronze stroke of a skin clad barbarian. He is pushed back with each ponderous stroke. It is the armored man who wheezes and grunts with each effort to avoid the crushing damage of that massive blade. I step into the room, my iron ready. The barbarian's back is to me. I must move quickly and strike while surprise is my advantage. The paladin deflects another blow and is pushed backwards against the wall. His eyes stay on his attacker and do not give away my approach. One, two, three steps, swing low and slash at the back of the bend in the huge legs. My blade cuts clean. A leg is severed and the barbarian screams in rage and shock. I stand frozen by what I've done. The bronze claymore clatters to the wooden floor. The barbarian falls and rolls upon the floor grabbing at his bleeding stump with powerful hands. I hear his cries change to a sob cut short. I blink as an iron sword cleaves his shaggy head from shoulders. I feel the splatter of arterial blood soak my breeches. "Thank you for getting here when you did." The paladin speaks in panting breaths. I turn from him as he sags to the floor in exhaustion and relief. The eyes of the severed head recognized me and labeled me traitor before the light of intelligence dimmed into death. My insides quiver with my own shock and I wipe the blood of battle from my blade. "The price of this battle is still to be paid." My voice quivers uncharacteristically and the paladin opens his mouth to question my statement, but I turn from the room and walk speedily from whence I came. |
| January 2, 2017 at 4:17am I've got Monday off as the first paid holiday of 2017. A great start to a new year. I will be back later to do a free write. at 4:04pm "Do not handicap your children by making their life easy." (?) (Lazarus Long: Robert A. Heinlein's "Time enough for Love") "If a liar tells you that they are a liar then tells you they are not lying. Do you believe them? Why or why not?" "When I was a child I just wanted to be loved. All my adult life I just want the pain of my childhood to go away." "I cannot ever remember not being angry." "If a movie were made of my childhood it would be rated triple X adult for violence, language, and sexual content." When real life is a horror story, fictional horror becomes mundane...(or so I have discovered from my personal experience). As a character in a story, I'm sure the child I was would evoke sympathy from an audience not acquainted with the darker side of what some adults enjoy doing to children, even their own child. I've wondered what it was that I did in a previous life to incur the abuses in my life. Was I a reincarnate Nazi degenerate who died without seeing the error of my malicious ways? Maybe, I was an inquisitor during the medieval dark ages. Maybe, I committed infanticide and child slavery as a rule of religion in ancient history...There must have been some behavior in a past life to warrant the payment exacted from the childhood of this life. Well, if I deserved to walk in the shoes because of past life transgressions, what are the lessons learned from such painful experiences in this life? But first, another question, what has evoked this particular topic for this free write? I've watched a movie that spans several life times of several characters tied together through the ages. Sort of a window into what Hindu and Buddhist reincarnations might look like. The evolution of the 'souls' from strong and meek, from kind and cruel, and from blind and enlightened made an unconscious connection for me. This movie has a fascinating (to me) premise. Some of you reading this may have seen it. Tom Hanks is a main character and starts out his narration as an enlightened man recounting the cruel and greedy beginnings of his first remembered incarnation. The movie is "Cloud Atlas". Now to answer the question, what lessons I've learned in this lifetime? At first glance, especially when my ire is up and energized, I haven't learned the lesson of temperance...although, I know intellectually the value of containing my rage and making the conscious choice of not acting out my anger. Maybe, the beginnings of temperance are taking hold. My negative views of everyday life are counter productive and I try to catch myself and divert the negative observances I'm so used to spouting. I do have more smiling and laughing days than ugly tantrum 'the world is against me' unfair days. (The Charlie Brown days.) So I suppose I'm making some progress toward a kinder expression of everyday life. Yes, I'm telling ya I'm still a long ways from actually learning the lessons required to not repeat a painful incarnation... Now, if I were to write myself as a fictional character, what learned lessons would Deb display at this time in her story? Temperance would be the most important...stop bragging about how violent and out of control her temper can be; in this way stop setting the scene for future tantrums. Living in the moment and maintaining a cognizant control over what is said and what actions are taken while incensed is the lesson of temperance. See, I have learned what temperance is, now I just need to learn how to practice temperance. The problem for me is when I'm angry I have a surge of energy (adrenaline) and my mental state is focused on what is wrong with everyone else and Not what is wrong with me...My fictional character