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 |   Drop by drop the snow pack dies, watering the arid lands below. |
    Other Blogs and Journals containing the continuing writing adventures of Prosperous Snow celebrating   "The Snowflake Chronicles"  "More Snow Melt" "Writing in Snow" "Welcome to My Life" "Memories of Snow" "Dreams of Snow " Poet999's Thoughts about Writing and Other Stuff http://poet999writingthoughts.blogspot.com/ Poet999 - A Butterfly Emerges From Her Cocoon http://poet999.blogspot.com/ |
| "Invalid Entry" I am not Anti-American. I am a registered voter. I am registered non-partisan. I am not registered Independent. I am not registered Independent-Democrat. I am not registered Independent-Republican. I am registered non-partisan. I have no political affiliation of any type. I vote. I work the poles on Election Day. I don’t hate politicians. I don’t know any politician well enough for that strong of an emotion and I don’t want to know one that well. (I can’t hate anyone I’m not intimately acquainted with.) The few politicians I have met seem like nice people. A congresswoman from Nevada impressed me once. She didn’t know she impressed me. I saw her car ahead of me when I was driving west on Charleston Blvd. She was driving her own car and she turned into a self-service gas station and put gas in the car herself. True her car was a late model traditional large American car, but the fact that she put gas in her own car was enough to impress me. It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy either. What is a true American? Well, I consider myself a true American and a citizen of the world. I was born in America, in a town in Middle America. I’m Scotch-Irish-German-Native-American. I believe that the human race is a single species, with its genesis in Africa. I am a white Caucasian (all right, I have to admit that I always wanted to put that phrase in a blog entry). I know many American Citizens who were born in this country and just as many who are naturalized citizens. I know people who are Republicans. I know people who are Democrats. In my own family I have one brother registered Democrat and one Republican. My family also has members with a wide range of religious affiliations, but that is another blog entry. I haven’t answered the question “What is a true American?” I don’t think there is such a thing because “true American” depends on the definition a person is using. Definitions like that are very personal and individualized. Therefore, what one individual would consider “a true American” another wouldn’t. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" I laughed uproariously. I think I laughed because the word asshole and laughter just seem to go together. All though I could have laughed for another reason; I actually do not know why I laughed, but I laughed. All right now that I have written my first reaction let me get down to the entry and the truth. As for telling the truth in my journal, I hope I do. I attempt to. Whether or not I succeed is a completely different story. The truth is I do not think many people want to face the truth about themselves much less put it in an online journal for millions of strangers to read. Of course, it is much easier to let strangers read the truth about oneself (I always wanted to use that word in a journal entry) then ones friends and family. Why did I start an online journal? I do not remember. This lack of memory has nothing to do with a senior moment or anything else. I started my journal in 2005 or there about. Then 2007 came along and my world fell apart. I faced tests of faith. I encountered aspects of myself I did not like and did think existed. I am in recovery now. I did not put a lot of what happened last year in my journal. Parts of my journal I used to grip and complain. I do not like me when I gripe and complain. I sound whiney. I do not like to sound whiney. The more I bitched the more I had to bitch about. I have learned a lot about myself in the past year. What I learned will eventually come out in my journal entries. The reason is simple, I have found that I need truth helps the muse along. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" I fell straight through the floor into a huge vat of coffee. This, however, was not ordinary coffee. It was Turkish coffee. Its rich sweet savor set my senses on fire. After swimming in the vat of coffee for several hours and drinking as much of it as I could. Someone finally fished me out. Literally, my rescuer used a fishing pole bated with chocolate to catch me. He reeled me to the edge of the vat, which looked a lot like a gigantic porcelain cup. Once out of the vat or should I say huge cup of coffee, I realized that my rescuer looked a lot like Juan Valdez, who grows coffee somewhere in south America (Columbia I think) and advertises (or used to advertise) for a well known brand of coffee. I cannot remember precisely which national brand he advertises for because rather then looking at the brand of coffee, I look at the price and the size of the can. Poverty requires sacrifices. Anyway getting back to coffee, I really should not go more then one days without it. When I go without it for a week or two at a time, I start having odd dreams. True I usually have weird and odd dreams, but not about coffee. I have never gone more then three weeks without a cup of coffee, so I do not know what would happen if I did. The truth is I do not want to find out. