%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
These are my rambles, my thinking as I grow younger and younger. |
This book is about life on earth. Or actually about MY life on earth. Not what I DID, or where I have lived, or which emotion I have wrestled to master. (Well, maybe some of that I suppose.) I mean I have to scribble about something, don't I? Mainly I want to think, and think, and write a book about my thinking. Thoughts can offer opinions, commentary, artwork, humor, debate. I just want to talk, silently. About why I live, where I came from and why I was given days and years and people and dreams and sadness and how none of this was or is a coincidence. THAT'S what this is all about. 
|
| It's allowed last I heard....I'm suddenlyfeeling sad. Going to go be sad somewhere else. I did complete a copy of reviews...one I can barely unerstand what I wrote - gibberish. The second review I sent was much better.Maybe the subject matter brought back old memories. Who knows or cares...............when you''re on earth you live , make friends......when you die you're alone....just you and God. You're born alone and you die alone........a TRUTH. |
| I guess I'm supposed to write here periodically, yet, what do people write? Their day to day activities? BORING.......no, I haven't gotten my hair done, my fingernails have been chipped by dirt, due to my suddenly deciding to make my garden what it used to be, plush and bountiful. I've shoveled dirt, dragged bags of soil, ripped up ugly plants, planted new ones, sowed seeds of Sweet Peas, and Morning Glories, and made hanging baskets. My back has been killing me because of this, but my Mother would be happy. Other than that, I've been going through drawers, boxes, and throwing crap away. Just minimalizing my environment. Less is more......simple is better. I find it calming and frees me from the trappings of life's material "must haves". I don't care anymore. Let the new generation build their empires. Mine was built, enjoyed, and now has no importance to me. Enjoying TODAY, the present seems to be my focus now. So, my blog will always be boring - my words mean little to anyone, I have no humor today, only quiet meditation. The joy of solitude can never be emphasized more. To be alone, yet never lonely. That is the key. |
| After what seemed an eternity - doubt - insecurity - feeling "less than", this early morn I finally delivered two reviews, AND later this morning I received Gift Points on both of them from a senior member. I was thrilled! Certainly it has bolstered my confidence and also has pushed me to be more articulate in my reviews. It's easy to send the same "canned" lines to a writer about his work; but this morning (5 a..m), I was able to be a better writer, using language wrapped fluidly, in sentences that were just good, good sentences. To find the uncomman way to bring freshness to writing and reviewing is a difficult task. But, I have to stretch myself, and allow the colors of language to paint the almost perfect watercolor, to communicate with emotion, grace and perspective. Perhaps I have balance today, a calmness, an acceptance of what I write is what I write - I am not brilliant (even with a high I.Q,); I am not interested in disecting a poet's lines to such a grade school level - noting where verbs are wrong or adverbs are in the wrong spot and flogging writers with punctuation demands. I'll just be my own self, low key, down to earth, pretty friendly and kicked back.. Mellow...............yes today I think I got my groove back........... COOL! |
| There's not much to write, except lately I've been doubting myself. Am I a decent writer? Can I be a better reviewer? Yesterday, I fell into a period of despondency - believing that all I have written all of my life ( my poems) have been garbage. The more I read the works of famous poets, analyzing style, and method, and experiencing their remarkable use of language; the more I feel very inadequate. Poetry must have SOUND, it must SING, it must melt into the reader so they will come away with feeling, a remembrance. A poem must affect a reader, so at the end, they say "wow" - it must move them somehow. I think of Yeats 'lyrical verse, I think of Dickenson's solitary words to the outside world (never revealing herself). I think of Marianne Moore's "The Fish" with it's vibrant images, and clever placement of words. I doubt myself these days. I write, and then I scratch out and re-write a draft over and over again.....and it never feels finished. Is a poem ever finished? Complete? I write, and tos the paper on the floor....I get too personal, I weave lines, and then cut, cut, cut. Mary Oliver (a poet) stated that she writes a poem for someone who will not be born for centuries. Her poem must tell all of an experience, explain itself fully, so that those generations following, can read and understand exactly what we mean when we write a piece, whether poem or novel. Doubting - that's o.k. I guess, but I am so bothered by the junk I write - yet I've discovered poems I wrote thirty years ago, and those pieces read beautifully. Because I just HAD to write, I had to be a writer. It's not something you choose, it's what you have to do everyday...just as a painter must paint, even through his doubt, a musician must create sound, melody, lyrics. It's in the blood. I hope this self-doubting will ease, and I can just write for myself, and not compare my feeble work with the masters. Poems are paintings, they require color, sound, melody. I must study harder, I must improve, I must push myself harder, and look deeper into the gut, the heart, into the authentic self I know I am. |
