A Blogger’s Life


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Okay, I am feeling decidedly playful tonight. I’ve been editing.  And I must say, despite the topic and issues raised in this work of mine, I’m incredibly proud of what I’ve produced to date.

I’m polishing it up.  Taking those phrases when last I passed through this book of mine, which was a year ago, and defining them in a way that is more conducive to the meaning trying to be conveyed.

A year ago I had read through this work of mine approximately seven times or so.

And truth be told I didn’t want to look at it again.  For two years I’d worked on it and during that tenure, I had been living part of the book.

Emotions were at times volatile.  Behaviours were erupting in a tidal wave that I found myself swept up in with the only hope that when all settled, I would have survived and grown as a result.

Then on the heels of all these momentous changes came the health issues, shifting this life in yet another direction.

Really there was no other choice than to run with it.

Things have settled considerably now after some four years of some rather extreme challenges.

And now as I read back the words, let me tell you, I got it right this time.

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I have told  something so very personal that it exposes my vulnerabilities and fears to the world. I put out all my flaws and weakness’ without excuse .  I’m happy with the effort and result.

If you’ve followed this blog for any length, then you’ll know I want more than anything to become a respectable wordsmith.  To take this craft and be able to lend the words to such a favorable position that their meaning might well touch the reader in a manner that is positive and profound, that quite humbly is my only wish.

There is a blogger that I follow on this site with some 70,000 plus followers.  I loved his writings and his depth.

Now it seems every post is requesting finances from his followers for some crisis he seems to be having in his life.

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I’ve not reached such popularity, however, I have remained true to the purpose of this blog and shall remain as such.

I will never ask you to donate for my aging computer equipment,  nor I will never ask you fund my online subscriptions, for my health care, my rent, etc.

It has truly saddened me where he’s taken his blog.  This makes me wonder why we are all on this forum.

I, for one, read all the posts I’ve signed on to.  If I am moved to comment then I do.

Still, this morning, when I rose and checked my email and saw the blog from Christian stating ‘Help!” I knew he would again be asking for money.

I sighed wearily.  It’s just such a turn off.  Time to sign off.

For me this forum is where we can all come and express ourselves.  There is no expectation, and hopefully no judgment.

You either like it or you don’t.  It either speaks to you or it doesn’t.  This is a place where we can all share our thoughts and ideas.

But for fifty dollars, I could pay Christan to upload one of my posts!  After all he has some 70,000 plus followers.

Don’t we all wish for that?  And then I saw the posts being re-blogged as he said he would.

In some there was an odd desperation in these writers trying to gain exposure for their work.  Like me they probably don’t know shit about marketing.

He got lucky. What you have to understand in this world, is that sometimes people just get lucky.

There is an old saying that it’s 25% talent, 25% who you know and 50% luck.

I don’t know.  I’m not into statistics.

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I see this happen all too often though.  Someone becomes popular in their writing or delivery of words, written or oral.

And the price goes up.

Think of these so called prolific wisdom gurus such as Tony Robbins and the like.  Hell, the fees attached to their seminars are exorbitant.

If you’ve attended any of their seminars, what have you learned?

I can tell you now, they will not disclose any information to you that you’re not already in possession of.  What they’ve become masters at is unveiling such information in a manner that seems new and invigorating.

And I feel like that with a many of bloggers whom I’ve followed.

Then you have the ones that seem to be buying into their own ‘greatness’ after all, how could 70,000 plus followers be wrong?

And admittedly for a time, this confused me. I blogged about it.  Why were the words and thoughts I was expressing not being acknowledged by WordPress?  Why had I never been ‘Freshly Pressed’?

Then it came to me.  I am here only to practice the craft I love.  I will never ask for any compensation other than you like what you’ve read.

It’s just that simple.  I have no agenda to separate you from your hard earned cash.

If, what I’ve written, brings an emotional connection to you in any way, then I’ve done my job.

It’s just that simple.

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If we cannot share our words and expressions with honesty, then what?

Last evening, as I have done for the last six years, I boarded the Britannia here in Vancouver as a staff volunteer to kick off a cruise for the Pride weekend in Vancouver.

I have many friends who are gay, and you know, I learned a long time ago to judge people by what was in their heart.

So if I can assist my friends’ and make this celebration that much more exceptional, then I will.

I took my camera and snapped some 300 photographs on the cruise last night.

