No Expectations

Just thinking about expectations. Was thinking about how when I was a small child I wanted to be a lawyer and a firefighter and a doctor. All at the same time. Writing that I realized that I've always wanted to save people.  :-D

Anyway, when the thought came to me, I had one of those imaginary conversations I often have with myself. This imaginary person asked me, 'Who did you tell? Did you tell your parents?'. I thought about it and realized that I couldn't remember who I told that it probably wasn't my parents who were divorced and had issues themselves. I thought of how it was kinda clear from dealing with them that they weren't really interested in me or whatever idea I had come up with. I'm thinking of my mothers habit of telling me to 'look it up' when I asked questions or her shocked and slightly suspicious reaction when I said things that were above me (or her ability to explain to me).

I finally thought to the imaginary person, that I told someone and the imaginary person asked 'What did they say?' and I replied 'They laughed. They thought it was cute.' Hmm. I went on to remember that I thought my friends weren't interested since they were pretty ambition-less at the time. I mean we were about 6 or 7 years old. They were just kids. Note the word they. 

This all brought about the thought of expectations and that I've never had any from others. I was never expected to do or be anything. I also wasn't expected to ruin my life (end up in jail or poverty or hurt or dead). Well, except much later in life, by my mother who has in her late middle age, become fear personified. Even then it was mostly a vague sort of fear of being hurt emotionally or left alone. It is basically her projecting her fears onto me. I was never expected to do anything amazing either: no Nobel Prize or MegaRich CEO or President or Saint. There were just no expectations at all. Like I was not there. 

This last thought is what prompted me to come write about it. It's like I've always been a bit invisible. Only thought of, or about, in direct relation to someones personal issues or life, when physically present. Expectations require thought and concern unconnected to one's own life or if they are negative expectations they are reactions to fears stemming from ones own actions and behaviors. 

As for me, I wonder if it's too late to me to come up with my own expectations for myself. I've always felt a disinterest in; fame, fortune, or glory.  I've always thought that was the foundation for my lack of ambition. Perhaps it was just an internalized marginalization and I've a need to develop some expectations of my own.

Solution Oriented

So it seems I've learned a new thing about myself today. I'm Solution Oriented. 

"...concentrating on the solution is a much more positive activity than concentrating on the problem. Turning one's attention to potential answers is more fun and gratifying than getting sucked into the downward spiral of pity that nearly always goes with concentrating on the problem. Even if a solution isn't readily apparent, just the act of searching for one is an activity that will always get your mind away from the problem itself."

It all started with the used computer I bought recently that arrived yesterday. I mentioned in an earlier post that i bought a used computer but that one died after one day so I had to send it back. While waiting for my refund and feeling really blue about the whole fiasco, I decided to risk it all and buy another. It arrived yesterday after much hand wringing and pacing. 

Well the newest one had Vista installed. VISTA! Vista. Sigh. All day yesterday and most of the day today was spent in abject frustration and searching. I won't go into a long diatribe concerning Microsoft (my Mac died which precipitated all this) or VISTA ( I hate it. Nuf said.). I will say that the other options at this point in the whole computer mess were many. None of them being the simple, 'take it out of the box and use it', option I actually wanted. So. I finally decided to 'downgrade' to XP and with minimal tinkering, Voila!, it works great. I'm up late customizing my desktop on my speedy working computer and I feel like dancing in the streets or at least singing in the shower. 

All this just reminds me that despite my trials I am essentially Solution Oriented. I wasn't deeply unhappy about all of this; even during the, "return computer and I still don't have a working computer", phase. The joy showed up though when I solved both the main and subsequent problems. Actual Joy. Dancing, Smiling, laughing aloud, warm feelings JOY! Wow. Just imagine if the problem I solved was spiritual or emotional instead of technical. What would that joyful result be like?

Self Imagining

I have no self-image. I've never had one. It's never really been a problem. Only when enduring 'self-help' in some form or when trying to remember the past usually for 'self-help' reasons does it ever become an issue. I don't have one now. If you asked me what I looked like today (or yesterday for that matter) I could only describe what I'm wearing or the particular style (if there is one) of my hair. Cold hard facts I can give you. Anything else is both irrelevant and unknown to me. I thought of all this this morning when while sitting out on the deck sunning and thinking about writing a morning blog post I realized that my shoulders were pretty tense and wondered for a brief moment whether my neck had shrunk. Then I got a blurry half formed image in my mind from a picture of me from my teenage years where apparently I was ALL neck. I was that gangly one with the swan like neck. Or so everyone else said, because at the time I had no 'image' of myself in my head. When I looked in the mirror I just saw me, a person. Not particularly one thing or another, not fat, not tall, not swan-like; just . . . me.


