%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
|
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 634 December 1, 2015 Prompt: Why do people ghost? Can ghosting have a good reason? How does it feel to be ghosted? Ghosting is when someone that you believe cares about you disappears on you without any form of explanation, message, phone call or email. I've been ghosted in a very mild sense of the word. I shoulder some of the responsibility, I allowed it to happen. I was super aware at the time that my friend of twenty plus years was stepping farther and farther out of my life and I did nothing to reach out, to pull her back in. I was a willing partner in my own ghosting. I think that sometimes ghosting is a way of coping with a natural end of a relationship...sometimes there just isn't enough energy left in a relationship to pursue a confrontation, an apology or even any formal sense of closure. I still have a fondness for the friend she was when I needed her but I also have an understanding that as time moved forward, she was less and less capable of feeling joy for me in the same way I always could for her. She seemed to rally when I was down but supporting me and being happy for me in the good times was something that became more and more difficult for her to do. There was an undercurrent of resentment for me in her that made her do hurtful things, say hurtful things and damage was done, again and again. After twenty plus years I began to feel less angry with her for that, less disappointed. I think I just reached a level of acceptance. It was simply just time to let her go. It was time for me to focus energy on other friendships - friends who could be not just supportive, but sincerely happy for me. Ghosting is certainly hard but its the far easier choice in situations like mine. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1112 December 1, 2015 Name a category all major beauty pageants should have, but don't? Do you think they demean women or encourage them to think outside the box? I believe Beauty Pageants should have an STEM category or requirement. Let's see them show us their talents in Science, Technology or Engineering or Math! I don't think there is anything wrong with competing in pageants as long as the participants are encouraged to be well-rounded, contributing citizens and not just pretty faces that look good in swimsuits or evening dresses. I will say that I do think those contests have come a long way since the early days but there is always room for improvement. A word about the toddlers and tiaras...I disagree with that whole scene entirely. There is entirely too much sexualization of young girls in society today already - look at the Halloween costume offerings for example! I fail to see what benefits this industry provides these children aside from cheap trophies and unwarranted, unnecessary pressure and scrutiny. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1106: November 25, 2015 Prompt: “And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath Do you agree or disagree? I find that I write about most things of importance in my life. Its cheaper than therapy! Seriously though, writing becomes part of my coping process. Even in my structured pieces, I can find elements of myself and my battles woven through every aspect of the story. I know aside from trying to write good fiction, I'm also dealing with my own truths and demons through the creative process. I always doubt myself on some level but I don't hesitate in my writing and I never apologize for it even if it can be hurtful and revealing in ways I can not, nor would want to control. Writing without apology, to myself as well as others, is a challenge. It sometimes feels like a compulsion rather than a craft. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 628 November 25, 2015 Prompt: Textures are everywhere. Rough edges of a stone wall. Touch of a baby's cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture holds special memories for you? Texture is a powerful sense in that to connect with it we must engage ourselves in tactile elements of life. There are a few textures that will immediately invoke memories for me.. The silky touch of my daughter's hair, the strands so fine between my fingertips, takes me back to the first moments of her life when I held her on my chest and stroked her hair. The crisp crust of my great grandmother's homemade loaves of bread, the way it would be crusty on the outside and you would rip off a piece to find a soft, warm center inside. The texture of my c-section scar, a raised pattern of skin that marks my daughter's entry into the world...I remember running my hands along it for the first time and being amazing, and a littler horrified, to find it was substantially bigger than I thought it would be. Just a few... |
| Blog City DAY 626 November 23, 2015 Prompt: It is said that everything outside our warm, safe circle is our blind spot. Have you sometimes thought that you were blind to what was in front of your eyes? I have wanted to believe something so badly in the past that I convinced myself that I didn't see things....I think that might be the same thing. During the time my ex was supposed to be in recovery, I wanted to believe in his sobriety so much that I intentionally failed to see the signs that he was drinking, that he had never stopped. On that morning when I took him ER and the doctor took me aside and asked me how much he drank, I insisted that he had been sober for months. I vehemently defended his sobriety even as her eyes turned apologetic and sad. She stayed calm and very quietly informed me that he had spent the entire night throwing up blood, so much so that he had gone into shock. She proceeded to inform me that he had confessed to her that he had never stopped drinking and was in fear for his life. That conversation kicked off the next four years of hell and loss in my life and the worst part was, I think somewhere down deep inside me, I had known the truth. I just needed to badly for it not to be true. I needed so badly to believe he was getting better. