Category Archives: truth

Those elusive birds

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The Daily Prompt today truly got me thinking….and on a Monday that is slightly painful.  The challenge today is this – Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

bird in the hand

(image courtesy of Google)

This may be a reverse approach to this challenge, but this is where my brain took my words.

Truly appreciating what you have without looking at what better things may come along may be easier said than done.  There is always the outward pressure of ‘what if’ that will make us ponder the value of what we have now versus the value of what may lay beyond.

We take the risk of upsetting the balance in our lives, that sure thing, to forage the unknown.  And perhaps the excitement of the mysterious is part of the allure.  Perhaps the elusive birds in the bush hold the key to something we have not been able to realize with the bird in hand.

It’s lofty to dream, but as long as we don’t let greed cloud our vision, each of us will always have that feeling of wanderlust.  It’s how we choose to act on that feeling that is important, and so far, I have never let that voracity interrupt the path that I have chosen.

This one time, in Texas……

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I have lived in Ontario for most of my life, but in 1998 I moved to Halifax to live with my best friend Sandra. I got a job at a bakery and, with the low-level of pay that was minimum wage, struggled to make ends meet. There was nothing left at the end of a pay period to allow for much of a social life so the internet quickly became a great source of amusement. Back in those days, there was a social site called ICQ and I met a myriad number of people from all over the world. One fellow in particular captured my attention and we developed a friendship that seemed to plant the seed for a greater attraction.

We wrote poetry and song lyrics together and would spend countless hours on the phone talking and singing together while he played guitar. We knew we had to meet face to face. My best friend and I decided we would spend our vacation driving through the States and that Austin, TX would become a stop on our whirlwind tour.

The hours we spent in the car, although amusing, were long and arduous and we would find creative ways to keep each other awake. Sandra knew the steel trap that is my mind stored movie quotes ad nauseam and she would give me a quote and I would quote back from the same movie. She made the mistake of asking me to do some scenes from Arthur, with Dudley Moore, and I began with the introductory theme song and continued to do the movie almost in its entirety. The sign for Austin loomed ahead as I came to the end of my monologue and Sandra breathed a sigh of relief.

The meeting with Danny went extremely well and he was excited to take me to his work the next day. His excitement had a child-like enthusiasm as he toured me around the facility. There are some details that I don’t recall specifically, but he was trying to explain the weight of something and handed me a concrete block so I could comprehend the comparison. I picked up the block and immediately dropped it at my feet. Searing pain registered in one of my fingers and as I looked down at the block, a small scorpion scurried along the ground away from the block. Danny’s shock registered immediately and the color drained from his face. He knew I had been stung and hurried me inside and grabbed his pack of menthol cigarettes. He began chewing some of the tobacco and placed a wad of saliva soaked tobacco on my finger to draw out the poison.

scorpion

(Image courtesy of Google, but the resemblance is uncanny)

Hind sight being what it is, I should have gone to the hospital, but I’m here telling the tale so the worst never happened. I did spend an inordinate amount of time in a great deal of pain. My lips went numb for a few hours as the diluted poison surfed through my veins and my finger throbbed like a Fred Flintstone toe after being crushed by a boulder. Danny trapped the little bastard that assaulted my digits and after a few minutes of shaking the glass jar that was his tomb, the scorpion committed his own form of Hari Kari by piercing his own skull with his poisonous barb. Although I did feel a small amount of satisfaction watching the life ebb from his crunchy little outer shell, it didn’t alleviate any of the pain.

We said goodbye to Danny and to Texas. Our journey continued and we made more pleasant memories in New Orleans, South Carolina, and enjoyed the pain-free remainder of our vacation as we made our way up the picturesque Eastern Seaboard and crossed the border back into Canada.

Things didn’t work out with Danny. He couldn’t understand my vehement objection when he asked if I would move to Texas. I’m sure I stared at the tip of my violated finger as I broke the news to him. I’ll take mosquitos and black flies any day. Scorpions?  No thank you.

What is the strangest thing that has happened to you?

I read, therefore, I review

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I love to read.  I don’t make as much time for it as I would like because I am consumed with writing, but when I do ignore the incongruously fueled ideas that seep into my conscious hours I love to immerse myself in the written expression of others as consumed as I am by words.  I have been fortunate to meet many talented writers and genuinely nice people on this blog site.  And I also consider myself lucky to have read some of their published works.  I have written my amateur reviews on Amazon and wanted to share them with you in hopes that you would read the books written by these truly talented people.

The Gods of Asphalt by H.E. Ellis – I didn’t want to put it down 

Engaging from beginning to end, The Gods of Asphalt takes us on a journey of emotion and growth. Sawyer and River, two brothers with a far from normal childhood, struggle with their past and find a way to define themselves through Ellis’ depiction of teenage angst and growing pains.