I didn't have the 'self-imaging' ability back then either. I had plenty of self-imagining ability. I could come up with whole worlds full of experiences I was going to have. Usually involving a bright red convertible and my completely fabulous friends and outer space. But as to what I mentally looked like, in reality or fantasy, the picture in my head was always a blurry indistinct picture. 


Through the years with the self help guru/ pop culture/ pop-psychology  paradigm shift and media influences I've heard many times that I was 'supposed' to have a self image and that it had better be good or else. If I didn't,  I would live a life full of misery and suicidal tendencies that would be my own fault for not 'believing' in myself. I dismissed all that mostly cause it never really bothered ME that I didn't have one and since that also meant that I didn't have a 'bad one', I figured it was okay. I've never looked into a mirror and saw something I really didn't like even when at age 20 I developed acne for the first time long after everyone else had gotten past it. I just tended to just make crazy faces and lean in real close to 'zoom' the zit to mutant monster proportions and come up with evil scientist monologues for it. Then depending on my mood I would take pictures of it and send it to my friends and family titled - "Introducing the newest member of the family". 


As for my body I thought it was great except when it came to buying clothes (or hugging) as I've mentioned before. It curved where it was supposed to, it dipped where it was supposed to, and in general did what it was supposed to do which was carry around my massive consciousness and act out various schemes and plans my mind came up with. Now here, all late in the game, I wonder if I should go ahead and develop one. It's mostly just a mental exercise though because I still make faces in the mirror (and yes still suffer from occasional acne) and still generally like what my body can do when I tell it to. Besides, why commit myself to one possibly erroneous viewpoint (image) when I can imagine so much more...

Me: A Definition

Wrote this last night in bed while my mind swirled and pirouetted in it's attempt to dance its way into sleep. :-)

"From Websters.com - Me: pronoun indicating speaker. Used to refer to the speaker as the indirect object or direct object of a verb. Definition: an act of determining; 2a : a statement expressing the essential nature of something"

Not to be Clintonesque but, What is ME? What is Define? What exactly is going on? More importantly what does it mean to define oneself? Am I merely a conglomeration of amusing yet occasionally harrowing anecdotes? Am I the ripe fruit of meshing ideologies? Am I just one of many or uniquely divine? Does an Event, a Trauma, a Past Deed, or a facet of personality get Top Billing on my personal marqee? 

How does one go about defining a life (well lived or otherwise)? Which voice from the Mist of the Past gets veto power? In other words, Who Am I?

That Time of Year

So it is that time of year for me . . . You know, the sharpen the wits, build the collage, get a new computer, spend way too much time wandering about the internets looking for the illusive 'writing software deluxe'. Yep It's Pre-Nano time! For those of you who don't know, (basically the one person who may have stumbled in here accidentally), NaNoWriMo or NaNo for short is National Novel Writing Month that begins in November. That makes October for dweebs like me Pre-NaNo Month. Click on the name to head over to the website for more info.

As for me, I'm revving up already. It's like a department store Holiday for me. It starts earlier every year. :-) So I've got my new laptop. It's in the mail should arrive today. I've signed up for Scrivener for Windows AND WriteWay. I've been eying my still incomplete previous NaNo novel with ideas of revision and am constantly on alert for any wisps of new plot ideas. Basically it's the night before Disneyworld over here. So fellow blogsters tell me. What are you planning for the month of November?

An additional note in the haphazard organizer of my brain is the upcoming Hunter's Moon followed by Samhain <Halloween>. Any plans or special events going on with you guys? And Can you tell Autumn is my favorite Season? :-)

Wandering here and there trying to unclench...

