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 |  Blog and other works of literary sense |
| Here is a collection of ruminations and whatnot. |
| I've had a day. I had the worst head ache and I had to down two big dose aspirins. Then I had to give my stepfather some cash to get to buy groceries. we have less than two weeks till he gets his check from Social Security. I already went through most of my money from Social Security. i had to move money from one account which was reserved to pay my income tax bill. I'm afraid that money is no longer available. I have to give money to help with these types of emergencies. It seems to happen every month or so. So I think that next month I'll be paying the Indiana IRS two checks, or one check for more than 300 dollars. It's sad but what can I do? I need a good job, nothing like a spectacular job that many executive types like, but a constant income. My little sidelines are not getting me any income so far. I'm trying my best to gather more people who can buy from me from my sidelines. this is a hard job because I don't want to be pushy and just friend anybody on Facebook so they can be my patsy to buy into my business. Granted my businesses are all good, and they are value but nobody wants to be used, do they? I made some flatbreads today. i got the recipe from Pinterest. They came out ok, but the stove suddenly flared up in flames. So i had to get my stepfather to get it doused. I moved my griddle pan to another range on top of the stove. it happens sometimes that this stove gets that way. We need a new stove/oven and this will set us back a few hundred dollars, plus installing it and ridding us of the old stove/oven. if this sounds like a catalog of sad problems imagine living with a 91 year old man who only talks about his problems too. i have nobody much to tell so I blog about it, that is all. Other than these problems, I was working on a crochet project and while I was making flatbreads on the stove, there was a tinkle on the floor. It was my crochet project on the floor. My quick terrier glommed on the crochet thing - and I had to let him have it. He got bored with it quickly. So I retrieved it and now it's back on track. No need to worry, I'll wash it once it's finished. I don't know that I'll sell it on eBay. eBay and I are on the outs again. A troll complained that the item she bought was not good. she demanded me to have her return it with a refund to her. sorry but that money has been spent. I brought her to eBay to survey her and now eBay seems to be siding again with this troll. She's a bastard from Hell. That's why i took all of my stuff off of eBay. They won't be seeing me selling there at all. I can't stand eBay now. I think they ought to have a more fluid way of dealing with disputes and stop trying to say that the customer is always right. What if it happened to all their more prosperous sellers? Is it because I've not been making them money for a while that they think my account is expendable? think again eBay. So I'm venting and I don't care. It's what blogging is for these days. If it's not about you, it's about some politician or some asshole that's made you sad. My whole life seems rather a sad life. But we're toddling along, as far as God will let us. I trust in my God more than ever. He is the one who makes things happen, and if happens that i get sad about things, there's a reason for it. I don't know what it might be, but I am sure that someday I'll be rid of all these awful negativity in my life. Yes, life on earth is a bastard life, but we all need to reach for Heaven whenever we can't figure it out by ourselves. |
| I once was a girl who got into trouble for having short hemlines. Terrible problem for the nuns who made a rule that the hems had to be below the knee by at least 1 inch. I had a belly problem - a bit plump there - so when I put on my uniform and had the belt it went with, the hemline rose to about the knee length. Or perhaps I could be too immodest and say it that it was above the knee. Problem was that the person they assigned to measure these hemlines was a supposed friend. Turned out she was a fiend. She lied to the nuns about how very short my hemlines were. I was so sad to hear that all week of measuring hemlines that the first person on the list of offenders was ME. Little old me. So I went home with my stepmother with tears running down my face. Our maid, Lolita took care of letting out the hems. I never spoke that fiend who lied about me again. And I hear she's a KGB agent and works too for MI5 as a mole. How's that for a fictional story? I'm still working on this. It might be like a YA novel or story. Except that the person who was in school - convent school - grew up and never cares about hemlines anymore. |
| I once was a girl who got into trouble for having short hemlines. Terrible problem for the nuns who made a rule that the hems had to be below the knee by at least 1 inch. I had a belly problem - a bit plump there - so when I put on my uniform and had the belt it went with, the hemline rose to about the knee length. Or perhaps I could be too immodest and say it that it was above the knee. Problem was that the person they assigned to measure these hemlines was a supposed friend. Turned out she was a fiend. She lied to the nuns about how very short my hemlines were. I was so sad to hear that all week of measuring hemlines that the first person on the list of offenders was ME. Little old me. So I went home with my stepmother with tears running down my face. Our maid, Lolita took care of letting out the hems. I never spoke that fiend who lied about me again. And I hear she's a KGB agent and works too for MI5 as a mole. How's that for a fictional story? I'm still working on this. It might be like a YA novel or story. Except that the person who was in school - convent school - grew up and never cares about hemlines anymore. |
