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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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| 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 |
| Upon some reflection, a previous statement I made in March 7th's blog entry, requires corrective clarification. I stated: "Reality" is illusive and subjective through the filters of personal experience and perception of the physical senses. My reality is not your reality. Your reality isn't mine. Since writing this statement I've had time to ponder the unity of everything known. If the premise is that everything is one thing; that everything, everyone within the universe is connected into singleness; then, My reality Is your reality and Your reality Is mine. The perceived differences come from the separateness we perceive through the meat containers from which we perceive our realities. This separateness is the great illusion. The deception of separateness allows each of us to pursue our life addictions to the exclusion of personal insight to the ultimate truths surrounding us. The truth being, We are all one in the same. This is a slippery concept to grasp. But once grasped, growth sparks further understanding to the truth of the unified reality. I'm still learning, still trying to grasp the "truth" of the enlightened sages of old. What keeps me going forward is the belief that I am capable of grasping the wisdom. I have fed my addictions, which in turn have placed me on the path I now trod. I see the world in a different way. This is fitting given what day today is for those of a particular "religious upbringing." Christians, both devout and fringe followers (fringe being those who celebrate the holiday for their children but not because they actually believe in the purpose of the holiday) have colored their eggs and baked their hams and had family gatherings. The devout have attended religious gatherings and prayed, the fringe have had fun (hopefully) and reconnected in a special way to friends and family. But are any of these celebrants liberated by their actions? Does it really matter? Each being has acted in accordance with their own personal addiction. My addiction is solitude. I've had a wonderful Easter weekend. I've spent the time thinking about unity, separateness, entanglement, and consciousness. I am by no means a wise person, nor do I think of myself as a sage. I do grasp the wisdoms of the ages at times. This weekend, I believe, was such a time. Happy Easter everyone. May the wisdom of Christ touch your soul as he intended, not as it has been propagandized over the centuries. And may you touch the truth, if just for a brief moment, that Christ is you and you are Christ and that we are all one. |
| Since 2006 I have practiced what I refer to as alternate mindfulness. Unfortunately, I've practiced this AM sporadically. Here is what I have observed in regards to actively and inactively practicing my methods of alternate mindfulness. When I first discovered the tools of AM, I received the gift of a DVD titled The Secret. Then I received from another friend a DVD titled Down the Rabbit Hole. I watched these videos with interest and for a short period of time adjusted my patterns of thinking around the concepts depicted within these two DVDs. During this period of active interest I purchased cassettes titled; The Four Agreements and The Secret. I also purchased the DVD titled What the Bleep: Down the Rabbit Hole. Of all these video and audio tools for self growth and finding my alternate mindfulness, I've given away the cassettes and the DVDs of The Secret, and Down the Rabbit Hole; keeping only the DVD What the Bleep:.... During this phase of personal mindful growth the obstacles in my life were manageable if not always pleasant. My physical health, although marginal, was not out of control. I accepted the concepts and practiced the exercises of changing my mindfulness regarding my realities in an attempt to get my out of control anger under control. There was some progress made regarding the control of temper, but as I felt less anger in situations, I faced the challenge of feeling more hurt within the same situations. I found myself crying more and feeling emotionally weak. I felt stronger when I reacted angrily, but in my anger I was hurting others unnecessarily. By allowing myself to drop the protection from hurt that the anger allowed, I was actually stronger within myself and I wasn't hurting those around me. Unfortunately, a couple of people who were not in tune with their own personal growth, took advantage of my seeming weakness to provoke vengeance upon past hurts I enacted through my anger toward them. Also, during this time of attempting to make those AM changes in my life, I lost my job because "I couldn't get along with my fellow employees". I find it interesting, that it was after I was making the changes within myself to get along better with others, that is when I got fired. For the next four years, I worked through a temp service. I barely survived financially, but I did survive. During