I haven't the slightest idea what to write about. So this post will be all over the place. I'm sitting here at this computer late and I should be celebrating. I have to admit I did do a little happy dance a few minutes ago but it didn't last long and neither did the celebratory feelings. I bought a new laptop because my old one died. Next month is NaNo, so I'm already gearing up for it. The thought of being without a dedicated (as in mine) computer is deeply unappealing. So I bought myself a new one and I should be celebrating. I was for a few minutes. Now I'm again trying to unload other people's yucky negative mess.

As for the laptop well I know it doesn't sound like a big deal. It is. This is the first thing I've done for myself in almost three months. Wow! I just counted on my fingers and so much has happened in such a short amount of time. Either way my focus has been outward for that amount of time. My focus being outward for so long has taken its toll on me. I haven't noticed of course (outward focus). I am tired. Not in a good 'yay, I did it' sort of way, but in a 'Just one more step and I can rest' sort of way. Tired in a 'I'll have this glass of wine and listen to muzak until I can unclench my jaw' sort of way.

So I have a slight problem with conflict. I hate it. I didn't always hate it or maybe I was just better at it before I got all mature and stuff. No cracks about that! :-) Actually it was just easier when I had a 'temper'. What I mean is I always HAD to deal with conflict and so without a choice I did, occasionally with necessary roughness. But then I found a remedy and though that remedy worked oh so well I find that I maybe (just maybe) want a new way to deal with conflict. My method developed slowly over time. Without anger I learned to let go of negativity in all forms in myself and my life. See I learned a hard hard lesson about choosing ones life. All of ones life. I learned that you choose it all; everything from the smallest joy to the greatest tragedy. That there is always an 'opt-out'. The consequence has always turned out the same for me, it is solitude.

I can choose my friends, choose my family, choose my home, choose my job, choose my mood, choose my reactions, choose my attitude, choose it all. I can literally get rid of anything I find unacceptable. Not that it is easy, simple, or the best choice to do so. If I get sick I can choose not to be unhappy and I can choose a procedure and I can choose to wake each day with a Joi de Vivre because it may be my last. With relationships it took me a loooong time to realize this simple truth that it's MY choice. Once I did, WATCH OUT. I was choosing left and right. Getting rid of all the toxic people I had surrounded myself with and standing firm and resolute in the choices. No matter how lonely, how isolated, how dead I started to feel inside. Those small (ha!) feelings were nothing compared to the hurt, pain, anger, resentment, and sometimes despair I felt dealing with those people. That's what I reminded myself in those dark moments. It's what I remind myself now that I find myself stuck in a rut now.

Because apparently I missed a lesson somewhere along the line. I missed how to cultivate healthy relationships. I missed how to make good friends that may one day develop into healthy happy family. I missed how to be in the world (not of it). I used to know that last one a loooong time ago in the distant misty time past I knew how to be in the world but not of it. I don't feel in the world now or of it and I can't decide whether that is an improvement or not.

I saw a Shooting Star yesterday. I made a wish spontaneously. Felt absolutely awe-some about it (the star not the wish). Shared the sighting with a family member and that person asked if I had wished for a specific horrible thing not happen to HIM. Corruption! Then another person joined in asking if it wasn't a falling satellite ("that hit you in the head" hahaha) or passing plane or etc blah blah. I refused to be drawn into such talk. I girded my loins against the emotional and spiritual attack. But there's a lesson here... A lesson I thought I had learned more than once. A lesson that doesn't distract from the positive relationship building but enables it. Must choose. Again.

Ah, these positive thoughts and feelings seem to flow like sand through fingers. . . Must unclench.

I Am Pond....

I'd like to start a movement. It could begin here with me. I just stand up and say, "I Am Pond. I am the Girl Who Waited.". It would mean that I stand up for Love. Not because I am pretty, sexy, or easy (to deal with). Not because I wear little clothing, have come hither eyes, or a blindingly white smile. Not because I say the right thing, know the right 'moves', or flirt coquettishly. Not because I have a fabulous job, a trendy address, or know the 'right' people. But I will be Loved because. Just Because. I am Me. I am Pond. I am the Girl Who Waited. And he will return and the other He will always be with me. Forever. All of Time and Space mean nothing to Love. So the question is...Where's My Rory?


For those who don't know who is Pond. Here is the link. Then Watch it. Then Stand Up for Love.

