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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    |
| The prompt in one of my blogging groups this morning was about Alice in Wonderland. Normally I would have jumped on that, after all, Alice is my favorite literary character and a reliable source of inspiration. The last few days however, my brain feels like its filled with dirty clouds. My thoughts are a jumbled mess of particles and I feel myself oscillating between a deep belly anger and a crushing depression. Pressure...its that underlying pressure to be both not something, and be more of something else. I want to be selfish. I want to say "fuck you" out loud to the critics and the people who are always so quick to villianize me. I don't though. I just absorb, absorb and absorb it. I throw open the doors a little wider, expose a more productive vein and say, "go ahead, take even more away." Then I go off alone and tell myself I'm not crazy. I tell myself I'm just keeping the peace and that it doesn't really matter as long as it makes everything better. Rambling, now I'm rambling, and what I should do is just delete this mess and write something witty about Alice and call this assignment "done". Check and Mark. But, the assignment didn't come out of me today...this did. Whatever THIS is. I made a commitment to myself and to this craft, to always be authentic and not self-censor - no matter what it exposes me too. Even if something I write plunges me all of a sudden into an unwelcome drama that leaves me feeling isolated and misaligned. Even if the things I write make me think for a minute about not writing anymore at all. I think about that a lot lately. I think about closing the blogs, withdrawing the submissions, closing the trackers...just hanging it up. Who does it even matter to? That question blinks back at me from my screen, stark in electric ink. Even as I type the question, I hear the answer in my head...in my heart. Me. It matters to me. It matters to my muse, my Alice, my racing white rabbit and all those deep, dark holes that beckon. ....so, what I will do is turn up Jack White and bury myself in the endless stream of work stress that is chronically parked outside my office door. What I will do is let this blog become part of the literary landscape...a steeper dip in the rolling coaster. What I will do is shove it all back down, because there is always something else I could be doing better for someone else. I can't afford to be distracted by my own feelings for too long. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 740 March 17, 2016 Prompt: "There is no enjoyment like reading." Jane Austen With this in mind, what books will you be reading this spring and summer? I happen to love to read. I used to be an avid reader when I had the time. I loved to read a few chapters by booklight before bed. These days I have to get my literary candy from audio books during my commute each day. Its a far cry from that tangible experience of holding a book and turning the pages but at least in gives me some escape. I'm hoping I can find the time the read more this summer now that my daughter is older and has her own interests. We are also going to the library more regularly now that she is learning to read. I've always been a fan of James Lee Burke's atmospheric, character driven novels. I must admit I'm inclined to lean toward thrillers just as readily, even the darker likes of Joe Hart and Gillian Flynn. Reading is certainly something I miss and hope to make more time for. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1219: March 17, 2016 Can you believe it is already half way through march... ,time really does fly. write me a story about time travel going forward in time without the time travelers ability to stop it. Science fiction is always a topic I've struggled with and time travel seems to fall squarely in that genre. I admit I feel the affects of relentless passing of time more now as a parent. I find myself wishing I could slow it down just so that I can enjoy a particular phase in my daughter's meteoric path to adulthood. She seems to whip past the milestones faster than I am ready. |
| Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 737 March 14, 2016 Prompt: Lisa Cron, author of Wired for Story claims our brains are hard wired “to think in story.” She adds, “Without stories, we are toast.” Do you believe she is correct and do you find yourself thinking in stories? I'm not sure that I "think in stories" but writing helps we find clarity and process most things in my life. I associate the word "stories" with fiction though, and the majority of what I write lately would fall squarely into the non-fiction genre so its a little hard for me to draw that parallel. Without writing though, I would certainly be "toast". It gives me a way to keep myself in check. It gives me an escape and a creative outlet. It also saves me oodles and oodles of money I might otherwise need to devote to expensive therapy sessions!  Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1216: March 14, 2016 “I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.” - Albert Einstein As a writer, poet, or artist what do you have to say about this statement. Before he was a best selling author, Wally Lamb taught creative writing at my high school. I had him in my freshman year. He told us, "write about what you know"...and it stuck with me. Knowledge about the subjects we write about gives them a credibility, gives them a foundation. Its like building a house, it needs a solid foundation. How we decorate that house, or tell the story, that's imagination. Imagination is color and texture. Imagination is also harder to come by as adults. I watch my daughter, her young imagination is so much more fluid and dynamic than mine. I think as we grow and mature, we have to engage our imaginations less and less in our daily grind. It gets a bit rusty. When I write my fiction, I get to stretch those imaginative muscles. Its freeing because it no longer binds us to the limits of knowledge and facts.  ** Image ID #1774840 Unavailable **  |