this struggle, I lost the habit of practicing alternate mindfulness. I allowed the events of my life to overwhelm me and I became lost. The common sense view would say, "Well you stopped practicing AM when you most needed the benefits." In reality, because I stopped practicing AM, is why my experiences turned the way they did. Somewhere during this time, however, another change took place within me. The anger response left me. The original reason for practicing AM vanished. I succeeded in changing and I dropped the tools along the roadside to become a tumbleweed. During the four years of being nothing more than a temp employee, I let go of everything except the grief of losing a long term relationship and the grief of losing my oldest son. I let the wind of events blow me around. I lived in a "I don't care about myself" anymore reality. Then I became employed at a job that I enjoyed but the owners treated their employees dishonestly. During that year with that company I found myself feeling more agreeable within myself. I felt the growth of personal respect and the "want to" required to return to AM practices. However, before I acted upon this resurgence of personal growth, the company folded and I found myself unemployed, again. I was plunged into a well of hopelessness which has taken until now, nearly a year later, to climb out of. My recent discovery regarding the alternate mindfulness I had practiced years earlier is that, I never fully stopped practicing. I merely stopped consciously practicing. You see, I had internalized much of the basic truths of "The Secret" and established an internal belief of the power of the "Zero Field" of Quantum Physics, that my personal "slump" didn't manifest as bad as it could have. For instance, it was my gall bladder that needed removing, I didn't have cancer. And I went from a good job which folded to a better job where I am employed at now. This last week, I started watching "What the Bleep:..., again. Why? Because it is now that I find myself ready for the next phase of my personal AM growth. I am ready to improve upon the foundation I've built within myself. I have a job I truly love and I know won't disappear because of poor management; and, I have received gifts from unexpected sources calling me back to attentive work upon my self. I have discovered that I still like the person I have hidden from others for my own protection, and now I am willing to share myself with the outside world once again. Does this mean that I will return to writing again? Absolutely! I am ready to achieve my dreams and more importantly, I am ready to use the tools within me to meet those goals required to achieve my dreams. |
| The non containable thought shared...The spoken word once heard...the written word once read...the expressed idea comprehended. Philosophy is a discipline of the mind to answer the great questions. You know them, you've asked them sometime in your life. 1) Who am I? 2) Why am I? 3) Where did I come from? 4) Where am I going? 5) Does it matter? As you may notice, I'm in a mind (consciousness) expansion phase today. My center of being is focused on the big questions of existence. I think therefore I am. (?) In truth, my existence may be, "I think I am, therefore I think." My existence may simply be a thought wave within a thought universe. "Reality" is illusive and subjective through the filters of personal experience and perception of the physical senses. My reality is not your reality. Your reality isn't mine. I've had opportunity to physically experience this truth several times in my life. In some cases, my perceptions have come up against someone else's perceptions to an incompatible conclusion. These experiences invoke painful memory. Even when my perception of reality find a perceived compatibility with an overall reality so that my existence may reach an agreement within the perceived universe, there are enough differences to stress the separateness of my perceived reality in the universal ocean of realities to keep me separate from the whole. This is the basic definition of "I." I exist either as an idea, or concept...the point is the "I." Consciousness cannot exist without the separateness of I. If there is no separateness of conscious individuality where the I is nonexistent, then the consciousness of the individual is nonexistent. I'm not talking in circles, it simply appears that way. Take care and may your road lead to only good places. Deb  I'm the writer I am today, only because of all the help I've received from other writers yesterday. ** Image ID #1985466 Unavailable ** Compassion and the effort to try and understand some thing that was not understood before is a step toward acceptance not only of others but most importantly of yourself. |