| I'm so grateful for RELIV products. I'm in a situation where the owner of my house, who's my stepfather, is always in the red. He now has no money to buy any groceries and I'm not able to help because I too have no money left from my pension from Social Security. So what we're eating now are eggs, sausages and some frozen eggrolls. I'm not that picky but these ingredients aren't as healthy as I want to have in my diet. So I have a Classic smoothie every time I want it. If it weren't for the RELIV smoothie I'd be in bigger trouble with my health. I really don't know how to deal with my living situation. I only know that I'd appreciate any comments that you'll have. I have no car. I can't keep my savings going. My writing business is the priority in my business. Then I have to feed my four pets (Joey, Max, Katya (cat) and Paco (cat)). I don't know what to do. My stepfather is just a tad bit out of his skull. I don't know if he's really broke, but he keeps saying he's down to his last twenty dollars. He asks me to help with paying three utility bills and I do that. We're still under the weather. There's no possibility that some good fortune might come to either of us, is there my God? I need your prayers if you could please pray that this problem that I have will go away. I know that I'm dull-minded unless I have my RELIV smoothie. By the way I mix my powders with another brand of protein powder called VEGA. VEGA is a formula of vegetables and fruits that is in one big tub that you can buy at the drugstore. Look for VEGA protein drink there. It's around $26 a tub which is good. It last a long time if you only take a half serving at a time. Peace, Mary |
| This morning I woke up after a fitful night’s sleep to find that a glass had fallen and broke next to where I work in the kitchen. My puppy got to it and it horrified me. I got a hold of his collar and pulled him out of the site of the broken glass. I was lucky his leash was close by so I leashed him to the nearest cupboard which was behind my chair. I swept out the broken glass as much as I could. My puppy and I are very close. But as it turned out the glass was still there where I couldn’t see it. I was upset to see my dog find a piece that I didn’t sweep away and throw out. I asked my Guardian Angel what to do. Then I got up and went to my puppy who let go of the broken glass, thank God. I took it away. I threw it and now he’s playing with his brother. This kind of happening is rare in the house. But as puppies get into trouble, they are like children who are toddlers who find things to put into their mouths. I’ve had a puppy before named Dukie. He would eat everything that he could find as we walked in the neighborhood. I’d pry his mouth open and reach in to remove whatever object it was. It was a mother thing to do this. I do not shrink from doing such things to save my puppies’ lives. Finally I’m at my desk and things are as good as I can hope to find them. I do not know what made that glass fall over and crash into the floor like that. Suffice it to say that my house has bastards. I’m under seige every day. I need help to find another place or even another country to live in. This life is dangerous to my thoughts and my mind and my body. I am not kidding. I’m living daily by the grace of my God and it’s not a fun life. I feel like I’m in prison. I have no car, no means to find another place to live anywhere. Money is never enough. I’m lucky to find moneyto buy pet food. if you have any way of finding out what I could do to get out of this sad place please message me |
| Why do I write? Well, I've written since high school. Then I had a gap of years devoted to the pursuit of learning science. I decided at the time that a major in English meant waiting tables whie writing in a garret, freezing my arse off and not getting anywhere with a writing career. The PhD I learned and attained helped me to organize my thoughts and put it into a thesis. That was how i got a job as a technical regulatory scientist. What I learned in PhD school helped. But it wasn't enough. I was beginning to feel a prison in my mind, filled with research reports, and quality documents and the sort of language that became less and less interesting. I remember the moment when i was gearing up to write yet another technical document. i asked myself "Is this all there is?" And I felt as though I could find another avenue in writing. I started a blog. I attended an online class that was pretty affordable at the time - and impressed enough people there to think I COULD be a writer. I remember Garrison Keillor's show, and listened when it was convenient. Then i saw his cup The Writer's Almanac, what ever happened to that cup? Anyway, when I convinced myself that I was a writer, I bought that cup and also gave charity to PBS, which sponsored his show. I went along and decided to use what I wrote as my portfolio to apply for an MFA program. i got in and graduated in 2019. I've written several books and published them independently. I wanted to write stories that would have a memorable theme, memorable and likeable characters. Characters that i might have wanted to meet someday. People who were funny, wise, intelligent, good, and some who had a flaw that I recognized in some peole that I met in my life. If it weren't for that flaw they might have gotten through life better. That's why I write. I wanted to be a contributor to the inspiration of Life. |