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1103: November 23, 2015 Prompt: Use the following words in a story or a poem: brooch, yank, round, pizza, strike, wretched, computer, reprimand . Elson stared at her computer screen. The empty white space glowed bright in the gloom of her darkened room. She felt wretched. Last night she had over indulged with too much wine, too much pizza and too much Liam...too much of all the things she loved that were bad for her. She had woke up hungover and late. Her brain felt fogged over and lethargic. It had taken an act of shear will to yank the blankets off this morning. The minutes before her column deadline were ticking away on her. She looked again at the round face of the desk clock. In an alarmingly few minutes that clock would strike noon and she would officially be late with her piece. Elson fought the urge to reprimand herself again. She began typing blindly, hoping to find a strand of something she could turn into a passable story on the use of social media. Elson's fingers absently strayed to the orange and teal brooch at her neck. Her grandmother was such a prolific journalist. Elson was certain her talented grandmother must never have fallen to her own weaknesses so often as she did.  ** Image ID #1774840 Unavailable **  |
| Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1101 November 20, 2015 Prompt: When you were a child, what was your favorite thing to do with your grandparents? Olyvia says I read the best bedtime stories ever. Did you grandparents do something that was just perfect to you? My grandparents used to come over every Christmas morning each and every year. I remember those idyllic Christmas mornings best...my Mother always made fresh muffins and cinnamon rolls and the smell of the sweet pastries mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the whole house. We would lounge around in our pajamas. My grandparents would come over and we would show them our presents. It was a nice tradition, one we all counted on and looked forward too almost as much as Christmas Eve. Sadly, a family tragedy ended the sweet tradition. We tried to pick it up again with my grandmother until my parent's divorce fractured the family. I can still remember those Christmas mornings though, they were very special to us. For the last several years I've adopted the same tradition...my sister joins us each Christmas for breakfast and the spread always included cinnamon buns. She gets right down on the floor with my daughter and her new toys and for a few hours, we just lounge around and be together. Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise DAY 624 November 20, 2015 Tell me something about your family that brings a big smile to your face when you think about it. Like for example this evening, Olyvia said, "you came all the way to Vegas to see me, you must really love me." Sunday mornings in my house have become some of my favorite life moments. With no work or school in the forecast, Sunday mornings are typically kicked off with an extended stay in bed with the dog and Jaden. There is cuddling and snuggling. There are always giggles. After a time, I always take my leave to go downstairs and make breakfast. There is a peace here in those moments for me...making the meals my husband and daughter love while listening to NPR. The dog usually ends up joining me, and dodging my moving feet and waiting for a bit of turkey sausage or a bite of egg. After breakfast during the cooler months, we make a fire, refill our coffee mugs and settle in for a while watching the news or one of Jaden's shows. Its only a few hours before the housework, home repairs and yard work start up so we take full advantage of that time together to just be unfiltered and relaxed. |
| Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 1099: November 18, 2015 Several governors want to reject Syrian refugees. Should we reject refugees who are fleeing the terrorist in their homeland? Social media is filled to the brim with people advocating from both sides of the fence on this issue. I have seen posts that are heartbreaking, and ones that are merely there to incite and spread ill-will and still others that seek to remove the politics and shift focus to the human issue. I have concerns myself. Our nation was built by the hands, blood, sweat and tears of immigrants. My own family settled here as immigrants. We are at our core, a nation of nations united as Americas. However, today is a much different world that that our of great grandfathers. We have many ills that plague us right here at home. We have hundreds of homeless veterans, children living in poverty and on our streets, we have civil unrest and prejudices that divide our communities. Do those things get the same attention? The same funding? The same cause for concern? The humanitarian in me sees the images of the refugees, the children with their shell-shocked eyes, and the mothers clutching infants to their bodies, the desperate bodies packed into rafts and the corpses in the surf, and I am heartbroken. These people are fleeing terror and evil. These parents risking everything to protect their children, it isn't political, its a humanizing. At the same time, there are real and present dangers lurking. Will terrorists slip into our cities and towns amid the tide of refugees? Possibly. Do we use that possibility as a means to ignore the ideals that built our nation? There are terrorist living among us in our communities now. There are hundreds more young men with mental health issues who are isolated and at risk for being recruited by extremists already living among us. Where is the plan for identifying those individuals? Where at the steps to protect our towns and families from them? Each time I look at this issue, I only come up with more questions. The truth is, I don't know. I think we need to focus more resources on what is ailing us internally as a nation but I also think we shouldn't forget the human costs, the human questions...the humanity that binds us all together. Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise Day 622 November 18, 2015 Prompt: What moment in time from last year, 2014, would you like to relive? 2014 was filled with many difficult and wonderful moments. It is hard to isolate just one. I guess I would have to pick one moment from our trip with my daughter and her grandparents to Block Island. We spent the weekend on the boat in a marina there that was adjacent to a small beach. The whole weekend was wonderful but our first afternoon there, my daughter discovered the beach. The sun was sinking and we had the place to ourselves. She was jumping along through the tide pools, searching for shells and treasures with her Dad. I was sitting in the warm sun, watching them from a little distance. My daughter looked so happy, so at peace with the place. Her smile was broad and her eyes were full of excitement. Her excursion was simple but she was fully committed and all in, running in and out of the gentle surf and laughing with her Dad. It was a the kind of sweet moment you wish could go on and on. |