| written at work between 3 min press cycles...written in many 2m to 1m 30s spurts of creation 2-26-16 Friday She hadn't always felt this level of animosity towards the paladin. True, suspicion regarding her standing with Trellen Arrensa was forever close at hand; but, changes occurred recently, which Malyn knew were not for the good. She didn't know, precisely, what had changed within her after she drank the Captain's potion. She felt herself losing her sense of reality--increased strength, uncontrolled rage and the compulsion to act upon her need to be free of the necromancer's bonds. Her actions became for her a dream of violence and victory over her tormentor. She broke free of her bonds by sheer strength. The thick leather stretched, then tore and snapped with little effort on her part. When the straps binding her to the table released, so too did her rage erupt; lending immediate action toward the assistant close at hand who had his back turned toward her-- ~~~~ ~~~~ Trellen fought his way into another dark and narrow corridor of this hellish maze of shadow and evil. As his sword found the heart of the necromancer's last minion presented before him, a muted, inhuman scream filtered from behind one of the doors lining the passageway. The scream was shrill with terror. Were they too late to save Malyn? The obvious death scream stunned Trellen for a moment. He calculated which door that sound had emanated from and raced toward the center of the long hall. Thus, Trellen was the first of Malyn's comrades to break into the chamber where he discovered her standing over a headless body. Blood flowed across the floor and the body still twitched. Trellen gasped in a sharp intake of breath then looked up to see Malyn turning to face him. She still held the man's head by his hair. Trellen took a reflexive step backwards into the corridor. "Malyn?" No recognition did he see in her eyes--feral eyes, alert and gauging the distance between herself and him. "Malyn!" |
| Okay, blow me away. Just finished posting the previous prompted vignette and my door bell rings. Gee, who could this be at the door? Of course, when I see the two young men, white shirts, dark pants and shoes...You got it. Nice young men on their mission. What surprised me was, when the Elder asked, "Are you Debora?" I stepped outside onto the porch and we had a short chat. At the moment, I'm laughing because just moments before, I'm reminiscing about something that has drawn me very far away from the Church and those strict beliefs...what was one of those things that died? Oh yes, my concrete moral beliefs of what is right and wrong... I have rejected the crutch which I call organized religion. I have rejected the group judgments regarding who, how and why God made me. I'm not willing to listen to anyone who says, "Love the sinner and hate the sin," when the sin being referred to happens to be my basic sexual nature. I was very polite but very abrupt. The young Elder asked how I stood with the church? I was very honest and said, "I don't walk in that faith anymore." I felt for the young men, they were taken aback for a moment and speechless. I guess when I speak the truth, my conviction is quite evident. Like I said, the conversation was very short. I did not invite them into my home or into my life. I accepted their card, just in case I find myself in need of some assistance. My parting comments were, thank you for coming by, God bless you, and happy Valentines Day. Here is the prompted vignette I had been reminiscing over. If you had to describe the best kiss you've ever had, how would you describe it? (Don't forget the reasons behind your decisions!) Hmmmm, now that memory I like to think about even though I was thirty-one years old, married with three children and with that first best-est ever kiss I knew I was screwed. Up to that moment in my life, no one had delivered the kiss of death, but she did. And what a sweet death that was. I remember I was afraid and felt so awkward, but when her lips touched mine the urgency changed from, "Oh God what the hell am I doing?" To "Oh my God, why haven't I done this before?" It wasn't a long kiss, well not the longest I'd experienced before or since that first one with her. But it was intense with confidence and purpose. My breath froze and the tingling of urgency spread like a wave from the top of my head to my curled toes. I was dizzy and warm and fuzzy and shocked by the intensity but I didn't want it to end. I remember her soft brown eyes looking into mine and she asked, "You like?" I was jello. She could see I liked which was a good thing because I was in no shape to talk about it. And we kissed again. The second kiss and third were not as intense, but the margin of the difference was not really measurable. I have to say I was hers forever after that kiss. I said it was the kiss of death. In so many ways I died. I accepted beyond a doubt that I am a lover of women. My denial of my sexual self died. My marriage died. My childhood innocence, what little I still clung to, finally died. My concrete moral sense between right and wrong...died. My past became even more bazaar to me. My dream for a "normal" life, died. Reality kissed me to death and I loved it. True Story...That was one of those moments when there was no returning to how things were. |
