Variations on the word rain

fire away! i don't think i can condense or repress my thoughts any more than i have already. now i have no idea what to do for the rest of the evening. it has begun to storm here, the wind is moaning against my door frame, damn the draft. i knew i should have put new stripping in. a towel will have to do for now. every now and then a smattering of hail hits the windows and the panes creak as if they want to give up the fight, i have one cheater log left. can't decide whether to set a match to it now or wait a little longer. the walk to the train station tonight was miserable. the rain, biting cold, like ice water striking my skin. but inside it was warm. the lights shuddered and blinked out. the world looks beautiful from my box. i'm writing in all lower case, and much too long, to annoy glen boyd. to buck against his pedantic rigidness. to show him that all words have their charm, and the variations in their delivery reflect the vagaries in the mind of the writer. i have my charm as well. and vicki feaver on my mind... sharing one umbrella, we have to hold each other, round the waist to keep together, you ask me why i'm smiling--it's because i'm thinking, i want it to rain forever.

 

Currently Reading: The Red Door by Charles Todd
Look for the review soon on my blogcritics writer profile page.

David Kelley: How to build your creative confidence

Guided Mastery.... Creative Confidence  http://support.ted.com/

It happens from time to time that I lose myself inside myself and I must search for the little bits scattered about to remind me of who I am... To remember the things that inspire me to create.

Poetry, a photo, a note tucked into my journal: These things eventually lead me back to my own unique voice.

"Like Raymond Carver I also have a photograph of my father. I found it last night whilst sorting through boxes looking for Christmas ornaments. It's a photo I had put away intentionally, buried deep under old work files and papers I had written in college. A photo that I had no desire to see again.


This picture was not given by him. My aunt had given it to me when I turned seventeen. "You look so much like your father," she had said, and I remember feeling the creep of discomfort, looking away. I didn't know how to respond. As I recall I mumbled something about my uncle telling me that before. She went on as I sat in awkward silence, her tone collusive; the family was just outside on the patio and this was forbidden conversation." A Photograph of My Father

The Commitment to Write

LOGOS

Do You Recognize These 10 Mental Blocks to Creative Thinking? From Copyblogger

Check out who I'm talking to now: Interviews From The Edge on Youtube    Interviews From The Edge on my Technorati Writer Profile    Blogcritics A GEEK GIRL Profile   Currently Gearing Up To Cover the 2012 Concert & Music Festival Season   Look for the reviews soon on my National Music History Examiner page and my Salon Blog: Music & Concert Guide.  Hang with Me on Twitter: @a_geek_girl

A woman of contradictions

Once upon a time I wrote...
I did warn you that the sea reminds me of my own turbulent spirit. Inviting you to dive in one minute and slamming you against the rocks the next. Are you tough enough to weather the gales? Those violent storms?

Shakespeare wrote in 'As You Like It'
"They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together;
clubs cannot part them"

I'm a woman of contradictions. I wonder if you have the strength to bring me to my knees. Many have tried. Few have succeeded. Like water I slip from their cupped hands.

And now I am restless.
Unsatiated.

I sat tonight, candles glowing on the mantle, the moon, a shadowy orb, illuminating the night outside, and thought of this. What would it take to break through this shroud that has covered my mind with darkness? I miss the shipping forecast. I miss the dreams I had of traveling across dark waters to find my peace. I'm unable to find the words to make that connection again. I feel far from myself, the self I used to be. I want to lash out, to get in my car and drive until I'm in a place that holds none of the familiar bonds that are forcing me to be grounded.

And yet I long to be stopped. To be forced by your hands into unwilling submission. I want you prove to me that you'll never let go. To fight for me. I want to feel the leathery bond as you slip it around me, pronouncing your dominion over me.

I want you to make me feel alive again.


Transient

The shipping forecast for tonight...
There are warnings of gales in Viking North Utsire trafalgar Shannon Rockall Malin Hebrides Bailey Fair Isle Faeroes and Southeast Iceland.

Listen to the BBC Shipping Forecast with me.


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

 

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BlogExplosion 2010 Problems in the blogosphere

Anji, one of my co-blog-reviewer-approvers on blogexplosion, recently wrote a few posts on problems that we've been having since the loss of contact with the blogexplosion owners and senior administrator.
BlogExplosion: Problems logging in and surfing

This post is a message for her and all others who might be having the same concerns.

Anji, I did manage to locate some older blog posts about BE having this same problem sporadically over the years. It seems to occur every couple of years. 2006, 2007, Blog posts complaining of no support/admin responses and thumbnails not being updated, etc. Those posts correspond with changes in ownership and management.

I have a feeling that what has happened is our senior *volunteer* admin finally gave up trying to keep up, particularly in light of the fact that he was working for free -- He maintained the site. Dealt with server and script issues. Added new blogs. Updated thumbnails. Created new ideas to keep the site fresh and interesting (He did a great job there, but that had to be majorly time consuming.) Responded to emails. Checked every forum post and deleted the spam. Checked each site that received a *flag* for content. Responded to member complaints about other blogs or comments that had been left by members on their profiles.

I have a feeling that the straw that finally broke the camel's back was the constant complaints and gripes at him from us, the members. Complaints that 'admin' and 'support' were not responding to emails and thumbnail requests quickly enough. That sort of thing...

I know there were others helping him before, but they didn't appear to last long. I had no idea that 'admin' and 'support' was really just one guy, trying to do it all alone-- and for free, until you told me. He never said anything about it on the forum or in email responses. I think we all would have been a bit more patient had we known that. And a bit more appreciative of his efforts to keep the community happy and the site interesting.