Malyn has this same rage response, albeit, more controlled and coolly delivered. I throw tantrums, Malyn simply reaches out and picks up the offending, insulting individual by the throat and tells them to leave her alone... Malyn is close to 6' and I'm barely 5' tall. However, later in the story, Malyn's rage is diverted into lycanthropy after she embibes a potion during a life and death situation; the potion allows her to survive and the lycanthropic transformation becomes the physical representation of her internal out of control anger, fear, and self hatred. (The self hatred being learned from the prejudice and mistreatment by others when she was incapable of protecting herself.) Regardless, Malyn lives a code of ethics to which she adheres. This code is her religion, and if she strays from the ethics of honor she has set for herself she would lose face in the Samurai sense of losing face. Unlike the Samurai tradition, however, there is no ritual suicide to alleviate her unforgivable humiliation. As it is, when she lost her honor through a grievous accident she finds herself honor bound through blood price (weir-gild) to exchange her life for the friend she accidentally killed in battle. However, she discovers upon the Great Tree Sporsmalfaru that she cannot die. Cowardice works into my characters as well. Malyn doesn't feel fear as a paralyzing shrinking away of danger, instead when placed in a fearful situation she becomes angry...and acts according to her life and death situation incensed with rage. Sort of an 'Incredible Hulk' transformation, only she doesn't turn green and grow muscular and shred her clothing. In my own past, I have responded likewise. Not the wisest reaction in some situations which demanded quiet passivity...I've received my worst 'punishments' from both mother and father from responding in anger rather than shrinking away in fear. Malyn too has her moments when silence would have been better suited for her survival. Her life and death fight with Strykaar is one such occasion. If she hadn't gained the friendship of her comrades, Strykaar's superb swordsmanship would have killed her. Malyn isn't a bully as she defends herself from bullies. She meets the transgressions against her with just enough force for the transgressor to stop their behavior. If the bully is beyond learning, they die. In the later stories, Malyn experiences fear as fear. She becomes afraid to react in anger, because when anger surfaces she transforms into the lycanthropic beast which her rage feeds. The only time she cannot control the were-beast is when unexpected triggers incite instant rage. Yet, the Elven Captain Emmerlain, who gave her the potion that made her a lycanthrope, teaches Malyn how to control the rage which enacts the transformation. Emmerlain teaches Malyn the value of temperance and self control and these lessons eventually allow Malyn to accept her immortality as a duty bound obligation for good rather than a curse to be suffered. |
| Looking back...and back...and back again. I remember the excitement and wonder I felt watching the Gemini and Apollo Space flights. Back then I figured we'd be landing men on Mars by now. However, with each international conflict/war here on Earth, the space exploration and moral maturity of humankind took a backseat. That is to say, those in power decided that killing each other here on Earth was more important than exploring our neighboring Universe. It does take a heck of a lot more money to wage wars than to proceed deeper into space exploration. Those in the right place at the right time can make a butt load of money off of another nation's demise. Personally, I don't understand the choice. I remember the 60's slogans...Make Love Not War...What happened to that paradigm? Were we so naive back when, or were the greedy warmongers just that much more persistent? Today we are closer to the cures for a variety of debilitating diseases, but through the charities of the common wage earner, not the Greedy Gus's of the world. But even though there is a Cure for Hepatitis-C now, only the Greedy Gus's can afford to pay for it. Doesn't that sound about par for the course? Yes, we have gone backwards as far as an overall growth toward Peace and Goodwill to Mankind. And Prosperity to all has also been side swiped by those who can. I find it interesting, and a bit disconcerting, that I make 5 times the money than I did in the 80's and I can't afford to do the things I used to do. I don't have the most up to date television, in fact, except for the fact that I'm playing DVDs instead of VHS, I still watch on a bulky vacuum tubed job. No wall to wall flat screen here. But then I do live in a small apartment and the bigger more modern model wouldn't fit. In 1975 I bought my first used car, a 1972 Pinto fastback for $2500 (I was told by a concerned friend that I'd paid too much for it). In 1992 I bought a 1984 Chevy Blazer (The full sized model not the smaller compact one) I believe, I paid $5,000. Again I was informed, it was too much to spend. Less than a year later, I socked in another $5,000 to put a new engine in it because the other seized up having a cracked block. So all told $10,000. Then 2003 I paid $2500 for a 1989 Ford truck. Still driving it today. I've learned you can't kill a Ford. The point is however, I could afford to pay