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 |
"Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2168 October 26, 2018 Use these words to discuss your favorite political candidate----- talk, season,reform, earth, wax and ribbon The midterms elections are almost upon us. In this charged political season there is nearly constant talk of the high stakes involved in the key races all around the country. I have tried to explore the candidates, tried to examine them with an open mind rather than with any bias resulting from a party affiliation. I've yet to find a favorite political candidate. In fact, I'm hard pressed to find anyone who inspires me. I feel when I vote it will be more of selecting the best of a mediocre field of potential leaders. I'm tired of the talk of reform. With wide ribbon of division running through this country, I can't even be sure what we are supposed to be reforming anymore. Human rights seem relative to where you live and what little cardboard sign says that you stake in your front yard. Though my passion for politics can admittedly wax and wain, this year I feel heavy with the responsibility of the choices, fearful that regardless of what party wins the most seats, we will still be a nation severely divided on the other side. Sometimes I think we could all benefit from a wider view. Perhaps if we all had the opportunity to view the Earth from orbit, we would see we only have this one planet...this one ball of gas and water hanging in the infinity and vastness of space. Perhaps it would humble us more? Perhaps it would realign our perspectives? "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 1775 October 26, 2918 Give us your best sales pitch on why we should publish your book or blog. Every author that wants to be published has got to learn the art of pitching to an agent or editor. "I don’t remember the first time I drowned. My mother refused to speak of it. The trauma from my near demise was so deeply rooted that even the mere mention of the incident would drive her into a fury after which she would retreat into a migraine-fueled gloom for days." This is the opening line to a story about a young woman named Nerina who nearly drowned at the age of three. Her cousin found her, limp below the dark surface of the lake. They brought her back that day on the sand but it would be more than a decade before she would come to realize something else had come back with her. Years later, a forbidden trip to a local quarry at the age of 15 would finally unlocked the unique ability Nerina's brush with death had gifted her. For Nerina, water was a conduit to the voices of the dead. Pitching a story, even writing an adequate synopsis, is a very daunting task. It is something I struggle with almost as much as writing the novel itself. I'm much more comfortable with craft short stories or keeping the creative juices flowing with blog assignments. There is at least one novel inside me, based on the premise above. Perhaps one day I will have the time and the discipline to work on it more diligently and maybe then my pitch will be more compelling...one can hope! |
30 Day Blogging Challenge Day 26 Prompt Hillary Clinton turns 70 today! Wish her a happy birthday (if you're so inclined) and write up a candidacy speech for your own head of government campaign. Given the current stage of affairs in the United States, I'm having trouble even identifying with any political party let alone being able imagine myself as a leader, even for the sake of fiction. I'm distressed by how fractured our politics have become, how polarizing having any opinion can be. This year with my move, I changed my party affiliation for the first time. This President is not representative of the party I once associated myself with. He, and so many others from both sides of the aisle, have been tested and have failed us. I am disillusioned with the process, with the division of our country. I am hopeful a candidate emerges that inspires unification once again. I would never claim to understand the complexities of governing any nation but I know in the very least it takes common sense, compassion and appreciation and respect for the responsibilities the office comes with. Those are the cornerstones of any great leader, attributes that are not readily apparent in our current President nor, so far, any potential challengers. I do hope heading into our midterm elections, that my opinion is changed by someone. |
30-Day Blogging Challenge-Day 25 prompt On October 25, 1616, the Dutch discovered Australia. Write a journal entry as one of the explorers The rich, red clay was caked inches deep on the toes of my hiking boots. I had walked for a few miles along a rough cut path that looked like a blood-stained artery against the thick-bodied brush and scrub that seem to cover every other space. The land wasn't so much forested as it was consumed by the wild and dense vegetation that had begun at the edge of the beach. The white, soft sand dropping away suddenly, replaced by the strange red clay, ever thickening trees and low creeping scrubs. I'd scarcely been walking for three minutes and already the path was narrowing under my boots. I could no long hear the sounds of the sea birds and pounding surf. There was an odd silence, as if the wild wood around me was absorbing all ambient sound. The trees, brittle wooden structures that seemed to wind and bend against the elements, grew taller and broader. I could discern some tracks in the red power of the earth, something with oddly toe-ed feet and another that looked to be made by a side-winding serpent. The silence around me was shattered by a sudden crashing of tree limbs twenty feet ahead of me. I caught my breath as a creature leapt from the undergrowth and stood, looking at me in the middle of the path. It was a large animal with red fur covering its broad and thick body. It stood nearly as tall as me,with a long,heavily muscled tail it seemed to rock back on for balance. It had a surprising delicate head and feminine face head with large, brown eyes that turned to take me in. Then with a quick flick of it's large and donkey-like tuffed ears, it was gone, thundering away into the woods. This place was only beginning to amaze me. There was an entire world to be explored beyond the lagoons and beaches, a wonderland of red clay and giant jumping beasts! |
"Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2158: October 16, 2018 Prompt: October 16 is Dictionary Day . It commemorates the birth of Noah Webster (October 16, 1758), the Father of the American Dictionary. Do you prefer to use an online dictionary or a book dictionary? Why? I can't remember the last time I used a book dictionary...which makes me sad in some way. I typically do most of my writing at the computer now so I easily access the online dictionary whenever I need it. It is very convenient. I'm typically a holdout for actual physical books in every other way. I don't own a kindle or other electronic reader. I prefer book shops and libraries and of open a real book when I want to read. Yet when I am writing, I can't help the accessibility of the online dictionary. My free time available to devote to my writing is so limited, I have to use it all wisely. That makes stopping and fetching an actual dictionary impractical unfortunately. |
30-Day Blogging Challenge" October 16th Prompt: Share a list of your top 5 favorite songs and tell us why they’re your fave. I have been consumed by my sister's nuptials for almost two solid weeks and now that she's finally married, I feel like I can re-enter the blogging world once more. I've not been very active in the challenge but here is to hoping I can at least finish out the month strong now that all my commitments to everyone else have been satisfied. I have extremely varied musical tastes. My father was in a band and so classic rock has always been a cornerstone of my musical foundation. Santana and CCR and Jethro Tull still number among some of my favorite bands from my Dad's bass playing era. Over the years I've added many other acts to the roster, from a wide variety of genres. It is extremely difficult to pick my top 5 favorite tunes of all time...with only one or two standing out as clear front-runners and all the rest, falling into so many different categories that is it hard to compare favorites. I'll give it a whirl though starting with the one song that has been my absolute jam for as long as I can remember. Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" is an almost near perfect musical composition. The live version, with the drums and the pan-African ensemble including Youssou N' Dour is magnificent. It gives me chills every time I hear it and the lyrics are inspired poetry... "In your eyes The light the heat In your eyes I am complete In your eyes I see the doorway to a thousand churches In your eyes The resolution of all the fruitless searches" There couldn't be a more romantic and stirring refrain in my opinion. It has been covered so many times but nothing touches the Gabriel's original. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRSktm7GCmk Taking second place is a piece of classical music. Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy" from the Nutcracker. It makes me feel like Christmas inside every time I hear it. It builds and floats and bounces, I love how you can hear the individual instruments and it is the perfect accompaniment to a magical fairy with winter-dusted wings. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rapf3g_XvCc And now it gets harder... Jimi Hendrix, "Little Wing" would be one I would have to include. My classic rock roots may be showing but there is something about this song that always brings me peace. The melding of Hendrix's guitar with his simple, fanciful lyrics just moves me, always have. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5Vki76x-EU I was a huge Concrete Blonde fan in college. Johnette Napolitano's distinctive voice remains one of most favorite ones today. Her haunting vocals on the song "Joey", just speak to me. There is a rawness to her that I love and that song in particular would end up being very poignant to my life later on when I would meet, love and lose my own "joey". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdpTcvSn8HQ There are so many other great songs...by amazing artists like Joss Stone, Santana, Jack White....my list is virtually endless! To be fair, my last slot isn't filled by one song. I'm going to cheat a little here and say rounding out my top five would be the soundtrack to "The Greatest Showman", composed by the incredibly talented duo of Joseph Trapanese and John Debney. The soundtrack is stirring, dynamic and fits the film like a seamless glove. There are so many great moments in the film that are supported perfectly by the original songs. The scene with Efron and Zendaya's trapeze routine to "Rewrite the Stars" is stunning in every way. The performance of "This is Me" by Keala Settle and the cast is a powerful anthem of pride and ferocity in the face of oppression. It is the song we can all relate to, it is a song that finds triumph in being different, in being oneself. I could go on...there are so many others. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwYRqbUn7zg That's the best I could do with only five entries, and even then I had to cheat a bit on the last one |