I'm sure the in-boxes for support and inquiries are over-flowing with duplicate email requests sent multiple times by the same people-- and spam. I don't think he'll ever look in there again. I don't think he'll ever come back. He obviously got just as much support from LiveUniverse as we did. None. And he has a job and a family.

I think what will happen (as portended by the past) is that ?LiveUniverse? -- or current owner -- will eventually do a spot check (probably an annual or bi-annual audit of sorts, or to pretty it up for sale, again) to make sure everything is up and running. They'll see there is no senior admin and take back control of it.

They'll probably delete all of our approval accounts without notice--we just won't be able to login one day-- they'll clean out the support requests and admin emails (they know that there are thousands waiting for approval and more coming in every day, if someone needs support badly enough they'll send a fresh email when they see there's new management) They'll add new advertisements and apps. maybe even give the whole place a shiny new look.

Then suddenly a new admin group will appear. They'll set about fixing what needs to be fixed and BE will take off again with a re-newed enthusiasm...
until the next break down or sale.

Don't fret Angie Baby. These things are cyclic. We're just feeling the same stress that our 'admin' felt; like we're personally responsible for each and every member's satisfaction and all of the guilt that comes with not being able to keep everyone happy.

I'm kicking back and enjoying the time I have left to approve blogs.

Information For New Members

I'm thinking we should create a standard email we can send to new members as we add their blogs. Just to let them know that BE is in a holding pattern, and to be patient. That support is not currently available, and they should not make any site purchases until further notice.

But they should log into their accounts and go to 'surf member blogs' to start earning credits and that they need to go to the 'assign credits' page after each surfing session to move the new earned credits into their blog account. They can also choose the option to have those credits automatically assigned -- then they won't have to do anything except have fun surfing blogs and meeting new bloggers.


(click to enlarge)


I'm making my predictions based on information from the web and in old newsletters I received from BE about how these problems occurred, and were resolved, in the past. I've listed the BE NEWSLETTERS that I think are significant, but you might want to read them all for their historic value. The changing personalities of the owners, admins, and the site as a whole.

Sept 28, 2004 Meet Thomas and Jeff: The guys who created blogexplosion issue their first email newsletter.
April 24, 2006 Blogexplosion Sold: BlogExplosion has been sold to Stephen Sartain.
May 3, 2006 Under New Management: Meet the new blogexplosion management Lewis Johnston and Stephen Sartain
June 9, 2006 Ooops and Ouch: BlogExplosion is up for Sale again
June 17, 2006 Blogexplosion Sold (Again): "The new owners are a large group." This is where the mystery begins... a large group of what?


I have one more piece of information I'd like to share for people who have submitted a blog at blogexplosion for review and have not yet been approved.

In 2008 the senior administrator and resident geek Chris created an algorithm to move those who are serious about becoming community members to the top of the approval list. Here's what he had to say about it on the forum.

Hi Susan

It sounds like you may have been caught by my blog verification algorithm. If a user does not attend (log in to) blogexplosion for more than 30 days their blog is moved to another queue.

The idea of this is to ensure only blogs with active owners are reviewed. With such a huge backlog I had to find a way to bring legitimate blogs to the front of the queue.

For an idea of whether it works or not there is still over 4000 in the queue waiting for their owners to come back.

They will not be processed unless the owners return and log in at BE -- because you came back your blog was automatically rushed to the front of the queue.

Once the queue drops to less than a 30 day backlog all blogs will be reviewed in the order they are submitted

Chris







Currently Reading: What Will Happen in Eragon IV by Richard Marcus
Look for the review soon on my blogcritics writer profile page.

Snow Day - Cold Morning Play

I awoke the other morning to find a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. Not something we get to enjoy here often. I poured a cup of hot Brazilian coffee to fight off the morning cold and prepared myself to go outside. The wind chill factor was still well below freezing so I threw on my new fur and suede boots, my big winter coat, a hat, neck gaiter, gloves and liners and headed out to take puppy for her walk.

The kids in the neighborhood were playing in the snow. I could hear the echo of their high-pitched laughter as it bounced off the houses. I recognized the voice of my neighbor's five year old daughter as she screamed and then busted out into giggles. She was yelling indistinct instructions to dad, mom must have been inside with her new baby brother, a child they named Wolfgang. I do not know why. I'm thinking more likely Van Halen than Mozart.

As I trudged my way back up the hill towards the house I saw the damage that I had only heard in the early hours of the morning. Furrowed tiremarks buried deep in ice patches right in front of my driveway.

This is a regular sight for us when icy weather hits. We live in the middle of a double hill, where the first hill begins to flatten out, a place known to trap unsuspecting yard gnomes, past my driveway the second part of the hill ascends steeply. An area that accumulates runoff so that when people leave for work in the morning they hit what once was slush, but overnight has become a large peaked patch of ice. I hear them as I lay in bed in the quiet dark on wintery mornings, they hit the patch, tires spinning, then slide back down again. They rev their engines and hit the gas, hoping that momentum will eventually prevail and propel them past my patch of icy slush. It usually takes a few tries. As a neighborly gesture I keep salt in the garage and put some out, but this year the storm came so quickly that by the time I realized that I had run out, there wasn't any left in the stores, no sand either as the whole city braced itself for the worst.

The sun was trying to come out. The sky was changing from dark slate to cold steel grey. The wind, excruciating. I pulled my neck gaiter up higher on my face and my hat down further until all that was left of my face were my eyes. I pulled my parka hood down to block the wind from my eyes and hoped that puppy would guide us both home safely, but no. The snow and the kids playing proved too much for her. She rolled around, kicked up snow and barked, trying to get their attention. Normally they would have run right over to play with her, but not today. Today all either of us would get would be shouts of hello and waves from little gloved hands.

