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Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland ![]() ![]() Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find... "Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland |
30 Day Blogging challenge PROMPT November 3rd Write about a time when you waited a long time for something. Did you end up getting what you wanted? Was it worth it? I wish I had gotten my crap together this weekend and been able to react to this prompt on Sunday because it would have been completely appropriate. As a mother of a 9 year old, I feel like I wait a long time for just about everything these days. My daughter can move with an uncanny slowness that never ceases to amaze me. As a matter of fact, the more pressed for time I am, she can actually slow her motion skills down to a barely perceptible state of motion. This past Sunday for example, I waited twenty minutes for her to put on her soccer socks and cleats...twenty minutes...how is that even humanly possible? Seriously though, before my daughter - at the time when I only waited for things I truly wanted - I would have to say the longest I ever waited for something was my flight to New Zealand. I was 17 and super excited to embark on my first overseas adventure. The flight was endless. I remember taking Dramamine to knock myself out, only to find upon waking up, that I had just as many flight hours remaining. With the time change, the flight basically was the equivalent of being in the air for 24 hours....it was horrifically tedious. Was it worth it? Yes. A million times, yes. We landed in Auckland, NZ to embark on the first leg of a three week tour that would take us science delegates to amazing places and expose us to one in a lifetime experiences. I spent a week living in a rustic cabin on Kangaroo Island. I visited Victoria, Australia and bush walked in the Outback with a rope tied around my waste and found myself completely disoriented inside of two minutes. I ended the trip with a dive on the Great Barrier Reef, which at the time was the culmination of all my dreams. |
30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 2nd Write about jouska. From Psychology Today, jouska is defined as “a hypothetical conversation that you play out over and over in your head. For example, replaying an argument in your head where you say all the right things and “win” the argument, or practicing asking your boss for a raise and playing out his or her responses and your comebacks.” Playing catch-up today after a weekend storm knocked out power in our town all day Friday. It is not the way I wanted to start off the challenge by epically failing to keep up the very first weekend ![]() I have such conversations all the time. I call them, "the things I'd rather be saying" conversations, and they typically involved me being brutally honest with my siblings, my boss and my husband. In these conversations I am much more articulate and witty and my words tend to pack more of bite than they would normally. It is these little conversations that keep me sane sometimes I think. It is like getting to be the best version of yourself rather than the polite, subdued person we are forced to be by the constraints of society or by the guidelines of courtesy. |
30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 1st I’m sending this prompt in between princesses and spidermen begging at my door for free candy. If you celebrate Halloween in your part of the world, what are your family’s traditions? What were the popular Halloween costumes in your childhood? Which candy was the most coveted? We celebrated Halloween last night with unseasonably balmy temps for the typical October here New England. A spooky wind turned the roadways into a skittering carpet of dead leaves and the sky was black above the glow of the street lamps. The jack-o-lanterns leered and blinked from decorated porches and the night was filled with the sounds of small groups of trick-or-treaters making their way up and down driveways. It was an ideal night for the festivities, one that made me wax nostalgia for the Halloween's of my youth. This year I found it more difficult to recognize some of the costumes. My 9-year old seemed to have no problem and schooled me on who was who. Inflatable costumes seemed to be very popular this year and, apparently, masked killers are still all the rage. One group of middle schoolers traveling in tight pack included, to my delight, a pretty effective Pennywise and Georgie - outfitted with a bright yellow slicker and a bouncing red helium balloon. Kudos to those kids...they were Halloween-ing it up proper-like! Overall my daughter's haul included the standard lot of M&M and skittles packets, mini snickers and milky ways and a few tootsie rolls and dum dums. She loves the smarties and sweet tarts and saves me the few reese's peanut butter cups and peppermint patties she managed to snag. Some healthy-minded parent was also handing out sea salted veggie chips shaped like ghosts and bats, so I supposed they should get points for that. Thankfully there were no apples or popcorn balls this year, or even worse..milk duds and malt balls...two types of candy that seem designed for purely evil purposes and and are not at all suitable for consumption. |