My Brother, My Dog

My brother, friend, confidante, and protector is also my dog. Or my mother's dog if you want to be exact. I realized recently that in 'dog years' we are the same age (making us brother and sister in my mind) and we love each other more than bacon. Which says a lot because we both really really love bacon. We are the first thing we want to see upon waking. Our morning ritual includes lots of gratuitous petting in between sips of coffee and the last walk of the night before bed usually ends with same after he accompanies me on a walk through check of the house. When we are sad, hurt, excited, happy, or bored we seek each other out. We get mad or hurt and show it but neither of us can hold a grudge for long. It is the best relationship I've ever had. He soothes my soul and I hope I do the same for him.

Seconds of Happiness

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let us down, probably will. You'll have your heart broken and you'll break others' hearts. You'll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them, and you'll cry because time is flying by. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, forgive freely, and love like you've never been hurt. Life comes with no guarantees, no time outs, no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell someone what they mean to you and tell someone off, speak out, dance in the pouring rain, hold someone's hand, comfort a friend, fall asleep watching the sun come up, stay up late, be a flirt, and smile until your face hurts. Don't be afraid to take chances or fall in love and most of all, live in the moment because every second you spend angry or upset is a second of happiness you can never get back.

- Unknown

Important Things

Over on one of my favorite blogs, Things in the Skye, Skye did a list of the 4 or 5 most important things. She asked us to come up with our own. Here's what I came up with.

1. Pleasure: I find in contemplating what is important to me that this is the hardest and most honest thing I could come up with. It's hard because society, home training, and such expressly forbid this being on the list no less at the top. Yet if I am honest about who I am this has got to be the apex and starting point for everything else. Pleasure is what it's all about for me. Whether it's the cool sweet scent of honeysuckle, or the almost physical tickle of a stranger's baby's laugh, the warmth of sunshine on my skin mixed with a cool swipe of breeze, or that catlike stretch when you first wake up, it's all pleasure for me. Sitting here in my little room at my little desk I realize it's still about the pleasure. The different patterns and colors at play in my window shade as I stare into space thinking up these words constitute a pleasure. The ticktick of the keyboard and the burst of light and joy when the idea appears or the turn of phrase comes out just right is a pleasure. A conversation with my brother that is filled with laughter and sometimes tears is a pleasure. For me almost everything contains a  portion of pleasure inherent. Sometimes I notice it and sometimes I don't but it's always there and I always want it. If left to myself I instinctively seek it, usually after finding someone to come along and have some too. Maybe I'm just a closeted Hedonist philosopher along the lines of Michel Defray, who defines hedonism as an introspective attitude to life based on taking pleasure yourself and pleasuring others, without harming yourself or anyone else. Dunno, but it's got to be at the top of my list. 

As for the rest of my list it mimics Skye's so closely that I think I'll just steal hers. Below is an altered version of her list with an added number five. I juggled the positions and to each description added a bit. I love Skye and I love cut&paste! :-D

2. Love & Friendship: having close friends to talk with, having friends to do things with, having people to love and share my life (and pleasure) with, having a romantic relationship to encapsulate all of the above.

3. Freedom: Being able to do what I want to do when I want to do it, not being tied to an 8 to 5, commuting, unsatisfying-job existence (and getting burnt-out, and getting sick — again). Being able to do work that I think is fun, being able to work wherever I want to work. Having time and energy for my important things. I'd have to add Compassion & Giving to my freedom. To me these are a part of freedom. I can't be or even feel free if I can't be compassionate (hence not ever working corporate again) or feel like I'm giving something to the situation or person.

4. Creating: Writing, drawing & painting, knitting, singing, dancing, etc. To me creativity is so much more than producing. For example, when I dance I feel like those swishes or bends or turns are unique. As if those particular movements set to that particular music is just me just at that moment regardless of whether there is anyone there to see them or not. The same goes for every other creative thing I do.

5. Learning: I love to learn. I love to teach because that often is the best way to learn. Books, conversations, media, library, Google, jobs and especially travel are all just me learning. I think this is some sort of essential ingredient in my soul. It may not even belong on this list because it's not important to me it IS me, I do it instinctively.

So that is my 5 Important Things. The best part was thinking about it all. Sometimes we don't 'see' ourselves, even someone as introspective as I can be. After writing this I kinda like what I see. Thanks Skye!

