%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   The simplicity of my day to day. |
|
This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
|
Please use these random words : terminal. instruction, cancel, hook. systematic. fragment. and stereotype. Have fun! When it comes to instructions, I’m pretty bad at following them. I’m a visual type of person and need to watch someone actually carry out the task before I understand. Have you ever read an instruction manual on how to do the simplest of crocheting? Instruction manuals manage to make the easiest task sound complex even to explaining how to hold the crochet hook! Maybe being left-handed has something to do with my ineptitude with manual tasks. I don’t fit the usual stereotype of a left-handed person who use being crack- handed, as my dad used to describe me, as an excuse, in fact I rarely think about it these days and have adapted to a right-handed world. At least these days using a keyboard to do my writing on, no one can point a finger at me as did teachers from years gone by. My teacher would tear strips off me, leaving only a fragment of my self worth, simply for not using the “correct,” hand. My husband and I are planning a vacation to Brisbane in a few weeks time. We are so different in the way we approach things. I am usually the one who books the flights, accommodation and does the packing. He shows very little interested in the systematic way I do things, knowing the travel plans will have been done. That is until the day before we leave home. Then he starts to panic and asks questions such as what time we need to be at the terminal, he always suggests way too early, and what happens if our flight gets cancelled! |
Use these random words: subject, code, parallel, arrow, gloom, doom, enlarge, and map. I wish sometimes I had access to a map. It wouldn’t be a normal map but an emotional one. I would be able to enlarge it and see at a glance how my whole family were faring emotionally. We’re all subject to the highs and lows of state of mind. Even on the sunniest day we may only see doom and gloom depending on the news of the day and even be susceptible to the moods of other people whom we interact with each day. That map would point me in the right direction, warn me of impending storms. There’d be an arrow pointing to dangerously stormy waters, parallel lines which would be code for danger averted, smooth waters ahead. |
Promet: Melancholy Melancholy, which afflicts the creative types, was around in antiquity and is still present in civilizations that think of themselves as modern. What do you think melancholy is? Melancholy is a mental illness which is now called depression. I like the sound of the word Melancholy. It even sounds sad. It sounds romantic, a word which might describe a maiden from history. When I hear the word I never think it is used to describe an illness or condition a man might experience. It’s a word one would use in romantic poetry, when the heroine is pining for her lost lover perhaps. There was a film called Melancholia. Apparently it’s very difficult to watch. It’s about depression, mental illness and the end of the world. Not one I’ll be rushing out to see. Perhaps it should be used more to describe the feeling of despair which so many people are suffering from today. |
Prompt: Chair Do you have a favorite chair? What do you think of chairs in general and what does the word chair mean in all its connotations? I do love my recliner chair but have been unable to use it for the last two months. She has sat there looking sad that I’ve seemed to have ignored her charms, even though I have been sorely tempted. But no! Next to her sits a hard, boring-looking chair that has been my reluctant companion. She is there straight backed, leather covered with a forward sloping seat, determined to keep my hips higher than my knees. I have turned away from my soft recliner and have sat upright, feet firmly placed on the floor for eight long weeks. An operation on my gluteal tendons has forced this situation. But as I write this I’m sitting back into the chair I love. She has welcomed me home and has decided to forgive my desertion. Straight back is still there but I feel her disapproval, perhaps she’s thinking her usefulness hasn’t yet run her course. But I’m afraid in a few days she will find herself relegated to the shed, hopefully not to be used again in the foreseeable future, along with two crutches, a toilet seat, shower stool and a walker. I’m back on my own two shaky legs. |
Prompt: What was the best part of your week? What was the worst part of your week? Write about this in your Blog entry today. This was the question I used to ask my children when they came home from school but usually I was asking about their day. A week though gives me more to choose from. The best part of my week? I enjoyed a visit from my grandson, Jedd. He came to see if he could help me with a computer problem. I’ve been trying to digitise my old VCR tapes. I need them to go on to my computer so as to be able to give everyone who may be interested, an external hard drive each. I can’t say we’ve cracked it yet but it was lovely to see Jedd and to know at 28 years of age he still has time for his grandparents. The worst part has been really bad. Our daughter who lives many thousands of kilometres away from us suffers from mental illness. Her partner left her recently and she’s spiralled out of control. I had to ring for an ambulance for her as I was concerned for her welfare. I was correct in doing so and she was taken to hospital for a mental assessment. I suppose the outcome has been positive in as much she’s now receiving help. It doesn’t matter how old your children are they’re always your kids and you never stop worrying about them. |