I stopped at the mailbox at the end of the drive. There was a package that I was expecting, it was overdue enough to cause me concern, but not concern enough to drag myself out in the freezing cold after work to look for it. I opened the box and bent down to look inside. There it was. Finally. That had to be it. A manila folder just the perfect size for a book. I reached my hand in and grabbed it, the feeling of excitement growing. This should be the review book I had been waiting for. Web of Deceit by Darlene Cox. I've been dying to read it.

I started to open the package and that's when I felt it. Or rather, heard it. I'm really not sure which. It was a small noise that seemed to have some percussion. A thud in the back of my head. It was familiar, awash in nostalgia, yet it took me a moment to realize what it was. I had been hit with a snowball. I couldn't help but giggle. I haven't been popped by a snowball in years.

I turned to see who had assaulted me and in the middle of the street stood one of my neighbors. Bundled in a big, puffy snow parka, a scarf and a balaclava all I could see was the smile on his face. He laughed out loud and waved a big gloved hand at me. I laughed and waved back. I still have no idea which neighbor it was. But it made my day.

I took puppy back inside and opened my package to see that inside was indeed the book I had been anticipating. And there was a note from the author inside. I really nice note. She had taken the time to write a small apology for the delay and a really sweet little letter. She included her email and phone number so we can keep in touch-- Like a note from an old friend. I was half tempted to pick up the phone and call her to tell her We Got Snow!!!

Instead I tucked the book and letter away in my book bag and snuggled up on the couch with puppy to watch one of my all time favorite movies, Enchanted April






I prefer winter and fall,
when you feel the bone structure of the landscape -
the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it,
the whole story doesn't show.
~~ Andrew Wyeth

My Three Must - Haves to survive the Winter Weather

Women's Suede And Fur Boot
Neck Gaiter
Traditional Balaclava (various colors)


Currently Reading: Web of Deceit by Darlene Cox
Look for the review on blogcritics http://blogcritics.org/writers/a-geek-girl/

 

A Cold Night in the City

The last two nights have been cold. The kind of cold that wraps itself around, radiating inwards. Making me feel fragile. Flesh over glass. Breakable.

I took the train all week. That has been my favorite mode of transportation since taking an Amtrak trip with my mother when I was little. I traveled by train all over Europe. The subways of New York and DC. I find there's something soothing in the rhythm of locomotion. Particularly on the night train, when the lights blink off randomly and the only sound in the world is the bump and whir of metal on metal.

I missed my train both nights. Projects that ran late so that I found myself sitting at the platform in the biting cold, alone. Wind gusts at 20-25 miles per hour and a wind chill factor in single digits have sent this city into hibernation. They are not accustomed to cold here. They've not experienced the kind of cold that I did growing up on the Atlantic Seaboard. They've never known the bite of a Nor'easter nor the sudden blast of cold air off the Chesapeake-- it sucks the very air from your lungs, like a punch in the chest that makes you gasp.

I felt the subtle vibration of the metal rails that signals the approach of a train and began gathering my things. My hands were numb, even with gloves and liners on, so that I had a difficult time making a fist around the straps of my bags. As I stood up to wait for the train to show itself around the bend in the tunnel a homeless man wandered past, wearing most of what he owned on his back and carrying the rest in black garbage bags. He walked past me, his mouth moving with words that I could hear, but not understand; the specific cadence that all city dwellers recognize immediately, the song of insanity. He did not look at me. I did not exist in his world.

I moved towards the edge of the platform to wait for the doors to open, anticipating the blessed rush of warm air that was sure to come. The homeless man had stopped talking now. Standing rigid on the far end of the platform he suddenly turned and shot me an angry look. He crooked a dirty finger at me and said "You're all done for." Then he turned and continued on his way.

When I got home I followed an old, familiar routine. A routine born on the Eastern Shore as a teenager. I immediately put the kettle on to boil for hot tea, turned on the stereo and then went into the bathroom to start the shower. I stripped off the many layers of my winter clothing, leaving them on the floor where they fell. Too cold to bother with them now.

I stood under the water, slowly raising the temperature from warm to hot. Letting the heat melt away the rigidity in my muscles. I listened as James Morrison sang from the other room.
I've been twisting and turning in a space that's too small
I've been drawing the line and watching it fall
You've been closing me in, closing the space in my heart
Watching us fading and watching it all fall apart


I felt my body begin to relax. Memories of home filling my thoughts.

I dressed in warm, flannel pajamas with thermals underneath and then poured a cup of hot Lady Grey. I picked up the package that had been sitting on my doorstep, abandoned no doubt, by my poor half-frozen postman after a few quick bangs on the door that got no response. I ripped off the parcel paper to find a hardbound copy of The Red Door by Charles Todd, the next book I'm due to review -- another commitment that I made to myself. I felt the momentary tingle of anticipation that I get when new review material arrives, then I stuffed it into my book bag for safe keeping and sat down to write.

The words of the homeless man are with me still. "You're all done for." I remind myself once more that this is not my home, it's just a place I'm staying until I get back there. I fear that if it's not soon his words might prove prophetic. The Sea is calling.





Currently Reading: My Life and Other Lies: Tales from the Writer's List <-- Click to read the full review. by Steve Pitt. A collection of wickedly funny short stories from a man whose name nearly became a social disease." A Geek Girl at blogcritics.org

Links:
Read with me?
The next book for review is The Red Door by Charles Todd.
Listen with me?
The song is called The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore from the album Undiscovered by James Morrison



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The Commitment to Write

Most of us who are passionate about writing find at some point that the desire to write and the words to express ourselves have disassociated themselves. Some people call it 'Writer's Block', others 'a dry spell'.