Transmissions from a storm

You know how you hear those recordings of radio transmissions from ships or planes in a storm and they are staticky and incomplete? Well this is one of those transmissions. A bit broken up and filled with staticky pauses that are sure to be filled with pertinent information. Well this life thing ain't no joke. If it is it's one of those had to be there kind of jokes. :-D *crackle crackle* Many things have occurred and been overcome, endured, learned from or just ignored and it's only been a couple of weeks since I last posted! Some of the things I need to talk about are Loss and acceptance of change.

*crackle crackle*

Recently my last good friend here in the city where I live has moved away. She moved very far away to a different country. While leaving the country permanently isn't typical leaving this city seems to be the trend. It is exorbitantly expensive here in flagrant opposition to the current financial climate of the entire country. So despite being a native of this place she and her entire family (parents included) have gone. Leaving me here trying to figure out exactly where I'm going and why I'm still here. I miss her.

*crackle crackle*

Change. It's such a scary sort of word. This part of change is the worst for me. It's the right in the middle struggling along, can't see the outcome, turbulent time of change. The part where you can't tell yet if it's all going to turn out the way you thought and you can't even  be sure you're doing it right. It's getting exciting though! So for all three of you that check in here I stopped in to say- "Hi! I'm Fine! Stand back and watch out for the metamorphic ectoplasm I'm splashing about! See you on the other side!" *crackle crackle*

Rinse...Repeat

I'm afraid is another random thought day. No grand wisdom or witty repartee seems to be forthcoming. As for the title I am thinking of things I do over and over. Over on the Bettyverse everyBetty was listing movies or books that they read or watch compulsively. You know the ones where you know all the lines and still get that little hitch in your chest right before the big scene. Also they brought up that there was obviously something we're getting out of it. Some release or emotional payoff because a lot of the time this habit manifests when we are stressed, tired, or in some situation that is less than stellar.

It started for me right before my divorce. I was 22 years old, 900 miles from home and family for the first time, married to a Navy man who of course was only there sometimes and when he was we were not doing well. I spent a lot of nights and days alone. So I found myself watching Twister as a bedtime ritual. I still to this day love this movie. I've watched it more than 50 times but if it comes on T.V. I will still get excited and watch it as if it's the first time. I've never really examined the why of it and I'm not at all sure I want to now. Yet, for you, good followers of the Blog, I will.

Twister is a movie about last chances. That's the way it always seems to me. It's about a last chance at Love. The two leads are divorcing scientists, one of which is moving on and the other is holding on silently. They also have worked on a project with their friends for a long time and finally have the opportunity for a last ditch effort to make it work. I think that if I had to pick one scene, it would have to be the homecoming scene.  In the scene, the scientists are chasing a tornado storm system when they take a break at the female lead's Aunt's house. They are all there and they are reminiscing about the 'good old days' of storm-chasing, when Jo retreats to take a shower and her Aunt corners her to talk.

Aunt Meg: He didn't keep his part of the bargain, did he?
Jo: Which part?
Aunt Meg: To spend his life pining for you, and die miserable and alone.
Jo: Is that too much to ask? 

Now looking at all this I wonder what exactly this meant (and probably still means) for me. There are other memorable scenes for me but this one strikes deep and has always been what I think of when I think of this movie.  Sitting here pondering I still can't quite come up with a logical (or emotional) tie in. I 'know' it's there but I can't quite get at it.

Rereading the quote and remembering the scene it comes to me that the entire movie seems to revolve around the male lead 'coming back'. The Aunt says that 'Bill always went his own way which was usually whatever way you were going.' And you get the feeling that at some point he stopped and left her to go another way. By the end of the movie he is once again 'going her way'. He went off to build a new life that it turns out wasn't really a life he wanted. So he ends up back in the life that suits him and she is there, not waiting exactly, but continuing in the direction they had both originally set out in. I think maybe that is the key for me. At that point in life I was hoping deep down inside that my husband would 'come back' emotionally and once again be going 'my way'. I was also living a life that didn't suit me. I think the 'Navy Wife' is possibly the worst role ever for me. It plays upon all my strengths (loyalty, strength of will, intelligence, imagination and a need for family and community) and weaknesses (isolation, martyrdom, helplessness, disdain for authority, trust issues, and most of all control issues) in a way that is just destined to fail. So sitting alone in a strange town on a dark night while my husband was 'off' somewhere I really felt this. I felt he hadn't kept his part of the bargain to love me more than anything or anyone else and I was left behind and alone continuing a life I didn't want hoping he would one day join me.