 I remember growing up my parents never let us quit anything, at least not without a credible reason. My brothers and sisters were into sports but I gravitated toward other pursuits, some of which turned out to be more challenging than I thought they would be. My parents were pretty good about saying "yes" to things I really wanted to do. Except for the "whole cage diving with great whites" request I made as a senior in high school...that one was immediately and resoundingly vetoed. But they did let me get my scuba certification as soon as I turned 15. I was the youngest in the class of mostly adults. In my part of the world, scuba lessons ultimately cumulated in an open water dive in typically choppy, and always murky bays of long island sound. I remember the day and how cold and raw it was. I was the last one to go in the final exercise of my certification, which was removing my weight belt - holding it free in one hand and then replacing it around my waist. It sounds fairly simple but by the time I went, the chop had kicked up and even just below the surface, I felt like I was being tossed around by vengeful ocean gods. My fingers felt like frozen sausages in my gloves as I fumbled to latch the belt. It slipped off time and time again before I could. It was the first time I thought, I can't do this but I refused to be the only person that didn't pass, especially with my family watching. So, I hung with it and eventually got it back on. It took me several attempts and by the time I finished my arms ached and I was exhausted. The instructor admitted when we surfaced that he had been ready to call the lesson, it had just gotten too rough. It would have been so disappointing if he had. In my house now, we have a "no quit" policy in place too. This past Thursday my daughter's school had an event at the local roller rink. At first my daughter had no interest in skating but then once she was there, her interest was piqued and she asked me to rent her skates. We laced them up, got her a plastic skate buddy to support her, and she was off. Almost. She quickly became frustrated. She couldn't figure out how to transfer her weight and get a forward momentum. She watched the other kids with big, tearful eyes. She struggled, she fell. She cried some more. She adamantly declined my offers to don skates myself and go with her. By the time I took her aside, she was red-faced and heartbroken. I asked her if she wanted to take a little break and try again in a few minutes. She shook her head. "I have to get this," she told me, brushing at the tear tracks with the back of her hand. She started off again, into the throng of skaters, toward her friends. I watched her from the sidelines, resisting the urge to dash across in my heels to help her up when she fell or throw myself in the path of a whizzing skaters who threatened to collide with her. Instead, I stayed put, grateful for every skating parent and older classmate who stopped to help her or give her some tips. I saw her connect with a group of her friends, most of whom were also just learning. They moved together, an awkward but determined cluster. Slowly, I saw Jaden being to "get it". She figured out how to move forward, to turn and by the end of the night, she was crisscrossing the rink behind her skate buddy frame, full of smiles. It was a proud moment, knowing quitting hadn't been an option for her. She showed grit and determination and as a reward, she had a blast. She's already bugging us to go again. The next step is to move away from using the skate buddy and skate freely on her own. Knowing my daughter, I imagine she's already got to do just that. And now for the day's actual prompts: Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1213 March 11, 2016 Do vacations help you relax or stress you out? Vacations as a child were a mixed bag. I remember driving to Florida in the back of an unreliable station wagon with my siblings which translates into the opposite of "relaxation". There was also that trip in the Winnebago where we got stuck in a campground in the pouring rain and my little sister got sick and ended up throwing up strawberry yoohoo all afternoon. I give my parents credit that we even had more than one family vacation. However, I remember the trip to St Thomas and the lovely afternoon we all spend snorkeling in turquoise waters and feeding schools of yellow and white banded fish. Family vacations are maybe more about grabbing those good moments and making memories rather than "relaxing". Even our own family trip to Disney was far more stressful than I imagined. It was a long day of picking rides and waiting in lines, finding something she would eat in the park that wasn't sugar-based and keeping it together waiting along hundreds of screaming, tired children after one of the boats went out of service. There were moments though, back at the house when we could sit by the pool and let her play, where we relaxed. It made up for the frantic bustle of the Magic Kingdom, which by 3:30pm, hadn't seemed all that magical to me. Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 734 March 11, 2016 Some personalities are high energy all the time, others so low energy you wonder if they're awake. Where do you think you fall on that spectrum and why? Most days I feel like I fall dead center on the energy spectrum. I think it depends on the time of day too. If I get enough sleep, I tend to be a morning person. I enjoy waking up early, taking the dog out before the sun. That quiet time of early dawn makes me feel open and engaged. I envy high energy people, they seem to operate with limitless reserves. |