I call it 'The Slough' and I immediately set about looking for inspiration to overcome it as soon as it begins to rear its ugly head in my world. I habitually read several blogs on writing tips and it always rejuvenates me when I find other bloggers who write well. There are three problems I've found with using this approach:
1) I find myself reading and reading, but not writing a word myself.
2) I write (at least on this, my personal site) in rich and slightly florid prose. A self-affirming response after being forced to write more rigidly elsewhere. Most of the sites I enjoy reading are more journalistic, geeky, which only serves to reify my feelings of literary alienation.
3) I get great advise from sites on writing, but find that most of them are focused on writers who write in 'niches' with sites dedicated to one subject or one theme, whilst my writing is based on the vagaries of my emotions and my own chaotic experiences.

I've always assumed that I write geek for my living, but the Muse is only truly with me when I'm writing from my heart. And when I cannot get to the place where I can express myself the Muse will eventually return and free me from my cursed bindings.

That whole ridiculous idea was shaken when I landed on Joanne Huspek's website.
joannehuspek.wordpress.com.
For the first time in a long time I was getting useful writing advise that would change my philosophical view of writing. She impressed upon me the idea that writing is work no matter what the subject, and that I must make a real commitment to it. A commitment of time and attention. The saving grace for me is her approach to writing; it makes no difference what I write, as long as I write. That I don't have to look at writing as a packaged product. A 'thing' that must have a beginning and end. And that I don't have to write with the idea of anyone else reading it, I just have to write. I've now realized that the only real defense I have against 'The Slough' is to commit myself to a certain amount of writing time and/or a minimum amount of writing.

Her advise is simple.
Five Tips that have changed my perspective on writing.
Adventures in Writing: Kicking Your Muse to the Curb

"There is NO such thing as a Muse.
Getting anything accomplished, including the task of writing, takes blood, sweat, tears and more tears."
I must confess how vulnerable I felt in finally admitting to myself that what she says is true. There is no Muse who will eventually come to my rescue. Sad. I had wanted only ever to be her amanuensis. I had been so patiently waiting-- and at least I had someone else to blame when 'The Slough' was upon me. Reassured in my conviction that Erato was just being coy.

"Set up a daily minimum word amount."
I'm definitely going to put this advise to work. I've the terrible habit of avoiding writing until I feel that I have something of substance, and quantity, to write. She has inspired me with the idea of a daily writing minimum. I used to carry a mini-journal of sorts, jotting down random thoughts and observations that usually opened my mind's creative eyes and also gave me material to fall back on when I was feeling blocked. When I stopped lugging it everywhere I don't recall. I would imagine it had to do with not having room and time for it at work. I dug it out of my old briefcase on New Years Eve as I made my commitment and resolution to write every day. I must admit to being overcome with panic when I realized that it was no longer in my book bag. I had poured my thoughts, and my heart, into that purple-striped, elastic bound journal. I had stuffed its pockets full of scribbled notes and photos during my travels to New York, Las Vegas, Paradise Island, not to mention the hastily jotted fragments that screamed in my head for release at red lights and whilst standing in line at the grocery store.

And the time commitment?
"Set up a daily time for writing."
Needless to say this is the most difficult part for me as a woman. More and more over the years I've allowed my own desires to be usurped by feelings of guilt. Guilt that I'm being selfish. Guilt that I'm being negligent in some way if I put my writing ahead of the priorities of other people. Resentments that build on all sides when I refuse to be at the beck and call of my career, and all the while I feel my internal clock ticking a mournful countdown on the woman that I had thought I would be. All of the goals that I've put off thinking that I had so much time. I had broken my vow to myself. My own desire, a jilted lover left at the altar. 'I want you, I do. So much. But not right now, just sit quietly and wait for me. Don't change. I won't be long.'

But I had been long. And I returned changed. My passion had become inconvenience, I had acquiesced to the label that others had forced upon it.

I have decided on a time, either very late or very early depending on your geographical perspective. I will not let work interfere. If the words are there, the journal comes out. But I must learn to sit myself down with the intention of writing, no matter whether the words are in the mood to be had-- I have to put pen to paper. This is about training and self-discipline. Changing my habit of waiting until I have something 'worthy' to write.



In a moment of Epiphany I realized that I've treated my desire to write and my commitment to writing as two separate issues, when they should have been one all along. The commitment to write should be the fulfillment of desire, not a burden to be overcome. I don't know when this changed for me, when the passionate writer that I once was became so hard on herself. When my self-criticism became so severe that I found myself unable to enjoy writing just for the sake of doing it.

I could blame it on writing geek. A very specific format. Rigid. I feel like it locks me into a particular way of writing and it takes time for me to find my own voice again.

My Commitment to Write
So the commitment I've made is to write a minimum of two paragraphs every day. It matters not what I write-- or if it is on the web or in the little journal that I have once more secured in my book bag. I just have to write.

A Place to Write Your Heart
As I had written in Logos I have many scraps of paper lying about with half finished thoughts. I've decided that this blog should be the place for such fragments, the pieces of myself that I cannot bear to throw away-- although it will no doubt confuse anyone who doesn't understand my purpose. I started another journal elsewhere. It will be used for more formal writing. I cannot link it here, not yet, but I'll explain all of that later... Just know that there will be nothing there that will not be, or is not already, here first. This space will remain the home of my 'private' writing as well as random thoughts and observations. Probably far more interesting in the long run.

Some posts here will go down and be moved as I weed through and begin the process of dividing myself into two selves.
In the words of Anais Nin
"There were always in me, two women at least".
"The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say."

I shall attempt to say all that I could not.
This will be my journey.