| "Summertime...and the livin' is easy..." Well, the living ain't easy this weekend in California, the heat wave has struck even those of us near the ocean - tempretures hitting almost 100'. You don't want to move, you can hardly breathe. Even being on-line is making me sweat. It's supposed to cool down by Monday - meanwhile, people are walking around with wet rags on their heads to keep cool. (wishing I was in Maine right now........) |
| I guess my plan today is to catch up with all the Poetry Reviews I have to do in my Forum. But, sometimes I have to take a break...and work on MY Writing. I was plesently surprised to have had my poems reviewed last week, by writers I respect. And one of the poems will be highlighted in this week's Spritual Newsletter. And Kansaspoet gave me some detailed suggestions on exactly which words to change to give my poem more impact for the reader. That kind of review helps, and I made the changes...and the poem is so much better. THANK YOU to the seasoned pros who took time to review some of MY work - I must make it a point to give the pros the reviews they rarely receive anymore. We focus on the Newbies - that's fine, but, we must not forget the members who have been here for years. They deserve reviews too. No big rant today....I think I'm in a better, optimistic place right now. Thank you, Lord, for your love. I stray sometimes, but YOU always welcome me back. |
| OH, the call to arms has been heard - FINALLY! Rebels that we are, a sounding ringtone, a bash on the head, a kick in the pants, has brought the BEST from the lurkers, the wise, established senior members, who gave up on Reviewing because 1.) Their toil and detail in observation, critiquing, and suggestions were never given recognition, nor even acknowledgment.. 2.) To see their detailed, fair rating of a piece and lengthiness of review squeezed on the Public Review Page between two reviews containing a mere 300 words, saying absolutely NOTHING, did disgruntle these excellent former reviewers.......and with a collective sigh, turned them away...to other more professional sites, real Life Writing/Critiquing Groups within their local cities, and more likely focused their skils on their OWN work. Why waste beautiful language on a site where language skill is neither noticed nor applauded (that's why someone invented Spellchecker - lazy folks now don't need the trauma of searching for the correct spelling of a word, where a word should be used correctly in a simple sentence.....thy don't even have to search nor understand that some word can be nouns, pronouns, or dangle participals all over the place. They have the mighty SPELL CHECKER). 3.) Honestly, the BEST writers grew rather embaressed to send readers over to this site, were reluctant to admit their works were posted HERE of all writer' sites in the WW internet. Why present a poem here, when you can ask for feedback in places (i.e.moontowncafe.com or winningwriters.com) where you may be egged off the stage, but at least know you paid your dues moving up in the rejection ladened clubs, coffee houses, and local open mike reading events). BUT - me thinks, the clanking of Paul Revere's lantern has challenged the best and the Brightest away from their blogs, blogging, blogville, blogtown boring postings - and lit some fire under their egos........and gosh darn it.........they have shown up for the challenge. It ain't about numbers, people...it's about WHO is your REVIEWER? I can count on one hand, the people I submit my poems to review - because they don't give me one lousy inch of breathing room. I know it, they know it, they know I know what they're going to do - they are polite......but it's still a slight ding on my pride, my baby-sensitive ego to have them mention the obvious - which I DIDN'T SEE MYSELF. DUH! Talk about feeeling like an idiot................point being....CARE who your REVIEWER IS..........CHECK THEIR PRIOR REVIEWS, if you are sneding them poetry...check their portfolio...if they don't have one poem listed, chances are, they wouldn't know The Cat In The Hat from Ginsberg's radical rantings or e.e. cummings unique method of line wrapping and oddly crazy spacing of lines. They wouldn't know THE POET. Just as I wouldn't know The Author of BOOKS, THE PLAYWRIGHT, THE COMPOSER, THE LYRICIST. BUT - I do believe I am seeing names I have not seen in a very long time, and they have created Review Forums (aided by my kicking some of them in the tush........). And, for such a long time, writers who previously BEGGED for someone to read a draft of Chapter Five......are now being read, drafts re-vised, secondary plotlines dumped, characterizations bolstered, and genuine, bare boned opinions given. HOORAY.......THANK YOU, BEST OF THE BEST for returning to the scene! (Now if we could just get rid of all those annoying siggies, images, color blasters, tag-taggers and all that WritingML HTML excess..........gues we'll have to tackle that annoyance later in the year.) Now, watch, I'll scurry over to the PRP and see 300 character count 'canned " reviews again trying to leave their mark - WHERE'S THE HOOK???) At least you giggled after reading this, now didn't you.......? HAPPY FRIDAY! Practice smiling at a stranger, and forgive someone this weekend - just because. |
