I've already shared here that I love Christmas. It is my favorite time of year, just like the song says. I love all bits and parts of it and can't wait to decorate, bake, make merry and even shop. I love the special traditions our little family has and how we embrace them every year, giving thought to the past. Some of our traditions have died away and others I can't even remember why we do them or where they came from, others, I started in hopes of leaving something of my childlike wonder regarding Christmas to generations after me.
Over the weekend my niece and I decorated my Dad's house with a good portion of my Christmas decorations, as my home is far too small for the many things I have accumulated over the years. It is a tradition for my niece and her mom and I to do the major decorating together. For many years my house has been the place where we have celebrated, for many different reasons, but mostly, because I wanted to host and I had a place to do the celebrating in. Because we spent most of the day together decorating my dad's place, the girls did not come to my house to help with my decorating....and because of that, I had too much time to think.....
My birthday is on December 11th, two weeks before Christmas, I will be 44 years old. I have never been married, nor do I have any children of my own and for the greater part of my adult life that has been okay with me, but for times like friday night when I was completely alone decorating my tree, it began to hurt. My life is my own making, I accept this, I've chosen my singlehood. I've been very blessed with other people's children in my life and have always had wonderful friends who I celebrate the season with, but none of these people are my own nuclear family. Don't misunderstand, I love the family I've chosen, the friends I have are family to me, but I cannot cuddle up to my best friend's husband on a cold winter's night after the tree has been decorated and admire our handy work.....that just wouldn't fly, nor would I want it to.
I have always just believed that the right person for me is out there and that on the very last day that I would expect it he will arrive....I will not like him at first and slowly I will find that I really wasn't meant to be alone.
But at Christmastime I find that I regret not making an effort to procure more of a legacy of myself. I wonder what it would have been like to wake up Christmas morning with a child of my own to meet at the tree and watch as they were surprised by a visit from Santa Claus. A little one to tell the story of how or why we find a stocking full on Christmas morning or to watch A Christmas Carol with each year or to take around town and look at all of the neighbors lights. And a mate to share all of that with, someone to conspire with about gifts, party plans and to help hang the lights. Someone to leave my Christmas Spirit with....even more than some one, maybe two...someones.
This year just seems to be my year for addressing my regrets....and not having my own someone to pass down traditions to or to share with has hit me harder than previous years. Maybe because my mortality has been called out this year in so many ways, I'm contemplating what will be left of me when I am gone. Although 44 is not old, it is one more year, gone, finito, bye-bye and one more year I'll never get back. One more year that I will spend single at Christmas.
This post has been brewing for a couple of days and initially I resisted writing it because I did not want to deal with the feelings, but I needed to put these feelings out into the ether, to purge myself, so I can move past them. To let go of what feels like loss and make room for more life.
My home is strategically located approximately two hours away from either the Pacific Ocean or the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I say strategically, but I really had nothing to do with where my family transplanted to, however, I make the choice to stay here, strategically between two places I love. Well, maybe I LOVE one and REALLY LIKE the other, therefore, can be certain of what my choice would be if I had to choose. The ocean calls me, pulling at me like the tide and the mountains sing to me like the whisper of peace; both are special in their own way.
Where I grew up the smell of the ocean was always on the breeze. Today, I can close my eyes, breathe deep and still smell the ocean, the pungent mustiness of seaweed and wet wood. A tribute to my love of the ocean and her draw is my ability to feel and absorb the power she wields. Describing what that feels like is quite intimate, knowing the power is available to me is somewhat intoxicating and I almost feel devilish absorbing it. In the presence of the ocean I feel a tingle, a vibration, power beyond belief, like I could lift a car up….with my mind. Perhaps possible at some level, I find that I am almost afraid of the amount of power I feel and end up only drained by the pounding the vibrations my personal power cell sustains during my visit to the ocean. Although I find I am exhausted in a good way after an exchange with the ocean I am oddly energized as well.