"Blogging Circle of Friends " DA Y 2528: October 22, 2019 Prompt: Write about comfort. Comfort seems to be a hard thing to come by as of late. I'm struggling a bit mentally at this point in my life. I've wondered quite frequently if I've become depressed in my middle age despite never having been particularly troubled by bouts of depression in the past. I've had bad moods that have elapsed into bad days but nothing that has left me feeling "scooped out" or drained to the point of inaction. Lately I feel that most days I am working hard to stay focused, to stay engaged. I am, in a real sense, wallowing in my own dim mire. The crisp October weather has been of some comfort. Spending time on the farm with our horse Roo has been a comfort but even that can only pull be out of my funk for so long. I'm quite sure I must be in a depression and while I believe I can name the catalyst, it brings little resolution for me. I look around and see the world moving forward but I seem stuck. My family is a blessing and possibly my greatest source of comfort but I know they sense the change in my, my deepening distraction and some of them might be worried where my head is really at. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 2029 October, 22, 2019 Prompt: In Thunder and Lightning: Cracking Open the Writer’s Craft, Natalie Goldberg says, “I see that while I think I’m the active one, always doing, creating, I am also the one being created.” What are your opinions about what she says, and does what she says apply to you in some way? I'm not sure how I feel about this prompt. I feel like so much of my writing is reflective of me, of my emotions and my experiences, I don't feel as if I am recreating myself. I'm not familiar with the book, perhaps if I were to read it I would have more background as to what she means. I might be able to flesh out some part of it that applies to me and my creative processes. |
"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 2025 October 18, 2019 What do you like to do on a dark and stormy day? Dark and stormy days are some of my favorite weather events. I think they are best enjoyed by lighting a fire and a few candles in case I lose power. I'd love to say I curl up with a good book but in truth, I am most likely prone to watch Netflicks with the daughter and the dogs draped about us on the couch. In my more prolific moods, I would try to write something. It seems easier to lose myself in some story when the fog rolls in and the rain is battering the window outside my little writing nook. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2525 October 18, 2019 Share a childhood memory that makes you smile. In my middle school years, we lived in a little rural town called Preston. We had a modest raised ranch in a neighborhood my siblings and I shared with several schoolmates. There was a kind of intimacy in our hood, everyone knew everyone. In the summer, when the daylight would stretch into the dinner hours, my family would host a neighborhood softball game. The teams consisted of family, my parent's friends and all our friends from the street. We would play until it got too dark or the bugs forced us all back inside. It was an all ages game. I remember knowing that those nights were unique and special. I think back to that camaraderie, to that feeling of being part of a close knit community, with a fondness that always makes me smile. I wish I could give my daughter the same experience but the world is so different now. There is so much more distance between people. Though we recently moved into a similar rural neighborhood, we only really know a handful of neighbors and there isn't one child her age on the street. |
"Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 2524 October 17, 2019 Do you share your real self online? Or have you created a fake online persona (pen name) for your writing? What is the value in using a fake persona for your work? I have been writing and publishing under MD Maurice for as long as I can remember. It isn't necessarily a fake pen name, it is actually my maiden name and my initials. Using my initials served a dual purpose...it was first and foremost a nod to some of my favorite authors; DH Lawrence and CS Lewis. I also enjoyed the sexual anonymity by not using my obviously feminine first name. I found that particularly handy when I started publishing some of my erotic and horror pieces. I like that is put me on a gender neutral playing field to start off. As far as sharing my real self online...I would say nothing exposes me more than blogging. It is difficult to hit "publish" sometimes because I have been too candid about one thing or another. It feels very vulnerable some times but I have to be authentic in my writing or else what is the point? I feel readers are owed at least that much if they are taking the time to read my work. It has to be personal. It has to be real. Even in my fictional pieces, there is always so much more of "me" in my characters than I might normally be comfortable with but that is just how I've always written. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 2024 October 17, 2019 Prompt: What books are on your winter reading list? I would like to think I have the actual time for a winter reading list...sincerely. That sounds like a marvelous edition to my life. The reality is, if I have free time to myself, I'm usually grocery shopping or cleaning stalls and not reading or better yet, writing something. If the predictions of a snow-filled winter here in the Northeast ring true, I may just have some long snowed-in weekends of reading by the fire. If that happens, then I can think of a few titles I'd hit up first... I'd tackle the latest James Lee Burke novels about his chief character, Dave Robicheaux. In 2018 he published, "Robicheaux" and then "The New Iberia Blues" in 2019. I love this character and the beautifully visual world Burke paints as only a master can. I start in on one of his novels and always feel as if I am warmly welcomed back in to a place I have been away from for far too long. Then, because I can't think of more fitting polar opposite, I think I'd like to take on Neil Gaiman's "American Gods" or "Good Omens". I've become a fan of his style, he's made the sy-fy genre somehow more appealing and accessible to me with his dark visions and wry humor. I'd love to read Stephen King's latest, "The Institute" as well. I'm more a fan of King's early work but I did enjoy "Dr. Sleep" - and its obvious connections to his wonderful book, "The Shining". Lastly, and this I actually intend to do this winter, I'd like to read Lewis Carroll's classic, Alice in Wonderland. I'm not completely sure I've ever read the original. I need to do that both for the sheer enjoyment as well as to build some groundwork for a piece of fan fiction I am working on. |
The love we do not intend is sometimes the love that saves us. This phrase popped into my head as I was clearing out my emails and contemplating writing for one of the many prompts littering my inbox. These days my muse is a bit of a fickle bitch, so the fact that these words suddenly came to me wasn't something I felt I should ignore. A writer who is not actively writing needs to pay extra attention to such divine inspirations after all! In many ways, as I think about it, this statement is one of my great truths. I might not have intended to fall in love with my future husband, but I did. At that time in my life, I can honestly say that it was the love that saved me. My heart and faith had been mortally wounded, dealt a death blow by back to back relationships that wore me down and left me feeling desolate. Then, unexpectedly and when I wasn't even looking, he entered stage left and restored my hope. In many ways I felt "saved" from taking up a permanent residence in all my familiar dark places. Lately, there has been another unintended love that has supported that statement. Recently various cosmic forces, and one determined little sister, combined to result in us getting a horse for our budding equestrian of a daughter. Roo is 12 year old, sorrel and white painted graded quarter horse that stands about 15.2 hands high. He has a sweet disposition and will certainly be able to grow with my daughter, they are about the same "age" experience-wise overall. When the opportunity presented itself, I knew relatively nothing about horsemanship. I was just starting to get the hang of being a horse-mom though, toting her gear and fetching her tack and using all the right jargon. I enjoyed our times at the barn, her weekly riding lesson was something I had grown to love and look forward too with the same enthusiasm as my daughter. Admittedly though, I hadn't considered ever owning a horse of our own despite the lure of empty and available stalls at my sister's recently purchased horse farm. Yet, the opportunity arrived. I told myself I would be practical. I told myself that while it might be inevitable given my sister's agenda, it didn't need to be now and it didn't need to be this horse. Then, of course, it happened. My daughter fell in love with Roo. Unexpectedly however, so did I... the very first instant he nuzzled my shoulder with his big head and turned those big brown eyes in my direction. For the first time in my life, I came to understand my sister's connection to the animals that had always been part of her life. There is something soulful about horses, some primitive connection that resides in human beings, brought to life by soft nickering and their sweet, grass-scented breath. There is something powerful about an animal who can so easily dominate you but is simultaneously so willing to please you. Roo will always be my daughter's horse. She is very blessed and lucky to have him. He will be a good companion, they will make a good team. He is also however, the second unintended love in my life. He has, in many ways, saved me...albeit in a smaller and more humble way than my husband's love once did. Roo has become the balm on an irritating day and the stream of sudden sunshine on a cloudy one. He is the inspiration to spending time with my daughter and my sister, doing chores