I spent another three hours today reviewing and correcting any inconsistencies then uploading onto my friends Facebook page, along with mine.

And as I did this, I felt blessed for the people I have in my life and even more so that I can write the things that I do.

Enjoy your day and thank you for stopping by.

Peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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50 Shades of….Orange?


 

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Secret Garden

The marathon painting session left me rather delirious.  Each coat of burnt orange applied to the chocolate wall seemed to simply melt into it.  So began the test of wills.  I would defeat this wall!  Conquer it completely.  It would become my firewall.

The colour, when first applied, appeared to be pumpkin.

Fear ran through me.  What if I’d made a mistake with my choice of colour?  What if, upon completion, it looked so horrible that I ran screaming from the room tearing the newly grown hair from my head?

I smiled at the dramatic scenario’s I was entertaining as I pondered all the written works that would be produced from my orange room.

I like tasks such as painting a room. For me there is always a reason for the transformation and the colour of choice that reaches out to me.  I also like that it’s my energy that is going into the transformation.

Mind you some seven hours to paint one room had the imagination becoming quite derelict.  I stopped for yet another bathroom break near the end of this lunacy.  Food had been consumed sporadically.  Yogurt, apple, grapes, crackers….

Just the basic sustenance.

Local pics July 2014 023My secret garden

A great deal of water had been consumed. On this hot summer day the temperature rose to about 30 degree Celsius.  Luckily, I face north and have the benefit of my secret garden that provides major cooling to my unit.  Still, the sight that greeted me in the bathroom mirror made me chuckle.

I was a complete puddle covered in fifty shades of orange. It was on my face, in my hair, paint was everywhere.

And oh, the decadent thoughts that sprang to mind that would in fact parody the unmentionable ‘grey’ version of said title.

Oh my!

This is not an X-rated blog though.  So I will keep it clean.

Still, the thought that sprang to mind was of our heroine showing up not to interview the mysterious Mr. Grey but paint his rooms….orange.

“What shade of orange do you prefer, Mr. Grey?” she asks him provocatively.

He smiles seductively at her. “I like it burnt, baby.  I like it so hot, it scorches.”

Oh my!

She pulls out a swatch or two and slaps them dramatically on the wall.  (This action was of course dictated by her inner Goddess).

“Are these hot enough for you, Mr. Grey?” she inquires enticingly.

He zeros in on a shade…it’s called Cinnamon Spice.

“I used to know a stripper by that name.” he reminisces fondly.  “Come, I’ll show you the room to be painted.”

Our heroine follows him down the hall and he leads her into a chamber designed for sexual play.

Glancing about she takes note of the additional work it will require to remove all the pullies, chains and the like from the walls

“I’ll have to charge you double, if not more, Mr. Grey.”  she advises him.

“I’m a rich man.  I’ll draw up the contract and do take as much time as you need.” he assures her.

They smile at one another.

Oh my!

Yes, I made the mistake a couple of years ago in reading this book.  It became quite a contentious issue with my writing group.  We would find ourselves yelling at each other over how poorly it was written.  why we yelled at each other, we don’t know. Finally we banished it from all future conversations.

If we did refer to it  at all, it was ‘the book that we were not supposed to talk about’.

So this is the first bit of written work produced from the orange room.  I am having giggle or two.

Interestingly enough I found a pamphlet tucked away yesterday regarding colour energy.

Orange is the spleen chakra that connects us to our emotional self.  It inspires happiness, confidence and resourcefulness.  The energy infused brings joy to the work day and strengthens our appreciation for life.  The colour orange also helps us remove our inhibitions.

Oh My!

All parody and playfulness aside, I love the result.

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Equine publishing in it’s infancy

Interestingly enough I did my bedroom in a sage green.  Green is the heart chakra and this relax muscles, nerves and thoughts.  Local pics July 2014 046Little Grass Horses

As I look around this room now I am envisioning some of the photographs that I’ve taken that I plan to mount.  I’ve a few visuals I still need to find but this is now the home of Equine Publishing.

The dream is transforming into life.  Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

The Time Machine


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Downtown Vancouver from the Lonsdale Quay in North Vancouver

I am feeling positively refreshed this morning.  Sleep was deep and soothing last night. The battle waged now won, at least for this day.

Many things have come to light in the last few days.

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Native Sculpture at Waterfront Park, N. Van

Over the last week I attended two functions that required me to get up and actually read my work to an audience.