Conversely, the mountains sing a beautiful, whispering lullaby to me. Quelling the noise in my mind and crooning to the slow, lower vibrations that harmonize with quiet respite. The mountains have a certain power over me, as well; however I find that the power they exude is that of peace and tranquility. Again, I can close my eyes and breathe deeply and find myself planted firmly in a stand of trees absorbing the scent of pine and earth, instantly I feel relaxed and almost able to float up to the sky. There is power here as well, only calmer, more sedate and clearer, less evocative and more focused. The air is crisp with an alert quality to it, as if the mountains are aware of my presence instead of me being aware of them. The mountains afford me the gift of solitude and peace, revitalized by their soft, gentle reverberation, I always return lightly empowered.
Although the mountains breathe slower and give gentler, the ocean is my true love. The raw power the ocean sprays at me is all too intoxicating and I cannot resist what she has to offer. I love the sound of the water lapping at the shore, taunting the shoreline with her roar. This power, this energy is what makes me feel alive, electric and whole. The ocean is for rejuvenation,the mountains for refreshment, both special to me in their own way, one a lover and the other, a dear friend.
I've been pondering a post for Thanksgiving for a couple of days now....reminiscing in my mind about past celebrations and looking forward to the current one. Thanksgiving has always been a special celebration in my family, there used to be a time when we sat almost 50 people, at one table for the meal. As our lives have changed, family units within the village have evolved, people have moved on, marriages have dissolved, loved ones have passed and the fabric of our individual lives has changed texture, I find myself looking back and forward simultaneously and longing for the past, yet excited about the future.
The celebration I will share tomorrow will be quite small...honestly, I am saddened by this because it feels as if my family unit has isolated itself from the larger part of the family we used to share with. In truth, our family has sort of disintegrated, for many reasons I won't parade here, but reasons I find sad. I enjoy the company of my small unit, however, miss the revelrie and rambunctious, rowdy commotion our larger family used to imbibe in....I'm a party girl and I miss the party.
Oddly, even as I am saddened, I find myself grateful for a quiet day with my family. We are going to review and pick out prints from our family portrait sitting, watch movies and eat, eat, eat....and, later, friends will stop by for dessert....dear friends. So, it will be a complete celebration, just a different version than the ones I can see when I look back.
One of my favorite parts of those old bashes we used to have was sharing what we were thankful for. My Mom, Sister and I used to draw and cut out construction paper turkeys and have everyone write on them what they were thankful for and then we would tape them to a big piece of butcher paper so everyone could read them. We'd save the big THANKFUL poster for the next year and do it all over again the following year. The little kids were the best....they always had really good things on their thankful construction paper turkey....I wish I could remember some of them now....
So, in honor of those days, here is my construction paper turkey:
I am thankful that my nephew arrived in the United States from Iraq this morning
I am thankful that I am alive, healthy and almost whole
I am thankful that my dad is healthy and content
I am thankful that my mom is doing the best she can every day
I am thankful that my sister's CAT scan showed an 80% reduction in the cancerous spots on her bones this past week
I am thankful that I have renewed the relationship with my sister and found that we enjoy each other's company emensly
I am thankful for my friends, without whom I would have gone off the deep end without
I am thankful for finding the bravery it took to step out of my old life and find a new life
I am thankful for rain storms, sunshine, fall color, new lawn and hummingbird feeders
I am thankful for Christmas lights on the porch.....white and blue
I am thankful for books, music and art
I am thankful for writing because it is the new praying
And, I am thankful for the friendships I've found in a place I never expected to....
Cheers to you.....cheers to yours and have a blessed celebration, however you choose to make it!
I made these Christmas ornaments today....each is a little window into a winter wonderland! I hope to sell them through a little shop in my neighborhood, the proprietress and I discussed the design idea and she's agreed to take them on consignment. If these sell....I'm making some more!