for the Pinto with my $2.65 per hour wage in 1976 and my $5.00-$8.00 per hour wages in the early 1990s. I was able to get a loan for the engine replacement and consolidate the car payment on the Chevy. It was a squeak to pay for the '89 Ford on $9.00 per hour. But I could still afford to drive from Montana across country to visit family in Washington and Idaho and friends in Michigan. Rent and other monthly expenses were taking up half my wage, food only a quarter of my wage (and I was feeding three people in 1992.) In 1998 I was living fat on the hog...supporting a family of 4 and making $13.00 an hour for full time work and some OT that wasn't taxed to nonexistence. Then we come to the turn of the 21st Century. I am making $3.00 per hour less than in my hay day of the 90s, supporting only myself, and barely scraping by. The price of housing has gone from less than a $100/month for a two bedroom home with yard (including utilities) in 1975 to nearly $300 per month small apartment, I pay my own utilities in 2016. Then there are food prices...Raising a family of four took about a third of my total wages to feed, now for one, it's taking half my wages, (if I wish to eat healthy) and a third if I eat high carb low nutrition. I choose to eat healthy and so there are months when I must fuel my truck and buy lots of cabbage and for go eating meat for the month. But the kicker is, I haven't been able to afford to go fishing, hiking or camping on my own nickle since 2007. When I enjoy these activities now, it's when my Son or Daughter is visiting and I'm riding shotgun. I thoroughly enjoy these outings so don't get me wrong. I just wish I could do more outings on my own through the year. Okay back to present. Despite the struggle with money and how far it doesn't go these days, I've had a darn good year. The ups and downs at work have smoothed out as long as I maintain some focused diligence, which is what I'm being paid for. I feel as if I'm never going to raise myself above slave status where I'm at, but I can live with that right now. I'm just happy to have a steady income. I have the Banana Cream pie made for the family Christmas Dinner at 3 pm today and I have enough cash for gas to get to work the next two weeks til pay day. Rent is paid, utilities are paid, hospital bill paid, prepaid phone is updated, I have meat in the freezer, enough to last three weeks if I get crazy and two months if I dole it out smart. I have a new Coffee maker and a new mixer. Life is good and promising to get better. People are still killing each other and children are crying in other parts of the world and I pray for Peace and Goodwill for everyone. I believe that if enough people bend a knee and honestly send out their love in heart felt prayer, the suffering will be reduced all over the globe. That is the paradigm I'm working toward. Happy End of the Year Holidays to ya all, and a Prosperous, Healthy, Fulfilling New Year to Each and Everyone. |
| Oh dear! I'm a day early with this inspiration to write... So what got me here on a Saturday? Let me tell you a story about my WDC habits. I generally check onto the site twice a day during the week; once in the a.m. and once in the p.m. (before and after work). My weekend check ins may only happen once a day, but I try to look in twice. I always read through the community newsfeed to see who has posted (I don't always read the links the members have shared, however). So I sort of keep up with the community activities and see who is who and what individuals are about. Kind of like skimming a news periodical without really reading in depth. Two things caught my attention today: the announcement that NaNoWriMo is a week away; and a dear friend (~Lifelessons~   ) is having life issues. (I commented on her post to lend her my support during her time of challenge.) But to be honest, what brought me here to write in my blog was the realization that NaNo was upon the community again. I found myself excited about the prospect of celebrating November with a will and desire to write. (My muse woke up)I find it amazing how NaNo sparks a writing frenzy within the WDC community and like a baby's laughter, NaNo sparks creativity from a writer suffering from long term writer's block. My writer's block is basically systemic from lack of enthusiasm (or so goes my theory). I derive this conclusion from the fact that when I feel the excitement of creative energy around me, I always make the time to write...something...like today. It is a sad notion to realize that my writing is dependent on outside influences. My creative enthusiasm used to be a perpetual welling up from the core of my being, which I could not subdue no matter how much I tried. But my ego and muse are intertwined in such a way that when my ego diminished over the last thirteen years, so too did the muse turn away and curl up in the fetal position. I am glad to be able to feel her stirrings within me during trigger events such as NaNo (last year my inspiration was Gaby's month long GOT contest). I love the excitement I am feeling at this moment. The anticipation of an awakened muse is something to celebrate and encourage with truthful flattery and outright bribery. I may only write during the weekends, as work takes its toll upon my creative strength and endurance. What if I could, I'd write at work, but alas my total mental concentration is required for the job if I am to avoid making mistakes. At the same time, the mental energies spent for concentration at work tends to zap energy to create at home. Albeit, I would lose sleep if I were able to write after work, gladly. But I'm in the position at my job that I can't afford to make mistakes. It will be a balancing act in November and one I will happily attempt. Of course, I won't officially compete in NaNo. I won't commit to the daily word count challenge. Rather, my four goals will be modest. 