| I have watched the blog assignments and prompts go by the last few days...and just been unable to move myself off center. Recently something I wrote upset someone deeply and even though it was written from a perspective that was authentic and true, it still bothered me that something I wrote caused emotional distress. This isn't the first time and I'm certain it won't be the last but it gave me pause and stalled my creative discipline while I considered the fallout from writing in such an unscripted and raw way, as is the nature and very design of blogging. I think when I write this way it's for myself and not for a submission, not for a publisher's consumption and it becomes like a form of therapy. I don't think about people actually reading it or being interested in reading it. I guess I feel like its a kind of literary ambient noise, its just out there in the background. The truth is...words have power. I should remember that, not for the purposes of self-censorship because that would make me unauthentic as a writer, but to understand that my writing something, putting something out there gives it life in some form and that reality comes with responsibilities to address any issues or emotions it may evoke. It may start with electronic ink but it may need to continue with something more. And now for the prompts... Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise Day 733 March 10, 2016 Prompt: Write about the word sentimental. I think overall I'm a sentimental person and I think that gets me into trouble sometimes. I attach sentimentality where I shouldn't at times. My sentimentality has made me an enabler in the past, which isn't good. Feeling sentimental about something or someone can cloud judgment. It can also been endearing too. My grandmother talks about her past, sentimental insights from being a young girl during WWII, about being a poet, a dancer...the sentiments give her memories a glow that is warm and touching, they engage you and involve you in those times. In the right terms and in the right hands, sentimentality can be a beautiful thing more often than not. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1212: March 10, 2016 Prompt: this is March, now, spring has come! I love spring, things grow nicely after a winter's nap. Tell me a story about spring. Make it a love story, horror story, or even a science fiction story.... but make it a good one. remember the ides of March are coming. Today doesn't feel like a day for fiction, so I've got this instead: Yesterday in our part of New England, we hit record temps in the high 70's. My daughter bounded from the car with unbridled enthusiasm at the prospect of playing outside before dinner. She shucked off her uniform and re-emerged in cotton play clothes, sans coat, and headed for the backyard. I watched her from the porch, moving about the yard, discovering the new signs of Spring all around her. This morning there were red breasted robins in the backyard, squawking about. The dog tore across the yard after them then pranced about with his nose up sniffing the fresh air. |
| I like that each day I get a fresh set of prompts to consider as I continue to try to blog/write/create each day. Some days however I find that I am so preoccupied with one thing that I have to purge it from my system first before I can write to the prompts. Today, in the wake of yesterday's Super Tuesday, I'm having a difficult time getting past a few things - mainly, the direction of the Republican party and my commitment to it in the face of Trump becoming the GOP candidate for President. I know that personally, Trump does not represent my views and values as a woman, as a moderate conservative, as a humanitarian or as a Republican. As a party, I am increasing concerned that the Trump campaign and candicacy highlights an outdated, unappealing and out of touch sector of the Republican party...in plain terms, old and angry, uneducated white men who may or may not have racist tendencies. That appears to be whom Trump's messaging is attracting and that clearly, is not the best the Republican party has to offer. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a party for whom I am being alienated from, a party for whom I should be afraid, or in the very least, feel sorry for. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 2014: March 2, 2016 Since my short nap turned into an all night sleep. I am going to encourage everyone to write about the weather in their area. This morning I saw a robin and even though I tend to be a winter person, I rejoiced! Thought it has been mild, this winter has been hard in other ways so I am eager to welcome the birth of Spring. Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 725 March 2. 2016 Prompt: Secrets. Write about them. Secrets, for the most part, can be toxic. I try to be as open and upfront about mine as I can. Secrets never truly benefit anyone in the end. |
| Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 724 March 1, 2016 Prompt: Oscar Wilde says in his The Ballad of the Reading Gaol, “Each man kills the thing he loves.” What do you think he means? I think Oscar Wilde was making a blanket statement about the human condition, about our incomprehensible habit of destroying those things that we hold the most dear. The person who holds the key to hurting us the most is always that person who holds our hearts the closest. I think many times in our quest to love and be loved, we also expose ourselves to a spectacular vulnerability and that is often an uncomfortable and unprotected place. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1203 March 1, 2016 Let's talk about our blogs.... Do you have commenting guidelines for your readers? Today is a great time to let them know the commenting policy for your blog (or set some new expectations).Would you read a personal blog without a comment section? How do you feel when a comment section is closed? Today I just started a new blog on blogspot. Its a new venture for me, a little overwhelming but a good way for me to be more diligent in writing more. I am new to comments but I recognize the boost I get when someone reads and comments on my blogs. I've tried to make a habit of returning that favor when I can. I think comments are an important way we validate ourselves and others in our community. I think its important to be open to that forum and so having a closed comment section feels like something valuable is missing. |
| It may have been the sound of breaking glass or the sudden shift in our physical dynamics that brought the dog to her decision. Regardless of what it was, in a movement that was lightning quick, Kacey stepped between us. The dog's big body went taught with tension and a thick ridge of hair sprouted along her spine. She barred her teeth at you, ears pinned back almost flat against her thick head. Seconds before when we had pushed and shoved at each other, Kacey's soft brown eyes had darted back and forth between us, agonized and and confused. She had not known which master to align with, torn between her natural instinct to protect those she loved because she loved us both. You could see her watching the violence escalate. She had begun to whine and keen, her uneasiness mounting as she struggled to understand the situation, to decide which one of us needed her protection more. Then, you had shoved me again, hard and with the full force of your rage. My feet lost contact with the floor and I fell backwards, the momentum carrying me across the kitchen into the glass door. I crashed into it, back first, and it exploded. I felt shards of glass rain down onto my shoulders and my scalp. I landed in a pool of glass, sharp edges cutting into my palms. My sudden fall had stunned you into silence, stopping your stream of curses dead in your throat. In that instant, Kacey was there, stepping protectively in front of me. Kacey backed up into me, until the the haunches of her tawny coat were right in front of me. Her body was a network of sinew and muscle on full alert. You took a step toward me and she issued a low and menacing growl. It was a sound I had never heard her make before and it was clearly the only warning you would get. There was no room for error on your part; she would use everything she had in her to keep me safe. I was as startled by her transformation as you were, but I understood it. The same lovable, goofy dog that cuddled with you each night would not hesitate to take you down now. “Kacey, it's okay girl....” You coaxed and cooed at her. Your words merely elicited a volley of angry barking and snarling. I struggled to my feet and shook glass from my clothes. I gingerly accessed my wounds with my fingertips, thankful nothing was serious. Kacey fell in beside me and I placed my hand on her massive head. “Good girl.” I told her softly. Your face was mottled with anger and shock. You twitched with fury. I could see another volley of violence brewing in your darkened features and clenched fists. “You better back off, ” I warned, knowing my sweet 50lb staffie had gone into full protection mode. Kacey was now potentially a formidable weapon should I need her. Again, I rested my palm against her head, feeling her heat. She moved her body closer against mine, her eyes never leaving your body. "You have a decision to make make, " I told him. "Kacey has already made hers.” |
| Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 716 February 22, 2016 Prompt: What has surprised you the most about your life or life in general? It is odd but the thing I found most surprising about my life is how effortless it is show love and affection for my daughter. I grew up with a mother who was on her best days indifferent and otherwise cold. She rarely showed affection, and the older I got, then less she seemed equipped to engage me in any real way other than to keep after me about my weight. She was pragmatic about dividing her time between my siblings and I and since I was more like my father, it was far easier to leave me to him. She never understood me, my nose locked in books and my head in the clouds. I didn't join teams like my brother and sister. It was far easier to cheer from the sidelines for them, rather than have to share in one on one time with a daughter she just couldn't reach. I could write a novel on the nuances of that relationship. My point is that I distinctly remember growing up feeling that my mother may have loved me out of obligation but she didn't particularly like me. I was always somehow not what she had expected. When I became a mother myself I went through a period of uncertainly where I agonized about the child I carried, feared that I would somehow become my mother. The moment she was born, those