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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Prompt: Have fun with this prompt: On your birthday, you miraculously survive a deadly car crash without a scratch. Later that week, you watch a small scratch heal and disappear right before your eyes. Where did this new power come from and what will you do with it? =========== Reader beware: This is a short story, only in imagination. I have no such powers. Powers Oh, my God! All this began happening on my birthday, believe it or not! So, what I am going to tell you I take it as my birthday gift from powers that be. Here it goes: I blinked, trying to make sense of the world around me. One moment, I had been driving home, singing along to the radio, and the next, I was upside down, hanging by my seatbelt in a mangled car. The airbag had deployed, the dashboard was a crumpled mess, and shards of glass glittered around me like malicious confetti. Slowly, I unbuckled my seatbelt, landing awkwardly on the car's roof. I crawled out through the shattered window, expecting pain to surge through my body, but there was nothing. Not a single scratch or bruise marred my skin. I stood up, shaking, and saw people running towards me, their faces a mix of horror and relief. "Are you alright?" a man yelled, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Yeah," I replied, my voice trembling. "I think so." Paramedics arrived and insisted on checking me over, finding nothing wrong. So they made me go to the hospital with them for a thorough check up. Guess what? Nothing was wrong. I was a miracle, the doctors and nurses said. A freak accident survivor without a mark. I didn't feel like a miracle. I felt numb and confused. The days that followed were surreal. Friends and family hovered, their concern was obvious. My son kept fussing, convinced I was in shock and it would all hit me later. But I felt fine. Better than fine, actually. I felt... invincible. Three days after the crash, I was at home, trying to get back to normal. I was making dinner when I accidentally nicked my finger with a knife. I winced, expecting blood, but what I saw stopped me cold. The cut was shallow, but as I watched, the skin knitted itself back together, the wound vanishing in seconds. I stared at my finger, then at the knife, then back at my finger. Did that just happen? I cut myself again, just a small slice, and watched in stunned silence as it healed before my eyes. I dropped the knife, my heart pounding. Was this some delayed reaction to the crash? A hallucination? I ran to the bathroom, searching for any other injuries I might have missed. Nothing. Not a single blemish or scar. Over the next few days, I tested it repeatedly. Cuts, bruises, even a burn from the stove—all healed in moments. I was invincible. The realization was intoxicating and terrifying. I had survived a crash without a scratch and now, my body could heal itself instantly. I didn't tell anyone. How could I? "Hey, Son, guess what? I'm like Wolverine now!" No, I kept it to myself, grappling with this new reality alone. But with this power came a sense of dread. Why had this happened to me? What was I supposed to do with this? One afternoon, as I sat on my La-Z-Boy, staring at the healed scratch on my finger, a thought struck me. Maybe this wasn't just about survival. Maybe I was given this gift for a reason. To help others, to save lives. But first, I needed to understand it. To control it. I took a deep breath, the weight of this new responsibility settling over me. Whatever this power was, it had chosen me. And I would not waste it. So I picked up the phone and dialed. "Could you tell me where I can volunteer to be a rescue worker, like a fireman or a paramedic?" |
| Prompt: "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." Write about this in your Blog entry today. ----- Isn't it obvious? Today is logically the first day of the rest of anybody's life. Numerically speaking, that is. On the other hand, if you really read into it, there is more to this maxim that sounds like a truism. I believe it first points to the potential each new day holds. It also offers hope and positivity, reassuring us that, no matter if we had a number of difficult yesterdays, today is a chance to start anew. From this angle, this saying may be a comfort during tough times. In addition, the idea of a fresh starts means a growth mindset. That is, our abilities and intelligence can still be developed further with hard work and dedication. To put it another way, resilience and further improvement. Decades ago, when my younger son came home from the first day of his kindergarten class, he announced, "I've learned enough. I don't need to go tomorrow." We weren't about to let him quit no matter what. So we told him he had to go because it was the law. It seems that this specific kindergarten teacher was a toughie and she believed in discipline from the first day. Later on, when I made friends with her and even helped her in class from time to time, my son changed his mind. He more than tolerated the teacher. He liked her. I guess I could have gone to the principal right away and changed his class to a different teacher. It might have worked or not. But this experience taught both my son and me to change our perspectives and work with what's at hand. To this day, he is resilient, possibly more so than I am. It may just be that, at a very young age, he found out that letting go of the unchangeable past and making the best of the present worked better. So, today always offers a fresh start. And I hope all our todays and new starts turn out to be fresh, wholesome, successful, and positive. |