1) I will endeavor to write new material for an old story, my fallback love affair with Malyn's Saga. 2) I will devote time every weekend toward the completion of the first book (there are four total in this saga). 3) I will strive to cherish every accomplishment toward the first two goals. The third part of my said goals just might encourage my muse to stick around longer than the NaNo frenzy. I could potentially finish the second book and then the third book and so on... The first two books are each 75% complete. The third book is slightly less than half finished and the fourth book has the ending page written. So I know where Malyn is going, I just need to fill in the gaps to get her there. Because I'm not officially competing in NaNo, I will start earlier than 11-1 and hope to continue far passed 11-30. I will keep a progress record and a commentary in my blog...by the way that is #4 in my goals...the accountability record. |
| It seems that Sunday, this being the third Sunday in a row this month, is the day I find time and enthusiasm to write in my blog. I am reading more than writing these days. I read 19 of the 29 Andre Norton books I have in my personal library. (At one time I had 53 of Andre Norton's books in Paperback. However, in the process of divorce and separations and moving seven times over the years, my collection has dwindled dramatically.  At this time, I'm on the second MZB Darkover story of twenty or so I have in my library. (I haven't done a precise count). At present I am reading the hardcover reprint of Storm Queen. I have found many typos in this story and have inked in the corrections as I've found them...see what my years with Writing.com has done to my reading habits. Mostly, I read on break at work and just before going to bed, so the story has lasted me over a week. I'm about half way to the end of the story. I have read Storm Queen before, when I was in the USAF, (late 1970's?) or in college (early 1980's). The point being, enough time has passed that I don't remember much of the story and I find I'm enjoying it very much. Storm Queen is unique from all the other Darkover novels in that there is no Earth human discovering his or her Laran capacity while visiting the planet. The first book, Darkover Landfall is a ship full of Earth colonists who ship wreck upon the wrong planet many light years outside the star lanes and must adapt and survive. Most of the other stories take place after rediscovery by Earth space travelers. I believe the other stories related in the Age of Chaos and the hundred kingdoms fragmentation have Earth travelers who happen upon the planet in some way. But don't quote me on this as it has been a very long time since I've visited these stories and my memory is limited. |
| Those who don't look for you, don't ask about you, or don't miss you; don't care about you... What about those folks who think about you, yet make it a point to avoid looking for you, or asking about you in order to give the impression they actually don't care? How many people are around in this world who have to forcibly disassociate themselves from a personal connection with someone because that person has chosen to leave them. In 2003 I ran into that problem. For all intent and purpose, I put up the facade that the love of my life no longer mattered. Albeit, I didn't manage the facade very well for the first couple years; however, as the years accumulated, it became easier to "not care" for real. There are moments in time when I wonder if 'that' person thinks about me as I find myself wondering about them. (Such as the most recent moment which set me down to type out this free write). I shared ten years of my life with this person, and even with thirteen years of not being in touch, I still feel the twinge of attachment. When she made the final break, the break I could not deny as the final reality, then I distanced myself within myself from everyone she still chose to stay connected. Today, I am quite independent of personal attachments. I have a cat with whom I share my home. Period. I have family acquaintances but no one in my life whom I can call a true friend. I admit there are still emotional attachments in my life...but at a distance. My surviving son and daughter still evoke deep feelings. If something were to happen to them I'd grieve horribly. I still find moments when I grieve for my oldest child who passed on to the next adventure five years ago. I have dreamed about him, in fact, as recently as last week. The last time I dreamed about "that other" person was last year about this time of year. How I react to death of a loved one and death of a relationship is a learned thing. It started when I was a child and with each experience of unresolved separation anxiety, my internal alienation from emotional attachment became stronger. I'm not bragging nor am I complaining, I'm just stating a fact of life for me. |