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" are fun to contemplate. My fantasy, and I’m not sure it can be called a Zany Scheme, is a reality show based on reality. Not one of those that is popular now, but one that is played out every day all across the world by individuals who can’t make enough money to pay their bills, keep a roof over their heads, eat and see a doctor when they need to. I’d call it Living in the Real World. The participants would receive $1,900 a month to live on. With that, money could pay rent or a house payment, buy food, clothing, pay the electric bill, the internet charge, etc. The film crew would tape the shown on location in a large and well-known city, perhaps Las Vegas, New York, Chicago, etc. The filming would take place over a year’s period; there would be no reruns or anything like that. If the participants survived the entire time, then they got their pre-existing bills paid in full. This type of show would be popular with a certain segment of the population. Specifically those of us who are actually doing it and don’t have the time or desire to watch any of the “reality shows” popular now. To make the show more exciting, then let the participants do what those of us doing it in real life have to do. Find out where they can get help and go through the process of applying for it and standing in line or sitting in line depending on the circumstances. The participants could make as much money on the side as they wanted. They would have to do it legally and filmed while they were doing it. I suspect that there would be no end to possible participants because people who are doing it now would apply. I mean if you’re going to live that way, you may as well do it in front of a camera and with a prize at the end of a year. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" I enjoy birthdays much more then when I was a child. My birthday is on December 24, so it was not a great day. We celebrated Christmas then as well, so having a birthday the day before Christmas meant that I had to share my birthday with my siblings. On my birthday, I got to open my birthday presents, but each of my siblings were allowed to open one of their Christmas presents. It was a bummer! At sixty-one, I still have issues I am working out over that. I have many issues I am working out, but I think the Christmas issues were unnecessary. I did not get to open a present on the birthdays of my brothers or sister, but they got to open a present on my birthday. It was a bummer! I am still in the process of learning to set boundaries with my siblings. One brother finally learned that it is not wise to push his religion on Mom or me. He is a preacher, I enjoy listening to him preach in his church, true it is not the fire and brimstone preaching I remember from my childhood, but it is interesting to hear him. I just do not like people pushing their religion on me and telling me I am not going to heaven because I do not believe as they do. I will listen to what anyone has to say, as long as the person approaches the subject properly. By approaching it properly, I mean do not tell me I am going to hell because I my religious beliefs are different. In addition, I do not like people suggesting that just because I look like them i.e. having the same color skin, that I believe as they do. Most of the time I am overly polite, I tell them no I do not want to hear what they have to say. All thought that could change if the person becomes belligerent about the subject. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
"Invalid Entry" It’s about sacrifice, resurrection, rebirth and, of course, chocolate  ; all spiritual concepts. And, how, one may ask, is chocolate a spiritual concept? First,  and I mean no offence, if a person has to ask that question then he or she has never eaten chocolate the way it was meant to be eaten. Chocolate is meant to be eaten slowly meditating on each bite of this rich deep dark or creamy white ambrosia.Eating Chocolate Easter Bunnies The proper way to eat chocolate Easter Bunnies is slowly, savoring each nibble. You buy the bunnies, at least, a week ahead of time and put them in the freezer. Please remember that if there is more then one person in the house, you have to buy an individual bunny for each person. You open the freezer everyday, take your bunny out and look at it; if you have more then one bunny in the freezer put your name on the package. That way you always know you are looking at your bunny. You do not take the bunny out of the package until Easter morning. On Easter morning, you make coffee. After you brew the coffee, you take your bunny out of the freeze. Then you pour yourself a cup of hot coffee. You take your bunny and coffee into either the dining room or living room, depending on where you have the T.V. You tune in your favorite Easter program. Then you take your bunny out of the package. Once the bunny is out of the package, you are ready to eat it and sip the coffee. I prefer to start nibbling the bunny’s ears first. However, where you begin eating your bunny is up to you, but you have to nibble, meditating on each bite and listening to your program, it to get the full experience of eating a chocolate Easter bunny. I also suggest you keep a journal near, just in case you want to write an ode to your Easter bunny. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| This confession is going to shock a lot of people who think I like flowers and other fauna, but I hate oleanders. I despise the weeds passing themselves off as flowers. An oleander is not a flower, it is a weed. How do I know an oleander is a weed and not a flower? Simple, I cannot kill them. I cannot get rid of them, they are all over my yard. They will not die not matter what I do or how I curse them. I paid $300 to have an oleander blocking the path through my back yard removed when we first moved into this house. The damn thing is back a growing like a weed. True, I have an allergy to oleanders, but that has nothing to do with me wanting them out of my yard and my life. I am allergic to olive trees, I have an olive tree in my front yard that I have no desire to get rid of it. In fact, I would like to find out what is wrong with the olive tree and fix it. I want to heal the olive tree, but I want to get rid of the oleanders. I want to pull the oleanders up by their roots and burn them. I want them gone. Nothing I do or say to them causes them damage. The worse I am to the oleanders the faster they grow. I am not sure why I hate oleanders, it does not make any sense. My dislike of oleanders is completely irrational. I am one of those people who normally cannot grow flowers. Almost any flower or plant will eventually die with me around. I mean the elm tree was alive and well before I moved into the house. It died after I moved in and the wind took it out in February. The specific date of the elm trees removal by the wind was February 14. Oleanders do not die in my presence. They taunt me by growing faster when I am near them. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| There is no rational explanation, For this fear of looking in my mirror, I know I will not see a monster there, Still I tremble at the thought of finding, Some inhuman creature looking back at me. There is no rational explanation, Of this terror which occurs each year Around December 24 of being trapped in a mall With a thousand and one last minute Christmas shoppers Following me from store to store. There is no rational explanation Of this dread I have of meeting A spider the size of a dinosaur, Arachnids do not grow that large on Earth, Still the spiders in my dreams are huge With webs entrapping the butterfly of my soul. There is no logic to these terrors, Coming unbidden to my mind, When I am under stress Or careless of disciplining my thoughts; Sometimes I sit and laugh at the trepidation I face each day I wake and get out of bed. The questions that I ask myself are odd: Do I have a tendency toward paranoia? Is there someone out to get me when I drive? Is the car behind following me or just going in the same direction? Is it logical for me to turn a corner instead of going directly to my destination? If I turn at specific place, will I have an accident? Is my name on a list of people, forbidden to win a drawing’s prize? Will I melt of I walk barefoot in the rain? You would think at the age of sixty-one, I could tell the difference between A logical fear and deep-seated anxiety. |
| Istiqlál (Independence), 1 Baha (Splendor), 165 B.E. – Friday, March 21, 2008 about 9:47 AM PDT Today is Naw-Rúz. The first of a New Year and I'm on a roll. Last night at the Naw-Rúz celebration I wrote five poems. This morning, so far, I've written one, but I suspect there may be more coming. This looks like it's going to be a good year. Last year at this time my mother was in the hospital. I don't remember going to the celebration at the Baha'i Center last year. I don't remember writing poems on the first day of the year. The one thing I do remember about last year is worrying. I'm looking forward to the rest of the year and accomplishing some of the goals I've set. There are several reasons 165 B.E. looks like a better year then 164 B.E. To begin with, my bank account isn't overdrawn. Then this morning I woke up in an optimistic mood. I have chocolate cake in the fridge and two chocolate bunnies in the freezer. OK, it doesn't take a lot to make me happy any more. I renewed my car tag yesterday. I have gas in the tank and oil in the engine. I do need to get a new rim for my spare tire, but that will come. I'm attempting to focus on one-day-at-a-time. If I look too far ahead I'll only get upset or depressed. If I look too far ahead I will see all the obstacles in my way instead of a bright sunshiny day. |
| Istijlál (Majesty), 19 ‘Alá (Loftiness), 164B.E. – Thursday, March 20, 2008 about 5:15 PM PDT As the sun sets slowly in the west another year comes to an end. Sunset marks the last of 164 B.E. and the first of 165 B.E. Living according to a solar day can be interesting. I'm not sure now why I began the process of living by a solar day or any other type of day. When I became a Baha'i dating my journals with the date of the calendar made it easier for me to remember when the Nineteen Day Feast occurred. However, I'm not sure that is the reason I began the process of living by a solar day. When I was growing up, I liked staying up all night. I still like staying up all night and sleeping all day, but that isn't possible. The world doesn't live by my schedule or even my preferred schedule. I have to get out during the day and do business. The bank closes at 5:00 PM most week days. So I have to do banking during the day. The full service gas station I occasionally go to closes about 7:00 PM, so if I go there I have to go during the day. That is the station which does my smog check and that part of it closes at 5:00 PM. However, I don't think this has anything to do with living by a solar day. I like thinking of a day that ends with sunset, it seems more natural. Perhaps that why I like living by a day that begins and ends at sunset. A day is 24 hours long whether you count it from midnight to midnight or from sunset to sunset. The way person defines a day isn't as important as how the day is lived. However, sunset seems a good time to evaluate how the day was lived and how the next can be improved. 31. O SON OF BEING! Bring thyself to account each day ere thou art summoned to a reckoning; for death, unheralded, shall come upon thee and thou shalt be called to give account for thy deeds. (Baha'u'llah, The Arabic Hidden Words) |