| Prompt: A male friend wrote in my annual: If a book was written about my life, you would be the best sentence. Write about this in your Blog entry today. ---------- What a nice compliment! Truthfully, I wouldn't know what to say about that, Megan    . It is about you and your friend. On the other hand, maybe I can somewhat artlessly comment on what he said the way I understand it. Here it goes:Poetic and profound, these words beautifully state that amid all the complexities, events, and stories that make up this person's life, you stand out as the most remarkable and cherished part. Also, it means to say that a particular moment or presence with you surpasses all others in importance. It shows that you have brought an extraordinary value and joy to his life. Above all, this compliment goes beyond simple flattery, suggesting a deep emotional connection and appreciation of you. It may mean that you are a highlight who marked him with a profound influence. |
| Prompt: "The muse always has wings and nests in fire?" From the Wonderbook by Jeff Vandermeer What is your take on this quote and do you trust, distrust, and/or fear your muse, i.e your imagination? --------- Did your thoughts and imagination ever surprise and shock you by going from one end to the opposite of an idea? That is certainly the work of our trickster muses. I think this is what the quote is trying to tell us. What our muses do to our thinking and planning of a writing or art work is awesome, as it can be both liberating and demanding. Liberating and demanding, yes, for this can inspire the writer or the artist to reach new heights, engage with the deepest passion and deal with the dangers and challenges of the creative process. Creative process needs freedom and the ability to soar over the mundane limits of tried-and-true anything. This type of inspiration or "wings" can pop up from anywhere and carry the writer to the hilltops of imagination and creativity. Yet, at the same time, it is elusive and fleeting, never staying in one place too long. This kind of inspiration comes in bursts, especially for me, and before I can grasp it or jot the idea down, it flies away. In this way, it is difficult to capture and hold onto. Then, sometimes, a burning desire takes hold when an intense emotion strikes. That intense emotion is the fire that drives most writers, poets, and artists to produce their fantastic, original, and possibly best works. However, just as fire can bring new life and purify, it can also destroy. This duality is the creative process that burns off old ideas to make room for new, innovative ones. This, therefore, needs a nest to nurture and grow the new seedlings or baby ideas. And that nest is the art of the artist and the pen of the writer and poet. Muse is the one who brings the new life into that nest. Now, do I fear and distrust or love my muse? Both. For in either case, my muse is nutty and fun to watch, and I hope I may be able to, at least, appreciate his offerings. |
| Prompt: Fathers “If there is any immortality to be had among us human beings, it is certainly only in the love that we leave behind. Fathers like mine don’t ever die.” Leo Buscaglia What role has time played in your assessment of fathers and fatherhood? ========== Well, not everyone's relationship can be as fortunate as that of Leo Buscaglia's with his father, for each good relationship goes both ways. When I was born, the second World War was going on and my father was doing work for the forces and wasn't there. I didn't get to see or know him much until later, when I was six, which by that time, he and my mother had separated. He died a few months after I had spent a short time with him, about one and a half months. Then, partly through my mother's influence, I thought the worst of him as I grew up. In hindsight, however, I don't blame him for anything. He was doing his best with what life had thrown at him. For most other people, when they are young, their dads seem larger than life. They fix everything and they always know the answers. They act as a wall of strength and a shelter from harm. Yet, this appreciation may not last very long. When I was a teenager, I saw in my friends how their younger positive views of their fathers were beginning to shift. Suddenly, their dads turned clueless in their opinion. So the teenagers began to push boundaries with them. This is normal because as stormy as the teenage years are, they are the best years for people to figure things out for themselves. Except for few who get stuck in their teenage years, most overcome this phase and begin seeing their fathers as they really are. And if they are lucky and their fathers are still around, these sons and daughters can be friends with their dads. Becoming friends with one's own father is a good place to be, where one can talk openly with him, and laugh or cry with him, and support and be supported by him through the ups and downs of life. Surely, everyone's life journey is different, and for some, a positive relationship with a father can be difficult if not impossible. Then, fathers themselves are a complex mix of strength and vulnerability, wisdom and mistakes. Sons and daughters need understand that their fathers are people, too, as they see the lines on their fathers' faces and the gray in their hair. So they can realize, being human, fathers, too, are figuring things out as they go along, like the rest of us. Where the idea of fathers are concerned, we all need to keep in mind that the most important thing is the one constant through it all: the deep love of a father for his child. |
