Why would anyone?

As I drove him to school this morning

Cheese-"Why would anyone want to be a writer? All you do is sit alone and type all day."

Me- "Well there is also research, online, and in libraries, and with people, and oh, sometimes you get to go to different places to research the places".

I could see this wasn't making it sound any better to him, so I added "And some people just have stories inside of them, and feel like they need to find some way to get them out"

I meant for this to sound sort of magical and stuff, but after reflection realize it sounded more like writing is a sort of illness, where by one is infected, invaded, with story like ideas, and must find some way of extracting them, so they can be free and feel right again. And yeah sitting alone at a typewriter or notepad for hours, is the prescription for cure.

So anyway, this the question of my day, 'why would anyone want to be a writer', as set forth to me, by the 11 year old. Yeah I have thought about it before, but based on my inability to make it sound pleasing to him, I wonder if I shouldn't set forth for myself a more engaging answer.

Why have I decided that the ideal way for me to spend my time, year in, and year out, would be alone, reading, and researching, and spending hours at a time sitting in front of a computer screen, struggling with words, and ideas?

Usually when thinking of this question, I focus on the end, of the feeling after, of having created something, but today I am thinking of the process, of a life of days, one after the other, of sitting alone typing. And I am asking myself, how do I feel about that?

dis of the day (so far)

I find children are not good for one's self esteem. Before having a child, I thought they did things like, think their parents were smart, funny, attractive, with-it people. And that they offered up hugs, and "I love you"s willingly. By the time my son was 3, I knew this wasn't the case.

I just got back from picking him up at school. He steps into the car with "You really have to stop doing that!". I ask "what?" thinking, he thinks I am in the wrong lane or something. He says "You look like a little old man who is going blind, with those dark glasses and your frizzy hair".
:(
Oh come on now, how many little old half blind men, have long frizzy hair!

The good news, the sun came out causing the need for the sunglasses.

Today is the sort of day


when I find I am asking myself "Why do I live in the northeast?"
cold, wet, windy, grey, barren looking.
And today is the sort of day when I can provide no sufficient answer to that question.
I was born here, is all I can come up with at the moment, and really, as I have legs for walking, and a car for driving (and a bike too if it comes to that), that reason doesn't seem quite good enough.

Just went and got wreath off of door, as wind was intending to carry it off, and leave it as a gift in some neighbor's yard.

oh well, back to writing

I have been working with something like a step outline, but for the current section I am working on, there isn't much down already, so I feel uneasy as each word, each idea, feels new and untested. I know what is over the hill and down the lane, I know what to expect when I will be at that place several (thousand) Wednesdays from now, but I don't know what is around the very next corner. There is a lot of uncharted territory between today and that day, and my map seems horribly vague. I know a lot of you like that, being explorers, the excitement of discovery, the unknown. But I like my map. I like knowing where the gas stations, lodging, and restaurants are. I like knowing what sort of views and activities to expect. I still find plenty of spontaneous moments, and discovery, tucked into my framework. Plus my framework style is to wait, till I am told, so instead of tedious plotting, it is more just waiting as/till unexpected scenes and sections fall into my lap. And then when I have enough of them, I lay them end to end, and feel I have a story beginning to end. But of course I am not told everything, no some of it I have to work out, figure out, for myself, and that is when I get nervous, that is when I have to go off map, and have no idea what I am doing, and it feels like I may just be making things up. And what if I am making the wrong things up? Face to face with thousands of decisions needing to be made, I cower in uncertainty.

That said

I am surprised to be finding out that I am much calmer when making the attempt, than I am when avoiding it.
So that is helpful. I have to just keep telling myself that, reminding myself that, that is true.