I’ve already weighed in that this is something I must do more of.  It is imperative to develop the spoken word now.

When it was discovered a few weeks ago that I had a recording feature on my cell phone I was quite excited. Now when this head of mine is urgently re-writing history or making up how history should have gone down, or any other number of phantom ideas that creep into it, I could take advantage of this by recording the facts of the matter that dance along my neuropath ways.

Last Friday evening I met my daughter after work.  We had a couple of drinks and caught each other up on the week that was now closing. We then shopped and latter grabbed a nibble.

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What can I say?  I’m a Pisces.

On the way home I decided to try recording a few thoughts and ideas on my phone. I could transcribe it later.  All those cool and sometimes heartfelt things that run through my grey matter could now be captured in the moment.

Of course the mood would have to exist.

And so I pulled out my phone to record any worthwhile bit as I walked back to my vehicle having now parted ways with my daughter.

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It was warm out and at 9:45 PM no jacket was required. The party crowd was beginning to emerge onto Granville Street. Young people already well into their cups ready to get down and party to the wee hours.   This is a Grad weekend for many as limousines’ snaked through the streets with excited teens hanging out of the windows screaming strange obscenities.

Their life before them is simply the joy at this moment that school is now finished. Most are not thinking past that.

I moved through the streets of this city of mine unseen. Few will take note of a woman getting on in her years walking down the street talking into her phone.

And that’s cool.

Funny how this celebration has changed over the years.  In my day there were no limos and such.  Then again, I didn’t exactly graduate.  I was part of the celebration though.  I was drunk beyond imaging that evening some 38 years ago and feeling completely disconnected to my peers. My life had gone to hell at the age of sixteen.

But I digress.

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For 22 minutes I spoke into the phone rambling about this, that and the next thing.

Arriving home I decided to listen to what had been said and then transcribe the spoken word.

I’m not used to hearing my own voice. Most of the time the perception of my vocal range is that it is monotone.

And as I listened to my voice ramble in an awkward eloquence on several topics, the thought occurred, “I cannot transcribe this”.

Clarification hit then.

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There is the written word and then there is the spoken word. Two very different animals.

Were I to transcribe what I had spoken I don’t know that you would get the whole of it.

The various inflections in my ruminations could never be conveyed on the page.  Indeed I would have to take the idea of it and adjust it accordingly so that the emotion, vulnerability and wonder that at times my voice parlayed could be appreciated.

In that moment I realized I’d never recorded anything of length other than the greeting that is on my phone and the one at work.

And I there I stood feeling the rush of words beginning to surface and the need to scribble them down with this sudden insight I had fallen upon.

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And I was feeling frantic. So much I want to say but the weeks of poor sleep were crashing in on me. My eyes were begging me to close them but with a brutal resistance I kept at this.

All I want right now is to curl up and sleep throughout the night.   But the head is screaming, demanding that all that is pent-up have the opportunity to be released.

And so with mindless ambition, I just gave myself over to the page.  The words now nearly illegible as I try to bring this night back for you.

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Some of what’s been written makes absolutely no sense to me.  It was 1:30 AM and I was trying to empty the head of the words that were pounding through it.

I had the TV on in the background which I described as “sights and sounds invading my line of vision with the rise and fall of the din created.”

It sounds impressive but I think at this point I had foot in the sleep realm.  Words from the subconscious never needing to make sense.  Not really.

And on both sides now I am waxing poetic about the spoken word AND the written word. I am behaving as if I’ve discovered the one thing that will save all humanity.  But then lack of sleep can take the mind into a strange vessel.

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Make you feel as though you are seeing everything for the first time even though you know all of it intimately.  And revelations abounded.

The battle I’ve had with self as of late now making sense.  I know what the next step is.  The vision is taking form.  For now those demons of doubt have be satiated.

And my last thought on Saturday morning when I finally let sleep claim me was this.

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‘May sleep claim you in your honesty and release you with its wisdom’.

 

 

 

 

 

What’s Goin’ On?


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All the pretty flowers!

The sleep thing is beginning to square off.  I am making it a point to not look at the clock should I waken and to just keep my eyes closed unless of course I need to use the facilities or take a sip of water.

Perhaps I should stop the water thing.  I went for a very long time without having water at my bedside.  I don’t even recall why I began this ritual again.

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A wild rose…how wild?  Didn’t say but it is a West End Rose!