Honestly I think that I have been rinsing and repeating ever since. I've since  built lives with other men only to find that in the end either they went in another direction without me or that the life itself was what they wanted not me and I only got to be there if I conformed to the life. So I guess right now I'm continuing on the path I've built in the hopes that one day there will be a man that can keep his promise to Love me regardless of which way we're going.

A Little 'Light' Dusting

Well, will you just look at all the dust in here. :-D For those just joining in I left a comment over on JulieLand about an email I got. The email concerned an rare interview with Social and Spiritual Reformer of India, Sathya Sai Baba who I've since learned has passed on. Here's an excerpt of the interview...

There is not more evil…there is “more light”, and that is what I’m talking about on this message. Imagine that you have a room or warehouse where for years you have been storing your things and is lit by a 40 watt bulb. Change the bulb to a 100 watt and you will see what happens. You will see the mess and the dust you didn’t think existed. The dirt will be clearer…

 Well. Well. Here on the Year of The Phoenix I've been talking about stuff I'm going through and feeling and quite a lot of it has been metaphorically 'dirty' just like I said on the front page. And for the past couple of weeks I've been wondering and worrying about why after all this time here on the brink of what feels like a great change in me and my life everything looks so...icky, so dark, so sad. And then Julie's card said, 'Listen, the answer's coming.' and I did. And I received this email. 

For years I've been storing things, not just painful sad things but All The Things!* Here in the Year of The Phoenix I've changed my light bulb and I'm looking around and...achoo!...excuse me! Kinda dusty. So I will try to shed some light on the lighter things when I can but for the most part this is my chance to Clean All The Things!* and get rid of some of the crap cluttering up my heart mind and soul to make room for the amazing things to come. For those wonderful people that are following my progress with support and kindness I say thank you and I promise it's not all dirt.... :-D

* note - Clean All The Things is from a really great website ( Hyperbole and a Half) soon to be a book that I certainly recommend for those who want a little light cleaning to counteract the dirt. Laughter is wonderful medicine.

tl;dr

Topic: attention spans, wordiness, self expression

The title means 'too long; didn't read' which is exactly what the email I just sent off was. I may have sleep deprivation to blame but really is there any excuse? Looking at it now (still sleepless), I realize it was all things I needed to say. My mind races with things I need to say whenever I get passionate about something but the fear of rejection that is expressed by this textspeak phrase has bludgeoned those passions to meek vapid mindblanked echoes.  So I refrain. Well, unless it's been 24 hrs since I've slept and I can't step away from the keyboard. So for the few intrepid souls that read this stuff (or get my emails), What'd you think? Passionate diatribe or... TL;DR? Discuss.

Memorial Day Post

This moment, that should always be more than a moment or a day, I remember those that have fallen broken battered wounded and dead to keep those they loved safe. To all those who Serve, Salute.

How Do I?

How do I
Set down these burdens that are not mine
Let go of the words you said to yourself
Step off this path I did not forge

How do I
Keep the love unsullied by the pain

Let light into this darkened space
Love you and yet Love me too

How do I
Find the border of my soul
Seek you out but from afar
Know who is me when there is no you

How do I
Accept your wisdom and live My Life
Feel your wrongs are not my fight
Go my way and not just follow

How do I
Miss you when you're still here
Feel I failed you when it was you who fled
Still... need... you...

How do I
Fix it so you'll love me
Save you so you'll love me
Shine like a star in the night
     So you'll love me

How do I
Still, love you
Know, you love me too
Accept, that it is enough

How do I?

When Bad Books Happen to Good People

What is it lately? I've read three different really horrible books back to back. It says something about me that this is the first time ever! I've read over 2000 books in my life. Yet this is the first time I've read three bad books in a row and only the third time ever I actually couldn't finish a book (James Joyce...sigh). Yes I am one of 'those' people who have to sit through an entire movie or book even when its painfully bad. Mostly I just keep hoping it is going to get better. Then it ends and I feel like a sap. An Angry Sap. 

