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 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
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Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland  Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find... "Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland    |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 762 April 8, 2016 What do you feel is the greatest love story in literature? How did the author hook you into the story? If you aren't into love stories, pick your genre and answer. It is a stretch for me to be particularly romantic so I've got very limited experience with great love stories in literature. I guess the classic Romeo and Juliette would be my top pick despite it's tragic end. I think there is something compelling about the young lovers finding each other in the midst of a feud between their families. There is something depressingly just about the loss each family faced due to their inability to acknowledge and accept the lovers. Shakespeare isn't an easy read, I wouldn't say it was a "hook" that got me into the story as it was required reading in high school. I'm pretty much a skeptic when it comes to that unquestioning, blindly devoted storybook love. I'm too jaded, it appears, to even think of another example of a great literary love story...unless Tarzan and Jane count? "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1241 April 8, 2016 If you could pick any three writers from history to be President/ Leader of your country who would you pick? Why? The presidential race has provided us with an appalling field of hopefuls so its easy to fantasize about who my top picks would be for the position. First and foremost, hands down, James Lee Burke would be candidate numero uno. He's a world-class gentleman, a true grit cowboy. His characters are crafted to be men of value and substance, even with their flaws. They are heroes that respect women and have honor and live by a code of conduct rarely seen anymore. His female characters are strong and independent, warrior women who's fierceness and individuality is championed in his stories. I like his world, his words - they reveal him to be the real deal, someone who lead. Mr. Burke is such an ideal choice for me, it puts my second and third choices at considerable distance. Virginia Woolf would make a great president, for women and for the masses at large. I think should would be able to relate across wide sections of the electorate. I think she would be a unifier with her quiet conviction and her passion. Lastly, Suzanne Collins, author who penned the Hunger Games, would make my list. I think her work reveals her to have a healthy understanding of the dangers of human nature. She crafted an apocalyptic world so well that one could actually accept that it could one day happen. Her books are not just great stories but hold warnings about the trappings of success and excess in her depiction of President Snow and other Capital elite. We love to see the rebels rise up, their Mockingjay an example of how much love and devotion, loyalty and bravery can bring about light and change. In the end, she shows us a world that is broken and beaten, but allows it to show hope and a future free of the evils of the past. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1239: April 6, 2016 Prompt: "Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again." Joseph Campbell Where is your sacred space? Not far from my office is the college campus of UCONN, Avery Point. Its a coastal campus with wide green lawns and extensive, unobstructed views of the sound. The gray mansion on the hill houses administrative offices but serves as a photogenic backdrop for weddings and events and you can occasional catch a glimpse of a bridal party or prom couple. A brick pathway runs all along the edge of the property and that takes you to the foot of an old yellow brick lighthouse. Benches and stone and metal sculptures dot the beautiful landscape and there is a viewing platform where you can watch the boats and look out over the ocean. There is often a collection of rod and reel fisherman on the outcrop of rocks going after porgies and rock fish. This place comes as close to sacred for me as any. I walk there in the summer, taking in the sights and sounds. In the heat of July and August, there is always a breeze and plenty of shaded benches to catch my breath. When I'm feeling adventures and have the time to spare, sometimes I'll venture out onto the rocks, catching the sea breeze on my face as I get closer to the water. I attended my last few classes of my college career here and I loved reading under the massive weeping willow before lectures. Later, it was the place I met my friend for lunch or long walks where we would planned a future that would never come. When my daughter was a toddler, I would sometimes bring her for picnic lunches. We did one of her early photo shoots here and I remember her running through the green grass dressed in an angelic white tulle dress, the ocean flat and blue behind her. One day, Spring will come again to my part of New England and I am sure I will find the time to once again walk the path to the lighthouse, clamber over the rocks and take the time to appreciate this lovely place.  "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 760 April 6, 2016 Prompt: Is there something you like and love but not what comes with it? Like I love tea pots and tea cups but I don't drink tea. Got the idea? Write about it. Camping. I love the outdoors. I love sleeping under the stars, roaring campfires and being out in the open space but I hate camping. I hate spider-web filled outhouses and sticky tents. I hate dirty bare feet kicking around the campsite before crawling in under the tent flaps. I hate bug-filled walks to shower blocks that only operate on coins. I hate camp showers that go cold halfway through. I understand the appeal of the experiences, those "get-back-to-nature" and "family-fun" concepts. I get it. I just prefer to do my camping at 4-star camp grounds and with a stock and comfortable RV where shoes are not optional and the bathroom is two feet away. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 759 April 5. 2016 Prompt: What are the examples of inner conflict in a main character that you can come up with? List them. I don't think I've ever written a main character that wasn't conflicted in some tragic way. I've had a female vigilante, torn between her quest of justice and her own fragile moral code. I've had a mousy introvert take a job working for a Dominatrix and spend her days both tormented and strangely compelled by her bosses relationships to sin and lust. I've even had an angel tempted by a demon. I'm always drawn to the dichotomy inside, the thin line between light and darkness. I like exploring the limits, the silver of gray between what redeems and what condemns. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1238 April 5, 2016 Prompt: Oops, Let's talk about a toy you broke as a child.  I can recall, with a painful clarity, my favorite toy from my childhood. It was a bath toy from the 70's, a floating replica of Gilligan's Island complete with plastic figures of the Captain, Gilligan, Maryann and Ginger and the Professor. Designed for play both in the bath and out, I carted this thing everywhere with me. I spent a lot of time at my grandmother's house and so it was inevitable it would end up there with me. I remember playing with it under the huge tree in her yard and having the idea occur to me that I should bury the characters. I did, of course, because I was a foolish kid. Then, after digging close to ten different holes, I still hadn't found them again. It was time to go home. Those plastic characters with their painted smiles and black-dotted eyes were lost to the ages...even the lovely little Maryann who had been my favorite. I can't image what had possessed me to do it to this day. |
| It's April 4th here in lovely, white New England. I'm contemplating several things this morning as I watch the snow fall and I defy my IT department by downloading Spotify. I've ignored their warnings and abandoned Pandora as it doesn't give me the ability to play God and Master over my musical selections. I'm filled with contentment as the world goes white and Bowie fills the air in my work space. This morning I am thinking of that novel I've not started...that's the one that I am convinced will catapult me to the stop of the best seller lists, subsequently causing me to go into hiding as my acquaintances discover their uncanny and unflattering similarity to my characters. It makes me smile a bit. Who am I kidding? There is no novel, despite the oodles and oodles of inspired material I could use. For now, all are safe from the poison pen of truth. I will have to be contented to read their passive aggressive posts and ponder the fantasy... Speaking of judgmental people, I'm also delighted with the notion that Trump's campaign of idiotic misogyny appears to be loosing steam. Faith in humanity maybe restored after all...dare I hope we move to a contested election when the GOP may elect a worthy candidate, new and untainted by the garbage pail race to the white house we've all been forced to audit? More fantasy? And lastly, flying monkeys. I'm thinking how much easier life would be if I had unquestionable command of my own army of flying monkeys... And now for the daily prompts: "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 758 April 4, 2016 Prompt: “It's the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.” Robert M. Pirsig Interpret this quote in any form or style you wish. Sometimes I aspire to climb mountains. I want whatever spoils await me at the apex but I always abandon the climb in the end, getting lost instead in the rich mountainside villages that offer vivid colors of life in progress. It is often lonely at the top. I would rather surround myself with life in all its splendor. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1237: April 4, 2016 Prompt: Water Balloons. Take this prompt anywhere you want. Torrential rains suddenly broke and yielded to July summer sunshine. Four sets of feet clambered across the porch and launched into the still wet yard, shedding socks and shoes in their wake. The leader John, his body tanned and lithe, was the first to reach the hose on the far side of the house. Cranking the spigot, he began barking orders at his soldiers. Georgia, the oldest girl was dispatched to get the bucket. Riley was instructed to gather the bags of ammunition. Bella and Ryan were sent to edge of the yard to watch should any of the enemy venture out prematurely. They began working, efficiently filling, tying and stacking. They worked, a nearly silent contingent, building their reserves as the sun beat down on their bare backs. After fifteen minutes, their bucket was filled to the top. "Would it be enough?" Riley looked at John, the question burning in his round eyes. John looked back as his ragtag unit, their bodies were almost vibrating with the anticipation of battle. "Go," he ordered Bella and Ryan. The two youngest set off running for the house, raising the alarm with loud, whooping cries. Riley and Georgie moved into position, flanking John. They each reached into the bucket. They were ready. The decoys came racing back on pumping legs trailed by a good number of the enemy clutching cocktails and wearing masks of concern. John waited, letting them draw closer and into range. "FIRE!" He suddenly shouted, tossing the heavy bombs as far as he could into the approaching enemy. Georgie and Riley echoed the war cry, letting loose their own barrage of fire power. The water balloons connected with the group of adults, exploding across the broad chests and surprised faces. Screams filled the yard. Bella and Ryan fell behind their lines and took up arms, pumping fists and shouting in between throws. The four of them soaked the advancing adults, reloading again and again until the balloons began to run low. Sensing a pause in the onslaught, Uncle Leo dove in and snatched little Bella, tossing her on his hip and falling back toward the house. Too late, John realized he was going for the hose. "Retreat!" He shouted to the remaining members of his squad. They scattered but where soon captured by the adults. Uncle Leo commended John on his battle plan and bravery of his team before turning the hose on the captive regiment, all except Bella who had turned traitor. She clapped and squealed with delight with the enemy as her older cousins were hosed off their feet. The victors returned to their armchairs and red solo cups while the losing squad traversed the yard plucking the colorful remnants of burst water balloons from the grass. The sun quickly dried their working bodies. They had fought hard. They had fought well. The summer was long. They would fight again. |
| The creative part of my brain feels strained today. I feel like I've been writing in my head for days only to find I can't transcribe the thoughts to "paper" or electronic ink for that matter. Jumbled up. I've felt jumbled up for weeks on end now. I press myself to keep blogging, the prompts in my inbox are like a personal trainer for the writer muscle in my head. At least I'm writing something as the deadlines sit in my tracker, passing me by one by one. I need to find the time to put some real effort in I fear before I forget how to make a go of this publication thing. For now, I have the prompts at least and my small circle of bloggers that keep me inspired. "Blogging Circle of Friends " day 1233: March 31,2016 Fear makes people do crazy,stupid, and sometimes dangerous things. Write me something about your fears. I've been thinking a lot about fear. I've been dabbling more and more in the horror genres lately. There is a freedom I find in writing about fear because it taps into that vast area of the human mind. Fear isn't bordered by normal constraints because it can make us act irrationally, without pretense. I like that very much. I think a lot about what scares people, what scares me. As a mother I am terrified by the fear of something happening to my family. It makes me a committed helicopter parent. It makes me wary of strangers. It makes me an overprotective beast at times which my daughter may think is stupid but I don't agree. The world is a scary place. So that is one nest of fear in my life that I constantly have to keep in check. The other class of fear consists of things I can't rationalize and yes, these things make me act silly, crazy, stupid and at times, even dangerously. Things like stepping out in the yard at night with the dog, careful not to raise my eyes to the dark woods beyond the house just in case I see something or someone only half concealing themselves behind a tree...or knowing that the minute I step into the shower at night and the dog suddenly erupting into a rabid fit of barking absolutely means there is a mad killer in my home...or living with the understanding that my old house most certainly has a few extra residents of the spectral variety and those residents sometimes like to test the limits of my tolerance. Fear that I will be the only person to really die on Universal's Tower of Terror ride...or that there really is a zombie horde in the making somewhere and I am wholly unprepared for battle...There are so many rich and vivid things to fear! Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 754 March 31, 2016 Sorry this is late. My computer wouldn't let me go to WDC. It is okay now. Prompt: Doorknobs. Write anything you want about these. Doorknobs....My old house used to have those heavy glass doorknobs on all the doors upstairs. They didn't lock and all stopped working and had to be replaced eventually. It is a 1930's era colonial and changing all those doorknobs out felt like removing an important accessory from a stylish old dame. I think there might be a few still left on closet doors these days. Eventually, they will all have to go I'm sure. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 753 March 30, 2016 Prompt: Why are we conditioned into the strawberry and cream, Mother Goose world, Alice in Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life? Sylvia Plath. What is your take on this? The brilliance of Plath’s tormented insight has been revealed to me more and more I as age. The way in which she viewed the world around her and her place in it, was remarkably developed and venerable for someone so young. She tragically bore the “dull responsibility” in life for as long as she could and I think of her struggle often these days. Writing, I hope, brought her some respite from those dark hours. I know that it does that for me sometimes. I think I agree that we, young girls in particular, are conditioned with fairytales and fables. I think they are far less a staple of growing up than they used to be. I believe the collective conscious of today crafts warrior princesses who do the rescuing, brave girls who engineer and invent and young minds who solve problems and tote the motto, #smartisthenewcool. I like to think mothers today raise girls who have a confidence and a vision for themselves and like me, look for the real life lessons in those old Mother Goose stories. Also, I’m not sure I see myself as an individual with a “dull responsibility in life”. There are days of drudgery of course, but those days don’t carry the script of my existence. Have I been broken on the wheel? Absolutely. Several times over at certain points in my life…but for each “down” there has always been a resounding “up”. Becoming an individual is the beauty of the journey, with all its vivid pain and joy. The times when I have been broken, have allowed me to grow into something more. I love Alice and I wish sometimes the world was more “Wonderland” but one can only get lost among the mome raths for so long before having to grow up. I know that and I make sure my daughter does too. I might not be able to spare her the wheel but I can do my best to prepare her for it. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1232: March 30, 2016 Prompt: What does success mean to you? Success is something I think a lot about. My type A personality tells me that the more power and authority I have in my career, the more successful I will be. I am driven, at times, beyond my own real ambitions I think. If I were to consider the question of what success legitimately means to me, I think my actual opinion would be far less lofty and almighty. I would like to have recognition for my accomplishments in a very male dominated industry. I would like my contributions to the company to be acknowledged among my peers in that industry. I would like to be seen as someone who “knows their stuff” and who’s opinion and insight matters. Do I need to be CEO? Some days it is easy to get lost in that fantasy but truth be told, I don’t want to sacrifice all that I would need to in order to be a good CEO. Having the finances to make home improvements, send my daughter to piano lessons and summer science camps and to take that annual vacation…that’s a more attainable way to define my success. I think just being able to live life as full as one can, with as much contentment as possible and without the stress of surviving from paycheck to paycheck, I think that makes us successful. |
| Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 747 March 24, 2016 Prompt: What did you love about Easter as a child? How do you feel about Easter now that you're older? I have mixed feelings about Easter now. I remember waking up to our Easter baskets as children, with the dayglo colored plastic grass and big-eared chocolate bunnies. I remember hunting for brightly colored eggs in the yard with my brothers and sisters too. I also remember the church services. The time of Easter marked some of the most memorable services of my childhood. I loved the somberness of Ash Wednesday, seeing the people leaving the service, their foreheads bearing the smear of black ash that meant they were observant and holy. Palm Sunday was another favorite service of mine. The priest would hand out the wispy palm fronds to all the adults and children and his sermon would tell the story of how Jesus entered the city walls while the crowd cheered and waved the fronds in welcome. If you are a child of a catholic family, you know how quickly that welcomed soured and how the story of the savior became the Messiah's trial and tribulation in order to save all God's children. If you grew up catholic, you know about the crown of thorns, the bite of the whip and the blood on Pontius Pilate's hands. A catholic can not celebrate Easter without first observing the twelve stations of the cross and without raising their eyes to Golgotha where Jesus died in agony for the sins of man. Easter Sunday service brings light in the wake of that darkness. The stone is rolled back from the empty tomb and Jesus is revealed as the savior, resurrected to sit at the right hand of the Holy Father. The service is marked by celebratory singing, by smiling children and uplifting words. As an adult, Easter agitates me as a lapse catholic. As I color eggs with my