Their relationship with each other, their family and their peers is written with such honesty and tension that the pages seem to turn themselves as you are wrapped into the weave of their lives. Within their turmoil we are given true insight into their characters and find something compelling in each of them. Ellis writes with such realism that the book takes on a life of its own. She gives depth to not only the main characters, but to each of the ensemble that support Sawyer and River on their adventure.

The Gods of Asphalt is the first in a series and this foray into the family dynamic puts the spotlight on Sawyer. His journey to finally break free of his past and live a life that is defined only by him is an endearing story and one that will have you strapping into your seat as you ride along on his roller coaster.

I would recommend setting aside several hours if you start this book because you won’t be able to put it down.  Go here for more information on H.E. Ellis and her books.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives by Edward Hotspur – Who knew driving to work could be so funny 

One hundred morning drives and one hundreds reasons to read this book. From funny to thought-provoking, Edward Hotspur takes us on his journey to work and on an adventure through the workings of his mind. It ranges from hilarious to emotionally charged and never disappoints.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives makes you wish you were the co-pilot in the vehicle that drove this book. It is a collection of blog posts that transforms into a day-to-day account of the life of real person that describes real feelings and hilarious observations of the casualties of the human experience.

It is humor, wrapped in honesty, wrapped in reality and then wrapped in bubble wrap for safety. If you like to laugh at life and find some deeper meaning hidden in the text, put on your seat belt and get ready for a hundred morning drives.  Click here to find out more about Mr. Hotspur.

The Eleventh Question by Dianne Gray – Emotional attachment to the characters

Author Dianne Gray truly knows how to get to the real essence of her characters. I was immediately drawn into this book and had trouble putting it down.

Although worlds apart, Dianne weaves a connection between a girl struggling to define her reasons for being and Seer trying desperately to help her find the answers to her questions. The book seamlessly transitions from one perspective to the other and intertwines helplessness with hope.

The Eleventh Question not only engages us in the journey of the characters but makes us reflect on the signs that life presents. It delves into the deeper meaning of intuition and gives us hope that nobody is ever truly alone. It is an uplifting story of survival and success against all odds.  For more information about Dianne Gray and the other books she has written, click here.

my words

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(image courtesy of Google)

words-1

my words embrace me.

my words do not judge me from the outside.

my words speak volumes about who I am underneath.

my words define me in a way my speech never will.

my words convey an emotion that churns in the pit of my being.

my words will help you see who I truly am without the facade that I present.

my words are me.

my words allow me to speak with no sound.

my words allow me to feel with no pain.

my words are who I am and not who I pretend to be.

my words come from my soul and not from my mind.

my words drip with my emotion.

my words are rich with imagery.

my words are me.

my words bring me to a place of comfort.

my words help me find understanding.

my words draw characters in my imagination.

my words make those characters breathe life.

my words implore me to continue my journey.

my words free my creativity.

my words are me.

What does it taste like?

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The envelope stood alone in her mailbox, her lawyer’s name etched on the top corner.  The papers had come and it was finally over.

She headed to her favorite restaurant and bought a bottle of Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon and brought the glass to her nose.  She could trace the hints of dark berries, Cassis and mocha.  The aroma penetrated her nose and she savored the scent.  When she finally let the glass brush her lips the wine spilled over her taste buds. It was heaven.

The bartender was curious and asked her, “What does it taste like?”

“It tastes like freedom.”

100 word challenge

This was written for the 100-Word Challenge at Julia’s Place.  I just stumbled on it, and I do love a challenge.

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

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I’ve never been afraid of the water.  But perhaps after spending five years trying to calm the waves in my marriage I have been left with the slightest hesitation about diving back in.  Divorce can feel like a Tsunami, like the calm before the storm.  There is a sense of peace and strange tranquility and then the rush of emotion comes like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its path. And like the Tsunami, you know that wave is coming but it’s nearly impossible to get to a safe haven.

tsunami

(image courtesy of Google)

The dating pool, although seemingly non-threatening compared to the violent storm waves, beckons and standing on the edge of that pool is just as daunting as watching that tide surge forward.  The water may seem calm on the surface but the hidden dangers lie beneath that placid sheen and the potential for another storm gives me pause.  The slightest touch of the surface causes ripples and pushes me back from the edge of the pool.

I watch as the ripples dissipate.  The soft blue glow seems so inviting, but the dormant threat still lurks under the veil waiting to lure me closer to the edge, waiting to gently touch my skin and pull me under when I am blissfully unaware of the current below.  I can’t swim, not now.  Maybe sometime soon I will remember how wonderful it felt to float in that water, how comforting it was to be surrounded by its warmth and to feel buoyant.  Maybe soon, but not now.

I’m sure the water is fine, but I don’t think I’m ready yet to hold my breath and jump.  For now I’m content to sit on the edge of the pool and exhaust every argument in my head as to why I shouldn’t just take the plunge.