| Have fun with these words: temperament, determination, sensation, fleeting, energetic, Saturday, and beyond. ---* this *Saturday, the world is *fleeting away so I chase a *sensation *beyond my reach with *determination flimsy, *temperament flaccid, yet, if I can be candid, within each breath, a spark of will endures still, *energetic and seeking pure elation making me pick my pen to write a letter to myself -- to stop the world from fleeting, this Saturday |
| Let this quote inspire your writing today: "If you're not barefoot, then you're overdressed." –Unknown ========= I guess the approach to life of this quote has to do with informal and often playful way of expressing a laid-back, relaxed, and minimalist way of being. In my case, as much as I value simplicity and comfort, I was never a minimalist and neither will I be. Plus, I don't like being barefoot except for swimming and in the shower. I assume, whoever said it, meant--by barefoot--a natural way of being and attending more to comfort and casual dresses. Especially at my age, I do agree with that wholeheartedly. Then, even if I'm not a minimalist and think of people who advocate minimalism as fakes or misinformed ones, I don't like clutter either. Clutter refers to items that are strewn about in a disorganized fashion. Things we now use and those we may have a use for in the future are not clutter. Remember the time during the onset of Covid, when we had a toilet tissue shortage in my area? Well, I ended up supplying friends and family from my stash, particularly those who beat their drums to minimalism. Life can be more relaxed, authentic and aligned with our true needs and wishes, but without going barefoot and getting stubbed toes and being bit by the insects and snakes on our bare feet. This is true especially because we have armies of those creatures where I live. |
| Prompt: If you could dream any dream you wanted tonight, what would it be about? Write about this in your Blog entry today. ------ Any night dream I wanted? I think I'll pass. "I will not in grey hours revoke The gift I gave in hours of light" Just two lines from an unpublished Yeats poem, which says just about what I feel where night dreams are concerned. In my case, it isn't the dreams themselves, but the waking up from them that turns me off. I was never a good candidate for getting shortchanged with unreality. Also, let's face it, night dreams are often a blend of absurdity and wonder. Their illogical structures, bizarre characters, and situations aside, they also distort my reality, or rather the way I view it. This means they add some kind of an emotional inconsistency to my already mixed-up old mind. Then, of course, there's that problem of their unresolved plots that make me wonder through the waking hours if or when I recall them. Once upon a time, I had dreams with recurring themes that made me wonder why I did dream the same stuff cooked or boiled one way or another. Luckily, whatever they indicated, I must have overcome their symbolic nonsense. Having said all that, I did have some dreams that came true, which scared me. One such dream was about a much younger pregnant cousin who lived thousands of miles away. In a night dream, she came to me and said, "I have to go now. But I couldn't leave before saying good-bye to you." The next day, someone in the family called me to say that she had died during the night due to eclampsia while giving birth. Her child is in his late thirties now. Then, I had other dreams that came to be true that also scare me, to this day. Not all of them had to do with death, but still, that they came true has been something to be wary about. But such dreams are rare and usually there are months or years in between their appearances. Maybe, it is a better idea to embrace the foolishness of night dreams and let them drown in their own humor and whimsy, but I am not now or ever wishing for or ordering any night dreams. Unfortunately, they have a mind of their own and they show up unannounced to bug me at night. |
| Prompt: Write a poem that reflects on the beauty of everyday moments. ============ Moments to daybreak's peace, I wake up surprised to be alive still and will for a cup, brewed tea that is to revive me in its mist, and fill me with warmth, for in the plan, in a well-worn pan, breakfast sizzles then, I make the bed for a start and feed the cat, an old fart, like me and our ticking clock hurries its stride in a flowing tide, dancing through time with stories to tell, books to read things to do, until the dusk sheds its hue to her soft spoken meows, I dim the light and we sign in for a quiet night |
| Prompt: Childhood Joys Do you think childhood is the most enjoyable time of life or are we reading too much into it? What joys do you remember from your own childhood? ------ Not really, I don't think all childhoods can be the most enjoyable time, although some might be. For the simple reason that we're fish out of water in childhood. There's a lot to learn and a lot to mess up. Because human memory is so faulty that we tend to reflect onto childhood our best hopes and intentions. Then, of course, we don't have a say in most things including our own life and wants and needs and wishes. That is, if we didn't get a good set of parents who made us feel good about ourselves. In my case, I was an only child, but added to being only, I was also lonely. My father was away in Switzerland during the war years and the first time I recall seeing him was when I was six. He died in an accident a few months later, but I had a great extended family and my uncles took over the fathering business, the best they could do. Also, I had a very strict