Also, I've reopened a shop I had on ESTY last year....I have some items listed that are what I call "pre-knowledge" jewelry....Beadwork I used to do before I went to jeweler's school. These items are on sale 50% off! Please check it out: Cowgirl at Heart
I have many "post-knowledge" projects ready to be listed, only waiting to be photographed and many more projects pending completion on my bench....all will be listed over the next few days, so check back often and buy, buy, buy for Christmas or "just because"!
Maybe my expectations were too high....I hate it when I read a book and the movie disappoints. I don't see a ton of movies, maybe 4-5 a year and had my BFF not invited me to this I would not have waited two hours in line to see it.....or any other movie for that matter.....
This movie was better than Twilight....but, still lacked content. If I hadn't read New Moon prior to seeing the movie, I'm pretty sure I would not have understood most of what was going on. I read a few blog reviews after I got home after midnight last night and even some of the most rabid fans had negative things to say. I think they should have asked the people, any of them, who brought the Harry Potter movies to life to do these movies......I think the Harry Potter movies came as close as possible to conveying the story the way JK Rowling set them up....at least the effects were better!
I'm not going to really go in to a lot of detail, but, suffice it to say, Taylor Lautner's Jacob Black was the highlight of the movie.....not just his body.....WOW...he was GOOD. My crush on Rob Pattinson, semi-quelched. He should have spent a little time, even just a little, in the gym with Taylor.....the scene stealer in the whole deal....the guy that plays Bella's dad, he didn't have a huge roll, but, when he had a scene, he delivered with perfect timing some funny lines.
(spoiler) there is a scene in the movie where they portray the future Edward and Bella and I have to say they 'jumped the shark' on that one, it was ridiculous and before things get too far out of hand, they should re-edit the movie and delete this scene.....and maybe reshoot it. I'm pretty sure they didn't mean for the scene to elicit laughter.....I was hoping the action and effects would step things up a little, but, it almost felt like a VERY small budget film when we all know it wasn't.....they really could have done a better job all the way around.
I didn't love it....I didn't hate it. If you're not a devoted fan....see it on video, maybe the flaws won't be as big....... That's my $10.50 worth.....
(this is a reflection off of the clear filter I have on the end of my lens - I cropped it out of the photo where the moon actually shows....this moon was sooo much cooler....)
I am soooo totally in love with Edward....I know, cheeeeeeeeseeyeyeyeyyeyyy, right? The whole Twilight dealio is pretty astonishing. But, once you sell to the kids, the folks are all done. I am soooo going to get my butt kicked by the niece, as I made her promise not to see it without me, because she saw Twilight without me....but, the BFF asked me to go and I couldn't refuse. I'm sort of wishing I did, it's cold, windy and rainy here and the theater is in Auburn, the lower foothills and it's always colder up there and we're going to have to stand in line to get in to the theater (we pre-bought our tickets).
I actually re-read New Moon this week so I would be prepared. Dork. I read all four books last year in a three day run....yes, I layed on my couch for three days and read the Twilight series (I wasn't working and I had some free time) (I did eat, go to the bathroom and sleep some).
The teenage angsty forever love is just something I'm a sucker for, what can I say...I was one of those girls.....still am....
I REALLY hope this movie is better than Twilight was....serioulsy, if I hadn't read the book, I would not have had any clue what was going on in that movie. I think they did not do any of the story justice. The trailers look better, of course, although I'm not a Jacob supporter, I'll have to admit, OMG, he's a hottie....but, so is Rob Pattinson.....I wish I was Bella......
Just a little levity in my maudlin life......
Have a fun Friday night....and a fabulous weekend.
Last month I picked up some friends from the San Francisco airport....I got there really early...(I have a fear of getting lost when I travel long distances and sometimes arrive places earlier than anticipated...)....then, found out that the flight had been delayed. No problem, I just made a few stops 'round the area and took some pictures. I found a place where I could see a the runway where planes coming over the bridge were landing. It was amazing to watch, one after the other they came over the bridge and landed, smooth as can be right in front of me. I was mesmerized by the feat of bringing a plane in to land on a tiny strip of asphalt, in what seemed like the middle of water.
