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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| It's been two weeks since I stopped trying to keep up my streaks with the aim of spending more time actually writing. The goal was to take the pressure off of doing busy-work type activities in favor of finding ways to be more creative. I admit it took me almost a week to really stop. Some days, I did everything because the streaks were still going and it was hard to make that purposeful break. The result? Total fail. I do not thrive without deadlines. I cannot function without that sword hanging over my head. I don't have any discipline. Of course, it may be that I have nothing to say. Once upon a time, I could not drive across town without poetry forming in my brain. Now it's just so forced, so inauthentic. I live in an era when everyone is pursuing their "authentic" selves. Maybe I don't have one. En fait*, I do have an authentic self, but my authentic self is bound to be wildly unpopular so I wear the chains of social acceptability. Unless, of course, they become unbearable and I throw them off, have a rant and then I always dutifully put them back on. * The internet spies on Facebook keep sending me Reels telling me not to say "actuellement" for "actually" in French or I will sound inauthentic, so I must say "en fait" instead. I wasn't actually saying "actuellement" and I don't know who on the internet is critiquing my French, but just there I was going to type "Actually". However, it felt repetitive and so I typed "En fait" to avoid looking inauthentic. |
Friday Words to Live By No matter how long they live or how much information they are given, most people will never change anything but their underwear. |
| Today is my last day of chasing MB clout. Gonna quit all the streaks cold turkey! Tomorrow I will try to start catching up on writing and forget the daily tasks, But I have to finish them today because it's the seventh day and I don't want to waste six days of effort. Except for Form posting. That doesn't hit seven until tomorrow. So I have to do one more. I guess I am tapering off. |
| It occurs to me that for several weeks I have been rushing through some perfunctory activities here to keep the streaks going. This takes up most of the time I spend here at WDC, which is usually early morning. Once I leave my desk, I get only brief moments to check in. And this leaves me without time to actually write. It seems to defeat the purpose. And all I gain is a few merit badges. I don't even care that much about merit badges. If I did I would despair over my low numbers. But I care more about writing. And, of course, the GPS with which I buy my membership. So, I write and write but have nothing to say, wasting time. All for shiny merit badges. Well, they're not shiny, but you understand. Maybe I need to break my streaks so the pressure is off. Except, this entry now counts for the blogging streak. Ack! The pressure is too great! |
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I don’t like to post about politics because this, to me, is a place to write creatively and that is how I use it. So, this isn’t a political commentary. It’s more of a social commentary. I notice that there are a few members who will post about politics, and a handful of people may interact. These interactions are often just a tentative  or a noncommittal  . Rarely will anyone express an opposing opinion. I think that the lack of discussion stems from a desire to avoid arguments amongst members and bad feelings that don’t need to exist in a place that is devoted to writing and supporting other hopeful writers and cannot be taken as evidence that there are no other opinions.After the assassination attempt on Saturday night, I saw only one person mention it and that was sort of a complaint about how boring all these assassination attempts were becoming. But when the First Lady criticized Jimmy Kimmel, it’s all “can’t have that, freedom of speech and all”. Free speech seems to go one way these days and the dissenters are either too timid or too polite to argue in public. It reminds me of something Winston Churchill said: “Everyone is in favor of free speech. Hardly a day passes without its being extolled, but some people's idea of it is that they are free to say what they like, but if anyone else says anything back, that is an outrage.” I don’t think Jimmy Kimmel calling Melania “an expectant widow” was saying she wants him assassinated. I think you could take it that way, though. Many people hate him so much, they find it impossible to believe that his wife might love him. I think Kimmel thought it was a joke, hinting that she is unhappy and hoping he will die. Perhaps, something can be a joke but be in such poor taste that decent people would choose not to utter it? * Ish Kabibble was the stage name of Merwyn Bogue, an American comedian and cornet player known for his humorous performances in the 1940s, particularly on the radio and television show "Kay Kyser's Kollege of Musical Knowledge." His name comes from a novelty song titled "Isch ga-bibble," which humorously translates to "I should worry." |
| It's spring and the season when a portion of the population suffers greatly from the wind-blown pollen. There's flower pollen and tree pollen and grass pollen, and they all get their days to fill the air. But it isn't just Nature that can trigger allergies. Science can concoct some annoying irritants as well. I don't suffer from seasonal allergies much, but I know someone who does. And I hate the artificial fragrances that tend to smell very wrong to me. I offer a poem I wrote, for those who suffer. Please excuse or admire the similarity to the style of Gilbert & Sullivan. What's That Smell? I know a young lass who wears the Spring, she sprays it from a bottle. Of lilacs, dewdrops and blooming things, it ought to smell a lottle. But somewhere in those aromas floral are sprinkled weird ingredients. Now, to imitate Spring should be immoral but in business, it’s expedience. So instead of using all scents natural, they think to make improvements. Yet, the resulting potion is, in factual, a concoction of pollutants I know she thinks she’s wearing Spring, and smells just like a rose. Alas to me, it’s a chemical thing, that irritates my nose. |
| If I ask you to picture in your mind a vision of a crafter with yarn and a crochet hook, busily working her weaving of some item of warmth and comfort, most of you would conjure up an elderly woman with grey hair who has a plump and fluffy cat by her side. But contrary to the stereotype, quite a lot of young people have taken up the crochet hobby. I think it started when Taylor Swift wore this garishly purple and orange granny stitch crochet dress and immediately, all the nightmare granny square clothing from the 70s was back in style and everyone wanted to make their own clothes. But, here’s the surprising bit. The whole crochet hobby is being destroyed by AI. AI generated images of crocheted objects flood Facebook and online pattern sites. AI generated patterns abound. The problem is that these patterns do not produce the desired finished crocheted item, even if one could follow these AI-spewed patterns to conclusion. I think it’s the strangest blending of old-time traditional fiber art and modern technology and it’s gone horribly and freakishly wrong. I think the best way to find patterns you can trust is to follow actual designers who have websites and YouTube channels and even Facebook groups where you can see actual people making actual items from these patterns. In the meantime, remember: If it sounds, or looks too good to be true, it’s probably AI. |
| I should write a blog to keep up the blog streak thing but I should also be thinking about the poems that I need to write to catch up on promptly poetry. Currently I'm on the prompt “Feathers”. I have no ideas. Who knows whether I shall grow feathers? No, that’s not going to go anywhere. If you get honey on your feathers they’ll all stick together. That doesn’t even start. Of course, it doesn't have to rhyme. I tend to rhyme when I haven’t any other ideas. I have to think up an angle on “feathers” - which may take a while since they are very fluffy and not at all angular. |
| It’s Tuesday. Or, in my simplified calendar which changes the first day of the week to Monday, this is Twosday. Oneday, Twosday, Threesday, Foursday, Fivesday. Makes sense, no? And these names retain some of the sounds in the original names while telling you exactly and mathematically how far into any week you are. As for Saturday and Sunday? Well that’s where I run into resistance to my system. They aren’t treated separately. They become “End-days”. Apparently, the eschatological ambiance of that label makes some people uncomfortable. “Last Days” didn’t go over well for the same reason. Other people have renamed calendar elements with some success. July and August, for instance, were named for the Roman Emperors Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar, respectively. The Emperor Commodus named ALL the months of the year after himself but it didn’t catch on and these changes were reversed after he died. Well, that’s your “thinking about the Roman Empire” done for the day. |
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