mother who meant well, and I now believe in hindsight, she loved me too much. I think, for any childhood to be happy enough, a good set of parents are needed. Some children are lucky with parents. Some aren't. Others don't even have any parents. So, yes, I truly believe we're reading too much into the happy childhood myth, in general. My childhood is so far away, but I still recall my grandmother's loving care and her trying to tame my mother's strictness. Then, of course, my best times were those that I spent with my cousins, who on my grandmother's insistence, used to stay with us for days at a time, especially when school wasn't in session. I love my cousins and our camaraderie to this day. My cousins and I did things together that were fun and sometimes full of mischief. Then, later during the teen years, one of them became my best friend. She still is, and although we're far away from each other, we keep in touch through the media. I consider myself very lucky with the entire family that I was a part of. Still, I see childhood as the goofy, dopey, foolish time of life, even though while we live through it, we are not aware of our own greenness and inexperience. |
| Prompt: "I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief." C.S. Lewis Can anger really mask grief or is it just a stage of it? What do you think? ------ A few decades ago when a presidential candidate lost the election to his opponent, he said angrily, "You will not find (his own name) to kick around anymore." My late husband who was a psychiatrist knew immediately. "It was his grief speaking wearing the cloak of anger," he said. So true! We find such angry outbursts all over the place and each time, I try to see the grief under those outbursts. In general, when we feel angry, it is a good idea to identify the grief underlying that anger. It is the first step toward healing. Anger then, depending on the cause of grief, is not easy to predict. This search for what underlies the anger can be messy and imperfect, but it opens the way to self-discovery and self-compassion. Anger may be able to cover up for grief but it does not define a person for we are the sum of our emotions, including the pain of grief. At the surface, even if anger may appear fierce and tough, inside it lies a deeper, more complex truth. Especially with loss. Anger often masks the deep pain of loss, as grief. Most of the time, loss or grief needs a shield, for it may be too deep to handle for the moment. Anger thus becomes that shield against that vulnerability and pain. As an example for anger being a shield for grief, I grew up during the time when teachers didn't hesitate to to administer some kind of a corporal punishment. Especially one grade-school teacher used to give in to her sudden anger. All kids feared and hated her. Now, decades later, looking back, I can see that it was her grief at her own incompetence in being a good teacher. Also because, in hindsight, it may have been her grief of not being able to conceive a child, thus her anger at other people's children. I have all the reason to believe that she wanted to be what she could not be. I believe that because she even asked my mother, at a parent-teacher conference, for tips because she liked it that I did my homework diligently and behaved in class. My mother felt so bad for her at that time and after that, so did I, although her outbursts in class scared every student and friend I had. Grief is relentless and does not follow a timeline or anything predictable. It can ambush a person when least expected, making that person overwhelmed and powerless. Thus, steps in anger as a lifeline, acting as a temporary relief. Unfortunately, it can drive a wedge between us and those we love. Maybe next time, then, when we feel angry, it could be a good idea to dig in and find out what other insidious thing lies beneath that anger to cause it to jump up so suddenly. |
| Prompt: Use these words in your entry: bathtub, fill, customer, dictate, axis, essay, and dribble. ---------- the *bathtub beckons me as waters *fill while drops *dribble in a tranquil thrill but let me *dictate an *axis of peace I, the *customer, wish this wait to cease so bubbles can pen a gentle *essay with problems solved, and the world fades away |
| Prompt: Let one of these quotes inspire your quote: “Summer bachelors like summer breezes, are never as cool as they pretend to be.” ― Nora Ephron or "Summer means happy times and good sunshine. It means going to the beach, going to Disneyland, having fun." — Brian Wilson ====== Summer bachelors? Well, the only summer bachelor I met--in the summer of 1965--I stayed married to until death did us part. I still think he was the coolest ever. So there! As to summer meaning happy times, yes, that is true for most parts of the world. Where I live summer means getting fried by the sun and being served dry without the sides either. This means avoiding the sun or the beach even under an umbrella since an umbrella doesn't prevent a sunburn here. But this is my old disquieted self speaking. If I were to go back to my younger self, however... I do remember many a summer fun of yore. Yore for me, because then, it was a different location. Long Island, NY to be exact. Spending a summer at the beach on Long Island, NY, is a delightful blend of natural beauty, fun activities, and cultural stuff. One can surf the waves in Montauk--not that I ever did but I did watch the other surfers--and enjoy the beaches on Fire Island and the Jones beach as well as the smaller beaches of the shores up north, and browse the local farmers' markets and art shows, and delight in the music festivals. I did try my hand at beach volleyball a bit, then, and played frisbee with my kids, then topped that off with a vibrant nightlife at the beachside bars that served fresh seafood. My husband went fishing with a friend of his a couple of times, but he found out that fishing wasn't for him. He said he didn't like to see the fish in pain, trying to stay alive at the hook. Other than that, he loved the Long Island summers, too, for we both enjoyed the warm ocean breezes and our long walks on the boardwalks on some of the beaches. So, for me, where summer is concerned, "Those were the days"...and we "thought they'd never end," as the song says. |
