moving on up

*sigh* My browser (or any browser that i visit to be honest) is no longer supported by Blogger. My beautiful bliggidy-blog that I have mildly abandoned but never forgotten has become almost completely incapacitated... pity-party over! A new, fresh start, while not planned, and not exactly disired can always be an intersting adventure! Change is good, it means something new and different is on the horizon. It means growth and learning. Growth and learning is always good. Stay tuned for the site, I'm on a blog hunt~ Happy Writing!

the swing of things

getting into the blogger motion is a little more than type some words, hit the button. it's more than a physical thing, for me anyway.

i do highly admire those that seem to have their blog engrained in their daily habit so much so that they don't miss a routinely scheduled post. no matter what seems to be going on in their life. maybe this is the proper outlet for them, I'm not sure, i tend to not make a habit out of speaking for other people. i have yet to ask them because, well... i've been away for a very long time and it's hard to get the needle into the groove while feeling as though i've missed a chunk of their life. however awkward, i am stepping quitely back into the bloggy-fold and trying to support those who supported me so long ago. i miss that little circle and hope to return wiser and better for my absence.

so, the swing of things, getting back into writing has been good. it's fantastic actually. i missed hearing the voices of characters, feeling their emotions so deeply that I grow angry, dance along, or even cry for them, and flail my arms in aghast at their frustrations, it's a different kind of life the writer lives in fiction and in real life, but i love it.

in the past i've made several promises to myself all getting side tracked and falling to the wayside because of one obtsicle or another. and what i've learned in this process is that promises are light and frivolous. i'm not particarlly proud of this, but unfortunatly that seems to be the case with promises to myself (any promises made to another i do follow through with, it's easier to let myself down than them-- it's something i've always stood by and always will)but i have found that i will not make promises to myself anymore - i will just do.

in my just doing i have written and rewritten a short story, getting it ready for beta laurie's eyes. i have started blogging again and for lack of another good example i have broken down to join a gym and i'm actually going (i've always worked out, i'm just trying to get out of the house more). my point? Just DO is action. i'm ready for it and i'm making it happen. no promises. just do. get back into the swing of things.

something tells me i dawdle

A wise woman told me that it's okay to dip a toe in. Just because I haven't done what I love to do in a recent time period doesn't mean I should cease to do it...

Yet, I am dawdling.

There are a myriad of reasons I can blame on the fact I've schlepped. But when it comes down to the skinny, I only have myself to blame. My fear (and threating fear with a pistol whippage doesn't work well -- sometimes it tends to kick back).

You see, I threw myself into my passion so vigorously that I got somewhat lost...actually, I don't ever think I was not lost (metaphorically speaking of course, literally I have a fantastic sense of direction, ironic eh?) I suppose that the writing managed to find me, which was a pleasure and a joy. AND while I learned much from many fantastic people throughout my four year dive into the writing pool I didn't know what to do with it when I found myself floundering.

I proceeded to write word after word each with a deeper meaning and practiced until my eyes wanted to burst out of my head until I found a voice that could be mine... I can still hear the tone, the inflections, (the redundancy? nah, just in my blog post) the rhythm. And I can still write. Not well, or at least not as well as I was, but I will get there again. I have no doubt of it.

While I dawdle, I will wade, fearful, but... not afraid.

I have a rough-rough completed, a short story spawned from another's dream. I have the first draft half way done, I know where I want to send it when I get it to the place I deem appropriate and I am hoping for a bright outlook on the submission, which is, of course, far-away because of dawdle.

This is far from the first blog post I've written since last July, but I believe it is going to be the first that I will post because, I am ready to. I have found that I'm approaching things with caution and not throwing vigor into everything, just yet.

Wading, until I feel comfortable again, as myself.

Until then -- I will dawdle.

Blog-a-rific

It's been awhile.

I've dusted the rabble off of my shoulders, washed the chunks of life vomit out of my hair and I have arrived on the other side shiny, squeaky and incredibly ready to get back to bizness.

Writing bizness, that is...(duh you say as the single file line is instructed to purchase the golden ticket that will allow you one great slap of my forehead because I know those of you who may still read this are non-idiots.)

First off, it feels like I should say that I apologize for not blogging for awhile, or for spilling my crazy rambled personal self doubt, through my precious writing life yes, do I have the gnawing thought to erase the last for or so posts? Abso-fucking-lutely, Mister Big. In truth, I'm not and embarrassed and I am not sorry. It happened, I learned from the encyclopedia whalluped at my head from life's stoic hands, but, it was what I needed to do.