| A quiet evening, having some wine and a cig. Pups are playing. Music. I had the thought it rained today. It rained yesterday. I think the weather is getting cooler. The empty garden is still barren. I haven't checked to see if weeds have come up. They always do. I remember when I planted some flowers and lined the ground with weed blocking material. The weeds still came up. I am no gardener. I like to see lovely flowers but they come at a price. i'm thinking of going to the nearest construction store and getting gravel, or some crumbly stones to pave the garden. And putting on it a small bench and then that's all. I think that the back garden (or yard) is not good still. I'll have to think of what it might need. A nice pruning of the weeds and then removing that ghastly 4x4 garden that I grew vegetables in. Then I'd like to remove the barn and instead put in a decent shed. |
| Hello Everybody, I'm posting since it's been a long time that I have done so. Writing has been a difficult thing to do lately, or maybe for some time. I'm deluged with negative thoughts! I end up feeling upset that I give up in disgust. I received an email from a fellow writer who too feels that way about her writing. She ploughs through it it seems and despite the lowering thoughts that she gets she does her work. I seem to have lowering thoughts after I've written something, which is probably worse than when one is doing the writing. What happens is that a lot of thoughts try to insinuate themselves into my own narrative and what I intend to say comes out in a struggle of thoughts, with me trying to get the better of them. So many thoughts try to give ideas, words, synonyms, and it's not the right thing that I want to write. Hemingway once said about writing is to write the best sentence possible (I'm paraphrasing). If I could I would and yet the onslaught of terrible attacks come and it drives me to my bed and I cower under the bedclothes feeling sad, asking God to help me because I feel terrible. If this is something that's happened to you, what do you do about it? Is it like this for everyone? I wonder how people who write cope. I've had to resort to terrible addictions, now I'm smoking like a chimney and I don't see any end to this addiction. I'm popping antacids, anti-anxiety meds, anti-depressants, and eating junk food. I'm overweight, my skin feels awful and I'm getting acne, for Heaven's sake. Now I'm resorting to merely tweeting and blogging when I can. I just don't know when the book I'm working on will ever get completed. I've a few ideas what stories might be good but they all start looking similar to the ones I've published. It's always the same old story, I'm afraid. I'm also fearing that I'm one of those who is a one-note writer - same theme song and different character names. I hope that it isn't true. I might just have to find a class or something to see whether I can get some freedom to write something that's not the same old same old, you know? I wish to do a good job as a writer. I don't know. Just thinking out loud here. Sometimes I guess a galumphing writing idea might just do me some good. Nonsense and drivelly stuff. Nothing to publish about. Oh well. And, then there's all that sad nothing that comes from royalty cheques. I'm now getting eighty cents from royalties from Amazon. It's sad, isn't it? Terribly disappointed. Why bother writing anymore? Sick of it, really. |
| Let's all drink to my being of Irish-English-Greek heritage. I was born in Ireland, somewhere near Galway, on 11 January 1957. My mother Maggie Smith and my father Prince Philip of Edinburgh made sure I was given a safe and healthy birth. My father couldn't make it but Maggie was with a duenna. They spent some time of her pregnancy in Ireland. At least i think they did, but I'm not quite sure how long they stayed before I was born. I think because of the secrecy of my birth they decided to go under an assumed name. But I am Irish by birth, and English by heritage and have some Russian lineage as well for Maggie is descended from the Russian Aristocracy. My father has a Greek aristocratic lineage. Cheers! |
| I had a mind glitch about a book I published. It had the wrong heading on the platform for publishing it. Fortunately i was reflecting about it and realized that this was the problem. So I made another correction. It's tough to do this publishing independently. I get blamed for any and all issues, and the reviewers delight in saying that the proofreading is off. What if, in my own way, i write things with no real regard for proofreading? What if, for the sake of being different, i don't put in page numbers? It's silly to try to point out some non-important things when reviewing a book. What i think people ought to do when reviewing books is what it made them feel, think and react? Why should anything else matter? |
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