| Bridgette slipped silently from shadow to shadow as stealthily as a cat on the hunt. This image came to me at work when I was focused on manufacturing fill valves...funny how the mind wanders at times. BTW, my production #s turned out pretty good for the day regardless of the momentary inattentiveness. I have a solid image to build on in the future. |
| Well, just because...Five follows Four, unless you are counting down; in which case five follows six. But, for my purposes here, five does follow four. No inspiration at this particular moment, just an irritating yearning to create something...Anything. This blog reflects the overall uninspired state of my mind. Periodically, I do what was originally intended for the creation of this blog and free write (like at this moment). Just Be There...butt in chair...in the moment...no matter what. HA! Sixteen to retirement (whenever that may be) equal my working self. My paternal grandmother retired at my present age. I have another five years minimum before I can claim retirement. I foresee working for another eight years before I claim retirement. Well, unless my age handicaps me into unemployment. I have no real safety net as far as being able to depend on children to "take care of me in my 'old' age." That is because I've never wanted to be troubled with the social aspect of dealing with my adult children or my grandchildren when I get old. The plain truth of the matter is, I don't want to be taken care of. I enjoy my independence way too much to end up living under someone else's rules and standards or abuses. But like Neil Young's song...I need a maid. |
| July 24, 2016 at 12:03am Disillusionment. That's all I have to say at this time...Later, the seed planted will evoke growth. But tonight, all I have is the one word. 4:15pm Okay I am back, sixteen hours later Hmmm. maybe I shouldn't laugh so hard, with my track record, lately, it could have been 14 days later  So there is that word; evoke the condition so common. In my case, the coming of age has found many paths taken which seem to have dwindled into nothingness. Expectations over the years, some not so grand and some beyond realistic promise, have met the same unfulfilled fate. I have learned not to depend on anyone for the little things which turn out to be all important in my life. What joy I've experienced, I've had a hand in creating for myself. The same goes for the misery, as well. This is true for everyone, you know. Friday, in a moment of preoccupied absent mindedness, I set my glasses down on a shelf at the market to look at the fine print of a package. I'm near sighted, you see. Then I performed my label reading down the isle. In the meantime, I left my glasses on the shelf. A few minutes later, I chose the item that promised the best for the money I was spending and walked away to finish up my shopping. You guessed it, I left my glasses on the shelf. Not only did I forget them for a moment but I checked out and walked out of the store with my bag in hand before I realized I'd left my glasses on the shelf. When I returned to where I knew I placed my glasses, they were gone. I went to the customer service and asked if any one had returned a pair of prescription sun glasses to the lost and found, and no one had. So I waited around the store for about an hour and no sign of my glasses. I left the store discouraged that someone would pick up a pair of prescription glasses which they obviously couldn't wear and not turn them in to the lost and found. Why pick them up at all? Disillusionment in action. The glasses aren't that important, they are easily replaced with the right amount of money. And this particular prescription needed renewed several years ago. I think what bothers me about all this is if I had come across something so personal that wasn't mine, I'd have taken them to the lost and found. I suppose not everyone is like me in that respect. Friday night I tried to accept the lesson of the day as Karma in action. I'm sure I have picked up something that wasn't mine and when I couldn't use it, just thrown it in the trash rather than be bothered with them...though, I can't remember when I could have done something like that. I did a lot of selfish unthinking things in my younger years, things I don't remember now. I've not always been a conscientious person. I've not always thought about somebody else feelings and this could be the moment for me to reflect on that. Or it could have absolutely nothing to do with "what goes around, comes around." Maybe, it is simply the time for me to reap the disadvantage to my frequent moments of absent mindedness. This time I wasn't at home when I put my glasses down, I was in a public place. The funny thing, I rarely wear my glasses at home. I wear them for driving. I don't wear them at work, or to read (obviously), or even to work on the computer. I do wear them to watch television, if I don't wish to sit up close to it that is. The majority of my living is not wearing my glasses. But I should, without a doubt, wear them if I intend to drive...ho hum. |