And with this last year under my belt, (scoffing at conventional time calenders in lieu of the conception of my revolved situation until the time when the world stopped spinning, for me) my muse has awoken. And she is fired up.

This fire, is not an out of control rage, it's a sweet one that has been cobbled w/ stones and warms your face on a cooler (ha!) summer night while the children play flash light tag fifty feet behind you.

Now I have the power of her and while rolling rampant w/ the creative ideas steaming, streaming over me was a phenomenal feeling, now, I can open my mind up to the stories, ideas, creations I feel pulsing through my veins.

A plan? Well, I have none as of yet, but there is my book to edit, a startling character whispering her dark tale to me (I'm unsure the length, bc it's a completely different experience for me. Usually, I see the ending first and then the rest of the story sings itself to me...this time... I have the entryway, the doormat and the brass knocker, it's pretty schweet.)

As for a footnote I would like to thank those who have not forgotten me while I was away -- Aaron Polson, Tony Rapino Angel Zapata, Bea Sempre, Laurie D, Bettie Turner. I got a beautiful Christmas card from the lovely Cate Gardener in December (which did tickle my Christmas bells :D) For those blogs I once followed religiously-- Shadow, Ken, Mercedes, Ellen, Alan W. Davidson, Tyhitia Green, and so many more, I have missed reading all of your whosywhatsits of the goings on, and I'm still thinking of ya'll fondly.

finding the fool

I have been somewhat lost as of late, whimsy has left the comforting frontal lobes of my mind and tucked itself away to recesses unknown. It pops out every once in a while, allowing me to know that my fool is still lurking.

On the writing front, stories have been sprinkling their sparkles over my brain when I sleep -- there is a lot of dancing and I just happened to write two poems last week (thanks for the faith, Aaron, Bea and Tony).

On the short story front, I still have some in the editing pool, some that have been waiting, patiently for me to do something with them. It might be time to delve back in with a scalpel and see how long it would take for the blood to stain my elbows.

And then, I will search for a home for all of them.

But, speaking of finding the fool, while I won't be looking for it, I will certainly keep my arms open for its return.

The Dreams....

My dreams are coming back to me, stronger, harder and stranger than what they have been in the last nine months...I think this is a turning point. I really do.

The funny thing, I dream, therefore I am.

I haven't dreamt like this since September. But, it's how I first started writing, and it always helps me see where I am in my life.

I think that the little things of this past year are starting to strip themselves away and I'm starting to get a sense of who I am, again. Which is always a good thing. When I dream I am always taken to a bizarre place of something not quite normal, but it makes sense to me. I never have a 'normal' dream. It is comforting.

As I said, the last four nights, these dreams all have something in common, nothing I've figured out yet, but they are linked. A little unknown (or known depending on how into Psychology you are...) fun fact, when we dream of a person, it is never really about that actual person, its about which part of US they represent about US.

Today I had a dream of dancing, but I was dancing alone in the basement of some "friend" whom in reality, I have never met. There was a party, but I didn't want to be around anyone so I went and danced to my own tune in the basement (which was pretty done up), then we were in a car chase with some ninja's and I lost an earring -- earrings that I would never wear, and some dancing monkeys (always I dream about monkeys...I should look that up...)anyway, I think my muse is coming back to me. Well, I know she is coming back.

Now, I just looked up some of the definitions on/about some of the more prominant things...oh, crap, I forgot about the ninja's -- hold on one moment please *pushes elevator music for "Tom Jones", to entertain* -- *And she enters grac...HA I couldn't finish that line, there is nothing about me that's graceful*

I suppose it's true,what they said about Ninja's but I am not sure about the other stuff, more to ponder or just let float around in my head for a few more days...

I still have to wait to see where she is going to take me on this wild ride of dreams, and if I get a hankering to write (when don't have it? the problem is finding the space in my head to write out what needs to be written), then I will write.

And again with the random, I was just really inspired by this last set of dreams I had, no story yet, but who knows...the way this road is taking me, I could be writing by the end of the week.

Pleasant Cheers!!

Strength in numbers....?

It should be no surprise to anyone when I say "Hey, I haven't blogged in a while". Yes, we can all look at the last post and see that time has past.

I've put my pen down to focus on a full-time job, (only until I get my feet wet there, believe me, I have not given up the dream. Nor will I ever).