No new post, but I did add 1,000 words to Echo
Worked on a section I have been really struggling with, so hopefully I moved forward enough to be less stuck, when next I attempt to take a step. (which really should be tomorrow)

Shift!

the sun must be out
for I feel it inside me
laughing

I smell spring
though it is far away
I feel the certainty of it

my slumbering mass
stirs
rises to peer out the window
"open the windows"
it says
I say "no, it is too cold"
"open the windows
open the windows
open the windows!"
"No"
"open one window.
stand still and breathe it in.
Open the window!"

just found an odd bit of faded paper

in my desk drawer (while I was searching for a kneaded eraser, which I did not find)
it seems to be a bit of a pep-talk for writing
as like my garden plants, my writing seems buried and still, tucked down below the surface of cold winter, I thought I might offer these words up to myself, like a heat lamp, see if I can get anything to grow.

someone is waiting
feeling shattered
they need new eyes
for seeing
for healing
for feeling
give
words
that can touch

create

make the
little delicate creature
with wings
bigger
so she can give
strength to
another


(this may seem bold, but at any rate. I am waiting)

I'm a little bit nervous about going to sleep.

Last night that lovely hallucination thingy happened again. I wasn't on my left side, so I was following my personal rules to try and prevent this from occurring. Instead of standing leaning over my bed, the image, male, in pale almost white tones, was right in front/above me. No farther away then 10 inches. Scared the H out of me. It actually felt like a big rubber band had been snapped against my chest/heart. I don't know if the pain was part of the hallucination or caused by my fear. I sat in bed, thinking my God, that saying 'scared to death' might be true, as I tried to catch my breath, and my heart pounded away. I am nervous and annoyed over it. I don't have a strategy to prevent this one. I hope this type doesn't become a repeater. I am not, of course a child, I am not afraid of the image itself, not now anyway, not the fully awake me, but I am afraid of the impression that any such image will make on a half asleep me. I am afraid of the fear itself. In dreams, sometimes you think "oh this is a dream", but more often, most often, no matter what happens, how off the wall, you just sort of go with it and accept it as true, while you are there, you live in that world, and respond as though it were real.

As if to try and make up for that episode early last night, the universe, or my subconscious/unconscious, gave me a nice guest star to my early morning dreams, Anderson Cooper. I never managed to pull his image into my dreams before, even when I used to have a mad crush on him, so it was nice to see him. Circumstances were a bit pathetic though. Anyway, long story short, Anderson was sitting on the floor, and I came up and sat behind him, somehow managing to offer myself up, as a makeshift reclining chair/cushion. I didn't think he would go for this, but he didn't care/mind. There was no more interaction than if I had been an actual chair (no eye contact, no words), but um...apparently that was enough to please me. To be clear, in my real life, I don't go around offering myself up as a chair to people, no matter who they are....well...when my son was little I certainly at times functioned as such for him....and of course there is the cat, who clearly feels that besides feeding him, this is a required function of all people in the house, to be a heated cushion/sofa/bed for him, but I mean other than that.

Even though, sad to admit, that was the best dream I ever had about any crush. Still if the hallucination thingy is the price I have to pay, then forget it. Andy can find and use an actual chair, or sit on the floor sans support for his back.

okay now I am really really really tired. And also a bit embarrassed which should help keep fear at bay.

goodnight

by the bye,
doodle very bad I know, but I think that is funny

Time?

I can't figure out where mine is going?
It seems I keep losing it.
I know I am not currently losing it to the blogosphere because I can't seem to find time to go blog visiting.
And while I believe that aliens could in theory (if they exist) abduct people and make them lose time, I don't really believe that they do. (currently are, or that, that is my particular problem)