doubts and fear evaporated. This daughter of mine had become my world, the beautiful and amazing center of my world. It has been the most effortless thing to teach her that she is beautiful, inside and out. I am at times, overcome with affection for her. Not a morning goes by that I don't kiss her as I buckle her into her booster seat. Hugging her, telling her I love her are a natural part of our everyday lives. Praising and encouraging her are my most important, and endearing responsibilities as her mother. I am confident that my daughter feels loved, feels that she is special, knows that I have her back no matter what. She may not understand the concept of unconditional love but she feels the bond that binds me to her always. I am surprised by how completely effortless it is to give over all of myself in loving her. In the wake of that knowledge comes hurt and confusion as to why my own mother found such things so difficult, so elusive. I will never understand how something I can give so wholly and gladly and freely, was kept from me. The only thing I know with as much certainty as possible, is that my daughter will never harbor any doubts about herself or about my love and devotion to her. I know in my heart of hearts that I could never be like my mother and I am eternally grateful for that discovery. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1194 February 22, 2016 Trace the origins of one of your habits. For example: Why do you kiss your hand and touch the roof of your car every time you go through a yellow light? Did you have a friend who started doing that and you followed her lead? Figure out when you started doing something that you now do all the time. I thought and thought about this and came up empty. I don't think I am at all a creature of habit. I don't subscribe to superstitions either. There is one thing I used to do without thinking about much but after the passing of a loved one, it took on new meaning. I believe that might be a bit of the same thing. My cousin Melanie was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was very young and had three little girls of her own. It was heartbreaking. My cousin Melanie used to never leave a room or hang up the phone without telling you she loved you. It was something that defined her, her sweetness and her grace. After we lost her, I found myself saying it to my family and friends more often, just before hanging up the phone or heading out the door. Should anything ever happen to me, I want them to remember hearing that I loved them. I want those words to be part of any final dialog I have on earth with the people I care about. Melanie showed me how important that is, to consciously let people know you love them. |
| Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1190: February 17, 2016 Prompt: “We’re past the age of heroes and hero kings. … Most of our lives are basically mundane and dull, and it’s up to the writer to find ways to make them interesting.” —John Updike, WD Do you agree or disagree? How do you make the mundane interesting? One of the most wonderful things about writing is that it is all relative to the reader. Individual readers can experience something completely different when reading the same exact passage. If the writing is good, it will evoke emotions and impressions in them that are based solely on their specific experiences and interpretations. Something that is mundane to one reader might be interesting to another based on who they are and their individual perceptions. For example, a friend of mine writes a blog devoted to her life as a working mom. Her pieces are often filled with little details and insights that some might find mundane but I identify with them and often find them delightful and charming. I can relate to her life, to the challenges and also the humor of balancing a work life and raising young children. I take issue also with Updike's assertion that our lives are "basically mundane and dull". Our lives are fluid and beautifully complex. No one lives a life completely devoid of color and character. As far as being "past the age of heroes"...I also disagree. We have become more jaded in recent times. We sometimes we erroneously highlight our villains when we should be remembering and honoring the victims. We sometimes get lost in the issues, in the politics and we forgot our human connections to each other. Still, there are those among us who rise up and remind us that we can be better than we are. There are those who's courage and love inspire us and restore our faith in our own humanity. These days our heroes may be brave like Malala Yousafzia, who stood up to the Taliban for the right to get an education or Nicholas Winton, who saved the lives of more than 600 children during the Holocaust. In these times our heroes may be faithful and devote, dedicated to peace like Pope Francis. Heroes are the veterans who return, injured and maimed from combat, with a new mission to turn their disabilities into the ability to inspire us all with their perseverance and determination. Heroes are single mothers who work hard to raise responsible children who grown up to contribute to society in meaningful ways. Heroes are the fathers, who like my husband and my father, instill in their daughters the respect for themselves and the belief that they are amazing gifts and they can be and do anything in this world they wish . Hero Kings, we may have not but true heroes do exist. Just like there is beauty and wonder even in the mundane, so there are heroes to light even our darkest times. |
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