I've been observing my life again, through the microscope, reviewing the details. And, life is kind of like the airport and landing a plane, right? In order to get to your destination, you have to navigate the water, the bridge and the tiny runway.
I was driving to school the other day and whilst sitting at a stop light I was running my day through my head and the list of the things I had to do played like a little recording, English class, homework, clean up the yard, do the laundry, put the dishes away.....when it dawned on me....I have a NEW life....
Surely doing the laundry, putting away the dishes, cleaning up the yard aren't new, but, they are different. Why? Because I've made navigational corrections. It dawned on me the the other day that I was thinking about the future, when school is over and it was weird because for some odd reason I kept thinking that when I get done with school I'll be going back to work.....kind of like I was on vacation, not changing the course of my life and that is when the realization hit....THIS IS MY LIFE NOW. I won't be going BACK to my OLD work, the work I hated.....even if I don't make it big in the medical world....(I'm not really planning on running the World Health Organization or anything, but, I could contribute something big, maybe), I've made it out of that old life.....THIS IS MY LIFE NOW....I've succeeded in the only thing I REALLY wanted to succeed in, getting out of an industry that was eating my soul.
It's funny, because I hadn't looked at it that way yet. I have a lot of friends in the old business, so really, I'm still connected to it, as much as I don't want to be. Sometimes I find myself thinking, (as my friends are discussing who is hiring and who is closing down and who is working with whom), maybe I should make some calls and see if I can get a job with so-and-so....and then, ding ding ding....the light comes on.....I am not going back there....I am moving on...or rather, I HAVE MOVED ON!
I've made it to one airport...landed the plane safely and am at the airport heading for the next gate....and I have seriously changed the course of my life. For me, this is profound. Even though I've realized this is my life now, I still lie awake some nights thinking about all the things that could go wrong and divert me back to that old place. Eventually I get my head back around to the runway and realize the course can only be changed by me and although I might still be a pilot in training, I've managed to navigate to a place where I am in charge and command of the flight plan.
Now I'm heading in a new direction....recovering from a life not lived.
Carmelized onion, saute'd mushrooms and gorgonzola tart
Potato, ham and cheddar tart
Italian wedding soup
Butterscotch pumpkin cake
Cheesecake.....the new recipe
Breaking in the new firepit......PRICELESS
(Ironically, I failed to take a picture of the Pumpkin soup....which is the crown on this annual dinner....however, there was some leftover so, I will post a picture later with the recipe if anyone is interested....)
I have a wonderful group of friends....they are there for me when I need them....through the worst and always the best....I love them....and the way I show love is to cook...so, each year I have The Great Pumpkin Dinner and show them how much I love them. We gather, gobble, laugh, gorge, giggle, imbibe, chortle, even snort, but for sure we just ruminate in each other's company.
I had a beautiful Saturday night....I hope you did, too.
Tonight is my annual "Great Pumpkin Dinner"....no it's not a Halloween dinner....it's customarily done on or around Halloween, but, this year, it is a little bit late....no biggie, though, it's still fall (sort of) and it's my gift to my friends.
In preparation, Roomie bought my Christmas present early.....a firepit for our front porch, where we hope all will gather an enjoy the warm fire....
Assembly was required.................
I'll tell you all about the dinner tomorrow......have a fabulous Saturday!
I love that my little dog snuggles up to me at the end of the day, spent and content to snore his way through my favorite show.....
I love when I find myself 'framing' pictures in my head as I'm driving around town noticing the amazing color show that Mother Nature puts on this time of year....
I love Christmas....you'll probably get sick of my love of Christmas....I hope you don't.....