"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 1752 October 3, 2018 Prompt: "The true painter strives to paint what can only be seen through his world." Andre Malraux Do you think this applies to writers and words as well as painters? Write anything you want about this. I had wanted to tackle today's prompts over lunch but I was greeted by a headline, which in turn, inspired a blog of a wholly different variety which took a surprising amount of time to get out...this one had to do my rage justice. I'm feel like I'm still suffering the aftershocks as I am trying to write this one. These days I rarely have the time to blog outside the prompts but when I do, it is usually because something has hurt or enraged me or otherwise affected me deeply enough to wake the muse. It is an important issue however, one that so many (far too many) women are dealing with in our world today. That blog can be found here: http://mdmaurice.blogspot.com/2018/10/what-she-remembers.html And fair warning, it contains adult themes and language that may trigger some women. Now back to the true painter... I believe some of the best writers write about things they know intimately. Their knowledge and authority gives their work an authenticity that is engaging for readers. As much as some writers are gifted and dedicated researchers, one can never learn about something enough to surpass actually living it. That being said, then there are wonderful writers who craft from imagination and fantasy. Roald Dahl crafted an eccentric madman in Willy Wonka that fascinated millions of readers. His descriptions of the chocolate river running through the factory or the inventive ways he dispatched the troublesome brats lent themselves to vivid images and left an indelible mark. In much the same way, Wonderland became a real place for me as a child, a marvelous up-side-down land where flamingos made excellent crochet mallets and a Red Queen ran amuck. Some writers strive to "paint" more than what can be seen and to do so with words is a fine craft indeed. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 2145 October 3, 2018 Write a poem or story about your favorite autumn activity. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, carving, baking, going on foliage tours... you tell us. I seem to be writing an awful lot about autumn these days. I can't complain because I wake with delight on these frosty Fall mornings and look forward to the weekends full of seasonal traditions and activities. By far one of my most favorite things to do is go apple picking at a local orchard. It sits on top of a small hill and once the leaves chance, the views are really lovely. You ride the wagon to the designated self-picking areas and load up on a variety of apples. Of course the real treat are the apple cider donuts we get after. They are crispy on the outside, delicate and moist inside. They are sweet and leave a tasty residue of sugared cinnamon on your lips after consuming one. I love the piles of gourds and pumpkins and the tables of colorful mums set in rows. It is a near perfect seasonal destination. |
30-Day Blogging Challenge Oct. 3 Prompt: Do you speak a second language? If so, what inspired you to learn it? If not, what language are you interested in learning? Once upon a time I pursued Spanish, in part because I was involved with someone for whom Spanish was a first language. I had visions of conversing in his native tongue, raising bi-lingual children and exploring Mexico independently on my own. Time and reality soured the relationship and any of those bi-product dreams. I still loved the language, the ease of it, the way it rolled off my tongue. I did use it in real world applications and began to understand that, as a second language, Spanish was one of the more important ones to know for the practical purposes of living in a world where Spanish speakers were one of the most rapidly expanding demographic. I can understand a surprising amount of Spanish despite not using or studying it in decades, even more if I'm reading it. Today I am married to someone who speaks Turkish. It is much more difficult to master and even harder to use in an everyday applicable ways. I wish I had the time to devote to fluency. I wish I knew enough to be more than a clueless eavesdropper on my husband's conversations with friends and family. It is a language that sounds far more foreign than Spanish or French. It is hard to find familiarity which is intimidating for me. Perhaps one day I will have the time to devote to learning, at least a conversation version of my husband's native tongue. In the very least, I'd like to see my daughter develop the interest in learning, if nothing else, to be able to talk with her Grandmother on face time. I think it would be something that would deepen their already strong bond even more. |
Admittedly I woke up in a bit of bad mood this morning. The day seemed it would be another rain-soaked drizzlier like so many others before it. I was already fighting fatigue and a blooming foulness when I signed on to yahoo news and saw the headline about our President mocking Christine Blasey Ford. In some ways perhaps I was already primed to have a bad reaction, I’m not sure. Normally I avoid clinking on political links that seem overtly sensationalized but, perhaps because I had myself been so recently triggered by Ms Ford’s testimony, I went ahead and did it this morning. https://www.yahoo.com/news/trump-mocks-christine-blasey-ford-mississippi-rally-0... The US political machine, and Trump supporters near and dear to me, often try to convince me that the liberal media loves to malign and misquote him. I have to tell you that the unfavorable opinions I have come to hold about our President are not due to watching a biased news channel or listening to democratic senators take him to task over policies and principles. No, my opinions are formed exclusively and concretely by the words I hear coming from his own mouth. They are formed by his personal actions, by his arrogance, and by this, a seemingly default knee jerk reaction to rally his base and choose his own political agenda and fragile ego over common decency and respect. I understand that he is supporting his nominee. I will even allow that he feels an attack on his nomination is perceived as yet another attack on him and his administration by the Democrats and their political agenda. I will also concede that politics are always at play especially in the high stakes arena of the Supreme Court appointees. However, what kind of human being doesn’t watch Ms. Ford’s compelling