Joanne Huspek is one of my favorite fellow writers on blogcritics.
She's smart, funny and very prolific.
You can visit her profile page here.
http://blogcritics.org/writers/joanne-huspek


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

 

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Currently Reading: My Life and Other Lies: Tales from the Writer's List by Steve Pitt. The review will be going up on A Geek Girl at blogcritics.org

The Spirit Box 2010

The ritual of burning The Spirit Box is one that I have taken part in every year since Seamus first wrote about it. My First Spirit Box was the most difficult for me.

I collected my notes from the year past and put them to rest forever. As the flames began to rise I once more felt the release that comes with letting go of the past. I now have the freedom to move on. An opportunity to begin this decade with a soul that is cleansed, a mind that is looking only forward, never back.


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Currently Reading: My Life and Other Lies: Tales from the Writer's List by Steve Pitt. The review will be going up on A Geek Girl at blogcritics.

Happy New Year HNT

I made myself a promise. A promise to write something every day. A commitment that I'll explain later. But it has led to a decision that must be made. A difficult decision. To make a change that I have attempted--and failed at--many times over the past few years.

I've tried to leave this blog before. Each time I've found myself right back here. I've set up new blogs and invited everyone to come with me. I wouldn't even get my blogging bags unpacked at my new digs before I would come running back, leaving confused readers with an annoying case of whiplash. I think I've finally found a compromise. A way to start 2010 at peace with my dichotomous spirit. And with renewed purpose.

"IT was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down;"
Part Four: Time and Eternity LXXV
~~ Emily Dickinson

As per Os' instructions I made a choice of my favorite HNT from this year. Not much to choose from due to my forced hiatus for half of it.

I selected the Freelance Writing HNT because it was the time that I finally began to feel myself again.

I'm working the long mid-shift tomorrow so have patience. If I'm not there this morning I will be by to visit in the evening. I have so much to say to so many of you as we usher in this new year. And comments will be answered.

Until then I love you all.
Happy New Year.
Happy HNT.
You've brought me the joy and confidence I needed to continue on.

Blog Explosion

I'm an admin for blogexplosion.com. A free traffic generating community for bloggers. We currently have 106,807 blogs in the directory and we're looking for quality writers to join. This site is for bloggers, not for sellers, not for corporate websites. Just blogs.

The subject doesn't matter. There about fifty categories, from podcasts and video blogs to anime, gaming, technology, blogging tips, business info and personal diaries. The only requirements are that they are written in English, that they are updated at least monthly and that comments are enabled. All sites are reviewed by (mostly) real human beings and we try to keep up a standard that weeds out junk and spam blogs.

I review websites for admission into the blog explosion directory. This is a labor of love that I took on as a result of my desire to find well-written blogs. I enjoy reading interesting sites. I'm always fascinated by the eclectic mix of writing and topics that roll through my dashboard.

Last night I had intended to visit the blogs I follow, but when I popped into Blog Explosion I found a large number of blogs that needed reviewing. I set aside my own visits to make sure that these writers waiting for their acceptance emails were not held off too long. We get hundreds of new blog requests daily. It has added up over the holidays as admin members spent time with their families--as they should.

The problem I'm increasingly running into is the number of spam and advertising blogs that are being submitted. This is a site that runs as a community. With 'Battle of the Blogs' you can pit your blog against another and members will vote on their favorites, they offer free blogging services and the chance to get to know other bloggers with similar interests. After you log-in you gain visits by visiting blogs in the directory. This increases your traffic as well as helping you find interesting new sites and writers.

Not to mention all of the useful blogging/technology information you find on Blog Explosion sites like Gadgets Directory or the great photography and biting wit of runswithscissors. The chillingly fascinating chronicles of True Crime journaled at In Cold Blog.

Anais Nin's Diary has been called 'The Liary' due to the heavy re-writing that Nin did to get it published, and yet it is still a brilliant, creative, erotic piece of lying literature--Much like UnpopularTruths "When my fake editor came to me with the chance to conduct a fake interview with Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger – noted pants-around-your-feet enthusiast and unapologetic photo-op horn-thrower – I jumped at it like a chicken on a dough dish." Okay. Maybe not so much erotic, but brilliant and creative definitely.

And then there's My Kafkaesque Life. It takes a special stroke of creative genius to take a picture of an unpublished post and make it a post. A shy guy. It says all of the things he would never say directly in a post.

Now that is brilliant.

One of my dirty little vices~ I could easily blow an entire afternoon reading the book reviews, rants, recipes and plain kvetching of The Library Lady Rants "Yes,I am aware that people can't read simple instructions. Hell, I'm a librarian, who would know better?" As a matter of fact I have blown an entire afternoon reading her. In my pajamas, drinking hot tea. What can I say? Showers are over-rated.



Last night I wasted hours wading through money-making blogs that offer nothing in their posts except links to on-line stores and advertising disguised as blog posts. I couldn't unleash that feculent bilge on this community of bloggers who have devoted themselves to creating a unique, entertaining and informational presence within the blogosphere. I hit the reject button so many times I chipped a nail. Frggg

So now I'm turning to you. If you can write and you have a unique style, information to assist bloggers, or just humorous observations on your daily life, please. Please. Add your blog to Blog Explosion. I'd rather chew off my own toes than have to sit through another night of viagra/creatin laced drivel.

Logos

Halfway through shaving it came–
the word for a poem.
I should have scribbled it
on the mirror with a soapy finger,
Gone Forever ~~ Barriss Mills

Lately it seems as if words have lost their meaning. Where once there was a wealth, seemingly endless, now there is a dearth. I feel empty. Exhausted.

Mnemosyne has cradled my head and brought me back to places past. Places which I have no desire to revisit. I wake up in the middle of the night to whispered words, the voice my own. Yet they will not stay with me. I force them from my mouth again and again, as if speaking them aloud will transform them into something substantial, some form that I can retrieve in the morning's light. But this is an exercise in futility. What I have left, the gossamer remnants, are scattered on random slips of paper that I leave where they fall.