~

This was written for the Trifecta Challenge:
EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

Losing sight of what is important

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For all intents and purposes, I am a still somewhat of a virgin in the blogging world.  I started this journey in August and have been doing my best to stay true to what really means something to me.  But as it is in many cases, I felt somewhat lost along the way.  I spent a great portion of my time watching the stats on my blog instead of focusing on what was truly important – the honesty and sense of self in the words that I write.

I began this journey because of a deep yearning to free the ideas in my mind, to let loose the writing demon that was trapped in the confines of my cranial matter.  I spent my days off this past weekend utterly disconnected from the outside world.  I turned off my phone, ignored my television, refrained from playing any music and just lived in the silence.  And within that silence, I found my inner voice.  I connected with what it was that brought me to the blog world in the first place – the love of writing.  I finally allowed myself the chance to be what I desperately yearned to be – a writer.  Although there was no looming deadline and no urgency to put ideas on a page, I fervently followed a passion that has recently been rekindled.  I conceded to the power of the words so desperately trying to form themselves into ideas and let them paint the landscapes of my prose.

For me, watching the stats on my blog almost made me forget why I began this journey in the first place.  I don’t write for anybody other than myself.  That may sound like an extremely selfish statement, but it is based in pure truth.  I write because I want to, not because I feel pressured to write.  The fact that other people enjoy what I write makes me utterly ecstatic and urges me to continue along that path of creativity.  Throughout this journey I have met a great many people who not only share the same passion, but who are becoming friends in the process.  They are people who have found a forum to let their inner voices escape and meet in a place where they are not only accepted, but adored and applauded.

Losing sight of what is important to me may have momentarily altered my bigger picture, but spending a day listening to the writer in me brought me back to reality.  It refocused my yearning to write, if for nothing else, than to put words to a page and to connect with others who can translate my voice into their own words.

I had the rare opportunity to regain my vision and recapture what holds a true place in my heart.  My writing is my passion and I will never lose sight of that again.  The otters in the video below remind me that it is not about the people who are watching, it really is about getting back to the things that are truly important to us and forgetting what is happening in the world around us.  It is holding true to the things we value the most.

Slaying the dragon

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Even if it is broken, it can’t always be fixed ~SN.

My mother always used to tell me that I like to find the ‘broken ducks’ and fix them…..and it’s true.   I seem to be magnetically drawn to people who I think I can “save” in some way, even though they may not be looking for salvation.  If I look at it honestly, with no rose-colored glasses, my childhood perpetuated this need to create a sane world in a universe of quiet insanity.  On the outside our life was perfect, but on the inside there were things that created the person I am today and ingrained the need to make life as perfect on the inside as it seemed on the outside.  But I chose to focus on others rather than focusing  on myself.  I felt the need to create a picture by painting by the numbers that belonged to other people instead of the numbers on my blank canvas.  I grew up as a child of two alcoholic parents and the need to fix my parents spun into a life of restoring a sense of normalcy in every life but my own.

No matter the size of sword you carry, sometimes the dragon is bigger than you anticipated and it cannot be conquered by steel alone.  Although I spent many years of my youth trying to slay that beast, it had far more power than I anticipated and my life became a battle far greater than a teenaged girl was prepared to face.  The need to vanquish that dragon spilled into my marriage and the cycle of alcoholism and redemption breathed new life.  The dragon was alive and well with a different face and a new attitude, but it was the same dragon I had been battling for years.

slaying the dragon

(Photo courtesy of Google)

Perhaps it was the wisdom that came with age, or perhaps the sword I had been wielding had gained strength over the years, but the dragon I was faced with in the days of being married didn’t seem to possess as much strength as the dragon of my youth and I was able to overcome its fiery existence and reclaim the life I was meant to have.  Maybe that dragon still lingers, awaiting its chance for revenge, but I have finally drawn the line.  My stance is rigid and I am ready for that battle.

If there is anything this blogging journey has taught me, it is to be honest.  Not only honest in my life, but honest in my writing as well.  And whether that honesty presents itself in traits of a character or a mere extension of myself in this forum, it is freeing.  I have shared parts of myself I never thought I would divulge and it has liberated a piece of myself long since buried.  I have fixed myself by escaping the confines of my past and breaking down the walls that caged my future and instead have trapped the dragon in that cage.

I don’t know if I’m writing this to remind myself of the strength that I need to hold close to my heart or if I am writing this to finally free the dragon that I may never slay.  Regardless, tears slowly slide down my cheek as I free this last bit of anguish and look ahead to what will be.  I cannot change the past, but I can certainly shape my future by letting that dragon rest as I move on to a new castle that is free of that beast.

My life is a blank canvas.  It awaits a new story board and a tale that is yet to be written.  And maybe the canvas is slightly damaged, but I will embrace those impurities because the vision of the artist still holds the potential for a beautiful new masterpiece that is waiting to be created.

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.

foot-in-mouth

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.