| There has been debated the matter or existance of Coincidence, as explanation for bizarre, out of the ordinary behavior, events, or even the paths people have taken in this life. I don't believe in "coincidences" - to me, that's other people rationalizing what occurs in life. They have to compartmentalize any odd occurance, as it seems the "intelligent" response of a civilized society. Ah! But, if you've had many, many of these events in your life, you begin to consider that randomness is NOT an argument, if it even exists. * a person is overwhelmed by despair, hopelessness........they click on some 'random" link or happen to decide to check their e-mail. The 'link" takes them to a place where they read something that IN THAT MOMENT removes their despair, their hopeless, angst feelings. In the e-mail INBOX a message appears from an old friend.........the old friend says they'd been thinking of the person, and just happened to send an e-mail that day. * a reader/reviewer/writer on WDC preoccupied with an issue, event, an emotion, real life stuff....just happens to click on a short story, a poem etc. that 'just happens" to appear on the sidebar of a page. They read the story, the poem.......and it is EXACTLY the experience THEY have been preoccupied with. Or it answers the question troubling the reader. * you cross paths with a stranger, by chance, at a particular time in your life. You just happen to strike up a conversation with someone in a store, in a check-out line, at a sporting event - and the conversation evolves into a sharing of experience, the surprise of both parties that each have been through identical things in their lives, or have a connection that "coincidence" cannot explain. I KNOW (by having had way too many of these experiences happen throughout MY life) that I do not believe anything is Coincidental. There is a purpose, a reason, a plan, an other-worldly designer, for all these "accidental type" episodes. Yep, I've said a prayer one day asking for some help maybe for finances, or simply for food during hard times. The next day - in the mailbox, a check appears. This has happened so many times. A prayer for food - the next day (I'm not kidding) a Spermarket Delivery truck has appeared at my door with bags and bags of food being brought in - sent by a person I had never met, but perhaps had chatted with in some chat room. Or, I've had grocery bags left at my doorstep the SAME evening. And, no, I had not mentioned my hard times, or financial trouble to anyone or ask anyone for help. Help arrived. No coincidence.............a prayer was answered. * meeting a professor as a young college student, by chance......who pointed me down the path that eventually became a career, a profession where I found fullfillment, where I was meant to be..... I don't believe in coincidences............plain and simple. All meetings, all travels, all things that happen in our lives serve a purpose, there is Meaning and Purpose, and how we respond is the key to moving forward, to become more fully ourselves, and to make our mark on this earth. A dreamer am I? Yes...I am a dreamer. A believer in what is not seen? Yes........ A person who has had 'coincidental, accidently, illogical, unexplainable" things happen in her life so many times......that she no longer questions these happenings........just nods her head in acknowledging them?..............Yep, that's me. How about you? Any whoo-who 'that's strange' experiences that have changed your course in life, that may have Saved your life, that affected you in a way that you remember, always, the event, the person, the e-mail, even to this day? Happy Weekend.....Folks........Make a Wish, Say a prayer, Help a stranger, just because, no reason really.......... then see what happens. Who knows............. |
| Yep, I'm not EVEN going to use color for this post. May it dazzle you in black & white. The Taggers on the Review Page MUST be corralled, they have run amuck!! HUGE Signatures, Garish Images, HTML color explosions dripping like so many color-by-number paintings. Where's The Quality Review, People???? I want WORDS, not Creative Design "worst example" postings. And can we, some way, some how.....limit the times you can say the lines: "I really related to this poem/story......cuz blah, blah happened to me" "This is great work!" "I see no spelling errors" END OF REVIEW Image..Image...Siggie.....Famous Quote......Let's Take Up The Entire Review Page with my crapola. Aren't I a Kind & Generous Reviewer? Now move me up on the list & and send me my GP'S..... O.K........that's my humble opinion about the Taggers...and the Canned Reviews being handed out.........enough is Enough!! |
"Tin can at my feet Think I'll kick it down the street That's the way To treat a friend.... All around me, The signs implore me Help the needy And show them the way... Human kindness is overflowing..... But - I think it's going to rain today" "Like a bird on a wire, Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way To be free" - Leaonard Cohen{/c:blue} Not sure why these songs lyrics popped in my head......but have posting them here anyway, for reference. They are both sad, mournful, filled with opposite images - indicating a deep cynical experience where one tries to believe in human kindnes, yet, it's going to rain today. And the scene of the tin can at my feet.....kicking it....that's the way to treat a friend. Leanord Cohen (doubt if anyone knows he was back in the 60's) wrote descriptive phrases, always with a mournful quality. An anology of a bird on a wire...or a drunk in a midnight choir...are clear and precise images, of a need for freedom. Another song with wonderful lyrics ays: "All the Sisters of Mercy they are not departed or gone, They were waiting for me when I thought that I just could not go on, And they brought me some tea and later they brought me a song, Oh, I hope you run into them, you have traveled so long" I just remembered these lyrics and needed to write them somewhere. So, they are here right now......... |
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
I like your 'own' self.
I'm okay and you're okay. I'm good. I'm okay. I don't want to read one more piece that needs work. I'm going to stick to those perfect pieces that everyone else finds - somewhere. I'm tired of the stress. I'm tired of trying, I'm just tired.