I find them later and wonder why.

Her memories have been lost in death.
I mourn for them.

My blood runs, thick as stones

The mind's eye is deceitful.
It shows us a face we can live with.

Perhaps I just need rest.
so that we may sleep... when sleep will have us

I have no choice. I can never connect the psyche and the logos in this state.

I will sleep
when the last star
has lost its light
and my love is
wrapped around me
Like my own skin

Let me tell you this once
(I will not be able to say it again):
I have lost the meaning of words.
Heavy, they ripped
away from the sounds,
fell into cracked ground.
Naming ~~ Nancy Mair

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

 

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Currently Reading: I'm working on my latest book review for Blogcritics. Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid ~ due for release in December.

Shakespeare for Telemarketers

Featured Blog: Fizzle and Pop

Collin is one of my oldest blogging buddies. We also worked together on the Fizzle and Pop Writing Forum a few years ago. A project that was a blast to be a part of, but extremely time consuming to moderate -- it ended with a fizzle and no pop.

That may have been my fault. I was moderating at the time and the last writing challenge ended with people wondering in comments if I was dead. And I was. Okay. No I wasn't. But don't tell them that. They might want their burial donations back.

So we never got to the voting stage on the last challenge. And now the writing forum stands as a memorial to the community of brilliant, witty writers who once played there. We may still have links on sites like a Harley Davidson shop who apparently thought their visitors would like the Motorcycles Vs Carousel Horses discussion. And the pet store who must have thought that when Collin wrote about 'petting his chinchilla' he actually meant a real chinchilla. I'm sure their visitors must get a kick out of it when they read and realize what he was actually talking about. Unfortunately this has become a Members Only section with a note from Collin:
These are games that are open to members only.
Because they're dirty and stuff.
The games.
Not the members.
I told you he was funny.

I was reading a post on the beefjerky blog on 101 Creative Ways to deal with telemarketers.
* Tell them you have that stuff for sale that they've always wanted, but this time it's gonna cost them. If they ask what stuff, tell them 'you know the stuff i'm talking about'

That made me laugh.

Then I read The Job Search Continues by Collin...

I came across a posting for "Phone Actors & Actresses"... I'm thinking "Sex Line." That, or perhaps they call up people and do Macbeth at them until they're paid to stop.

*ring*ring*

"Hello?"

"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence."

*click*

I thought to myself that perhaps if you combine the two...
Shakespeare For Telemarketers.



You might actually have a real solution to the telemarketer problem. I would recommend that you memorize some Richard III and recite it in a loud, obnoxious, Shakespearean voice. Think Lawrence Olivier... only louder and roll your rrrrrrrrrs longer.

Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries...

Do not be detered from your speech no matter what they say on the other end of the line. This is war! You must bring them to their knees.


I hope you enjoy a visit to Collin's blog.
He's a brilliant, witty writer.

Observations From a Mall

Rotten kids. Horrible Parents. Shopping has become a nightmare.
Even Versace can't save us now.



I've been noticing it more and more lately. Perhaps it's due to the economy, the heated political environment or maybe just a cultural shift towards impatience with anything that doesn't bring immediate gratification.

This is an observation I made last week as I was setting up displays for the latest changes during Fashion Week.

The Setting: An upscale fashion store.

A mother is waiting for a fitting room. There are 6 fitting rooms and each one is occupied. She has her 3 children with her. A daughter about 12 years old. A son about 10. A little girl about 4. Mom is around 30, she has a fantastic tanning bed tan and she is in incredible shape. No doubt she keeps her personal trainer very busy. She's wearing enough diamonds and gold to give Queen Elizabeth an inferiority complex. She's carrying Dolce and Gabbana (the big blue bag, not the little one). And she's driving a gas-guzzling SUV. Her clothes are high end. The kid's clothes are high end as well. She is extremely rude to the sales staff and other patrons. She is gaudy and ostentatious; one of the patrons hand-coughs bourgeois as she walks by and others titter at the joke. However she seems blissfully oblivious to this fact. And also to the fact that she strongly resembles a ridiculous caricature of a late night TV drama character.

Mom has dragged the kids into the store so she can shop for herself. She has loaded up her arms with clothes that she wants to try on and now, a good hour or so into shopping, she is starting to get angry and impatient that she can't get into a fitting room right away. She starts to yell at the sales associate, demanding to know why there aren't more fitting rooms.

In the meantime baby is running around grabbing clothes off of racks and screaming 'I want this!', stamping her little feet and glaring at mom with an 'I dare you to say no' look on her face. Mom turns to her and says 'No. You can't have that'. Baby angrily throws the garment on the floor and goes back to the rack to grab another garment and return with it--she repeats this scenario over and over. Mom turns to big sis and yells at her 'I told you to keep an eye on her! Go get her now!' I'm thinking... It's your kid lady, you go get her.

Big sis looks overwhelmed trying to wrestle garments from baby and drags her, literally kicking and screaming, back to the fitting rooms where she promptly breaks loose and runs back out onto the sales floor.

Brother has been completely ignored during this time and he's obviously been trained that negative attention is better than no attention at all. He's been knocking over displays and taking swipes at big sis while she wrestles with baby. Mom yells at him to 'cut it out or else'.

Mom demands to see a manager. When the manager arrives mom starts yelling at her that she needs a fitting room now! Right now. She starts to curse. She wants to know what's wrong with 'you people'.