or training. These are hours passed simply and without thought or anxiety, stress or strain. Roo inspires me to think outside my rigid boxes and harness my bravery when I feel out of my depth. Roo provides the unique opportunity to see my daughter developing confidence and responsibility because challenges her to believe in herself, to push herself and to aspire to be stronger. I tried to explain it all recently to my husband, who to be fair, has not fallen in love with Roo or the idea of having this new 900 lb family member to care for. After a long-winded explanation, I simply ended with, "he makes me happy." And, honestly, that is really just it. Whenever we walk up on his paddock and he flicks his ears and turns in our direction, the worries and concerns of the day just disappear. When I watch my daughter plant kisses on his soft white nose, I feel grateful and blessed. My heart is happy for her, and for him to know that boundless, unconditional love of a child. My heart is joyful to watch him run, moving with such freedom and grace but also to see him working, seeking that shared conversation his rider. Whenever I take a moment out of grooming him to step in close and lay my head against his neck, breathing in the smell of him, I am content and happy in this simple moment of shared affection. I can see my reflection in Roo's big brown eyes and I find a special peace. These days, when the crush of daily life and the pressure of life gets to me, that special peace is what saves me; from rage, from discouragement, from doubt, from the rut of routine. Roo reminds me that my life isn't just about work and bills and responsibilities, but also about things that bring me joy. Roo is about taking the moments to find happiness and peace in my life - even if I find them in the most unexpected places. |
"Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2462 August 16, 2019 Finish this sentence: Life is too short to… Life is too short to waste time thinking about the people who do not care about you. Over the last several months I have had this very same conversation with myself so many times it feels like I've adopted a new mantra. Truth is, I need the reminder because I sense myself still hurting, still grieving the losses of individuals whom do not deserve the validation of that heartbroken feeling. I am always surprised to find the indifference can wound me and that cruel words can break my heart in the already brittle places they've previous damaged. One day I will stop caring, I think. One day, they will not matter. They will not be able to reach me. One day I will be immune from the sickness of still loving them. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 2065 August 16, 2019 Do you still keep a personal journal? How is it different from your blog, or are the two connected in some way? I have never possessed the discipline to keep a diary or daily journal. I have always just written when the need for it hit me but after becoming an adult and a parent, I always struggled with finding the time for that. Blogging became my way to try to regiment time to work on the craft. I hoped that by building in an obligation for myself, that I would put some effort into developing the discipline I would need to become a bonified author one day. Instead I found blogging to me more about me, literally. It has become sort of really cheap therapy, an outlet for me to create my own space in the world. Truth is, I doubt anyone even reads my blog but it feels good to put it out there all the same. I mean, it sometimes feels terrifying, but I think that is good for me. |
The knowledge that I haven't actually written anything all summer long, looms like a shadow over me. I suspect my absence from the world of electronic testimony isn't solely due to a lack of free time. I suspect it also may stem from fearing what would come out if I flung open my personal "Pandora's box", releasing words and sentiments that might be too toxic or too dark to process properly in a single blog entry. While I have experienced great moments of joy in the last few months, I have also had my share of doubt, rage, disillusion and disappointments...and given my predication of writing without self-censorship or apology...I thought it best to abstain until I had a better perspective overall. Or, and this is probably the most true reason, the drive to write something became as unbearable to ignore as my worry of offending some people with what I had to say. This summer has provided many opportunities to discover things about myself and about the people in my life and its given me a lot of unexpected highs and, unfortunately some pretty big fucking lows too. I have felt uncharacteristically isolated and lonely, but have also found incredible joy and comfort in the re-discovery of old friendships. I have felt the support and connection to some family, but also battled with rejection and abandonment from others. It has been a summer of a hard learning curve, one that has often brought me stress and frustration, but also given me brilliant moments of feeling accomplished and refreshed. At times I have felt both like the