testimony and not acknowledge that indeed, something traumatic happened to her? What kind of person sits through her account, unmoved? What kind of father, son, brother, husband…ignores her obvious discomfort and distress at recalling the details on an event that had so clear and profound effect on her life? What kind of leader ignores the pain of woman’s assault and questions her credibility to garner cheers on a public podium for political gain? There are many details Ms. Ford does not remember, this is true statement. It is the details she does recall though that tear and wound. She can remember some details with disturbing clarity – the hand over her mouth, the feeling of being over powered, the laughter. These are the details she can never forget. These are the memories that haunt her, lie in wait for her in the dark. These are the details that had to be dealt with professional help and dedication. These are the details that rise up in therapy like unwelcome intruders. These are the details she had to work hard to move past, to move on. This is how it is with sexual assault. We might not remember exact dates, we may be foggy on the timeline but we won’t ever forget some things. Some details will come back over and over again, even when we have never tried harder to pretend something didn’t happen. Some memories can always reside with us, buried long ago with our shame and our fear, only to be unwittingly triggered by the testimony of others. I could not tell you the date of my assault, even the day of the week. I’m also a little foggy on the events leading up to it. I might have had certainly had a drink myself. To this day, I’m not 100% sure how the situation so quickly morphed outside my control. However, I can tell you what I remember with startling, visceral clarity. I can tell you how the fear started. It was a slow burn in my gut that blossomed into a panic that rattled against my rib cage when I realized he was stronger than me and I could not get out from under him. I can tell you how he tasted of stale cigarettes and popcorn and the way my fingers got tangled in his blonde curls as I struggled against his advances. I can recall the way he turned into a stranger, his body taunt and unyielding, driven by one need. I remember the way I disappeared under him, became a non-person with no voice and no power of objection. He failed to hear or see me as anything other than a vessel to pour his rage and grief into. I remember the abrupt release, the dismissal and the almost immediate snoring that ripped through the room as I scrambled for my clothes. I can remember the pain of it, a brutal rawness I nursed for days after and the numbing fear that something inside me had been tore beyond repair. I don’t remember the walk back to my own room, only that I felt wrapped in a heavy blanket of shame with the hot whispers and his excited keening playing in my head and my burning ears like an obscene soundtrack. I remember the self-loathing and the shame, the guilt I placed on my own shoulders for being naïve and foolish. I remember wanting to forget everything. I had never wanted anything to disappear more than those minutes of my life. The reality of assault that President Trump doesn’t seem to understand is that the details you fail to recall do not erase those you can. The fact that you can’t remember dates or times, or the minutes leading up to an event, do not render that event untrue, they do not disqualify the experience as having happened. I don’t know if Mr. Kavanaugh is the one who assaulted Ms. Ford, but she seems to 100% believe he was. I can tell you first hand, the decades don’t erase the face of an assailant. I can tell you, someone absolutely hurt that woman. I don’t need her to tell me how she got to that place to know someone assaulted her there or that she was alone and she was afraid. I don’t need the time or the date to know that someone robbed her that summer of something she can never get back. My heart breaks for the details she can never forget and there is nothing political about a victim’s pain…ever. |
Blog City DAY 1751--October 2, 2018 Prompt: “Sometimes it is good to fly close to the flame, see and experience the heat, but then fly away again, to survive, to be wiser in the art of heat.”Robert Black What does “to fly close to the flame” remind you of? I used to have a friend who was an adrenaline junkie. He loved to live life close to the edge, a little to close to the flame. He would tell you it was because life was short, that you had to take chances to really experience life. He lived fast and hard. To his credit, he was a guy that was larger than life. He filled up a room with his sense of adventure and his mere physical presence. It would often make me question my more conservative choices made in my own journey of life...was I leaving something on the table? Was I playing it too safe and missing out on something? What I hadn't realized at the time that while he was chasing adventures, he was also running from his own demons. Those demons eventually caught up with him and he was lost too soon. Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 2144: October 2, 2018 Prompt: What is the best thing about October? October is a month ripe with lovely things from pumpkin patches and hayrides to harvest festivals and full moons. By far the best thing October offers are those chilly autumn nights when the sky is that mysterious shade of purple and the bonfires crackle and spark sending the embers up into the heavens. They are the kind of evenings that invite you to sit around, wrapped in oversized sweatshirts sipping goblets of red wine or hard cider, laughing with friends. Those the the nights that feel full of promise, the harbingers for the holiday season to come. Halloween would be a close second - a magical night when you can be something creepy, sexy, scary....whatever inspires you, for a few brief hours. It is a wonderful month, one of my most favorites here in my corner of the world. |