L'aura del Campo

Shorter entry? Criticism as a child. Can your cellpone cook?

6,550 views

███████          L'aura del campo
███████          SUMMER: 11 Kamal (11 August)
███████          Weather outside: warm and humid.
███████          Weather inside: moody, anxious.

'é a lua,  é a lua,  na quintana dos mortos'          
~    Federico García Lorca

Criticism as a child

I must have been criticized as a child. That or far too sensitive. I was always nervous. I hated birthday parties by the age of 4; could read at 3 but couldn't read at 5; had glasses when I was 6; was one of the smallest kids in the room (girl or boy) until I was 13; my younger sister was bigger than me when I was 7; both of us were ill when we were between 5 and 8; my sister nearly died of smallpox; I nearly died of measles (in a previous age we probably would've both died of diptheria); my eyes changed from far-sighted to near-sighted when I was 11; I got the best grades in class when I was 12 (this was not a blessing).

Between the name-calling, my mother's over-protectiveness, and my very real physical limitations (for a child, not being able to see, and being small and ill is a great disadvantage). I should be thankful I survived. But I didn't learn how to live. I don't recollect that I was taught to.

I always felt criticized. Never good enough for the neighborhood kids, ignored by most of the blue-class suburban neighborhood adults (but not Mrs. Irene Blumen! or Mrs. Melrose, bless their hearts), kept under a basket by my mother who was a perfectionist that demanded more from us. "We were better" ... too bad we weren't allowed to be kids with other kids.

I always expected to be put on a wobbly pedestal that frightened me or to be dismissed or put-down. I still do. I've known that this isn't healthy for a long time. But ... I still question my first intuitions. So, please understand that for me to reach out is difficult sometimes.

Even doing the polls and survey were difficult for me. I believe in partyof5dj's ability to write and be humorous. I think he will make a great local or regional columnist (maybe national someday ... just think ... we knew him when ). I concur with Prosperous Snow celebrating 's deep thoughts. But highlighting them opens me to criticism. And that left me feeling ill last night. It was as if I expected to be admonished ... for doing something wrong when I was only trying to do something nice that I beleive is important. It's an aweful feeling this self doubt. Yes, it is wise to duck when someone throws a snowball at you . But this is August!

It has been a hard road learning that I must act on best intentions. That it is easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission. That I have a right to live not merely survive.

████████ Sizzling? Think cool !
████████ Temperature where I am: 72º in the morning.
████████ Weather in Everett, Washington: 54º where my neice Jennifer Ormbrek is.
████████ Weather in Zimbabwe: 73º in Chegetu in the afternoon. Is Forever still there?

IMAGES

Did you ever look at huge hibiscus blossoms before they bloom? There is a variety that's called China Doll (if I remember correctly). Hibiscus is beautiful in the morning; these are huge, at least 12 inches (30 cm) across and a bright shade of purple-pink. They are tattered by the wind and heat as the day grows long. By evening they are as spent as a ballerina at curtain call. But the buds! The new buds for tomorrow are getting ready before dusk. They are huge, about 5 inches (12 cm) long. They look like Christmas tree bulbs but bigger and brighter and far more beautiful. Wrappped up and ready, they are alive with the promise of dawn.

MY LIFE

Got a cot. Gotta stop trying to sleep on said cot. The cot's gotta go!

I am about to eat fish sticks. I will give you a hug; I will give you a kiss. I will NOT share my fish sticks.

Writing poetry has suffered a bit this last month. I am up to 295 since March. About 10 above target. #295 are thoughts about Evolution coming to Kansas. #294 is about Mary sitting on the desk in a vase (She's 82 and will be cremated some day!).

Journaling is going strong. Up to page 1,066 (William-the-Conquerer's great date?) since December 9, 2003. I'm doing well. And I do blog on occasion ... . So the writing continues. Just need to focus on my poetry some more. Want to get Mary's poem done so I can give it to her (before we call her Ash for short).

POETRY? YOU CALL THIS POETRY?

In the parking garage, the thirteenth of May

One last handshake between us.
As insincere as the quakes of chasms,
the abyssmal absence of truth.

What spans these years if not our fears.
The tears that stave off pain of knowing:
your calloused hands that grasp the rough
caress of wood; my gentle fingers
that squeeze the mud and make it grow.

What connects us but these lies? [163.288]

BLOGVILLE

Not much to say yet today! Another day, perhaps. Although I do reserve my right to sneak back in here and edit!

If you haven't done the poll "Invalid Item"  for partyof5dj please do so. It will be removed shortly, probably by Monday or Tuesday. There are already 619 views with 23 responses and 30 would be nice, but not necessary.

Same for the poll "What Day do we live in?"  (100 views; 5 votes) and survey "We have the power to change the world"  (8 views; 2 votes) I did based on wonderful blog entries by Prosperous Snow celebrating . These will probably stay up a while longer as the questions they ask are more timeless.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

A dialogue between me and Teresa Staskal, director of Pélathé about her cellphone:

It reminds you to take your pill?

If you tell it to!

Can it cook for you?

Yeah, let me make a call!

... motioning to call her house-husband at home .