| The throw away person. (1) Creation of the Throwaway Person. According to my mother, I was a very deeply loved child. Yet,... One of my earliest memories is so Freudian it makes me laugh. It has to do with "potty training." Actually, the memory isn't as Freud described it, it had nothing to do with sexual impulse, per se; but everything to do with personal control and ego. My earliest training did have to do with personal power. Recently, I made a joking comment that my potty training was beat into me by my mother. I laughed about it, but took notice that the person I said it to didn't laugh. I ignored her response and we went on to other topics of conversation. My memory is such that, I think I was between four and five years old the last time I "wet the bed". Is that pretty late? I know, for all intents and purposes, I was potty trained enough to not be wearing diapers at that age, not even to bed. But, accidents do happen...right? I remember the dream I had before I was rudely awakened by a frustrated screaming mother with a belt. In my dream, I'd gotten up and gone to the bathroom like a good little girl, only I forgot to pull my pajama bottoms down before I sat on the toilet. My maternal grandma was with my mother in my dream and I was getting cleaned up with the admonitions of, "don't cry, it is easily cleaned up." Then I'm awakened by my mother pulling the covers off of me and screaming that I've ruined the mattress and I'm too old to be wetting the bed. She starts hitting me with the belt and the last thing I remember is trying to hide under the bed to get away from the belt. As painful as this memory is to read, I can tell you I've never wet the bed again. Whenever I had/have that dream, which has proven to still happen to this day, I wake myself up before I sit on the toilet still wearing my pajamas. This memory is from fall of 1959 or the spring of 1960. (I think) My 1-1/2 to 2 (?) year old sister was sharing the bedroom with me and I think my second sister was brand new and sleeping in Mom's room. My first sister still wore diapers to bed and slept in a crib that didn't have the side on it. My Mother was between 20 and 21 years old with three babies. The perfect "environmental conditions" for emotional volcanic eruptions. I don't remember my sisters all that well at this age. I can barely remember them being around. I know they had to be there, though, because they were born in 1957 and 1959. I do remember my Daddy Jerry, my second sister's daddy. Once, he rescued me from the driveway after I stepped on a piece of glass, and I remember when he tried to teach me how to swallow a 1 a Day vitamin rather than chew it. The point being, I don't remember "my" father first...He was out of my life before I was 2 years old. And, my first memories of my step-father are all fun and good memories. So why, if my mother loved me so very much, why are my first memories of her so brutal? She never had (took) the time to show me her boundless love. I was either another burden (in which case I'd been bad in some way) or, if I was being good, I wasn't in need of attention. I can remember my two cousins, Donny and Kenny, more than I can remember my sisters. Donny was older and Kenny was born a month before me. We pretty much grew up together. I think I've always been closer to my cousins than my own sisters. At my age now, this is what I get from this memory. 1) I can see where my own temper (my expression of rage) comes from. I have inherited my mother's 21 year old, out of control temper. She taught me, literally, how to behave when enraged. 2) My mother taught me the consequences of what happens if I misbehave. The result wasn't to encourage me from doing things I knew would displease my mother, but rather to get pretty sneaky about doing things I thought "might" displease my mother. (That brings up a whole other set of memories.) 3) She didn't beat down my ego. I admit, I have a very strong and powerful ego. The more she tried to dominate me the more I resisted her domination. Yet, like I said, I didn't wet the bed after that last "whipping." Instead, I learned that when my pajama/toilet dream happens I need to wake up and make a bathroom run. At age four that is some awesome personal power! As an adult, I once asked my mother, how hard was I to potty train? Her answer was, not very hard at all; it seems, she remembers that I disliked having wet diapers so I was eager to use the toilet and learned quickly. Of course, she doesn't remember ever "beating" me for wetting the bed. And, from her perspective, my spankings probably weren't beatings. But five or six or more hits with a belt on wet pajamas would be a more intense memory for a toddler than the enraged adult delivering the punishment. |