Phoenix, as well as the smoldering pile of ash. This morning, as I let the dogs out, I felt the promise of Autumn in the cool predawn air. I felt myself beginning to write in my head, found my mind going through the mental dancing of matching phrasing to feeling. I'd held the words at bay to long and now they were coming, rushing forward like the end of summer. So, here I sit, wondering where to I should begin to start catching myself up. I supposed I should start with what is at the surface, the arsenal I have at the ready. As it frequently tends to be, the top emotion in my mental totem these days is frustration. I am frustrated with my middle-aged body and its inability to do the things I ask it too. I am often too tired, too sweaty, too unmotivated to do once of those HITT workouts that I so desperately need. I am frustrated by my 22+ year career which seems to be going exactly nowhere very quickly. I am frustrated by my limitations and even more so, the doubts I have about being a good mom, a better wife. My level of frustration these days is matched only by my anger. I think I give in to rage more than I should. I think some days I get up and put on a "rage coat", and it feels too heavy for my personal climate. I know I should shuck the rage, toss it off and enjoy life more but some days it feels like its in my bloodstream, coursing beneath my skin, leaving me hot and fevered. I find inspiration in anger. I have written so many letters this summer in fits of rage. They are beautifully rabid works, overflowing with toxic righteousness and resilience. I sometimes love the "enraged and wounded" version of me best, as she writes with a firestarter vengeance that both scares and excites me. I haven't sent those letters. As angry as I have been, I haven't decided to torch all my lost cities to the ground yet. It hasn't been all been about anger and frustration this summer though. I've reached really far outside my comfort zones and felt rewarded for the effort. I shed an old role or two and taken on some new responsibilities. In a decision that some still consider highly controversial, I became a horse owner. I am discovering, rather simultaneously, that I know next to nothing about owning a horse and also that owning a horse has gifted me with such unexpected peace and joy. It is a wonderfully perplexing dichotomy. It is hard, so hard, to learn the basics about something so foreign to me. I struggle, a lot. I'm terrified more often than I care admit to myself. I sometimes laugh out loud about how clueless I am...but I also have those moments when I do something right on my own for the first time and I feel like a total rock star. Truth is, I love how hard I have to work at it and when I feel like I've learned something, the sense of accomplishment is something my life has been sorely missing for a long time. The truth is that while we got Roo for my daughter, our painted pony has captured so much of my own heart too. The time I spend with Roo and my daughter is like balm on all my sad and wounded places. I imagine in many ways, he will become a special kind of muse for me in the years to come. Lastly, for I'm nearly the end of my blogging time allotment today, joy has also been a consistent feature of this summer. Watching my daughter blossom into a fierce and funny beauty under the blue skies and sunshine, has been my greatest blessing. She is coming into herself in delightful ways from making new friends at camps to discovering her own tastes and styles. She has shunned dresses and headbands in favor of shorts and anything sporty. She loathes anything pink. She frequently hijacks my playlist to blast Queen or Imagine Dragons and spends her free time face-timing her friends and snuggling with her dog. My daughter still holds my hand, still wants to fall asleep between her father and I whenever we allow it, and doesn't pull away when I reach to hug her or mess with her hair. She believes in "armless" hugs for everyone but Gramma Boop and her Dad but most of time still manages to remember her manners in most situations. In her long legs and sea green eyes , I get hints of the astoundingly beautiful of a woman she will be one day. In her boundless laugh and quirky smile, I see the fun and lively teenager she will soon become. I am, as I have been since her birth, incredibly amazed by all that she is and all I know she will do in this life. There have been many times this summer that I have wandered out onto the back deck and watched my husband mowing the lush green yard. His legs are wrapped around his tractor and he looks lost in his task and in the music in his headphones. He looks like a man in his element and watching him, I've felt wonderfully blessed with him and with our home. I have sat in the twilight of a July evening and watched the bats flying circuits among the high, swaying trees, and felt humbled and grateful in my soul. I have walked the acres of my sister's farm as the sun was setting, felt its retreating warmth on my back, listened to her donkey braying for his dinner and thought to myself....how life could be so simply and so perfectly beautiful in some moments. |