I've abandoned Facebook because I have nothing witty or sparkly to say, I haven't even spent enough time on Twitter to figure out how it really works.

And life keeps moving forward.

When a friend of mine told me that her heart went out to me (back in September) because she knew what I was going to go through in six months, I have to admit I was very put off. By nature, I know I can plow through anything when its given to me. I can handle the things put on the table, and blow through them, always trying to give it my all. But the aftermath is what gets me.

Welcome to the Aftermath!!

Anyone who still may be following this blog after my hiatus (thank you btw) probably knows the upheaval of my life at this time. Getting divorced is hard, but it is not really the getting divorced that is hard in my case. It's the finding my feet beneath the pool of dark fog around my waist. Each positive step thins the fog out, right?

No. That is not the way that life works.

I am sitting with myself, only myself, but I am not me which is okay because it is what I need to be right now. But let me tell you, it sucks.

And just when I think that I have it under control, life, the little devil she is dumps some more freezing ice into the bowl and the black fog rises until I can barely see. I'm flailing away through it though, because what else can I do? It's not about strength, it's about doing what we have to do when we have to do it. Finding some sort of peace within myself.

No one will be able to help me but me, though disheartening, more times it is empowering.

The hard part, the hardest part, is allowing myself to be crazy without allowing myself to be crazy. Or judging the crazy, or listening to the crazy, or holding the crazy's hand for a wild night out and waking up in the morning with it next to me waving at me laughing because when I look in the mirror, I don't see myself anymore.

There really is no point to this post, I just needed to do something with my hands.

My grandfather died this week, Pio Zone. He passed away in a chair after a rigorous four week battle with doctor's having to open and close his insides again and again and again. He was 88, born in 1923, he was in the Navy and loved his wife more than life itself so much so, that when she passed 14 yrs ago, and his dementia set in, all he would say was "Where are my cigarettes?" and "I want to be with Chickie". Pio loved to travel, live life, and gamble by cards. He was a fantastic grandfather and just let us be how we wanted to be without judgment, which, in turn, was a gift all in its own.

Today, I sit back and wonder why I need to write this, post this? Tomorrow, I will know it is because I wanted to do it, for me. This post has nothing to do with writing, it is a blanket statement of hidden things in my head, coming out in weird ways -- ways that don't really have anything to do with what is really going on, but they are helping me get over the greater issues. One day at a time, one step at a time...but what happens when your legs wobble and you can no long walk? You take a break, cry, eat bagel bites, watch mindless television, read a book that was said to be "so you and helpful", only to turn out that the lead character really wasn't like you at all and the end was a bust and you get angry now every time you think about it!!! (Oh, and by 'you' I mean me), you go shooting for the first time ever, plan to do things because you need to, do it with ease, (bc nothing is as hard as we make it out to be) -- but still everything is delayed, everyday drags on one million years into the next until you're to the point of exhaustion where your body can't even remember what function your nose has for your face (alright, I'm exaggerating, but it makes sense to me and maybe to some lonely traveler wandering the bloggoshepre, who has gone through a similar experience). And then get to a place where, "I don't know what to do anymore," seems like such a defeating but honest statement that you can't help to listen to the OTHER voice in your head that says "Yes, you do".

I am staring at the inky fog, only seeing black, but I keep going. I believe anyone would do it in my shoes, I don't believe it is strength, I don't believe that it is survival, I believe it is human.

We are, first and foremost, always alone. Numbers...having numbers is great -- but when you sit back and think about those hard times in life, the ones that never seemed to end, the one which puts so much stress and strain on your shoulders you feel as though your neck is going to pop, we were always alone. We had to work it out for ourselves, in the way only we knew how. And if that is by focusing on the small stuff while you process your way through the big stuff, then so be it. If it is taking a gun to the shooting range to murder a little paper man ("Target," Larry the shooting range owner corrected me, "Target"), then that can help.

Even when I was surrounded by people -- husband, boyfriends, friends, family, coworkers -- I still felt alone. Only now, I really am alone -- able to do whatever I really want to do, and yet, life...life, loves to throw shit at you (in a fun, monkey flinging poo kind of way, of course that monkey thinks its hilarious), from every direction.


*This post, is a part of my quirky way of processing things. I obsess about random things because I can not fathom the larger scale issues all at once. Stop by my brain sometime, trust me, you'll have a blast and leave through the crazy door with parting gifts in the shape of a giraffe.

**Dedicated to my Poppy...he lived a grand life and he was happy.