I love to try new recipes, even when they don't turn out like I expect them to, because I've adopted the attitude that all adventures in life are merely experiments and half the fun is waiting to see how things turn out.....
I love KNOWING that someday I'm going to be helping.....in ways I cannot even imagine today.....
I love puttering around the house, getting ready for guests who are coming to dinner on Saturday....
I love the sounds the house makes after the t.v. is turned off....and it's time for bed......
I love the inspiration I find in the blogosphere....the amazing things that my bloggy friends are doing out in the world, things that they dreamed up and started from their blogs.....
"As a representative of the United States Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, it is my high privilege to present you this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation this nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one."
Robert Elijah Thane Henderson U.S.Navy, WWII Served on LST-268 During World War II, LST-268 was assigned to the Asiatic-Pacific theater
Anthony Lee Brown U.S.Army Serving in Iraq .... days away from returning home for good.
For My father's father (grandfather):(I do not have a photo to share): Gordon Lee Tucker U.S.Navy, WWII Served on the USS Lexington Aircraft Carrier.... During the Battle of the Coral Sea.....survived, returned from the battle the youngest Cheif Petty Officer at that time.
For my uncle, Gordon's son: Ronald Oscar Tucker U.S.Navy Served Vietnam
For my brothers:
Craig Steven Campbell U.S. Marine Corps Served Operation Desert Storm
Steven Hewitt U.S. Marine Corps Served Operation Desert Storm
James Brown U.S. Marine Corps Served Operation Desert Storm
I love Christmas! It is my favorite time of the year. Granted, Christmas, the real Christmas, has been "commercialized over", you can hardly avoid it for all of the commercialization and I for one believe it's a crime. However, I have to admit, (although I am offended that retail has moved up their campaign every year to capitalze on the all mighty dollar), I love to walk through the stores and revel in the Christmasness that is offered. I begin my own campaign of what to give my loved ones for Christmas.
I don't think that Novemeber 10th is too early to start planning what to give....and here it is, drum roll please...my point for this post....."What to give".....
This is my public service announcement for the season, for you Blogging, writing, photo capturing maestros check out BLURB. You can put a book together of your blogs to give as gifts. At first I wondered if this was sort of 'self important', but, I began sifting through some of my posts and if I pick out a select few that show case my writing, my photography and my love for family and friends it would be a nice gift, right?
Anyhooooo, I downloaded their editing program, it looks super easy and it even has a "blog to book" function that eliminates the guess work. Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here....has anyone done this before? I stumbled on this concept earlier this year and it's been in the back of my mind ever since to do this with my blog. SSSSOOOOOO, I'm going to do it....wish me luck and let me know any of you have already done this or if you are considering it. I'd be anxious to hear how it worked out for you AND if any of you do have a book already done, I might be inclined to buy one! ('cause y'all are fabulous, really).
The feeling of Christmas is already beginning to permeate....That means my Grandmother's spirit will begin visiting me.....YAY!
It took just the tiniest bit of prodding, but I think I've figured out what is chasing lady inspiration away. I have things going on in my life that are tough and I find that I am holding back in my writing because I'm not sure I want those things to bleed through....the thing is I need to write about them. So, I'm going to. Heed the warning in the post title, there may be some tough subject matter chewed on here.
I've already divulged here that I am a recovering alcoholic. One of the reasons alcoholism continues in families is that no one talks about it. The disease becomes the elephant in the room and it's affects reverberate for generations. I find that I am standing in the middle of my own life watching the devastation of this disease in my mother, my sister, my nephew, my niece and my brother-in-law. Not only is it affecting their lives, but it overshadows so many aspects of the lives of the people they love and who love them. Breaking down how deeply this disease affects my family would take an encyclopedic sized book.