| This morning I outright lied to my daughter. It wasn't a little white lie either, it was a big, fat lie. The kind of lie with legs that demands, by virtue of its incredulity, lots of followup lying. The kind of lie that can run away on you if you are not calculated and careful. My lie was about Elves. Christmas Spy Elves to be exact. These Spy Elves, as many dishonest mothers claim to know, are an elite force of magical Elves who Santa sends out into homes all over the world. They collect important information on children's behavior in advance of the Christmas holiday. They are strictly recon in nature and their rigid code of conduct decrees that they should never, ever be seen. These Elves are looking for consistently good behavior and will often visit the same home repeatedly to confirm that their collected intelligence is accurate for each subject. They also have super speed and are stealthy quiet. My daughter regards me carefully. She desperately wants to believe in magical Elves but she also loathes getting out of bed. I see her weighing the facts in her head, considering the probability of these Ninja-like spy elves. She burrows slightly deeper into the blankets and regards me with her sea green eyes over the comforter. This is the part where I understand the lie needs some clever embellishing. She is too bright, too perceptive to be completely taken in so easily. "I saw one just the other day. Just really quick...running along our stone wall. I thought it was a squirrel at first but it was too fast, like a red blur." I blurt out, a bit too gleefully. Jaden sits up now, eyes wide. I decide to go just a bit deeper... I tell her a story about my "friend" who stayed up late one night making pies. Too tired to clean up, she went to bed leaving the counter top covered in flour. In the morning, she found tiny footprints in the flour. Tiny footprints and...glitter. I think it's maybe the glitter that seals the deal for her. Glitter, apparently is irrefutable proof of the existence of magical beings for Jaden, everything from fairies to unicorns to reindeer and magical spy elves. Jaden leaps out of bed and begins to hit me with a barrage of excited questions. Do I know if elves can fly? What do elves eat? Are there girl elves and boy elves? I field the questions calmly and with unwavering conviction. She listens intently, all the while happily complying with my dressing her and doing her hair - things that normally spark epic battles most mornings. I've got her, hook, line and sinker as they say. Am I proud of my deceit? Not exactly, but Santa and magic elves have such a finite existence in the lives of children. Giving them life for such a brief time doesn't seem so wrong, especially, and let me be very honest, if those things inspire her to be on her best behavior. I know that one day, in the not too distant future some bratty schoolmate will convince her theses things don't exist. She will believe their words over my beautifully constructed lies and the jig will be up. I'll have to contend with my daughters realization that I've lied to her all these years, knowingly manipulated and influenced her good behavior. She'll likely demand to know what else isn't real now that the veil has been brutally pulled from her eyes. I dread this most of all - that day she loses the magical promise and possibility of childhood innocence in her life. For now, I'm at peace with my lies.....mostly. Santa and his spy elves guarantee me at least a solid month of smooth mornings, cooperation and good behavior. More importantly, it keeps magic alive and well in my little girl and that is never a bad thing. As an adult, I look back on my own childhood and I remember believing myself and it was the believing that was the very best part of everything. So, we will make cookies for Santa and sprinkle reindeer food over the yard with abandon. We will watch quietly for darting elves and trails of glitter and listen for sleigh bells in our beds at night. We will practice our craft of lying with love and keep the magic alive for as long as her heart allows. |
| Blogging Circle - Nov 17th How many of you out there have been thinking about your golden years? Where would you want to retire if money wasn't an issue? Retirement seems like a fantasy to me at this point but if money wasn't an issue, I think I'd divide my golden years between two places...I love the Fall in New England, so I would want to remain there in the Sept-December months. There really isn't a place I'd rather be at that time of year. There rest of the year I could see myself living in a place like Charleston, SC...an artisan city like that. Its got culture and great places to eat and listen to live music. Its coastal, so you've got the beaches and the nice, Southern vibe. I think that would do nicely for my golden years! Blog City November 17, 2015 prompt Ludwig Wittgenstein said: “I wanted to write that my work consists of two parts: of the one which is here, and of everything which I have not written. And precisely this second part is the important one.” Do you agree with Wittgenstein and believe that what you haven’t written yet is more important than what you have already written? This is a great quote. I agree with it in a sense. If one is writing about their life's journey, you can hardly make it a complete volume without living more of life first. The next great story could be around the corner, just over the next hill... However, I think that for me, writing has given me the opportunity to memorialize some pretty profound experiences in my life so far. I think I have written about every milestone, life event and experience - good and bad and each of those stories becomes part of my story. Those passages are immensely important to my identity. I can look back over them and find myself, the person I was in the before as well as the after. I would like to think that when I am gone, my words will live on and tell my loved ones that I've left behind, the kind of person I was. I write often about my daughter and the journey of becoming her mother and watching her grow. I would love her to have those insights about her mother to treasure one day. I want to commit every feeling to electronic ink, as much as I can. I would like that to be my legacy for her. For me, and because of those reasons, what I've written feels just as important as what I will come to write one day. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 620 -- November 16, 2015 prompt Prompt: What advice would you give to those in power--leaders of nations presidents, etc.--on the subject of handling violent extremism which keeps turning our world into a senseless one? I, like so many others, watched the events of this past week with a growing sense of dread in my heart. I believe the world is a mess. I believe the unity of the nations are compromised by agendas and power struggles of countries put in impossible situations by pressure at their borders and unrest within their diverse populations. I understand that it is complicated but violent extremism is a global epidemic and it will require a true global offense to combat it's spread. What happened in Paris is likely to happen again and again in London, Rome, New York, DC...its a toxic tide that rises higher and higher each day. I have lost faith in our leadership. I want the US to be powerful again, to be fierce and to inspire the same in other nations, in our allies. I want to see us strike, swiftly and with a broad sword. I want us to rally the support of a global movement, to cut off funds to terrorism, to combat terrorist recruitment, to work with communities to identify extremists. I want to see air strikes rain down on ISIS, see boots on the ground. I want to see their headquarters and training facilities reduced to rubble. I want to see a global community say, enough is enough - let's rid the planet of these animals once and for all. I want to see good win over evil. I want to see us engage the big, bad American machine and not have to apologize for being "One Nation Under God." |
| I am not always good at juggling life. Some days I do better than others. Some days, not so much. For whatever reason, this morning I had a breakdown. Jaden and I were running behind schedule. I was struggling to get her into tights, the same tights she wears every day, and she was fighting me. Her squirming gave way to outright protests and she broke away, running off after she banshee wailed, directly in my face. The headache bloomed epically behind my eye sockets. I'm trying to yell less, trying to be more patient. I started to race after her. I tried, for a moment, to find the parental humor in her dashing around the house with her little butt hanging out and her navy tights pooled around her ankles like elephant skin. Rather than laughing, I surprised myself by starting to sob. I think I was worn out from worry, from frustration, from not being enough - having enough time to be enough. I think my reserves had been driven too low from dealing with chronic pain over the last few weeks and the constant concern about what those aches and pains might mean. Whatever the reasons, I just snapped. I heard myself crying, and they were ugly, raw sobs, the kind that hurt when they finally break free. I left my daughter, hiding half-dressed, in the bedroom closet and ran downstairs. I sat myself down in the kitchen. I tried taking deep breaths, tried to calm myself down. Breath, the voice in my head commanded. I looked up through tears to see Jaden standing in the kitchen in her stocking feet. She walked over and put her arms around me. "Sorry Mom," she said, and hugged me as tight as her little limbs could manage. And I hugged her back. After a few minutes, we wordlessly went back upstairs, hand in hand. We finished getting dressed without any further trauma and even made it to school on time. Maybe its not a bad thing to show a little weakness now and then. The people who love us best know how to best bring us out of the darkness. Sometimes all it takes is a heartfelt hug from the right person or a kind word of encouragement to spell away a bad moment. A little love in the right places in life makes all the difference in the world sometimes. |
| Blog City Day 616 November 12, 2015 Prompt: Were all victims of what life deals out. It's how we handle it, that's important. Nora Roberts Do you agree? I think its easy to fall victims to circumstances, especially when things tend to happen all at once. Sometimes it really does seem like bad things happen rapid-fire, instead of being spaced neatly and with frequent breaks in between so that we could better deal. Life, as they say, doesn't happen like we expect it to very often. I believe we are defined less by what happens to us, and more by how we deal with those things. For me, I went through some very difficult things and I could have easily given up on hope and faith and love as a result. I chose to still believe that there was something out there for me, that I was worthy of happiness and deserving of love. I chose to not lose faith. I chose to believe in hope and redemption. I was rewarded for those choices, and I have a beautiful, amazing little girl as proof positive. I have unfortunately, seen examples of things going the other way for others. I have lost people from the choices they made in the wake of events in their lives. Blogging Circle of Friends Day 1093 November 12, 2015 Prompt: What is your goal for the week? If you don't have one, make one now. My goal is quite poignant this week. I will not succumb to my feelings of failure and frustration. I will not give in to the rising tide of things that overwhelm me. I will try to get through the week without saying, "I give up" or "I just can't" - things that I have felt like screaming so often the last few weeks. Simple but so important and I struggle with the elements around me at work and in my personal life. ** Image ID #1774840 Unavailable ** |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
