Category Archives: life

Stepping out of real into reality

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Admittedly, I have been spending an inordinate amount of time on my laptop.  Between writing for my blog and trying to formulate meaningful sentences for my novel, I have been consumed by the glow emanating from my screen and watching the sentences come together as my fingers feverishly type the words spilling from my brain.  I have also been sucked into the vortex that is called Twitter and I have been sharpening my skills in the #Hashtag games as well as feeling like I am watching a tennis match with all the comments flying back and forth.  It’s good exercise for the brain, but it’s exhausting trying to keep up!

I have met many new friends through this vast blogosphere.  I admire all of you for your talent and humor and I do consider you friends even though we are separated by geographic boundaries.  I value your comments and love getting to know you through your words.  But today I took time from my world wide web and ventured into a light that is not created by my laptop.  Today I shut down the computer and did something I really have not done in a while.  I went out.  I socialized with my three-dimensional friends.  They sat a mere few feet away from me and we had a great time.  Wine was poured, the cheese and crackers were arranged on a platter and the stories and laughter ensued.  Thank you Lyn and Shades for a very amusing afternoon.  I will never think of the Downward Dog the same way again. (Don’t ask!)

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I am amazed at how quickly writing has become a staple in my life.  When I leave my job at the end of a work day, I long to get home and fuel the fire of creativity.  I have been so absorbed with words and phrases that I have been ignoring the flesh and blood of the friends and family that surround me on a daily basis.  Today was a reminder that the relationships I have with these people are as important, in fact more so than my relationship with words.  Although sentences and paragraphs can be created to describe the kinship, nothing can replace the moments spent in the company of good friends and family and the memories created within those moments.  Words will only last as long as people will read them, memories last forever.

Life is waiting to be lived and the words may have to wait.  If I ignore my laptop for a few brief hours, it will always be in the same place I abandoned it and we will just pick up where we left off – no hard feelings.  If I ignore my friends and family, they may not be as forgiving.

Laughter is the best medicine

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This post is going to be a little off my normal course of writing, but I needed a laugh today.  This is day four of no running water since my pipes froze on Tuesday night when the temperature plummeted to a nasty -36C (that’s -32F for all of my US friends).   I maintain my usual positive attitude although it was tested last night when I lost power for four hours.  Most of the heat we had been blasting into my basement to thaw the pipes had been beaten into submission by the continual sub-zero temperatures.

While I do love my little house and the expansive property that surrounds it, I would not be devastated to come home from work and find that the large tree that currently towers over my little house had fallen and split my tiny abode in half.  I’m certain my insurance company would not want to travel the distance to make sure the tree showed no signs of foul play.  In the event such a “catastrophe” occurred, I have already designed a replacement house.  You can never be too prepared for disaster!

If you have not seen the classic runway model wipe-out in the video below, I urge you to spend the two minutes and have a good laugh.  It gets me every time ~ I cannot decide which is funnier, the awkward wipe out itself or the reaction of the news anchors.  Happy Saturday everyone!

 

Things that have been seen, cannot be unseen

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Social-Media-Marketing

Social media has been at the forefront of our communication for a while.   Perhaps I have just recently noticed, or perhaps I was blind to it before, but it seems the more social media is used now, the more it becomes misused.  I’ll admit I used to enjoy Facebook, but it has become less of an interest the more my eyes became privy to far too many personal issues being aired on the internet.

I am not, by any means, being hypocritical as I too have used this blog to vent some frustrations, but there are limits to what I will spew out into cyber space.  The rules of social conduct still guide my brain and do not allow me to cross the line of over-sharing information or being unjustifiably vindictive.

Before the ever-changing Facebook screen began to fade from my daily ritual,  I was one of hundreds to have my news feed littered with vulgarities and horribly personal comments as two people ended their relationship in a way that truly resembled most reality shows.  It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion – some of the things that were said back and forth were ruthless and unnecessary, but the two involved somehow felt it appropriate for those things to be shared with all of us.

It was an easy decision for me to avoid the written daggers that were being thrown with the force of an Olympian because I have no personal stake in whether that relationship thrives or dies a horrible death.  But words on the internet penetrate millions of eyes, and sadly, four of those eyes more than likely belong to her two children.  I know they have their own Facebook accounts and, unless the power of the magic eraser cleansed those Facebook walls before they saw them, they will have experienced something that never should have been aired in such a public forum in the first place.

I still use my Facebook account infrequently, as it is still a place that I can share this blog with my friends.  But that uncomfortable public display of a  genuinely personal issue made me rethink how much information and the nature of that material I am willing to share.

Take a walk in my shoes

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Judge me not by what you see of my first appearance.  Do not drink in the sight of me without first appreciating the ingredients that were combined to create the final product.  Although by outward appearance you think you may know me, know what I’m made of, but the recipe for this product is the result of a myriad of ingredients.

Before you judge me, put on my shoes and walk through my past.  See what it is that has shaped me and made me the person I am today.  Wear those shoes and glimpse into the experiences that have carved out the life I have led.  Hold fast in those shoes while the toes point precariously over dark chasms and walk freely in them as they guide you out of harms way.