| "And they paved paradise" leaving a few trees in residential neighborhoods, trees whose roots began to crack driveways, garage floors and eventually the foundations of houses. Then they sent tree removal companies, which charged outrageous prices, to the houses to remove the trees. Once they removed the trees then they sent three more companies: one to fix the driveways, one to fix the garage floor and one to fix the foundation. The prices charged by each of these companies forced the homeowners to take out three more mortgages on their houses and eventually to declare bankruptcy. And they paved over paradise because paradise by its very definition is a nonprofit organization. In paradise, you can walk out your front door and pick your fruit off the tree any time of the year. You just have to be careful and not pick the apples, because that will get you thrown out of paradise. Also, do not listen to the serpent because he or perhaps she (depending on who the serpent is talking to at the time) does not live in paradise. The serpent is a tourist in paradise, is very lonely living outside of paradise, and wants company. If you listen to the serpent, you will get kick out of paradise and the serpent will not be lonely anymore. And they paved over paradise with the exception of a few small acres in the center of each city. They then built a wall around the ruminants of paradise and charged an admission price to visit paradise. Tourist were charged more then locals to enter paradise for a few hours. The reason for this is that the grass is greener on the other side of the hill or in this case, paradise is more beautiful in somebody else’s city. The reason for this is that everyone knows tourists are rich and can afford to go out of town to visit paradise. And they paved over paradise then build a hotel casino in Las Vegas which they called Paradise. The hotel casino was so successful that a corporation bought it and imploded it so that they could build a larger hotel casino called The New Paradise. And they paved over paradise then they had to build flood control channels and water collection basins to collect the flood water. They did this to keep the citizen and houses safe from fifty and one hundred year floods, which only occurred because they paved over paradise. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" I know a great deal and I know very little. I know that I have found out in the past year that faith is “To breathe where there is no air” (Amatu’l-Baha Ruhiyyih Khanum). I know how a butterfly larva feels in the cocoon as it grows wings. I know that I have learned more about myself in the past year then I ever wanted to know. I know that whatever the coming year holds I can face it with new strength of spirit, knowing that there are always answers to my prayers; I just have to look for them. I do not know every thing the coming year holds, but that is all right because if I did I would curl into the fetal position and never leave the house. I know that I have to write, there is no other way for me to but to write and continue to write. I know without a doubt that God exist. I know that my concept of God has changed dramatically since I was a child. I know that family has very little to do with the genetic relationship between sibling or parent and child. I know that wealth is more then just silver and gold; that it consist in faith, love and spiritual strength. I know that if there is something I do not know, but need it will be revealed in some way or I will find it somewhere along my way. I know that I need “to let go and let God”. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
"this time last year" I was looking foreword to a New Year With new possibilities and potentials Then my world fell apart Then my life became one stress filled moment after another This year I am in the same physical location as last year, but I am seeing it from a new perspective. Last year on March 12, my mother was in the hospital. Last year on March 19, she turned 86 in the operating room. Last year I opened my prayer book and sitting beside her bed at the University Medical Center, I silently read the long healing prayer. I do not remember going to a Naw-Ruz party last year and celebrating a New Year. I do not remember a great deal about last year. Stress hormones have an effect on the memory. Perhaps it is nature’s way of protecting us from the harsh realities of life. This year I am looking forward to a New Year, I am looking forward to the sun crossing the vernal equinox I am looking forward to the first day of spring I am looking forward to new possibilities I am looking forward to new potentials This year I wonder if I have changes because of the stress of the past year. I know the answer must be yes. I look at my life and I wonder how I have changed. I see little changes in myself, still there are parts of me that remain the same. Physically I look about the same as I did last year. Mentally and spiritually, I am different. This year I am not the same person that I was this time last year. I am different and yet I am the same person. I am a paradox. I am a duality. I am me and yet I am not me. I am in the process of transformation. I am becoming my true self. This year I must let go of past illusions that have held me back. I am afraid to let them go because I know them and the unknown is knocking at my door. This year I must let go of things that have not worked. This year I must take a breath of faith. I must inhale knowing that there is no air to breathe and despite that oxygen molecules will fill my lungs. I must take a breathe of faith knowing I can breath without air. This year I must step blindly into the dark, knowing that there is an invisible road. The road will appear with each step I take into the future. This year I must place my entire trust and life in God’s hands and move forward. This year I must emerge from my cocoon and fly. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| I wish I could say I’m behind because of procrastination, but the truth is that I can’t blame procrastination for being behind, at least, not entirely. It’s part of the reason I’m behind. The weird thing about procrastination is that it has survival advantages. Let’s face it, if one of my remote ancestors didn’t procrastinate about hunting a saber tooth tiger I probably wouldn’t be responding to "Invalid Entry" right now. All that aside, procrastination is neither good nor bad, but both depending on the circumstances. Sometimes it’s good to put things off and procrastinate.The reason I’m behind is worry and waiting for something to happen. Indecision is to blame for me being behind this week. I waited for my brother to wire money Wednesday, but I didn’t write while I waited I just waited and worried. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ I always wanted to breast feed a child of mine. I never did, but I always wanted to. It’s weird now that I’m in my sixties, I look back on my life. I look back on the things I did and didn’t get to do. I look at the regret and the sarcasm and I wonder how my life would be different if certain events didn’t occur or if my parents hadn’t gotten divorces. I wonder what my life would be like if I had been able to tell my father how much I loved and missed him. I wonder what would have happened if I had been able to speak to Daddy one more time before he died. If I hadn’t found out about his death through reading about it on the Internet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ I think I’ll have to put some of my what ifs in some poems and short stories. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| There are more then "thirteen ways of looking at a blank page." The human mind, however, can only hold so many ideas at the same time. The human soul is different and can see beyond both the blank page and a given point in space and time. * The blank page is a lover beckoning to the writer hidden in an individual’s souls. ** The blank page is a child growing in the womb of the mother waiting for the moment of birth. At birth the child begins acquiring knowledge of this world and learning to reflect the attributes of God. *** The blank page is the cloudy sky I see when I look out my living room window. It rained last night and when I woke up this morning the black top on Bracken Ave. glistened. The rain left puddle in my driveway that slowly shrunk during the passing of the day. **** The blank page is the sun coming from behind a cloud at the end of a dismal day. The sun smiles on the planet and chases the darkness away. The sun dances from behind gray and charcoal clouds giving my muse a new view of life. The sun encourages growth after the rain gives water to the planet. ***** The blank page is memory of traumatic events that creeps forward in time to cast a shadow across the present. There was a time when I thought that if I could go back in time I would change certain events that left scars on my soul. If I went back to change those events I would not be the person I am today because the events shaped me. If time travel is possible then at the end we would live on a different planet and be different people. I wouldn’t want to go back in time any more, at least not to change the events in my own life. ****** The blank page is the potential for awkwardness’ a human being shows at any age To learn something new each day of live is to keep young I learned that it takes five quarts of oil to fill and empty engine, but I still don’t know how many quarts of love it takes to fill an empty heart. I learned that the routing number on the bottom of a check is different from the routing number on the bottom of a deposit slip so of course the routing number on the human body has to be different then the routing number on the human soul. Only a human being who is at peace within can live at peace with the rest of the world. The reason cloning will never catch on is because people have a difficult enough time getting along with themselves as it is (not sure where I picked this up, but I think it was from a quote someplace). ******* The blank page is any color you want it to be. I have no idea what I’m writing but I’m going to continue this exercise until I get to the end. The best way to memorize something is to read it over several times before going to sleep. The best way to memorize something is to copy it ten times in long hand. The idea behind a free write is to write long enough and fast enough so that the deep-seated fears come out in the writing and we face the ghost of our past. I’m just writing random thoughts that come to be when I think of a blank page. Free association is a good journal exercise and I’m going to have to try it again sometime. ******** The blank page is the past that hides our fears in dream symbols. I don’t believe in reincarnation for several reason; I know I wouldn’t want to go through my teenage years again. I remember events from my past in shades of emotion. It’s