%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Blog started in Jan 2005: 1st entries for Write in Every Genre. Then the REAL ME begins |
|
It Hurts When I Stop Talking Sometime in Fall of 1998, when a visit from Dad was infrequent, and primarily at the mercy of his 88 Toyota making the 50 mile journey, I was being treated to lunch. The restaurant was my choice, I think. Sisley Italian Kitchen at the Town Center mall was somewhere my dad had not yet tried, so that was my pick. Either I was being treated to the luxury of lunch and adult conversation without my husband and 5 year old son in tow, or that's just how the moment has lodged in my memory. The more I think about it, they probably were there, but enjoying the Italian food too much to bother interrupting. Daddy and his lady friend at the time, Anne, came up together and made a day of it with me and the family. We were eating together and talking about some of my scripts, stories, coverages, poems and other creative attempts that really were not seeing the light of day. I think I'd just finished a group reading of The Artist's Way and was in a terribly frenetic mood over my writing. I think I'd just given them an entire rundown on a speculative Star Trek script. My Dad asked me point blank, “Why don’t you write it?? Anne agreed. It sure sounded like I wanted to write it. Why wasn't I writing seriously? It's what I'd set out to do when earning my college degree in Broadcasting many years earlier. Heck, I should, I agreed non-verbally. “I will.” But, I didn’t. Blogs can be wild, unpredictable storehouses of moments, tangents, creative dervishes, if you will. I'm getting a firmer handle on my creative cycle. My mental compost heap (which is a catch phrase from Natalie Goldman or Julia Cameron - I can't think which, right now) finally seems to be allowing a fairly regular seepage of by-products. That may be a gross analogy, but I give myself credit to categorize my work in raw terms. It proves that I'm not so much the procrastinating perfectionist that I once was. Still, I always seem to need prompts and motivation. Being a self-starter is the next step. My attempt to keep up in the Write in Every Genre Contest at the beginning of the year seemed like a perfect point to launch the blog. |
My campfire group is doing a bang-up job following me down a rabbit hole. There's been a quick flurry of additions in the past two days, and now our entries combined have a total of 5000+ words. I am enjoying this endeavor a great deal.
|
| I often bypass the idea of regularity in making blog entries. Riding into work last night I heard the advice of Mr. Josephson who speaks on the air about topics related to his "Character Counts" crusade. It was on the idea of leaving behind a legacy to your family. He proposed that one should write a personal account of your wisdom to leave behind. I think he referred to the idea as an "Ethical Will." I figure if I'm willing to put down my thoughts for anyone to read, I should be able to amass memories and collected wisdom of some importance to the ones I love. It makes the purpose of the blog seem noble. (That may read as *boring* to some). But who knows? I don't always seem to have the answers for getting my kids to be the people I wish they would be (as much as possible that means better than me at many things I still don't seem to be proficient at!) There may come a time when I write down something that will help when my kids are adults. |
| I saw a performance of the play, "Amadeus" performed at the Hollywood Bowl this past week. This year marks 250 years since Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born. The play, which is a brillantly crafted story is something I've enjoyed as a quick read (It's available from the public library). Plus there's the movie of the same name from the 80's. So altogether, I've seen it performed on stage twice, read the play, and seen the movie. The most interesting thing to me is how an audience's attitudes and historical understanding can become skewed by clever extrapolation of events and theories. One audience member that I was chatting with after the end of the show wondered aloud, "So, do you know, was that historically accurate or fantasy?" She was an older woman, accompanied by her husband. I was surprised that she didn't know that the story was fiction placed in the accurate timeframe of Mozart's and Antonio Salieri's successes. Her husband added, "I didn't know Salieri was such a bad man. He did horrible things!" I'd have to research it to be absolutely sure...but really, any fictional representation of a historical figure has to be accepted as FICTION. This problem mirrors the controversy arisen from the popularity of Dan Brown's DaVinci Code. More on this later... |
| I purchased tickets for this year's Hollywood Bowl season. I so enjoyed my series of tickets from last year. I considered very early on trying to commute to the concerts on the metro bus lines. The cost and inconvenience of exiting the stacked parking made that thought a no-brainer. My first concert is Thursday. I only just checked on the available routes and the specifics for the Park and Ride buses that are dedicated to the Bowl commutership. The tickets on the established buses need to be ordered two weeks in advance (duh!) somehow I thought it was easier. Not a big deal; I will have to take the train to Hollywood and use the shuttle. I just hope it is easy to navigate. What good is night off if it's going to get complicated? Lesson: I have lots of things to do better planning ahead for! |