Alcoholism is insidious. I don't know the people before him, but my mother's father was the first alcoholic I knew in my family. I had only brief encounters with him when he was drunk. I loved my grandfather and loved to hang out with him at the ranch. When my grandparents bought the ranch it was to be their retirement home. My grandmother still had a few years to go before she could retire, so she finished up in So Cal while Papa moved up here and lived at the ranch. Because I loved to hang out with him at the ranch I would ask to go spend weekends with him. I was young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but even then I knew to be aware of how far away the fire station was, in case something happened out at the ranch while I was staying there. I don't know how I knew that Papa had a 'problem' with alcohol, I just knew it. Eventually my grandfather's hard living took it's toll on him and he died relatively young at the age of 67. In retrospect there were so many aspects of the things my mother and her mother did and said that made so much more sense knowing the extent of my grandfather's alcoholism.
What I believe is the crux of my current hurdle is my mother's deeper descent into her alcoholism. Her mother died in the fall of 2007, I've shared my grief here and here and in various other posts, in fact, I spent about eight months in therapy in 2008 processing my grief and various other issues. My mother, however is dealing with her grief a little differently. While I know from my own recovery work a drunk has to decide when they are ready to quit drinking, no one can decide that for them, I find myself dwelling on the well my mother is plummeting into.
I've done a lot of work for myself. I've worked the steps with a sponsor, I've seen a counselor when I felt the need, I've sought spiritual counsel, I've spent a lot of time examining my family dynamics, I know where I come from and where my mother comes from. So, the heart of the matter for me is that I am scared and terrified that my mother isn't going to survive. She is slowly killing herself because she cannot deal with 'where she came from'. It is painfully obvious to many people that my mother is deep in the throws of alcoholism and none of them knows what to do. None of them feel it is their business to intercede. Not even me. I feel impotent to help her, fearing any misstep could make things worse, perhaps alienate her from me, thus putting her in further jeopardy. I have been the care taker in our relationship, from the time I was a small kid, with my own medical problems, I remember that my mom sometimes could not function. Not only did I have to be responsible for her, but for myself. I even cared for her dying mother because she could not bring herself to do it.
What I've covered here is only the toenail of the elephant....my sister functions at a very low level and her young daughter has distanced herself from her mother, positioning herself at her dad's house....her dad an alcohlic himself, raised by a raging alcoholic....who has found out that raising an angry, confused young girl is much harder and scarier than he bargained for. Their dynamic is becoming more complicated and broken every day.
On paper, things don't look so bad, really, families have baggage. I just find myself carrying so much of the baggage....maybe because I don't want to be without my mother at a mere 43 years old and maybe because I don't want the cycle to keep repeating itself in my niece...so, I carry a few of the extra bags so they don't have to.
Then again, perhaps letting go is in the best interest of the bellhop.....putting down the bags and giving up the burden for a minute or two....writing down the tough stuff so lady inspiration can find her way back.
I still don't feel like I've gone deep enough....and that I've dressed up what is going on with a story....Otin thinks maybe I'm really sad and that I could be in a bad place, he extended a kindness I am grateful for, because he helped me look closer, but, I think that this is just my life....I have an acoholic mother, a broken sister, and a struggling teenage niece.....without any sarcasm here, "things could be worse."
The assignment: Your topic will be a thing that you could hold in your hands. Your job is to describe the item without naming it. We are to use figurative language, the assignment requires use of; simile, hyperbole and metaphor, at least one of each.
Here is my essay:
This girl’s sleek, black, steel casing offers cool comfort in my hand, like the grip of a Smith & Wesson revolver. Although, a mere 18 ounces, she offers considerable weight in her class. When her trigger is fired, the click tells you she’s done her job. The result, high output, true color in every shot; as a result, truth on paper.
A field test really showcased my trigger operated friend; I experimented with auto pilot just to get a feel for how she runs. Given her speed, clarity and accuracy, I was not surprised to find out how easy she was to handle. Her split second timing arrested a hummingbird in flight.