Prompt: Moments of Beauty? Was does "moment of beauty" mean to you, and was there ever a moment of unexpected beauty that sent a rush of happiness through you? There must be many moments of beauty in my memory bank which were fleeting and disappeared before they could firmly entrenched themselves, so now I’m thinking of recent moments which have made me stop, just for a moment, and appreciate what was before my eyes. Does one need to be old, and may I even say, jaded by life, that there now few moments of beauty and nothing one had not seen or experienced before? Amazingly no. I’ve discovered I can still be moved by the most simple things. My great granddaughter who is almost three, caused me to see the beauty in a child’s innocence. Her mother sent me a photo of her little one and she had captured a moment of beauty within. Tears came, not sad tears but tears of joy when I looked at the photo of this beautiful child. It was taken on a summer’s day in the garden. I couldn’t see her face, she was naked, her back to the camera, sun hat perched on her dark curls, and was absorbed in painting a picture on her easel. The subject were flowers, blue and green against the white butcher’s paper. It looked to me like Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘Irises.’ I know realistically a not yet three years old child could be emulating Van Gogh, but just for a second I was struck by the simplicity and beauty of a sunny day, the gorgeous blemish free body of a child who doesn’t know yet the feelings attached to embarrassment, or shame. I have since had the picture enlarged and it hangs on the spare bedroom wall. A moment of beauty. |
Let's have some fun with random words: cat, lecture, snarl, residences, show, stain, purr, and gold. As I recuperate from my hip surgery I’ve been walking with two crutches for several weeks. My walk has consisted of going around our very small 600 metre block. I pass several residences on my journey. Mrs Ball lives in one of the houses and she has a cat that sits on her front porch. My dog always accompanies me on my walk to visit Mrs Ball’s cat and they eye each other up. The cat gives a snarl and a show of her sharp, white teeth. Lucy listens to my lecture about cats. I explain it would be a stain on her as yet unsullied character if she chased and caught MBC, and I tell her she’s as good as gold when she ignores the cat. I don’t know the name of Mrs Ball’s cat, but she did come over to me one day when I called to her, “come here, Puss Puss.’ So that could be her name. I didn’t have the dog with me and even heard her give a gentle purr as if to say, thank you. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 3102 May 23, 2024 Prompt: If you're not improving, youre falling behind. Write about this in your Blog entry today. Oh, dear, this prompt makes me feel slightly stressed! Must I really keep on improving? Am I falling behind? I didn’t know I was even in a race. This is the very reason many people are feeling the need to visit doctors to get their antidepressant medication. They’re under siege from a society which is constantly telling them they need to lift their game, earn more money, have better behaved kids and the perfect marriage or job. No, not jobs, careers are the thing you must have. It’s no longer enough to go to work and earn a wage, you must use any free time improving yourself. Get fitter, stop drinking/smoking, get thin. OMG I’m tired now. I’m off for a nap.💤 |
Prompt: Photography Photography used to be an art. Nowadays, however, everyone is a photographer, especially with selfies, thanks to technology. What do you think about the ease that lets people take photographs and selfies in our day compared to several decades ago and the feeling that emanates from the photographs of the bygone days and those of today? I’ve thought about this often. I remember when having a photograph taken was something special. People of my age had few photos of themselves from childhood but we treasure the ones we have. We’ve seen them so many times each one is imprinted in our minds. There would be the first one taken as a baby. Probably not taken until the child could at least sit up. Many others would be incidental, where you’d be in the background of a wedding or some event. These photographs would all be taken by a specialist photographer brought in for the occasion. My favourite one of me as a child is walking along the seafront in England with my parents, two brothers and grandfather. There would be roaming photographers taking photos, asking if you wanted one. I think they’d only pretended to take one and then if interest was shown they’d take one for real. You’d wait impatiently for the time the image would be ready to pick up from the pier or another venue and the family would all ooh and ahh over it. When we had a camera when I was first married, photos would be taken with a wind-on camera. After the film was all used up, the film would be taken to the chemists or posted off for development. A week or so later you’d receive them back in an envelope. So exciting! Invariably there’d be disappointment as the quality of amateur photography back then was pretty dismal. But the photos would be placed in an album to be seen by generations. So different from today when everything is photographed, even what you’re eating is snapped and shared on social media. Kid’s lives are documented 24/7. But are those images ever even looked at again after they’ve been shared? As for the selfie, don’t get me started. If I, as a teenager looked in the mirror as many times a day as teenagers today take photos of themselves, I would have been accused of vanity and told to go and do something useful.😂 |
Prompt: Please use these random words: exile, physics, land, rifle, bald, system and outfit. I’ve had a realisation lately, it’s one I’ve always known on some level but when one suddenly becomes incapacitated by illness or an accident there is a feeling of being in exile which is sort of unexplainable. You feel as if you’ve arrived in a new land, a different country even. I’m unsure if physics comes into play in this instance but it’s quite unsettling. Life has continued on for everyone you know and yes, they all ask about you and show love and concern but still one feels different. Even the outfit you may choose to wear on any given day has changed. It no longer matters what you look like it’s comfort you require. Pyjamas are the look of my day and slippers. I rifle through my undies drawer for my most loose pair so they won’t dig into my operation wound. It’s the new system or new world order. Get out of bed, shower, pyjamas or something as glamorous back on and begin physio exercises in a desperate attempt to rejoin my previous life. I’ve been lying around the place so long I’ve probably worn a bald patch on the back of my head. |
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