Now I'm not going to go into the long rants about the book which I would very much like to do but because it has been made very clear from the few people I've talked to that if it isn't on T.V. then their eyes glaze over and that being able to provide T.V. references for books is pre-requisite to having anyone understand what you are talking about or care. What I will say is that all three books struck me viscerally with their ineptitude. Not "Oh, I don't enjoy that type of book" or some aesthetic aversion to anything that didn't happen to me yesterday. No I am a die hard eccentric, when it comes to reading it is anything and everything goes. I will try it at least. Some of my all time favorites have come from simply picking up a random book off a shelf  and giving it a try. If it doesn't have a cover, that's better! That means I get to read a couple of pages to see if I can 'guess' the plot or get pulled in by the author's voice. That is how I started reading one of my favorite authors of all time, Jenny Crusie. I picked up a hardback copy of her Welcome to Temptation at the library and it had no book cover. Just a Red bound book with simple gold letters with the name of the book and author on the front. I've since read everything I could find that she's written. 

I see that I'm tiptoeing around the fact that I really don't know what to do with absolutely hating these books. I do and it' goes against something integral in me to say they are bad. I still try and find some glimmer of good writing or interesting premise or something. So not finding anything good to say makes it worse. I feel betrayed. These weren't random picks. These were recommended books, well reviewed books, or books with descriptive blurbs and hype. They were also poorly written; failing basic characterization, forgetting Rule #1 Show, Don't Tell, with verbose and inane detailing or what I like to call Filler, they had no plot meaning literally no beginning or middle or (heaven forbid) no end, errors in wordage, obvious lack of research, general lack of editing (12 pages describing the character attending a yoga class is awful 75 pages is ridiculous and stopping to give a two page description of your main character sleeping in a chair is not fun by any standard). Even an abundance of typos which I admit are just a pet peeve of mine but I can overlook it mostly because I'm enjoying the book but in combination with all this typos become glaring. In the boredom and frustration I've got plenty of time to notice you've misspelled your main characters name twice and the word house, on a single page.

I guess the worst part for me is that none of these books were about or actually contain the novels as advertised. Bait and Switch, how I loathe thee. If you advertise as a intelligent new look on a popular sub-genre filled with historical accuracy and an intriguing mystery all surrounding a Genre Hero then that's what I'm expecting to read! Not a knock-off of a currently popular book in an entirely different genre. Badly written no less. If you say your new book is a romance I actual expect there to be a romance between somebody somewhere in your book. No I really don't care if you find 'romantic entanglements' against your religion! Have the damn side-kick fall in love! Oh wait you don't have one! Cause no one other than your main character appears for more than three seconds it takes you to brush them off and wander about spouting the same cliche over and over. 

Okay after a few deep breaths I'm a little less foamy at the mouth. Reading goes beyond a hobby for me. It is an integral part of my life and has been since I was born. As I said my mother read to me as a baby and has even said she read aloud while she was pregnant. I think it was probably around that time when the craze was playing Mozart to your unborn to boost intelligence. And well, I do like Mozart. Either way this latest streak of bad book luck shakes something deep within me. I am seemingly faced with 'The Dark Ages of Literature' which is what I've been calling it in my head all day. Most likely it is a result of my lifelong learning about writing. It's like the more I learn the more I notice (and can't move past) glaringly obvious lack of skill or talent. Whereas before I wouldn't read it. I would be too busy reading something else by an author I knew or re-reading a favorite or picking up a random book and liking the prose and possible subject matter and getting exactly what it said on the tin.

I've still got a 25 book to be read pile stacked up on the floor next to my desk that has become menacing and shadowy since I gave up reading the latest wall-banger hours ago. I will not be intimidated! I will persevere! I will... hope at least one is not cringe worthy? Please?

Being Okay....

After reading one of my favorite blogs, Julieland, which today is somewhat pertaining to Release and Healing, I feel the need to express something I find rare. Like the many comments on the internets concerning the lack of follow-up on the recent Rapture Fiasco I also notice a lack of info concerning the end stage of healing.

Recently I've been cloistered and processing a lot of pain concerning my childhood. Yesterday I sat on my bed and thought to myself, "Now what?" And you know what? My answer was, 'Life'. There was no lingering melancholy or simmering anger or hopelessness attached to the word. For the first time in awhile there wasn't anything attached to the word. It was the emotional equivelant of waking up slowly on a Sunday morning. It was...I was... just...okay. 