Looking at my cool black beauty, you might find yourself inside, waiting to get out. The detail on her screen lets you know what you have accomplished. Found on her frame are a multitude of dials and buttons, designed to compose, create and cultivate emotion with the flick of a finger. Dialing down her attention gives me microscopically precise detail; nothing like seeing the hairs on a bee up close and personal!
My digital image capturing machine reflects back all of the beauty I aim for. With precision execution she gives back breathtaking results, good enough for framing. When put to the test her maximum output can be up to 400 plus reflections of my vision. Whatever the event, she and I work together to hold onto precious moments in time, cataloging life for future reflections.
Carrying her with me, she is always at the ready to fire off a few clicks, gleaning scraps, bits and particles of people, places and things; consequently, our work is a pictorial review of life. At the end of her performance I power her down, cap her off, and put her in a protective bag; saving for another day, event, or coincidental opportunity, her energy. Encapsulating life with the help of ‘Trigger’ is a form of therapy for me, a tool per se, giving me documented proof that I was here and had something to give.
Oh, lady inspiration, where art thou? Today, I am still lost without you. I beseech you, you've been gone too long, please, oh, please return.
I search through images, hoping to spot you amoung the leaves, clouds and sunsets...not even the flowers draw you out....not even the fabulously red ones....those with the flame of desire.
I am but a sad, lost, bewildered soul, hoping for a breath of your scent. Perhaps a wish to the stars will twinkle a message from you to me....or Mr. Moon will draw you down to my heart.
Should I play coy and hide from YOU? Will that pull you back to me? Such games to be played all for the sake of some words.....ah, but, the words they are addictive...painfully so. I am partial to great expanses of them, I suppose I could be satisfied with just a few for now and later, days, maybe, I'll come back and you will have returned....and will be waiting here for me, arms out stretched, beseeching ME to return to you.....
Oh, I do beg you to return, however, I will wait for as long as I have to......
I've been dreaming of inspiration. Just dreaming. She alludes me. Drifting in and out of my subconscious. Taunting me with her whispers. I reach for her, she pulls away and laughs her sneering, demented laugh. I call out and only hear my own echo.
As I dream, ideas drift in and out. Ghosts haunt my dreams, moaning their epitaphs, hints of a story I should tell. Inspiration still only a mist in the darkness. The fog is dense, yet I trundle through it, searching, culling, yearning for a clear view of an idea. Waiting for the arrival of her highness, to bestow upon me a whim that might cause but just one person a giggle. me, the recipient, anxious for that one guffaw.
Churning over words, prose, phrases, sentences, hoping for the connect, when words collide and make sense...or not. The lady inspiration dances in the distance, floating as if on air, glancing back, summoning me with her stare. I skip after her, stumble, fall, scrape my knee, get up, desperate to reach her....only to miss her by a heartbeat....
Oh, Inspiration, where are you? Why do you allude me? If only I could capture you and bottle you up for the days when I need you.
A few nights back I dreamed a poem. In my dream I was composing this poem and it was beautiful. In the dream I posted the poem on my blog and it was beautiful. I distinctly remember waking up wondering about the poem, however, there was no evidence of it's existence.
I like to write. Let's say I love to write. It's likely I'll never be of the caliber of Hemmingway, Tolstoy, Austen, Poe, Plath, Brian, Otin, Willow, etc., but, still, some of my writing will touch a few people. The dream about the poem prompted lots of thoughts about my writing and my writing caliber. I'm having fun in my English class at school and am looking forward to honing my technical skills as a result of the class. But,(can we use 'but' at the beginning of a sentence?)I have been wondering if I will ever really be any good as a 'Writer'.
Over the last couple of weeks I've been really examining my writing and the content of my blog and thinking back to when I first started the blog. I was going to write only for me and if anyone else read it, well then, that would be gravy....but, I've fallen into a hole and I've allowed myself to get away from that, because I started to care about followers and comments from followers. I've read similar ponderings on various other blogs and those posts contributed to my thinking.