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Skip happily through my successes, but always be prepared at a moment’s notice to plant those shoes firmly in defiance of those who wished to take advantage.  There is knowledge and power in those shoes.  They hold the key to my existence.  They have led me to triumph and helped me run from despair.

So before you make up your mind about me, take a walk in my shoes.  Watch my journey unfold, and only after you have glimpsed the many facets of reality that have made up my life, only then may you cast your judgement.

Spending the Night

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A poem written for Romantic Monday ~ thank you again, EH, for the inspiration.

As dusk envelops the clear blue sky, and stars begin to shine,

The pale moon glow and the black of night, give heed to the ebb of time.

A sense of urgency, a passionate kiss, lead inhibitions to take flight,

Our eyes are locked, I’m in your arms and I’m eager to spend the night.

 The lights grow dim, the air is electric, you take me by the hand,

Without a word I follow, mind and body understand.

My heart beats rapidly as I begin to feel your hot breath close to my ear,

My legs weaken, I fall to the bed, I draw you to be near.

Bodies intertwine under a blanket of heat and the dusk gives way to dark,

Passion churns and hunger flames, causing energies to spark.

The sense of desire, the animal need, the cries of pleasure and pain,

The intensity ends, we lay spent, I’m cloaked in your arms once again.

As I fall into sleep full of dreams and desire, I feel you close to my skin,

Your breathing is heavy, your mind is at rest, and a contented feeling is within.

The night quickly passes to the breaking of dawn and together we welcome the day,

I awake in your arms, to the warmth of your kiss, and it’s there I want to stay.

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A closed mouth gathers no foot

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Blessed are those with the gift of discretion – those select members of society who have the foresight to think before they utter their thoughts aloud.  They carefully create the vision of syllables tumbling from their mouths in perfect synchronicity and follow through with eloquence and grace on their delivery.  Their words are distinct and, most often, fraught with meaning.  Their sentences have symmetry and structure and have been scrutinized at great length before being uttered.  They leave no opportunity to say the wrong thing.  In short – they think before they speak.

Because nature dictates balance in all things, there are also those who throw caution to the wind.  They randomly spew the first words that enter their brain without giving them the benefit of being filtered through the proper sieve of political or even conventional correctness.  The words are out there, hanging in the air like the particles of moisture in a dense fog.  They become thick and difficult to navigate without inevitably crashing into an invisible concrete barrier.  When the burning heat of embarrassment burns away the remnants of that fog, the orator stands alone with one foot firmly implanted in their mouth.

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Having the wisdom to compose a thought before it is cast out to the point of no return is the key to not having the bitter aftertaste of ten-year old running shoes saturating your taste buds.  Formulating a response with deliberation ensures that you are clear in what you want to say without being hurtful, cynical or idiotic.  Knowing when to step back and think before you speak gives you an opportunity to sound thoughtful and articulate, without the aftermath of explanations and backtracking.

Unless you have a foot fetish, keep in mind that words are more appreciated when sentences are given a moment to take their proper form.  Knowing what you want to say is decided in a second.  Being able to control the outpouring of emotion and present those ideas properly is worth the extra ten seconds to avoid the taste of Nike mouthwash.

Step aside, I brought my cape

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Oh Daily Prompt, you got me two days in a row.  Good for you.  Today’s challenge – Honestly evaluate the way you respond to crisis situations. Are you happy with the way you react?

When it came to handling a crisis, my father was Superman.  His cape is currently bronzed and on display in the vault of my memories.  He had the rare gift of being able to not dwell on the crisis itself, but instead focus on the necessary course of action that needed to immediately follow.  I owe him a great debt of gratitude for passing that trait on to me.

There have been many moments in my life that I have had to rely on the sturdy cape that was hidden so delicately beneath the shroud of my clothing.  It has never once failed to unleash itself when required, and last summer it was put to the test.

I work at a large family resort where chaos can ensue at any moment.  We entertain approximately 350 guests each week and we have been lucky to have avoided any major catastrophes, but last summer the God’s of Fate pointed their fickle finger and decided our time had come.

The front switchboard phone had been ringing incessantly, and I picked up one of the calls.  The sheer panic on the other end of the phone made my heart accelerate to ten times its normal rhythmic beat.   The woman on the other end of the phone was sobbing and between her deep inhalations, the words “my husband is having a heart attack” fell like scrabble tiles onto my desk.

She stayed on the line while I was simultaneously dialing 9-1-1 and alerting our lifeguards to the location of the room the gentleman was staying.  Once they were on route, I contacted the owner of our Water Ski program who is a volunteer fire fighter and first response.  There were five staff members at her suite in a matter of two minutes.  After directing the ambulance to the proper location, the minutes that followed felt like days.  The wife, daughters and grandchildren were seated cross-legged on the lawn across from his room, their tears saturating the grass.  It wasn’t until several hours later that we found out the dear man had not survived.

Even through what was undeniably one of the most traumatic experiences in their lives, and mine for that matter, the family was extremely gracious and thankful for our quick action and thoughtfulness.  It was not only my cape that flew proudly that day, but I’m certainly glad it has weathered each crisis that it has been called to handle.  It never falters, and is ready at a moment’s notice to attempt mend whatever is broken without a second thought.