daughter and fill Easter baskets, I know there is a deeper meaning, a spiritual connection that should be recognized and celebrated. I know I should be taking her to mass and educating her on the religious important of day that has been commercialized much as Christmas has been. I know I should take myself to church. I know that even as someone who has become disconnected from the church of my childhood, there is still something essentially good and pure about reconnecting to God through the familiar prayers and being bathed in the light that filters through the stained glass depictions of Jesus, Mary and the apostles. My catholic upbringing built a connection in my heart to something bigger, something mysterious, a higher power. I may have distanced myself from the catholic church, but there will always be a connection for me there. I try to convey that connection to my daughter. At six, and a child of mixed faith parents, she is full of questions and observations. My husband and I try to find the common core of our childhood faiths, the place where Islam and Christianity overlap. We teach her there is one God and that to him we are accountable. For God we live a good life, we are kind, we are forgiving and we are thankful for the blessing we are given. She is growing with faith in her heart. This year I began to talk more about the true meaning behind Christmas. We talked about the baby in the manger and the star that told the world about his birth. That story is much easier to tackle than that of Easter with its complexity of the life, death and the Resurrection. For now, we will teach her Easter is about coming together with family, about celebrating love and new life and giving thanks to one God for all those blessings. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 2226: March 24, 2016 prompt: how important are your dreams? do they serve a purpose? do you dream each and every night?n if you do why don't you always remember them? how about a story, poem, rant or rave about this. I used to be plagued by the same violent nightmare in my youth, all the way into my college years. Even now, if I dream, I rarely remember them. The nightmare eventually stopped in my adulthood and my subsequent dreams seemed so mundane in comparison that I can hardly recall more than one or two that seemed vivid enough to remember. Occasionally I have a dream where I am losing my teeth or I am falling. I know these dreams must represent something significant if I would take the time to look them up. Honestly though I do not put a lot of stock in dreams. I think they are an active mind's cleaning service, sweeping out the bits of collected observation and memory we no longer need. They are widely open to misinterpretation. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 746 March 23, 2016 "Why can't I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which one fits me and is most becoming?" Sylvia Platy Do you ever feel like this? Write about it. There are times in the past when I have marveled at the dismal state of where my life was and I've thought, "How can this be my life?" I think its easy at times to fantasize about trying on another life. I recently saw a movie called "The Cobbler", in which a cobbler's son discovers he step into another person's life simply by stepping into their shoes. At first it is fun and exciting but it becomes complicated and messy as the various decisions he makes as temporary guest in the lives of others begin to have real consequences. I think that while jumping lives or reinventing oneself has certain appeal, we carry around our past and perceptions with us no matter what we tell ourselves. Changing our appearance is much easier than changing our natures. I could trade in my business suits and heels for flip flops and tank tops and move to Key West to run an inn, but I'm still going to be that same, driven and type A personality no matter what I do, no matter where I do it. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2225: March 23, 2016 Prompt: March 23 is Near Miss Day. On this day in 1989 a mountain size asteroid missed hitting Earth by 500,000 miles, which is near miss in interstellar terms. Write a story or poem about a near miss. It can be any kind of a near miss. There really was such a thing as a near miss. Alicia knew it with every cell, with every goose bump that crisscrossed her pale arms. She looked down again at the plastic stick in her hands, double checking to make sure the large window was vacant of little pink lines. It was. Despite all the biological signs she thought she was feeling and after the hours she spent agonizing over what ifs, the pregnancy test was negative. She almost squealed in relief. Alicia wrapped the test in wads of toilet paper and stowed in at the bottom of the waste basket. She took a few deep breaths before pulling open the door. Jay was sitting on the couch, ashen. He was staring at the floor, one of his massive hands wrapped around the neck of a corona. He looked up at her, eyes wide. Alicia shook her head, and felt herself break into a grin. Jay stood up and caught her as she rushed into his arms. They sank back down to the couch, giggling like teenagers. Three weeks ago, they had both been certain that a broken condom had changed their lives forever. When Alicia's period failed to show up, it all but confirmed their fates. They would have abandoned their plans for medical school and faced their new roles as parents. The pregnancy test had given them a reprieve. Alicia would still have to followup with her doctor, but they were both schooled enough to know the likelihood of a false negative. As much as they loved each other and wanted a life together, they wanted that life to come at the pace they dictated for themselves. |