Cheese's grades have been slipping lately (he qualifies as gifted, so this is an attitude problem), and he has been getting extremely upset really easily (over nothing, all the time), plus his BF has (at least for the time being) friend dumped him, plus he has dumped his other chum, so he isn't really hanging out with anyone (except for me). So I have made a new rule, which is, when Cheese is home and not actively engaged elsewhere (in another activity in the house) I am to be available to him. Though I have stated this rule outloud to no one, ever since I decided this, the boy hasn't been actively engaged anywhere that is elsewhere, so it is all about joint activities now, mostly of his choosing. We make M&M versions of ourselves. We watch stuff on youtube, like pomeranian puppys playing, and some really weird unicorn named Charlie (which we will not be watching again). I have recently discovered that I am not cut out for playing Wii, as it frustrates the heck out of me, making me hostile (I yell at the little screen that I did so hit that tennis ball!), and for days later I am so sore I have trouble doing normal activites with my right arm (like putting shirts off and on. I get stuck). (I am very good at the bowling though. When I manage to release the ball at the right time, takes several do-overs till I do, but then is marvelous at knocking down pins). Cheese and I watch kids shows, and also food network, and travel channel together now. Et. cetera. We also spend a considerable amount of time each day, having a row over his needing to do his homework. Cheese- "you are ruining my day! Why?! Why must you be so mean?". (um because all those zeros on homework assignments and projects are pulling down your grade average). I am looking for other less technology related things, we can do together (I am considering cooking.) (Cheese wants a dog). When Bob is home, we play Apples to Apples.
So from 2:20 on, when I leave the house to go get him from school, it is now Cheese time.

Also Bob is sometimes (half the times) home during the day till 12 or 1 PM, we often run errands, and when we are at home he does things like, talk to me. I am currently really trying to respond in a way that is more wifely and less "why are you talking to me? Can't you see, I am trying to do something?"-y.

And my mom has been calling me, during the day, just about every day for over a week now. I am not sure why. I don't know if she thinks it would be better for me to talk to people more, so she is doing me a service, or if she just feels chatty, or like we should interact with each other more, so let's. It is not a bad thing, but I have trouble not talking on the phone long, no matter if I have anything to say or not, still I will go on and on saying nothing things.

And when I combine the above together, with the normal day to day, house up-keep stuff, and my slow moving mind and body, um I get the feeling that not much is getting done, and that I don't have any time.

I am really going to have to do an overhaul, and tightly schedule the time each day, that I do get to call "my time". I need to create a specific writing time. It wont be able to be a long period of time, but I will have to make it sacred, as in no matter what it happens (then even if Bob is home during that time, he will know, I wont be long). I think it will have to be first thing after I get back home, because day after day, the days just seem to be getting away from me.

*wow long post, well I know where some of today's time went.

watched nasty little show (accidently, was on a channel between two other shows I was going back and forth to), about The End of The World, indicating it would be um..about 5 years from now, based on some ancient prophecy type stuff. I hate these sort of fear mongering things, so am quite mad at myself for watching it, but when I started I didn't know where it was going, and it was the history channel after-all. Anyway it left me with an uneasy sort of feeling which I am still in the process of shaking off.

The show did make me wonder though. What would I do if I, and we, only had 5 years left to live? I found this one unsettling in a new way. What would you do if you only had 5 years left to live, knowing the world, family and friends, would still live on, is a quite a different scenario/question in my mind, than this one. There are ideas of leaving a legacy, of trying to do some good for the world, or for your family, before you go. A painting, a book, a garden, experiences, love, something to give, to leave, to those who go on without you. Giving everything a great big long hug before you sail off alone away from it. But if we all go? (and if the earth itself is no longer that which it is now, earthquakes, floods, yada yada). This view gives a different weight to each activity, to each moment, knowing there is no future. Making each moment more meaningful, and yet extending meaninglessness to so much. I know I wouldn't spend one more second exercising, or thinking that I should. I would harass myself about things that don't really even matter, a lot less (maybe even not at all). Would there be a mad dash to gather-in new experiences? I don't know, I would definitely try to go to some clear blue beach water. But would I embark on world travel? When I ask, my mind fills with small moments, with my husband and son. Would we explore? Would we stay close to home? What would we do, and how would we be in the world, and with each other?