| Prompt: The Bermuda Triangle. Write about The Bermuda Triangle in your Blog entry today. -------- I'm not sure I know everything about this weird mystery of ships and aircraft disappearing inside the large triangular section of the Atlantic from to Miami to Puerto Rico and islands including Bermuda. Due to such disappearances, this area is also called the Devil's Triangle. On the other hand, this part of the Atlantic Ocean is heavily trafficked by ships and airplanes. Weighing the disappearances on this scale, the number of the disappeared ships and airplanes is not large. The trouble is, as far as I know, not any remains of the ships and other vessels and planes have been found. This has led to the speculation about the existence of some supernatural forces. Funny thing is, my mother (RIP) also used to believe in some supernatural forces at play, over there. Yes, it is a mystery unsolved, but then, is it really a mystery? According to the several explanations of the scientists, any real evidence is iffy or not there at all. Then, since we still don't know everything there's to know about our earth and its idiosyncrasies, I am not sure we should concoct imaginary devilish stories. Just maybe, human reasoning might be what is devilish. |
| Prompt: What makes you believe in the impossible? Write about this in your Blog entry today. ======== Such a thought-provoking prompt! It makes me think what is the impossible? And according to who? I guess with God, nothing is impossible. I guess with me, the most possible stuff can be impossible at least from time to time. Thus, the context, in which believing or disbelieving stands, is in question. I guess, when all is said and done, in inspirational or motivational context, it may mean having the courage to dream big and aim for seemingly difficult goals and push one's boundaries. This calls for perseverance and relentless pursuit in spite of obstacles and setbacks. This brings to mind many scientific discoveries because scientists and inventors believe in what they think and they explore in unconventional ways without giving up or getting discouraged. With the opposite view, not believing in the impossible can be a grounding force, realistic and practical. Being a sceptic also values doubt and caution and somewhat logical reasoning. I believe, when all is weighed logically, a healthy dose of optimism and skepticism added together works well, the same as a growth mindset that values improvement with practical steps and assessments. As a personal example, where I'm concerned, however, writing in my blog everyday is doable, but I found out that sending one or two decent reviews here in WdC once a day every single day is impossible. Yet, I'm only talking about myself. I know there are those of us who do such stuff beautifully for months and years at a time, without losing touch with reality. This means what is impossible for some of us can very well be very possible for others. |
| Prompt: 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 mystery, especially in the way that it is understood by many. Then, because it is a mystery, it is difficult to slap a definition on it. The way I understand it, melancholy has to do with understanding and experiencing the complexity and the depth of the human experience by finding beauty in sorrow. It is, therefore, not a synonym for depression, although it may contain depressive feelings. Yes, it has the touch of depressive feelings in it, but it also contains introspection, loss, longing, sorrow, and beauty. It shows us the human race's shared vulnerability and the depth of the heart. Melancholy can be a fleeting mood or a trait that insists to stay; yet, it has the power to touch, move, and transform us that a few other emotions can. The perspective that overlooks the value of melancholy and sees it as an unhealthy or unproductive state might very well be committing a "word" sin. Through melancholy, most poets, writers, and other artists process their deepest feelings, gain insight into the human experience and the world, and find meaning in their lives. The beauty of melancholy is that some turn it into art. It seems John Keats in his odes and Emily Dickinson in her short but concise offerings experienced melancholy to its heights. These two were not the only creative people to do this, but for the sake of time and place, it is a good idea for me to keep to these two, here. These two both meant to show us that we're all held tightly by our pasts and our everyday experiences whether we admit to it or not. Here are a few short lines clipped from John Keats' To Sleep: "Then save me, or the passèd day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards Its strength for darkness, burrowing like the mole; Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards, And here is “Hope” is the thing with feathers I think Emily Dickinson is showing us both faces of melancholy here, as well as, possibly describing it. “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. |