As her agitation mounts the kids become more agitated as well. They're all angry, stressed out. Lashing out both physically and verbally. Big sis looks like she's going to cry, and she is becoming increasingly rough in her handling of baby who is now slapping, kicking and pulling sis' hair to try to escape her restraint. Brother has School Bully written all over him. He's actually enjoying the negative attention he's getting for his acts of violence. He reaches over and thunks baby on the back of the head with his thumb and middle finger, making her scream like someone has poked her eye out. Big sis says 'you're a jerk!' He mimics back at her 'You're a jerk.' in a nasally voice that makes me want to pop him one. Then smack! He slaps big sis in the face while she tries to hang onto the squirming, kicking baby. Mom shouts 'I mean it! You're both going to get it!'

When a fitting room finally comes available mom turns to the fitting room attendant and says 'Watch them while I try these on'. Not a request. An order.

My jaw almost hits the floor.

She chooses to bring the children. She chooses to overload her arms with clothes to try on, at least a good hours worth of clothes changing, and now the fitting room attendant is expected to be her babysitter.

The fitting room attendant declines politely, explaining that she can't be responsible for the kids.

Mom begins another cursing fit, throws the clothes on the floor next to baby's rejected wish list, and starts yelling for the kids, with another severe outburst at big sis for not keeping baby under control. She storms out of the store screaming about what a horrible place this is and that she'll never shop here again. She's going to call corporate and complain. She stalks out to her SUV, her face distorted into a mask of insanity as she screams and yells unheard instructions at poor big sis who is trying to wrangle baby into a car seat.


The Aftermath:

When she was safely out of the parking lot and on her way back to her happy life, I walked over to the fitting room attendant, she looked up at me sheepishly, with tears in her eyes from the verbal beating she had just taken, I felt bad for her. I let loose a few choice names for 'crazy mom', telling her not to worry about it. If anything we should feel sorry for those kids. She's creating monsters that she's going to have to deal with later on. Her life must be horrid. Can you imagine being that stressed out all of the time? And teaching her kids to get that stressed out whenever they don't immediately get their way?

The ladies waiting patiently in line for their fitting rooms chimed in with their own support...
'I don't take my kids shopping with me. It's not fair to them...'
'She can afford that purse, but she can't afford a babysitter?'
'I've got news for you. That purse is a knock off.'
'It's not your fault honey, that woman is nuts...'
And then a woman who was old enough to have finished raising her kids said the most profound thing.
'I wonder why people like that even have kids? Some sort of self gratification I guess.'

Oh yeah.
Definitely.

I can't think of anything that will guarantee that your kids will grow up to be frustrated, miserable people more than teaching them that they, for whatever reason, should have an expectation of immediate gratification. That their wants and desires should become someone else's priority, simply because that's what they want. Now. And they absolutely should not be made to wait.

I see similar behaviors every day in different forms. From the grocery store to vacation spots, I see kids stressed out because they cannot get what they want immediately, and I see their parents and how they behave, how their stress and frustration is passed on to their children. It won't be long before those chickens come home to roost.

If all kids grow up to think that others should acquiesce to them, they are bound to live lives of frustration and anger. Because no one is going to give them what they want all of the time. Particularly not others who have been raised to think that what they want, they should get as well.

It is a vicious circle.



Disclaimer: This story is based on actual events, however the names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. If you see yourself or any of your family members in these characters, I can promise you that I probably was not writing this about you. And you should seek family therapy as soon as possible.

"Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfils the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things."
Winston Churchill

This was originally published on Blogcritics. Heading there to answer comments.

I hate and I love

These chains that bind me are not of metal nor silk.
They have been forged by my own hand. My own heart.
I know I should go and yet I cannot move.

Why is it that the more cruel he behaves the more I fold myself into him? Why is it that one sharp word from his lips can send me into the darkest of places? And yet every word from my own lips is of love.

There is most certainly betrayal here. But is it his betrayal or mine? And who is being betrayed? Does he betray me or do I betray myself?

Thank you Catullus for seeing the truth in contradictions.



I HATE and I love. Why I do so, perhaps you ask.
I know not, but I feel it, and I am in torment.
~~Gaius Valerius Catullus

I knew a ferryman before.
But he was not so old as you.
He spoke from unembittered lips,
With careless eyes on the bright sea
One day, such bitter words to me
As age and wisdom never knew.
Sappho Crosses the Dark River into Hades
~~Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Rain

Tonight I sat with the french doors open and listened to the sound of the rain.
I lit candles around the room and turned on the stereo.

Fade Into You by Mazzy Star was playing softly.
I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath thats true

I poured a glass of wine and settled down into the couch to listen, pulling my throw blanket up close. The turbulance of the last week has left me feeling drained. And although I can still feel the brush of your lips on my mouth I feel lonely. Disconnected.

I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth

There's something comforting in the sound of rain. It takes me to a place of peace. A place where I feel more myself. I've always found comfort in water, the sound of it. Whether it's the crash of angry waves against a rocky shore or the bubbling rush of a hidden spring, I feel it inside me. A soothing re-connection with my metaphysical soul, as if I am merely a simulacrum of a woman, lost without my pelagic spirit.

Fade into you
I think its strange you never knew

I drank my wine and listened to the rain drops beat their own particular rhythm on the flagstones of the patio outside.

Tomorrow I think. Tomorrow we'll be better. We'll let the rain wash away the past and begin again.

Thank You

My first article for Blogcritics, 'Broken House - A Look at Life One Year After Foreclosure' has been selected as an *Editors Pick*. Let me say this quickly, before Kanye West takes the mic from me. I'd just like to thank my family and the fans...

Remembering Ted Kennedy

My mother once met Ted Kennedy on a flight to NY.

She called me when she landed and said 'guess who I was just on an airplane with?' It was so cute. Considering everyone she had worked with in the music business that was the first time I ever heard her sound like she had just met a rock star.