I know I would still plant flowers. I think I would probably still read books, and watch TV. Paint? Probably. Definitely try to eat more better tasting food. I think I would try to hold each moment closer, and try to see everything contained in it. Each sound, every sight, feeling, touch, taste, scent.

I don't know, how would we gather in our lifetimes to that set period.

Since I am still wondering. Do you know? Do you know how you would spend that time, if that was the deal, 5 years for whole planet then gone?

best not to consider the scenario of everybody knowing, because then I fear, grocery stores, airlines, gas stations, etc. wouldn't be running anymore (would people still go to work?) and that would be a whole different thing, bringing the world to a stand still much sooner. Let's just say that you know, and your loved ones do too. Then, how do you proceed?


I doubt I would bother saying sorry over little smudgey blurry flower photo, but as I do expect world to go on.
Sorry for blurry smudgey flower photo.

bit concerned

about Cheese. Ugh, perhaps post about it later

The ever kind Vesper
has generously given me another award.
I am very grateful for the friendship she has given me.

Here are my tags, (most links at right of blog, under the duck)

Paul, The struggling Writer
Amy. Medviews
Kyklops, kyklops.blogspot.com
Maht, The Moon Topples
Akasha, aspirationsfromthedarkside.blogspot.com Or aspirationsfromaworkingmum.wordpress.com

Since I didn't tag anyone for A Roar for powerful words, here are 5 more names, but I believe all already have both roar, and friendship, if not, please take one, if so, consider yourself even more roary and friendy.

Vesper, chick with a Quill (you didn't say no tag backs)
Minx, The Minx
Vanilla, Absolute Vanilla
David, Witnessing am I,
Sognatrice, bleeding espresso

(I'll be back later to fill in urls. At present I must be off)

sometimes

there is this almost unbearable beauty

snow is falling, I am driving
radio plays a song made of music boxes and chimes
and the sound seems to come from the snowflakes
whirling, and floating, across my windshield
whirling, and floating through the sky
releasing this music into the air
into me
a magic suspended in the moment

Some beauty inherent in watching snowflakes land in a puddle alongside the road.
The snowflakes disappear, melting in, but do not evaporate, they are joining, gathered.

I see the weathered barn of red, backed by purple grey clouds, giants in the sky.
The barn's windows catch the light as I drive by, each little pane shimmers, flashes.

The telephone wires, bands of light (of white gold) gilding the countryside.

The water in the pond is thick and cold, at one end the top is frozen, the ducks glide.
Part of me coalesces. Trying to gather the meaning written in this visual scene.
A poem spoken directly to my soul.
The words, the meanings, my mind can not yet hold.

Vibrant arches of red thorn bushes, woven in the white bronze thicket.

Every tree a perfect sculpture of earth, of sky, of water, of time.

The top half of the white birch, illuminated by sunlight, one note held long and clear, I lean in, to hear.

An old house, windows gone, layers taken off, peeled back, only the underlying structure remains.
All is exposed and open.
Are the hands working upon it, tearing it down, or rebuilding it?
It stands there bare in its beauty.
I am witness to its being,
upon this moment in time.

And I wonder again, if I play any sort of song for them?
A woman driving by in a car; do they hear me?
Do I reflect anything, that can have meaning, or beauty, that can touch them?
Am I any kind of a poem, to a tree?

Bob asked me, "Is it easier to write sparse and then fill in later, or easier to put a bunch of stuff down, and then take parts of it away?" This was in response to something I had just said. I am pleased that he asked me such (any sort of) a writing question.