In going over it all I realized that there comes a moment when you're okay. That is shocking to me. Not that I've never been okay or felt good or even great about something that once hurt. Just that somewhere along the line I learned the sneaky insidious thought that healing was a lifelong battle. As I sat there hearing my mind go over it I was surprised at my own okayness. This wasn't the first time I'd dealt with the pain and residual of childhood trauma. This wasn't the first time I'd had those memories and hidden wounds pulled out into the light of day by some experience. This wasn't the first time I'd had to stop everything and just concentrate on that weeping little girl inside. This. Wasn't. The. First. Time. 

But it may be the last time I have to weep from that particular wound. It feels healed. Not it's-okay-forever-and-nothing-is-wrong-with-the-world healed. Instead it is like the knobby soft shiny bit of scar on my knee from when I had that bloody battle with a coffee table when I was 8, healed. It's a part of me. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's a interesting story to tell. And it feels a little weird when I poke it and squeeze it between my fingers.

So I guess what I'm saying is...Today, I'm okay. 

A Little Less...

"That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less." 

   - 'The God of Small Things', Arundhati Roy

Careless words like the quote above from a fictional mother to her equally fictional daughter can cut and wound and cauterize so it never heals. One is left with the Hole Shaped Universe. The place where once dwelled something precious, now a mere outline of Loss. A silence, half of a twin pair with emptiness grows and eats a small inconsequential life. Words buried under layers of scar wait for this moment.

My mother loved me less. Less than everyone and everything, up to and including herself, whom I'm not sure she ever loved at all. 

Now as I sit here and watch the raven outside my window through the tears of this old old pain, I wonder, 'How do I love me more? How to love me enough to wash away the tears of decades, the pain of dark hearts aligned against innocence? How to Love me enough to fill and overflow the Hole shaped Universe where their Love should have been?"

How can I stop loving me Less?

Night, Rain, & Tears

These things just seem to go together.

What is it about the night that changes things? What is it about the sound of falling raindrops that pulls at one's heart? Tears... ah, tears....

I've been alone so long I'm not sure if I remember a different night.

Random Thoughts

Names, Places, and Books...

Today is random thought day for me. One of those rare days when I allow my mind to just wander whereever it wishes. I'm allowed to flow with the Universe and follow whichever clues it sends my way. It's rare. Feel free to skim through this one. :-)

Dirty Pillows

Today it's all about the Dirty Pillow Feathers. Dirty Pillows, as I remember it, comes from the movie 'Carrie'. It's what the main characters' abusive mother called breasts. Feathers, on this blog, will refer to the outer view of the Phoenix, body image issues and such. Hence today's title Dirty Pillow Feathers

The Late Post

I lost a post during this maintenance issue.I will be posting an older one that I'm not sure is ready but until then here's the Old Spice Guy.



www.youtube.com/watch?v=owGykVbfgUE

The Evulz Ex

Well since this will be the first really personal post here on The Year of the Phoenix it is appropriate that it be an explosive one!

This is about a previous relationship of mine. For privacy reasons, and because it cheers me to do so, his name will never be included and he will be known as Jafar. Now what this particular post is really about is the long torturous journey of healing I have been on to recover from him. All I will really say about him personally is that he has NPD, Narcissist Personality Disorder. Which I didn't know until after I had finally broke away from him. 

All Things Phoenix

My fascination with all things Phoenix began long long ago. I wish I could say it was an abstract concept to me but unfortunately the events of my life conspired to make it a very real metaphor. The never ending cycle of fiery death followed by new beginning is something I've known my whole life. Through tragic events I've found my center and 'arisen' out of despair and grief to be 'reborn' into peace and hope. Today I stand in the ashes. Waiting. Watching. Learning.

Year of The Phoenix: Day One

Up in Flames....

That is how it always begins, in flames. You must burn before you can be reborn. Well, at the urging of friends far and near, I'm taking a Year to examine exactly what's burning, where, and Who's being reborn.

Be sure to check out my links to see where all this inspiration and courage originated as well as who is on this journey with me.

Welcome! At least it's warm in here!