| 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? Here is an article on the "Astronomer's chair" if you're interested. https://thereader.mitpress.mit.edu/a-brief-history-of-the-astronomers-chair/ ------- Yes, in fact, I do have three favorite chairs. My top favorite one is an old rocking chair, which I put in my bedroom, in front of the sliding doors that look outside to the open green course and the trees at the back of the house. I read there every afternoon. My other favorite one is the computer chair. It is a favorite because I can adjust the height and I can swivel around in it to get a book from my side bookshelf, if need be. The third favorite chair is an armchair at the dinette that has several layers of small pillows that I sit on when I eat. I guess the two plush recliners in the living area are good, too, but somehow, they never became favorites. Maybe because of their huge size. Huge things scare me. Yet, my most favorite place to sit is not a chair but the top of my bed. After an early supper, each evening, I sit on it with the cat on my side to read and do puzzles. What can be more relaxing than that! Talking about chairs, as chair is a versatile word with a lot of meanings and uses, a chair can be more than a piece of furniture. Aside from its seating implication, it may mean authority and leadership, as in "chairperson," "chairwoman," or "chairman." It may also mean, in academy, professorship or a faculty position in a university department. Then, a chair can be musical, too, when it refers to a specific position in an orchestra or ensemble, as in "first-chair violinist". Another musical chair is the children's game, that has to do with quick reflexes and competition for the children (and sometimes adults, also) to scramble to find a seat when the music stops. Then, of course, as the article points out, there's that astronomer's chair. I wonder what the stars, planets, and life in cosmos would really think about that one! In addition, unfortunately, the worst chair term refers to the "electric chair" as a method of execution by electrocution. So sad! Now, after thinking about all these chairs, I need to go sit down in my rocking chair with a cup of tea and watch the outside. Maybe my academic title, then, could be, "that old lady in the old rocking chair."  |
| Prompt: Finish this line- If only he had opened the door.... =========== If Only If only he had opened the door, he'd see a hidden wonder in store for at each threshold, a dream's revealed inside what creation has concealed but fear got him, his hand did shake, regrets now linger with a heartache for behind each door is chance anew with paths to wonder and skies to view yet he remained, locked in despair so wishing he had dared to dare to trace the unknown, steeped in grace and find beauty in life's embrace. |
| Prompt: "My imagination is a twisted place." Taylor Swift Write about this quote in your Blog entry today. -------- She would say that, wouldn't she! I believe she said it in jest. Although she might be exaggerating, there might be several ways an imagination can be twisted. That sort of a twist can come from addiction to fantasy and compulsive anything else. Dark fantasies would do it very well, if the imagination can come up with disturbing or violent scenarios or the macabre. I know this happens because I used to help a mental health professional write up his reports on his patients. The problem with twisted imaginations are that they magnify the already existing paranoia, fear, and delusions, so much so that a blurred line takes shape between reality and fantasy. Such a person possibly dwells on past events or future scenarios, and putting so much mental effort to such things can lead to distorted memories. Then, even an innocent thing like daydreaming can be against a person when it becomes excessive. As such, anything excessive may have a negative effect on productivity and social relationships. In that way, it hinders personal growth for it leads a person into a world of fantasy and not a pleasant one, either. In short, imagination is a powerful tool for creative people, but if twisted and misused, it has very bad effects on mental health and well-being of a person. |
| 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. ------ As a general (personal) rule, I try to avoid thinking about about the worst part of anything, unless that thing needs extra and instant attention. Having said that, however, the worst part could have been this morning when I had a scheduled blood test. The problem is, the nowadays-doctors want us to fast before a blood-test, whereas the best doctor I ever had never asked for fasting. In fact, he took the blood samples himself and came to his conclusions on the results of the tests that the lab produced. Yet, he decided not to stay in the area anymore and thus, I ended with all the MDs who want me fasting when blood tests are done. Why am I so against fasting, you might ask. Easy! It is because I am afraid of getting into a car accident because I have to drive to the lab with nothing in my stomach early in the morning and without my caffeine fix. Granted, the lab is not far away, but I want my head screwed on tight and in its right place when I drive. Then, I got lucky! This morning, my son offered to drive me. Now, if this isn't a worst and the best part thrown together, I don't know what is. We're back home, now, and all went very well. I'm so glad what felt like a worst turned into a best. Plus, I did enjoy the passenger seat much more than I ever did the driver's seat. Lucky me! |
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