My answer was, "It depends. Sometimes I don't get much, I don't see much, so what I write down seems more like stage direction. 'He picks up the letter and walks out of the room'. Other times, I see a lot, and feel a lot, but am uncertain how to capture it, convey what I see and feel, so I over-write the scene, putting it a bunch of different ways, thinking later-on I will pick one."
There are problems with both, but I just put down whatever comes, and can't put down what doesn't. Sometimes it comes and seems just right, not too hot, not too cold, just right (write). (but um that doesn't happen very often)

I am wondering about others, how you write, and how you feel it is best?




by the bye,
I am reading over Echo, and it is full of too sparse sections, and sections of clunky, heavy, wordy attempts, like I've crazy glued a thousand leaden legs to a butterfly. But while I am very aware of the difficulties I am having in telling/sharing the story, I find, I do like the story itself, which is encouraging, and will hopefully propel me forward through all the work needed to create an aerodynamic butterfly.
The thing I find interesting of late, is that I have realized that it is a lot of work, will be a lot of work, hard and challenging, and that IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. For some odd reason, I used to think that if I was frustrated and uncertain, and reaching beyond, that meant I was doing it wrong, or not supposed to be doing it at all (just not up to it, not for me), but now I see that is how it is done. Of course, it is WORK. And rather than making me feel worse, or overwhelmed, seeing it this way now, is something I have to hang onto, it makes me feel calmer, and more reassured.

Hard as hell, don't know what the heck I am doing, struggling= is all just fine, sunshine.

Vesper, from Chick with a Quill was kind enough to extend this to me :)

(hmm ut oh, I have no words at moment, powerful, silly, or dull, seems I am all out)
(Well perhaps tomorrow)
I am supposed to tag 5 others, though those I visit most often have already been tagged.

Jane of my heart

The Complete Jane Austen

I'm so excited, this Sunday 1/13 kicks off The Complete Jane Austen on PBS.
It starts with Persuasion !! :)
And I've never seen a film version of Northanger Abbey before.
Becoming Jane is not part of the line-up, (that is the one book here I have yet to read), but I put the book in to represent
Miss Austen Regrets, a new biopic, which will be part of the line-up.

Generally speaking movie versions of books tend to disappoint me a little, as they are never the same as the book (I take any alterations a bit personally, and get offended), and also movies never FEEL the same way, the reading of a book does (I tend to watch movies, and live books). But still I can't wait to see these. And every now and then, I do find a movie version of a book that I fall in love with. At any rate I should be able to enjoy these movies in their own right, as different versions of stories I am already so fond of. A little book of matches, lit one after the other, to warm my cold winter self.

IS jumping from one sort of visual imagery to another within the presentation of a single idea, akin to mixing metaphor?

I have to remind myself

over and over
to just be where I am.
I keep starting, but then jumping away from the writing.
I am a bit stuck, I don't know what I am doing. I don't know how I am going to do this part.
It is odd, as I have the boards, which form a vague sort of outline, I know the points that need to be touched upon, I know what will happen, but still I don't know how I will get there, from here, and here. How will they all be woven together? How, where, when, does each strand get woven in to create the whole? I keep freaking out, running away from the words, away from the story.

I have to keep reminding myself, I only need to see this moment. Be in the present moment in the story, and describe it, and walk through it, and then when I get to the next one, do the next one. I can't keep going on unnerving myself by wondering about several steps ahead, or a page ahead or even a paragraph ahead of where I am. I need to be calm and centered, and center on just this one piece, and move from piece to piece, strand to strand, stepping stones, through, across the story. After I am done the rough draft I can go back, I can move words, and ideas, and weave better, now I just need to move, from one moment to the next. I only need to hold one strand at a time. I only need to see the moment I am in.

I only need to see the moment I am in.

"Do you know where Mikiyoshi is right now? Do you know what he is doing?"

"yes"

"Go there.
All I ask of you is to go there,
sit with him,
feel those keys in your hands.
Can you do that?"

"of course. I was there earlier today.
Before I fled."