| My initial intent with naming the titles to my blog entries as sequential numbers was, of course, to have written the entries on consecutive days. hmm As you see, my intent hasn't worked out as visualized. But, keeping within the pretense of being true to my initial goal, every time I write in my blog, the entry will find itself titled with the next number. Therefore, this blog entry is titled Three. Concept of an Ordered Universe: a rambling series of thoughts for the day (really?) In an ordered universe, the following concept would be valid: Chaos is balanced by Order and Evil is balanced by Good. But what if the reality of the Universe isn't what we would like it to be? In a universe where all things strive for a state of balance, then if your actions are what you should be doing at a specific time, you cannot fail; unless, of course, you have to fail to maintain the balance between order and chaos. Stories are such worlds. A balanced story requires equal amounts of bad and good, sweet and sour, sad and happy, anger and peace. If the balance falls to much toward success, the story becomes boring. If the story goes too much toward defeat, well, more people love to read happy endings than to read sad ones. Our reality is a balance of fantasy and fact. For instance, I have my perceptions of my life. Some of my perceptions are based on facts, such as, I'm typing in my blog right now. My fantasy is that I'm typing a marvelous premise that will inspire others to go forth and create their own influential wonders. Hey, it could happen. My perception of what is a moral good, and someone else perception of what is morally good can be at odds with each other. Yet, we may both live alongside each other and never really know the depth of our differences. This is what we call politics and or religion. Because I am a writer at heart, I think I understand the power of words in our lives. But, what if my understanding of what words can do once written or spoken means absolutely nothing in the balance of the universe. Words represent emotion, ideas, actions...Words can inspire, beat down, and sometimes kill. Of course, the words themselves don't physically do these things. Remember the saying? "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me." Of course the words won't hurt you, unless those words inspire a crowd to beat you with sticks and bury you under thrown stones. But, how many quarrels have started over a simple, yet malicious, rumor...A piece of gossip, whether true or false, can make or break a person's standing within a community. How many witches burned at the stake were really witches? How many were simply opinionated women who had made too many enemies and didn't have the power to adequately protect themselves from those whom their opinions threatened? As a matter of fact, what is witchcraft? In essence, a curse or a blessing is a spoken desire for either bad or good: Words with intent. Politicians...listen to the words they speak, read the words they write...but don't, and I repeat, don't believe everything a politician speaks or writes. Successful politicians will say and write and endorse what others say and write so long as the concepts evoked will get them elected. Unfortunately, again, the successful politician isn't necessarily the person you want to make policy which will effect your life. Going back to balance. I see so much misery, hatred, anger and violence in the world. I've witnessed such all my life. Is it my imagination, or is the state of the world, as represented by the state of mankind getting worse? Seems so as I grow older. When will there come about the joy, love, laughter, and compassion to balance out humanity? Of course, I speak in the event that we do indeed live in an ordered, or balanced, universe and not a universe spiraling toward entropy. |
| Vacation day, holiday weekend, holiday pay Once again I have a job which awards vacation time and holiday pay. This weekend I'm taking advantage of both perks to have two short four day work weeks in a row at full 40 hour/week pay and a four day weekend or a mini vacation with two days paid...Working the system as allowed by this company. The last company I worked for who allowed vacation time wouldn't let an employee take a vacation day concurrent with a holiday weekend. Basically, you had to work the scheduled day before and the day after to be eligible for the holiday pay. This company's policy states the employee must work the workday before 'or' after to be eligible for the holiday pay. The difference being, as long as I go to work on Tuesday after the Memorial Day holiday I will receive the days wage for the holiday. The difference between two small words: "and", "or" can mean the difference between inclusive (and) conditions or exclusive, optional, (either or) conditions. The short side to this benefit I have discovered with this particular company policy is, I can arrange to have four day weekends with two days paid by using one paid vacation day in conjunction with a paid holiday. This time I chose to take the Friday before the Monday holiday off. I could have taken the Tuesday off after the holiday instead. The difference would have been, I worked the full week this week and then had a three day work week the next week. Another perk with this company occurs around the Thanksgiving holiday. Thanksgiving falls on the third Thursday of November and many companies will pay for the Thursday but not the Friday. This company pays for both days. So on Thanksgiving