My earliest posts are really some of my best because I was only writing for myself and had no audience but me(is that the correct pronoun?). No one who I felt was judging my content, no one who might pat me on the back and validate me. I was validated by merely putting my thoughts, my prose, out into the ether. I miss that and am wondering if I am capable of going back. I'm wondering if maybe I've shared my blog with too many people and have short changed myself in the process.
I've become addicted to follower comments and the feeling of satisfaction I get from knowing someone read my blog. AND, they thought enough of the post to comment. And, sometimes when I don't get alot of comments I worry about losing followers. I've begun to understand how Brittney Spears and Jessica Simpson might have felt when they weren't getting their 90 minutes of fame everyday. I have begun to feel a little shamed by these feelings and I know it has affected my writing. ALOT.
One of the first times Julochka commented on my blog was about writing and what we put into our blog posts and our writing practice. I had it in my head that I would stick to a certain writing regimen and if I didn't stick with it I found that I would beat myself up for falling away. I've been doing that to myself a little bit lately. And, although writing and blogging are for my pleasure, I feel like the audience has taken the pleasure out of it for me. It's like going to a family party and not taking my camera....I always get harrassed about that, "Where's your camera?" "Who's going to take the pictures?" The harrassment takes the pleasure out of the shooting. Much like the interal pressure I apply to myself about my blog content and responses or lack of responses from followers.....catering to any one besides myself has taken the fun out of it.
I'm not saying I don't love that people are reading and commenting....I love you all and am grateful for your input, participation and, well, validation of my existence, because, as lots of bloggy people say, if I don't exist in the blogoshpere, then I must not exist. I'm just taking a personal inventory of my motives and drives regarding my blog writing and trying to find my way back to a place where I can write with abandon and respect myself in the morning.
I actually took a post down the other day....I am ashamed to say, because I thought it might offend some people who MIGHT have been reading my blog. First I 'edited' it, but, could not get the post 'cleaned' up enough for my "maybe" audience, so, I deleted it. For the next couple of days I felt dishonest and seriously, like I had cheated on someone....then, I realized, I had cheated on myself. Not like I haven't done that before, but, I was drinking back then......
I want my writing to be real. I want to be brave enough to write real, EVERY time I write. And, to not second guess my writing once I've put it out there. But, I also want to write something worth reading, something interesting, entertaining, deep, inspiring, something that begets comments....only I don't want to care about whether or not I get the comments.....I'm tired of putting up posts with just a picture or two and writing some weak 'captions' and call that writing. I've been avoiding posting for this very reason. I'm trying to figure out how to get back to 'the old days'.
Anyway.....that's where I am tonight......I'm the Old Man and the Sea, just trying to find my way back to port with my catch......
I am a woman on a mission to begin the life I have taken for granted for too long. Many changes have come in the last five years and while I have weathered them, I have not seriously taken any action to make changes for the enrichment of my life. The stories of my journey will be posted here......stay tuned for daily status of finally living a life not lived.....
To really live.....quit waiting for tomorrow....what if tomorrow never comes....what if you wake up, get dressed and head off to that job you hate and you get hit by a bus on the way.....what will you regret NOT doing? Telling someone you're sorry for hurting them? Giving your kid the 'attaboy' he or she needs to get them to the next level in their growth? Telling your friends how much they mean to you? Being there for your spouse when they've had a really bad day? Or, maybe you keep saying you're going to finally become the person you were meant to be......and you missed your chance because you didn't believe that NOW IS THE RIGHT TIME!
Been There, Done THAT..........
Spend more time with the people I love Read more....lots more Finish unpacking Take more pictures Set up my bench Use my bench Use the picture editing software on my computer Own a NIKON Tend the garden.....lovingly Have more company over for food..... Go to Blog camp in Reno Go to a Monastery and listen get a new defibrillator test out of some classes for M.A. Program finish medical assistant school
On the nightstand......
ECG Interpretation - Lippincot, Williams & Wilkins