nice to be an adult and look back at one childhood and teenage years and laugh at the awkwardness’; I hope I get to that point sometime. When I was in junior high school, a bunch of the in crowd played a trick on me; it must be nice to have so little regard for your class mate that you can play unfunny practical jokes on them without feeling guilty. I glad I was never part of the in crowd. I’ve always known I liked men, the problem is not liking them or wanting them; the problem is trusting them. I wore short shorts when I was young and foolish; now I know how ugly my legs are and fat my rear is and won’t wear short shorts or mini skirts. ********* A blank page is my muse sleeping in on a sunny day. My muse misses the elm tree that the wind took out on Valentines’ Day. Palm Sunday and Christ entered triumphantly into Jerusalem; I’m still waiting to enter triumphantly into … my train of thought just derailed. I remember locker in junior high (middle school) and high school they always had in interesting and funky smell; my car now has a funky smell but nothing like the lockers in high school. I had a crush on a boy when I way in grade school; it was about the time my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother thus my brother’s name – Tommy Joe. Who were my friends in high school; I don’t remember having a lot of friends at that time of my life. The names of the classmates in high school that I remember are those who were mean to me; Maybe I need to say a prayer for each of the people I remember in high school; they say forgiveness is good for the soul. Some time in the near or far future, I want to go back to Blackwell and Shawnee Oklahoma. ********** A blank page is the beginning of a new journal. I like blank pages because there is lots of potential. Isn’t life wonderful and weird the things we remember from our child hood become the fodder for our poems and stories as adults. My grandfather knew a magic trick; he could pull a quarter from behind anyone’s ears; I could sure use that trick, but with $100 bills. My grandmother did housework in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep. I’m pushing myself with this entry and listening to the television that is on in the dining room. In the middle of my dining room is a hospital bed. My dining room table is in my living room. I have to get the bed out of the dining room and get my house back in order. I don’t mind getting older as long as I become wiser; by the time I’m 100 years old I’ll be really wise. *********** A blank page is a new game of free cell. The secret to free cell is to find the aces. The secret to solving your problems is to find the aces Playing free cell helps focus the mind to look for the aces higher in the deck. There are 1,000,000 games of free cell and every game has a solution that will let you win. We face problems everyday each problem has a solution. Every problem has a solution To find the solution to each problem we must look for the aces. I think I need to get back from some of my problems and look higher in the deck. To find the solution to a problem change the direction you’re looking at. Free cell is my favorite game at present, but one I play all 1,000,000 games I’ll have to find a new favorite game. ************ I wonder how many trees have to die to create a blank page. Each new day is a blank page. Each new century is a blank page. Each new month is a blank page. Each New Year is a blank page. Life is so full of potential. A writer’s past gives a lot of fodder for writing. What if we could rewrite our lives like we can rewrite a story? I’ve put a number of ideas in this entry that I can use. Maybe I should write a thank you note to everyone from my junior high and high school days and thank them for the story ideas. I went to high school with a girl who had a nephew the same age as her; he really knew how to piss her off. I enjoyed remember my high school days more then I enjoyed living them. ************* I think I’ll write an ode to a blank page. This may be the longest entry I’ve made in Snow Melt. I just realized that I enjoyed writing this entry and thinking about high school. A person’s life unfolds like a rose, one petal at a time revealing beauty each day. If I could live my life over again, I probably wouldn’t change one thing. If I could live life over again and know what I know today from the moment of my from the moment of my birth I think I would make different decisions. I think I’ll expand on some of the thoughts in this entry in my off site blog. I just realized that writing is the most fun a person can have sitting down. I have a computer and an internet connection therefore I have a social life. Some of my mother’s meds cost less then the price of gas. The wind is blowing through the stone pine tree and she is waving at me. There is only two times in my life when I am happy one of those times is when I’m writing. The other time I am happy is when I am reading the writings of Baha’u’llah. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" My mother never asks if I’m lost. She doesn’t have to because she knows I’m directionally challenged. If it weren’t for the scar on the ring finger of my right hand I wouldn’t know my left hand from my right hand. It’s not that I lack intelligence or anything like that. I have a high IQ (at least I did the last time I took one of those IQ tests). The problem has nothing to do with lack of intelligence. It’s simply… well I’m not really sure what the problem is, but I know it’s not lack of intelligence. If that was the case then no body on this planet would have a sense of direction. No one would be able to tell their right hand from their left hand without looking at some sort of scar or picking up a writing implement. I got the scare when I was in grade school. Not at school, I never got hurt at school. All my accidents and injuries occurred on my own time. My grandfather put a swing up next to the garage and behind the swing was a cloths line. A wire with a sharp hook hung from the cloths line. One day I was playing on the swing. I decided I was Jane (Tarzan’s female friend). I grabbed the wire and my grandfather took me to the ER for stitches, which is how I got the scar on my ring finger. As for my lack of direction, I don’t know where that came from, but I also have difficulty reading maps. The two may be related and it could be genetic. In order for me to read a road map I have to pull over to the side of the road. Get out of the car. Unfold the map. Figure out which was is east or west or north or south. Then I have to turn the map in the proper directions to read it. Believe me, you don’t want to drive across the country with me at the wheel. Maybe I’d be good on Lost. The way I get around Las Vegas is to drive by landmarks (not the hotel). If I can’t find a recognizable landmark I’m lost. I use MapQuest when I’m going anyplace new, because it tells me which streets to take from my house. Whoever created MapQuest is a Saint or should be. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" That’s what the fortune cookie said. Alicia took a deep breath and glances quickly around the Chinese restaurant. She didn’t see Rodger or any of the other RPG commanders, so the cookie wasn’t a plant therefore it had to be the real thing. How am I going to do this, she thought picking trying to eat with the chopsticks, I don’t know what a blood elf is or even looks like. How am I supposed to hunt one? And when I do find one, what am I suppose to do with the little bugger anyway? “Waitress,” Alicia waved at the woman serving the next table, “may I have some silver ware. I seem to have difficulty using chopsticks today.” “Of course, Miss,” the waitress laid several different eating utensils down and went to the next table. Picking up the spoon, Alicia started to eat the soup. At that moment, a creature walked into the restaurant. The creature looked like a cross between Count Dracula and Elrond of Lord of the Rings fame. “Well,” whispered Alicia, “I guess that’s as close to a blood elf as I’m going to get in Las Vegas or any other city on Earth.” She laid the spoon on the table and signaled the hostess. “Yes, Miss,” the hostess smiled. “Ask the gentleman that just walked in to join me at my table.” “You mean the blood elf, Miss?” “Yes,” she smiled weakly, “how do you know he’s a blood elf.” “That’s what he tells everyone he is when he comes in on Thursday nights. He keeps saying he’s looking for a level 28 blood elf hunter.” “You don’t find that odd?” “We did at first, but he’s harmless and he tips really well.” ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" I’m not sure that I behave differently with different people. I’m always myself, the problem is I never know which self I’m going to be. It’s not that I have different personalities or anything like that. It’s just that I’m sometimes shy and have to push myself to be myself. I know where the shyness and fear comes from, but that doesn’t help me overcome the feeling that I don’t want to get close to people or interact with them. It’s just that I don’t want some people to know the real me. Actually, sometimes I’m not sure I know the real me. I surprise myself with the things I do and think. I surprise myself with the words I write and say. I surprise myself almost every other day. Sometimes I just want to be alone. At those times, I have to force myself to interact with the human race. There was a time when I wanted to live alone on a desert island without any human contact at all. I realize now that what I really wanted was time alone; time to be by myself and just interact with my own thoughts. However, being along with ones own thoughts can get just as aggravating as interacting with people. If I’m given the choice I’d rather interact with people on line. If I interact online, I don’t have to worry about getting my eyeliner on straight or whether my lipstick is smeared. Of course, those aren’t the things I worry about when I deal with people face to face. I worry about being late. I worry about if I have too much food in my mouth to take. I worry about silly things that aren’t going to happen. It takes me a while to open up with people. The problem is that when I do finally open up (that sounds like I’m talking about a can of worms) I usually say too much or say silly things that make people look at me like they think I’m crazy. When I’m with people at work I’d rather talk to them about work related issues. When I’m with family I’d rather talk to them about what I believe and why. When I’m with friends I’d rather listen to them talk then talk. I like going to restaurants and eaves dropping on conversations in the surrounding booths. That’s why I like restaurants that have booths or tables close to each other. You can hear the weirdest things. Sometimes I think people just open their mouths and start talking without thinking. Instead of free writing the do free talking; I don’t think anyone in the booth with them listens to what is being said I don’t think I act differently with different people. I always act like myself. It’s just that I have so many different facets to my personality that it seems like I act differently. It also takes me a while to feel relaxed with people, with friends, family and acquaintances that it takes me a while to open up. I suspect I may have issues of trust, but I can’t afford a psychologist so I have to put everything in my journals, short stories, novels, poems, blogs, and flash fiction. ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| "Invalid Entry" On the pier that day, the fog crowded around us like last minute shoppers on Christmas Eve. However, the noise coming from the fog that disturbed me the most, voices whispered to me. I could not understand precisely what they said, but their tone sent chills up my spine. Carrie and Cora zipped their jackets and then dropped their unbaited lines into the water. I could tell, just by the way they giggled they did not notice anything unusual about the fog. Neither of them cared for fish and they liked fishing even less, but both had come along because Jonah promised them each two pints of chocolate ice cream after the fishing expedition. “Jonah,” I inched closer to him as he baited his hook, “why don’t we go back to the cabin and wait for the fog to clear.” “Because Pop always said that fish bite better in the fog,” he cast the fishing line into Lake Lune. “Your Dad drowned on a day like this, didn’t he?” “No, Rhea, Pop didn’t drown, he disappeared. Pop isn’t dead and Mom didn’t kill him.” “Jonah, you were with your parents the day your father… disappeared. Did the fog make noises then as well?” “No, I didn’t hear anything. Mom didn’t hear anything. Pop was the only one who heard something and it was just his imagination. Pop had…has a wild imagination.” He squeezed my hand and then kissed me on the forehead, “Rhea, do you hear the fog talking?” “I hear voices whispering in the fog, Jonah, but I don’t think the fog itself is talking.” He took a deep breath and then kissed me again. “Carrie, do you hear voices?” “No, Uncle Jonah, I hear Cora giggling, but nothing else.” “What about you, Cora?” “Just the same thing Carrie hears, Uncle Jonah, ignore Aunt Rhea, she has a weird imagination.” “What are the voices saying,” he brushed the hair from my forehead before kissing me again, “Sweet Heart?” “I don’t know,” Jonah never called me sweet heart, unless he was apologizing for something, “I can’t hear them clearly.” “Then don’t worry about them, Honey.” “Jonah, do you want to apologize for something.” “What makes you think that, Rhea” the tone in his voice changed lowered to almost a whine. “You only call me Sweet Heart or Honey when you’ve did something to upset me and I don’t think you’ve said or did anything like that for the past week.” “Rhea,” he sighed and laid is fishing rod on the pier, “I’ve found out where my Father is and how to get him back. It’s just that an exchange has to be made. An exchange similar to the one that took place the day he disappeared.” “What are you talking about, Jonah?” “I’m sorry, Rhea, I have to do this. I have to prove Mom is innocent.” The fog drew closer to us as he kissed me passionately on the lips. “I’ll miss you; I’ll miss you very…” A hand grabbed me from within the fog as Jonah let go of me. That was six months ago, I caress my belly and sing to the child, Jonah’s child, growing within my womb. I wonder what type of exchange Jonah will make for us, if we decided to go back to Earth. “Well, Rhea,” Jonah’s father comes up behind me, “have you decided whether you want to go back or not. Lord Ellis tells me the fog will return tonight. If an exchange is made it must be made then.” “How much time has passed on Earth since the last exchange?” “I don’t know no one knows for sure. All the elves can tell me is that at least a year has passed. They think more.” “What will happen to the child I carry if I chose to go back?” “We don’t know, you both could go back safely or…” I looked into his eyes and saw the worry there. “Are you sure you want to go back to my son after what he did?” “I’m remaining here, Papa Jonas, let someone else return.” “Do you want to send a message back?” “Yes, I’ll send a short story back, telling what happened that night on the pier at Lake Lune and let whoever returns publish it under my maiden name. That should frighten Jonah.” ** Image ID #1382532 Unavailable ** |
| Istijlál (Majesty), 12 ‘Alá (Loftiness), 164 B.E. – Thursday, March 13, 2008 about 6:21 PM PST I am attempting to catch up. I was already behind when I got behind on writing when I got behind on everything else on Tuesday, March 11. On that day I hit a curb and blew two new tires on the passenger side of the car. No one was hurt and I bought the tires at Discount Tires so all it cost me was $31 something and I didn't have to pay for the tires or the labor. I still have to buy a rim and put the spare on it, but I think I'll see if I can get a used rim somewhere. Tuesday I spent the afternoon in store parking lot and then got a ride home in a police car. Tuesday night my brother had the car towed to the Discount Tire store and Wednesday I spent time waiting for money to be wired to pay the $31. The car is in my garage now and all the tires look fine. I suppose I should go out and see if the car starts. I didn't back it in yesterday when we got home because I was tired and didn't want to deal with backing the car into my garage. Because there is a curve in the driveway it's a bit complicated to back the car in. I attempting to catch today. Tomorrow I have to go someplace and will spend the rest of the day catching up. This morning I got a late start because I didn't get up until 9 AM. It would be well on my way to catching up if I hadn't spent an hour playing Free Cell. |
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