I will be getting another four day weekend, only this time I won't have to take a vacation day at all. Just one of the reasons I like working for this particular company. I will never get rich working for this company, in fact, the wages they pay won't even put me into a middle class wage level. Working a full 40 hour work week I can barely pay for all my cost of living expenses as well as extras such as groceries, clothing, interstate travel or medical co-pays. I pay my percentage for medical insurance "benefits" my company is required by law to supply their employees, which means my take home pay is even less than an individual who has no insurance and is paid $1.50/hour less than me. I know this because last year I was making $1.50/hour less than I am now, working for a temp agency who isn't required by law to have health insurance for their "clients." Last year, I could afford better groceries and even replace tattered or stained clothing as needed. This year, I've discovered, I now have to make choices. Yes, I have health insurance, but I can't afford to use it without giving up something else. At the beginning of this month I finally paid off the mechanic's bill incurred last March (five paydays). A necessary expense so that I could get to work. I thought, I'd have some extra $$ at the end of this month to make a short road trip to visit my son and his family just a few hours travel and 1 tank of gas from where I live. I discovered that I was mistaken. The price of gas went up thirty cents per gallon and I discovered I don't have enough $$ on hand to pay for three tanks of gas (one tank to get there, one tank to get back and one tank to get to work the next week) between now and next payday. So I am spending my mini-vacation at home. I'm saving money by not driving anywhere for the next four days. Amazing how a mere thirty cents per gallon increase in gasoline has deprived me of visiting family over the holiday weekend. Maybe, I will splurge and buy that needed underwear I've been putting off buying. At least if something happens and I'm rushed to the hospital, I will have some of my dignity left. After all, I do have medical insurance now through my job. That is something...Right? |
| Marvelous...Fantastic...Awesome Such words evoke positive emotional memory of awe, excitement, and glee, if declared in the right way. To aspire to the creative talents of a masterful storyteller with spoken and written language is to struggle against the shackles of one's own limitations of imagination and self expression. Limited personal experience isn't always helpful when describing internal angst of main characters caught in a maelstrom of circumstance; either good or bad. Is this to say that the good storytellers go beyond the rhythm and cadence of the words and actually feel the story they tell? I think so. When I write from a character's perspective, I am writing from an emotional wellspring from which I imagine the character is living at the moment. The wellspring is limited by what I have experienced in my lifetime. I find I have little problem accessing painful emotions such as embarrassment, anger, fear, shame, etc.; but the lighter emotions of happiness, humor, peace of mind, etc., I find a bit more difficult to relate into a story. Elation, is hard for me to describe in word and action because I have experienced that emotion so few times in my life. I must really dig deep to tap into the wellspring of what I think is 'elation.' And, what is love? I know I have felt love, or so I truly believe; yet, the emotion I equate to love, may only be a coveting attachment toward another person. I have felt a strong need I've called love, but in truth was it really love or another expression of selfishness. I think I shall never know one way or the other. So, let it be said I have a basis to be able to describe the emotion of love, whether it was really that or no. Given the premise that a story creator; a writer of stories, and the teller of stories, must feel the emotions of their characters and be able to express those emotions so others also feel what the character is feeling, expressing, emoting, etc. In a way, I think the trappings of the character's environment might become a tool for the storyteller to enhance or contrast a character's emotions. How many directors of a film scene have taken a character who was feeling the elation of love and have them 'singing and dancing in the rain;' or, have a stoic character in the depth of extreme emotional sadness simply walking away, with the rain on his or her face doing the crying on the outside while they hold everything tight inside? And then there are the endings to the stories after the emotional climax...Shane riding into the the sunset with the boy calling for him to come back. Of course there is more going on in that ending than the boy's expressed sadness that Shane is leaving. This is what I have pondered today. I'm satisfied to be able to write it out and surprised, upon rereading what I've written that it has turned out more eloquent than I originally imagined. |