Courage of conviction

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The Daily Prompt has inspired me once again.  Today’s prompt asks – tell us your favorite thing about yourself.

If you had asked me this question ten years ago I may not have been able respond.  Sure, there were things about myself that I liked.  I can sing pretty well, although I am too self-conscious to sing in front of anyone other than my dog.  I was pretty talented when it came to making and decorating wedding cakes.  But those things are just hobbies, things I seem to be able do with some sort of talent and things I enjoy.

During the past decade of my life, I seem to have gone through a metamorphosis, mentally and spiritually.  I found my inner compass and steadily began to acclimate to the new direction I was headed.  I found the courage of conviction to have a voice of my own.   I found the inner strength to truly believe that the talents I possess are worthy of comments, and I found the determination to follow my dream of being a writer.

Good things happen when you finally believe in yourself and my first published magazine article will be out in May.  That courage of conviction fueled the vehicle that led me here.  I trusted my talent, and more than that, I trusted myself.

I let my true colors finally shine through.

Romantic Monday with a quiet passion

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A poem for Romantic Monday.  Thank you again Edward Hotspur for encouraging us to channel the romantic in all of us.

Under a Blue Moon

I fit my frail hand into his as we gazed upon the moon,

the beauty of its reflection, comforting like a warm wind in June.

As the pale moon light enveloped us, we stood as one, unmoving,

engaging in a silent vow of love that would never need proving.

The stars returned our glances, embracing a life of their own,

smiling upon us as a distant loon lent music of eloquent tone.

A blend of harmonious voices, echoed the cry of the loon,

as we stood fixed, ever enchanted by the intensity of the moon.

The night air swirled around us, laughing as it tickled the leaves.

The song of the frogs was found in the night and carried upon the breeze.

The rippling of the playful waves as their longing to touch the shore,

gave voices to the rhythm of sounds, sharing a tranquil rapport.

The magical songs in the blue moon light quieted ever so slightly,

as the glow of the moon and the array of stars ceased to shine so brightly.

His grip on my hand remained tender and sweet as he turned to look in my eyes.

A night of feelings shared by lovers under a blue moon and starry skies.

What did you say, Jim? I didn’t quite get that.

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Perhaps it was Sage Doyle’s latest post about Grimm and his night out on E, but something caused me to open the vault in my brain that stores the foolish behavior of my past.  Things that should remain locked and guarded have bubbled to the surface and made me recall the few times I dabbled in some mild altering drugs.  I am relatively inexperienced when it comes to drugs – I don’t even like taking over the counter meds if I can avoid it, but peer pressure is an overwhelming thing and I succumbed.

The first time I was relatively young and my friends thought it wise to do some hits of acid.  Sure, I had smoked some weed once or twice, but I gave up on it fairly quickly.  I don’t like the feeling of being high and not being able to control how quickly I get there, or get back.  At least with wine, I have more control and can switch to water if I feel like I’m reaching the breaking point.  But hey, acid makes sense, no?   Abso-fucking-lutely not.

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Real life quickly turned into That 70’s Show, but I was still in the now.  It didn’t seem to affect me at all.  I was almost disappointed until I realized how ridiculous everyone else looked.  They behaved exactly like you would expect people on acid to behave.  Hippy-speak was rampant and they all spent an obscene amount of  time watching invisible things float through the air.  Once the munchies kicked in, we all headed for the local burger joint and they filled their urges to eat their weight in french fries.  It wasn’t until I saw the purple troll streak by the picnic tables that I realized I was high.  I jumped up from the table and chased the little bastard for a good 5 minutes until I no longer had any oxygen in my lungs.  I lay on the sidewalk and made snow angels.  It was July.

I guess the acid trip had buried itself so far into the recesses of my mind that when the pressure was on to do magic mushrooms, I caved.  Once again, I seemed to be unaffected by anything more than the rank smell of these hallucinogens, so we drank some wine while we prepared some cedar-plank salmon, green beans and rice for dinner.  We had just plated dinner when the giggling started.  I thought the beans were the funniest looking things I had ever seen and once the laughter started, it didn’t stop.  The three of us were perched around the dining room table and none of us ate a bite.  I thought the salmon was trying to swim off my plate, so I built a barricade with the green beans to contain the fish and the rice was used like mortar to secure the walls.   I finally had to step away from my friends.  My ribs felt like each one of them had broken simultaneously from laughing so hard and being around them was not helping.

I took my wine out to my gazebo and lay on the wicker love seat, on my back and staring up at the tree that hung precariously above.  It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the early evening and when I finally focused, I saw him.  I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things (of course I was, I was really freakin’ high) but he remained motionless – in my tree – it was Jim Morrison.  Now, for a guy that has been reportedly dead since 1971, he looked pretty good.  We chatted for about half an hour – Jim is very articulate and extremely witty for a dead guy.  And then he left me alone to pass out in my gazebo and sleep it off.

I have since learned to say a very emphatic NO when I am asked if I would like to partake in any sort of drug, besides wine.  I think we can all agree that is best.  Even Jim would agree.