"Go back sit beside him. Perhaps you need to wait, to sit still and listen. To wait like you always keep him waiting. To hear his breathing, as he kneels bent on the floor.
The candle is lit, the offering is made, you both wish to turn the key in the lock. All you have to do is keep your eyes open"

my mood, transient.
A small shell tumbling in the tide.
Water rushing forth toward shore, taking me with it,
then pulling back, receding ocean dragging me.
Over and over, carried by water, moving one way then the other
tossed up, then down, smashing against the sandy bottom, then pulled back up again.
An urge to ride the waves, fling myself upon the shore, anchored on land, feeling the dry heat of sun.
The pull to find the current that will carry me back lying still under the cool deep ocean.

a castle in the mist
a mood, a thought, reflected in the sand washed by sea and touched by sun,
where I am trying to be, what is calling to me,
an image that I lose sight of again and again, as I tumble uncertainly.

#5 of 7 random things

Ritual Chapstick

Chapstick and I have been chummy since I was 14, when I found I had trouble sleeping without any.

I also wear lisptick during the day, but chapstick is my true mainstay.

Over the years I have developed specific flavors/scents for specific times.

Softlips Vanilla, is for sleeping. I've kept her on my nightstand for several years now. One has to be careful in the middle of the night though, as she is very fond of rolling away onto the floor. I find the scent calming and delicate, it reminds me of good things, a scent to bring sweet dreams.

Lip Smacker Pink Lemonade, is for wearing while exercising. I have been wearing her thus for 10 years. I keep her in the front part of my make-up drawer in the bathroom. The scent is happy, cheerful and awake, so I feel it should help me get moving.

Lip Smacker Jell-O Grape is for general day wearing. I found her this summer. I lose her all the time though, as she bounces around from drawer, to make-up bag, tp purse. I have two or three of them, but am always searching. The scent is reminiscent of grape kool-aid and popsicles, a bit of childhood summer on my lips, and this one actually tastes sweet. When I put it on in the car, I invariably hear "What is that? What you got there? What are you eating?" from Cheese in the backseat. He is always disappointed to find, it is just chapstick.

ChapStick Peppermint is for writing, not blogs, emails, or letters, but for rough drafts, my attempts at novel writing. I started with this summer of 06. I keep her with my writing stuff, on the desk in my studio, or on the coffee table in the formal living room (which is where I mostly write, despite Bob's protests). Peppermint scent is supposed to both soothe (help with headaches), and stimulate, I find it to be a good writing scent.

I like ritual. I like having scents to help cue me into certain actions and activities.
There are other chapstick flavors about my house, back-ups, that just didn't make the cut. The sents and flavors were just so-so and not right for ritual. I'm ever on the look-out, for new scents and flavors that I can use. Like maybe find a blogging scent, or a cleaning one, or book reading one, or one for gardening.

Oops

I missed my own 1 yr blogiversary!

It was December 29th. Well I am always running a little behind, if I am lucky, and big behind, if I am not.
I was quite uncertain when I began.
What the heck is this?
What am I doing?
Why am I doing it?
I first looked into myspace, but it didn't seem to be any place, for me to have a space. It seemed to be all about popularity, and pictures of oneself (I am not saying it is, I am saying that was my impression).
I was looking for a writing space, a place for words, and looking for a group of people who also have writing aspirations.
So I ventured out onto the blogosphere, word by word.
I was alone for a long time, not visiting anyone, and not visited.
I looked around but couldn't seem to find other blogs with writing ambitions, so I mostly just kept to myself.
But then one day I happened upon GoodThomas, now Witnessingami. And it was like walking into a sunny room, and I could look out onto other views, and find other rooms to walk into from there.

I still don't venture out too far, I don't make a lot of stops, I am like a homing pigeon, with a particular pattern of flight, but that circle of flight takes me to another place in PA, to Chicago, other points USA, to Canada, and to Italy, and Spain, and South America, and England, and Scotland, and....et cetera. I am very grateful for the company. For the words, voices, ideas, and the points of view.

While my blog still functions mostly as my morning pages, I do hope it is somewhat readable, and now I try to include photos so it is more visually friendly.