| 'In a Time of Universal Deceit — Telling the Truth Is a Revolutionary Act' ~ Orwell Prophetic? How many revolutionaries are really out there? Would you stand up and shout out the truth even if it meant 1) loosing your job; 2) getting physically harmed; 3) loosing your life; 4) endangering your family, spouse, children? This is a hard question. Your answers may be tested within your lifetime, prepare yourself. For me, personally: I would easily answer with, "Damn right, I'd shout out the truth!" In reality, however, I know myself to be a coward. Unless I'm already morally charged up about some wrong done before me, I'd react as the disciple did when asked if he knew Jesus. Deny, deny, deny then feel guilty about it and try to make up for my failing for the rest of my life. However, if I am prepared and have worked myself up into a righteous moral state of mind, I'd scream the truth and consequences be damned. Just don't expect me to perform such bravery if I'm unprepared. |
| start: April 23, 2016 at 1:55pm There is no set time for this free write. The stipulation is to write for as long as I have thoughts to type on the screen. [Sci-Fi] I was thinking of *________ (? I can't think of her name...gonna have to look it up) the Lunar Space Cadet and her accident. She was supposed to have misused the buggy transport by rill jumping (thrill seeking with gov't property) and ended up in a crater out of line of sight from the base, with the buggy on top of her pinning her down. She was running out of air, had a broken arm and knew she was going to die for her lack of judgement. What I was thinking was how to make the situation even worse. Let's say she is pinned as I had described before, only the situation is slightly different. The Cadets are supposed to have a buddy with them at all times when outside the base...two members patrol together as a team for safety reasons. Her partner got herself in some trouble and *________ couldn't do anything to help her so she was returning to the top of a ridge to call in assistance. Only she was reckless in her haste and the buggy flipped backwards on her before she could reach the ridge line. So added to her dying moment is the belief that not only has her recklessness killed her but her partner as well. To intensify the drama I need to write in this other person. Who is she? Is she and our main character friendly, or are they simply put together because the duty roster happened to line them up this time. Personnel rotation or some such. Drama...this is at the beginning of the story and the rest of the story is how she learns/grows from the experience. Of course, she is found in the nick of time, but her partner most likely isn't. Our main character can't learn and grow if she died. [Fantasy: Twilight Beacon] Then there is Cassini the half Gypsy and half Morovini who crossed the wrong underworld rogue (Morovini) and must flee for her life. The bad guy's name is Timmins and is very influential within the city state where Cassi grew up. He is also a master swordsman and dueling expert. No one within the city will stick their neck out to aid the girl giving her no choice but to flee. The drama isn't necessarily that Timmin's has put a price on her head, (tho' it is the driving reason for her to leave her home) but rather how her own habits get her into trouble wherever she travels. She unintentionally learned of something about Timmins that would interfere with his power seeking ways and will in the end bring hem down with the knowledge. [Fantasy: The Chosen] Then there is Gwendlyn, the young acolyte who finds herself surviving an attack upon her cloister. She is a follower of an unpopular Goddess not because she wished to be but because the Goddess has chosen her and Gwen has no choice...she survives only because of the Goddess' intervention. [Fantasy: TML: Verloren Keep/Where The Light Fades/ALieren's Orb] Malyn is also chosen by the Gods to serve. She will be instrumental in saving humanity and demi-human alike but the price is to lose her own soul in the process. The question asked is: can someone regain their soul once lost? Or rather, the more accurate question: Can anyone ever really lose their soul? [Fantasy] Astryd a covert agent/soldier for her Kingdom is retired from service. The war between neighboring kingdoms is over. There were no clear winners, neither side was evil or saintly. The war ended because both side's economy would no longer support waging war. She returns home only to find that the barony where she was born is decimated by an opportunistic enemy and her King can't afford to help her combat it. (There is a dragon involved.) There are other stories I've started over the years, but these are the ones that actually made it past the first two chapters. They have been on my mind this year. I will make an effort to attend to each of them and evaluate what needs to be done to get them flowing toward a finish. I have been too long away from my creative process. I've allowed outside forces to take over my time for whatever reasons; reasons not important enough to side track me from my dreams. I've hidden behind the events of my daily life as a self fulfilling prophecy for failing to achieve my goals. It's not important why. What is important is I'm tired of hiding and I'm tired of not pursuing my dreams. I am good enough, as long as I believe in myself. I just need to do it...do it everyday...no matter what. end: April 23, 2016 at 3:23pm *addendum August 21, 2016 @ 11:40 pm EDT: ________ = Explorer Third Class Janine A. Monroe |
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