| In the 1980s there was a train of thought for self improvement that suggested that every person follow their dreams to fruition. This was referred to as Following your Bliss. The problem I had with this concept was, I didn't know what my Bliss was. If I had no clue to what my dreams were, how could I follow them to fruition? I did have some inkling that I wanted to be a writer. However,... I was pretty messed up (emotionally and cognitively) during the first few years of the '80s. I was just out of the military. I was a mother, a college student, a wife, and still closeted within myself. I was also disassociated from the abuses of my childhood and teen years to the point of not remembering much of my own personal history. I was in therapy for dis-associative behaviors, but because I refused to accept that I was gay, the therapy wasn't making much headway. By the end of 1985, I'd accepted that I was gay. I was separated from my spouse who took custody of our children, and I was beginning to reach a crisis regarding the magnitude of the abuses I'd survived from my parents. Looking back on the 80s I can only say I'm happy to have survived my psychic storms in one piece. Luck had something to do with my survival. The 90s found me in a very "blissful", loving relationship and eventually, both my sons were in my custody. For the most part, life was never better, from my perspective. I dabbled with poetry in the early 90s (1990-1992) and by 1999 I had written the beginnings of three stories of High Fantasy. This activity of writing stories gave me a definite belief that my dream was to become a published author. So from 1999 thru to 2002 I immersed myself into transcribing my flights of imagination into print. I was following my Bliss. Then my sons were old enough to leave home. My youngest son joined the Army and served in Iraq. My companion through the 90s, whom I loved deeply, left to follow her own dream (?) (In truth, I have no clue why the woman I loved left, other than she didn't love me as deeply or in the same way as I loved her.) With the disintegration of my personal relationships, my flights of imagination began to dry up. From 2003 thru 2007, I still wrote and improved upon my mechanics...but it was a struggle. I've never finished the longer stories I've started. I've had my moments when I have returned to one story and have rewritten and tightened parts of the story. The last such creative flurry being in 2013 and some resulting in short stories early in 2014. Part of my "writer's block" from 2007 through the present has to do with how dark my stories turn. I realize that darkness is all a part of my life experience and a part of my creative process. However, when the stories enter the inevitable stages of violence and emotional darkness, my energy to complete them dissipates. The stories stall out. Maybe, if I were to correlate my life with the flow of the stories, the problem is that I have no idea how to resolve the conflicts my characters find themselves experiencing, because I've yet to resolve those concepts in my own experiences. Thus said, is my bliss in truth to become a published author, or is my bliss actually to resolve myself to my past and find for myself a resolution to my life experiences I can accept? Becoming published would then be a side effect, not the main goal. These are tough concepts for me. I will ponder them and try to discover an answer I can live with. In the mean time, I will dream of finding my true Bliss and then endeavor to follow my dreams to fruition. |
| The first week, going back on day shift and back to the molding section was difficult and I didn't handle the changes very well. The second week went better; I was able to control the difficulty of the time and job changes by controlling how I perceived my role. It seems that by the end of the second week, one of the truths and strategies of why I was placed back into a job I never wished to return to became evident. The molding section is going to have greater demands placed upon it this year and my skills of adaptation to the situation is needed to assist the department. Once I determined that I can successfully swallow (subdue) my ego and not take the overbearing lead with way too large an ego as a personal threat, my own self defensive posture disappeared. The act of subduing one's ego isn't without personal cost, however. I was ill last Thursday, too ill to go to work. The headache, nausea and lower intestinal discomfort was purely stress induced, but one day home brought that under control. Next week promises to be a bit smoother. |
| Presently reading Exiles of the Starsby Andre Norton. In my reading activity as of last November I have finished reading Moon of Three Rings, Star Guard, and Star Rangers. I plan to read every Andre Norton story I presently have in my personal library (26 books). |
Title says it all. Company is going through it's personnel rotation after the official takeover by new owners. I'm pretty much back where I was a year ago at this time. lmao  I will be adjusting to new "time zone" and relearning old jobs. I hope my upcoming "dark" anniversary will get set aside this year and not play havoc with my mental/emotional fragility. It is the 5th anniversary of my oldest son's passing on to the next adventure.   "In Memory" |
Six days into the new tyear and I'm here...finally.  2016  Looks strange to not see the 15, but I have this feeling that this year holds some surprises and accomplishments. |
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