This blog has done some of what I had hoped, found me a community of others who wish to write (and even some published writers), gotten me used to writing every day, given me a place to set things down that seem to be wandering and wondering about my mind. And has done some things I hadn't expected, showing me other places in the world, giving me insights into other people, and writers, who sometimes make me sad, frequently make me laugh, and almost always make me smile.

Sometimes we are silly, sometimes serious, there is stuff to think over, and stuff to just enjoy, and there is normal just day in and day out being alive stuff too. I have liked seeing the different styles. Mine is mostly day to day stuff, whatever comes, gets set down. But others have creative writing blogs, with poetry, and passages. Some of you are witty, some funny, some creative. (well most of you are those things).

I hope I am learning from you, about blogging, about writing, about being, seeing different styles, and ways of doing.

I am encouraged by you, to keep walking forward on my manuscript writing path (I am more of a meanderer than a runner, but still I am taking steps ahead), and I am very happy to have joined the blogoshere.

#2 of 7 random things (though I do seem to have lost track)

2. I am addicted to salt. I really like coarse kosher salt right now. The amount of salt I use seems to bother other people. I don't know why. But they are forever commenting on it.When I was a small child I used to make a little mountain of salt on my plate and dip food into it before I ate it. I don't do THAT anymore. Bob has joked over the years that he should get me a salt necklace so I will always have some on me, because of the numerous occasions, when out and about, when we have had food and no salt (a situation I never take well to). This summer I did take to, taking salt with me in my purse. This is really helpful for me at the shore and other moist places, where if you want any volume of salt you have to unscrew the lid to get it, which I have done, but which seems very um...unsophisticated (to put it nicely).. The thing is, except for fruit (which by the way I don't put salt on) raw peas, and raw carrots, I don't actually like the way food tastes as is. I am very into condiments, and pasta sauces, and dairy products to make food taste better. (and of course salt)

it is

damn cold here

The cat is curled up in front of the heat vent, with the drapes all around him, making a cozy heat tent.
He is lying down now with head and tail tucked in, fully hidden in the drapes.
I have placed myself beside him so that my right shoulder picks up currents of hot air.
I think he is rather annoyed that I am intruding upon "his spot", as he keeps waging, and flipping his tail about.
Too bad for him, if he gets annoyed enough to leave, I'll place myself right infront of the vent.

I had intended to be on the treadmill at this point, then shower, then work on rough draft.
But it seems pretty rough just trying to stay awake. While Cheese and I were off, we stayed up late, and slept late, and now getting up a smidge after six seems truly cruel.

Cheese had a saying about him this morning, he said "You must take a chance, to have a chance.".
I like that.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!

Wishing all who happen by, a great 2008.

Oh drat, I lost all the pretty changes I made to the type. Oh well.

You say you want a resolution, well you know, we all want to change ourselves..

Mine is to tie an action to each one of my dreams.

To put more action, and less wishing, into dreaming.

Rather standard fare. To eat healthier, to be more fit. To feel healthier and more fit, on all levels, mind, body, spirit.

To love better. My family, my life, the world, myself.

To establish a routine, where I automatically do things that need to be done, rather than have to think of it, and have time to debate the act each time.

Going to bed on time will be key to all other things falling into place.

My greatest resolution though, the one that I have heard calling to me these last few weeks, haunting, like the beating of a buried heart, is to finish the rough draft, and work on the manuscript, work on it, work on it, till it is truly done, till it is the best I can do, I can offer. To finish this one thing I feel called to do.

If at the end of this year, I have gained 40 pounds, eaten a bag of potato chips every day, fed my family pbj sandwiches, or food from a can, for dinner, and have to wade through several inches of dust to walk through my house, if all that, but...BUT I have written that story out, and am proud of the work I have done on it, then it will have been a fantastic year, the best year ever.

So knowing that, I step into 2008

I am grateful for all of those who walk along with me, both close and far.

Viva possibilities! :)