 Blogging Circle of Friends Winter and summer are two seasons that have songs clearly associated with the time period. But are there any songs that remind you of spring? Share with us a song with a YouTube link in your blog. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qVPNONdF58 I had to think about this for a minute...Spring is one of the lesser acknowledged seasons lyrically I think. For me, Blind Melon's "No Rain" is one song that always makes me think of that season. It is most likely due to the references of rain and puddles, which I always associate with Spring. It may also be the images in the video of the band members playing on green, sunlight hillsides. And if you were alive in the 90's, who among us doesn't hear the riffs and think, "dancing bumblebee girl"? The whole thing is catchy and breezy. That would be my pick for Spring song. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 745 March 22, 2016 Prompt: Rabindranath Tagore said in Sadhana, “When we come to literature, we find that, though it conforms to the rules of grammar, it is yet a thing of joy; it is freedom itself.” How much do you think literature, with fiction or poetry, should stick to the rules of grammar? Or should it, at all? This is a tough one. I tend to bend the rules of grammar a lot in my blogs and free writing but I really polish the heck out of anything I'm sending out to publish. I think when you are writing for an audience, you have to respect the rules of grammar as much as you can without losing your creativity and artistic edge. I would hate for a reader to miss something important about a piece because they are tripped up by bad grammar and mistakes. I don't write poetry but I imagine those rules must be more relaxed. Artists been the rules all the time with lyrics, which are basically a form of poetry, as a method for getting a song to work well. I think it ultimately it depends on what you are writing. I think literature demands a higher standard whereas poetry and blogs should be allowed some leeway in the interest of keeping it authentic. Blogging for me is a very raw, real time activity designed to keep my creativity flowing and I can't worry to much about being grammatically correct. I do spell check my entries though. I think writers should respect the words they work with and misspelling is an unnecessary but using extra commas (I do that A LOT) and mixing tense or using different syntax to convey emotions and otherwise taking grammatical liberties is just fine when blogging or free form writing. At least I feel that way. |
| Coming in off the heels of another weekend laden with drama...I'm feeling a little rough around the edges. I made a few decisions in the unforgiving dawn hours that should begin to put some distance between me and those family issues that have brought me so much stress and heartache over the last several weeks. I'm hoping that I can think, and write more clearly now without the burdens associated with unburdening myself so to speak...time will tell. After flirting with the idea of taking a break from writing altogether, I reassessed and decided that simply would not do. I'm grateful to those fellow writers and friends and family who encouraged me to abandon the idea to shut it all down. It is good to have support. Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 744 March 21, 2016 Prompt: Imagine yourself loving one person very much, any person, like a parent, a sibling, a child, a mentor, a lover, or a friend. Think of that love as a feeling. Can you apply that same feeling to your community, to everyone you know, to your nation, to the billions of people of the world, no matter what? Can this be possible, ever? I think it would take a special person to apply that same love they have for a child or parent and make it universally apply to their fellow man. It is a nice thought but I believe fairly difficult unless you are perhaps, the Pope? I would think very few people are capable of the level of universal, unconditional love. Can it be possible ever? I don't see how. In the present stage of affairs, people seem more unified by shared hate and prejudices than by common love. Its sad really, watching the way society seems to be so much more fractured now than at other times in our history. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 2223: March 21, 2016 Prompt: What is the best thing about spring? This prompt comes after mother nature dropped another 3-4 inches on our dear New England last night, so its harder to be Spring-minded than one might think. For me, I love walking out of the door and seeing the robin's bouncing about the year with their bright red breasts. I love the fresh Spring smell in the air and the budding greens at the base of our trees that signal the new blooms. |
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