| Everything seems to be falling into place so that I may begin coursework to become a licensed Religious Science Practitioner. I've grown up in the belief system written about by Earnest Holmes in The Science of Mind. I've attended wonderful youth camps with others attending Religious Science chuches. I've gone to the broader-based New Thought conventions a couple times in my life. I have felt drawn to the Judaic tradition, Buddhism and even Catholic ritual through reading and experiences with friends raised in those faiths. Talking about my religious discovery path has always been a bit difficult. Embarassing in not feeling particularly strongly opinioned, actually. When I write about it - straightforward - I do find that I am comfortable about my background. I am poised to spread my wings and use my understanding of Spiritual Law to assist others in their own unfoldment. I called it a personal "self-improvement type" class when I was explaining to my Manager how I might want to adjust my schedule. See, when I talk about it I get all whimpy! I thought it best to let work know so the class would fit in to my weird graveyard shift lifestyle. I If any self-improvement course could be more needed to make sense of the wild gyrations at work, this first one would be it. The full time to take all required coursework will be three years. Maybe it's a good time to be setting a serious 5-year plan down on paper. |
| The night where Steve Martin insight and the ineptitude of my employers coexist. The pleasure of living in So. California is something Steve Martin writes about with ease. Some of the short essays that he's had published in The New Yorker are compiled in a short 1998 book that can be found in your public library. It's titled, Pure Drivel. "A Public Apology" is riotously funny. Interesting synergy to the universe that I'm reading this for the first time the very week that Enron "swindler" Ken Lay dies. The irony of it is the type of instance you can expect to find Mr. Martin picking at. On the dark side of things, I thought I was going to relive a High School trauma this morning. I once passed out cold during a session of summer school trying to exit an overheated classroom. Something similar was looming at work. I teasingly blamed a co-worker for proclaiming the term "sweatshop" the previous day when he was taking in the rearrangement of our production floor. It was nearly impossible to feel refreshed even with box fans going. I actually had a pleasant drive home with my air conditioning running in my car at 4:45 am. I was trying to bring my core body temperature back down after spending too many hours at work in an unregulated environment. It must have been something that happened to the usually frigid AC in the building. I imagine the late-night security guard like the cartoon villian that pulls the train's brake lever and it tears out of the floor, right into his hand. |
| I have been creating and gathering, birthing and teaching, dreaming and learning my entire life. I speak confidently and proudly with friends about the activities that fill my years. I find at times that I am embarassed in my approach with sharing these accomplishments. I speak with people to know more about them, I think. Yet I get embarassed after I think that my goal has been missed based on my domination of the conversation. I'm always particularly pleased to have my writing showcased here on Writing.com. And in a way, I feel more natural (and humbled) to have readers approach my work as their choice. Any artist needs to peddle the product of his/her imagination, but somehow that's hard for me. I do not yet have a clear plan for being comfortable hawking my writing, yet for my optimum prosperity, it is, of course, necessary. I feel there is a balance, but, in the meantime, I appreciate people putting up with my incessant talking. |
| It is nice to be reminded of Truth in simple things that come to mind, or that you read. I have let several things stagnate and/or remained buried in clutter. This blog might be one of the casualties. The true perfection of my capability remains active, but I just don't recognize it when I allow myself to stay distracted. Life is. We can even forget that at times. In the human experience it is so easy to forget things do continue on - no matter how messed up it looks, feels, etc. There is a surefooted marching on of what must continue, whether we are aware of it or not... "...like a clock during a thunderstorm." -Robert Louis Stevenson |
| I have a few projects that have gone undone for months on end. This blog is one of them. I had literally dropped it from my portfolio links, so it really has not been one of those things on my To Do list that gnawed at me. I have a friend who's made plans to get back to California from a three (seems like going on five) year "stay" in Texas. I don't know what else to call it. He married his sweetheart and moved to close proximity of her family, nothing strange there. His experience goes to show that native Californians probably can't live anywhere else and be happy with their surroundings for long. I'm anxious to catch up with them. On a totally different topic, I picked up a cassette tape copy of the score to "Somewhere In Time." It's such a romantic movie, and I can't help but think of Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymore when I listen to this tape. |
| Superman Returns has many layers of "the good stuff," yet overall, I realized that by the end of the film, I'd seen something unexpected. The true undertone of Superman was captured and cast forth in a way that I know we haven't seen in almost thirty years. |
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