It's sad to lose him at a time when he was still so passionately involved in the current issues and when he still had so much work to do. Nancy Reagan had some wonderful things to say about him, which I think is rather appropriate and very telling about the true spirit of the man. He did defeat Reagan's attempts to reverse his personal labor of love, the Civil Rights Act, that polarizing issue that got Reagan elected in the first place (and that still seems to be at the heart of the animosity between the 2 parties almost 30 years later).

Regardless of how far we have come in our fight to make this country truly equal for all of its citizens, the fact is that there is still fear of racial equality being dramatically served up to the masses and a portion of the population who want to believe it and who thrive on drama and reactionaryism) and yet he never allowed politics to prevent him from being there when his support was needed.

I worry now about who will take his place. Whether you loved him or hated him it cannot be denied that he was the embodiment of pertinacity. He never gave up when he thought a cause was worthy and he had no fear of taking heat. His outspoken opinions and his willingness to fight the long battles made him a key component in keeping a certain equalibrium when the scales were tipped dangerously close to Orwellian paranoia. He was never politically correct, yet he was correct in his politics. All Americans should have a voice in our political system, and when they did not he could be counted upon to be their voice. And he would never back down in the face of attack.

No matter what personal faults and flaws he had as a man, he truly was a man of the people. All people.

"Yes, we are all Americans. This is what we do. We reach the moon. We scale the heights. I know it. I've seen it. I've lived it. And we can do it again."
--Democratic National Convention, August 2008



Technorati Tags: Ted Kennedy, politics, memorial, mourning, news

Some Good News

The book is well under way.
The publishers couldn't be happier.

The bad news...
The deadline is March 15th! And I'm still writing, re-writing and editing.

Some days I swear that I can't pull one more coherent thought out of my head, the next day the words come so fast and furious that I can't write them quickly enough. What I have now is such a jumble that I'm not even sure I can re-organize it. What I need is an assistant. And a new mini recorder, mine chose the worst possible time to conk out.

Among the unbound fragments
found after Emily Dickinson's death
is a small slip of paper that reads only,
"But ought not the amanuensis to receive a commission also --"

I'm no Emily Dickinson, but I completely understand.
I've come to believe that dictation is the ultimate act of love.
To have someone who cares for your words enough to make that sacrifice is a precious gift that cannot bear the weight of a price tag, nor can it be given enough gratitude.



Technorati Tags: Writers, Women, Books, Literature, Flugtag, woodnotwood
Ramstein Flugtag 1988

Looking Ahead

Sometimes the world feels tight. Like a closed bud that needs to be nurtured to open and bloom. I've been feeling thus of late. My arms, which usually reach out, have been restrained. As if they were bound to my sides.

Life has taken on an almost surrealistic quality. Things have been changing and moving so rapidly that I can hardly catch my breath. It's as if everything I've ever known to be true has suddenly rebelled, turned against me. The moon and stars that once gave comfort now hold no answers for me.

I was reading today. I ran across this... Beheading Horror In Street. It just made me wonder what the world is coming to. The prediction of gas prices rising to over $4.00 a gallon during the peak travel season. The brutal murders at Virginia Tech. The war that will never end.

I remember posting this so long ago. I'm feeling the same now. It's time to pull back and gather those I love around me again. Now that my little sister is here and the family is once again working together I feel like I have moved back in time. Some part good, some part stressful, but the determination that resides within us, the need to do our best for the group as a whole and not just for self, has buoyed my spirits again.

I fell into the slough of blogging ridiculousness almost a year ago. Writing in an e-zine about issues I feel strongly about, women's issues, was a dream that I have had for a long time, but the outcome of the pettiness involved in the 'personal dynamics' of the whole thing just left a bitter taste in my mouth. It didn't however spoil my appetite for the writing or my desire to continue writing with other women. I still have my beloved Sexy Tomatoes and we are planning on introducing some new material there. We've had some delicious ideas floating around our in-boxes and we are all excited to get the project moving forward.

I've also been talking to a couple of other women about starting a new 'Women's E-zine'. I decided that the most important thing about writing with others is choosing your co-authors wisely. Lucky for me, some of the women that I'm close to are absolutely brilliant writers and bring with them, not only a long-standing, lasting friendship, but also a level of intelligent discourse that promises to challenge the way people think and the way women write about their own issues. I'm over trying to 'put lipstick on a pig'. This time it's the real deal and I am looking forward to throwing myself into the project with enthusiasm. This will not be a blog, we are going for it whole-heartedly. A real dot com. A real on-line, and possibly print, magazine.

For now everything is under wraps. The planning and decision making stages are going on pre-launch. I'll be sure to let you know when we finally bust out of our corsets ;) I hope you'll all be there to pop the cork and celebrate with us!

Have a great weekend!



Blogging, Women, Writers, E-Zine

Meaning

Let me tell you this once
(I will not be able to say it again):
I have lost the meaning of words.
Heavy, they ripped
away from the sounds,
fell into cracked ground.
Naming~~ Nancy Mair




Lately it seems as if words have lost their meaning. Where once there was a wealth, seemingly endless, now there is a dearth. I feel emptied and exhausted.

I do wonder about the words we choose to use in our relationships. Words that have been uttered so many times that their meanings have lost any specific truth in our world. These words designed to hurt, we use again and again. Because they achieve a desired result. Their concrete meaning is no longer considered, they connect only to some Pavlovian reaction that has been learned over time.

And the words of love that used to penetrate? I long to feel their power again.
A wrenching power that could effect me in so many ways. Have I gone numb?
Have words lost their power over me. Have they lost their meaning?

Or am I lost?