I am babbling.

It’s Friday!  I am happy its Friday.  This has been an odd week of imagined negotiations with myself.  And I will explain this when I am not feeling quite as discombobulated as is my current state.

I have one functioning neuron…the rest have gone on strike or something. So I am going to share a few pictures with you.

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This is a red-winged blackbird though I didn’t quite get the red in there. 

 

I went for bit of walk at lunch yesterday to clear my head of the eleven cent discrepancy on my bank reconcilation and to calm the sense of righteous indignation I was feeling having gotten a ridiculously high bill for my sister’s cell phone after just switching providers to make it more affordable.

The fact too that sleep has been sporadic at best over the last few weeks, I may well have looked like I was auditioning for the ‘Walking Dead’.

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This is the one neuron look.  What’s scary is that I look eerily similar to the animation….oooooooooooooo!

The great thing about getting out and actually smelling the roses is that I feel that much needed connection to everything around me.

Upon return to the office I found and corrected the discrepancy on the bank reconciliation and negotiated a suitable resolution regarding the phone issue.

I was tying up loose ends yesterday it seemed.  It occurred to me, and I don’t know why, that Mercury is retrograde.

I laughed at this thought.  Isn’t Mercury always retrograde?

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Bird of a very different feather.  See what happens if you sit around all day?  You get a little bottom heavy and the next thing you know Sir Mix-a-Lot appears and sings ‘Baby Got Back’ to you! Oye!

In any case I hope you’ve enjoyed some of the pics I posted today.

Thanks for stopping by.

Peace.

 

Five Hundred…But Who’s Counting?


Hey mista!  Yeah, you.  Hey buddy!  Get over here!  I said, get on over here!  Got somethin’ I gotta tell ya!  Yeah, you!  Don’t make me hurt you!

(Insert sound effects from an old black and white B-movie of the gangster variety where they get into a little of the fisty cuff stuff)

Now that I have your attention I’ve got this to say.

THIS IS MY 500TH POST!

500th

Not that I’m counting or anything.  But I wonder if WordPress will send me some kind of acknowledgement.  When I first started writing on here they used to send me a little ‘Congratulations!’ icon with every 10 posts I completed.  It has been a long time since they’ve offered up anything.

So let’s do a brief recap.

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First I would like to thank all of you who’ve signed onto my blog and followed me over the last 2 1/2 years during this little journey of mine.

As you all know, I can be a little long-winded at times.  I’ve started projects on here that didn’t seem to get much in the way of response so I tucked the idea away and carried on with it in another manner.

We first met the day after I had a heart procedure done.  A stent was inserted for a blockage I wasn’t aware that I had.  We kind of just happened on it in a backward kind of way.

Things seem to go like that for me at times.

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For the next year I pounded out my first book, a memoir.  I joined a few writing groups and took photography classes.  I finally dealt with some of the most painful and darkest issues that have plagued this life of mine.

I had gotten into running would carry on and commit to it.  During 2012 I was on blood thinners so that the stent could become properly embedded into the walls of my aorta.  I was told to be careful as being on blood thinners would lead to easy bruising.

I don’t think there is a year that I’ve fallen down, tripped, bashed into doors, walls, corners, etc. more often than 2012.  I was, it seemed, something of Georgia peach….a bruised one at that.

As 2012 closed out I said ‘good-bye’ to the blood thinners. In celebration I signed on to do the 2013 BMO 1/2 Marathon.

I decided to write about the experience and the series was called ‘In Training’.  Fifteen weeks were recorded and about half way through my training….I began having health issues.  My energy had begun to do a vanishing act.

The Head

Still, I muscled through.  My fear was that some other heart ailment had come up but the heart was doing fabulously.  The cardiologist couldn’t even stress it out to the max.

More tests.

Four days after I completed the BMO 1/2 Marathon I was diagnosed with Uterine Cancer.

And so began a year battle.  I have, as you well know, shared my experiences regarding this on here as well.

I am still kickin’ it.  My hair is growing back…oddly.  I’ve gained 42 lbs. as a result of treatment.  I am easing back into my fitness regime.  Still, its been tough.  The weight is sitting on me in an odd manner.  I don’t know how else to describe it other than when I do run I feel like I have a lifeless belt strapped on.  I have begun to refer quite affectionately to this portion of my anatomy as the Dead Zone.

I am checking out a few varieties of exercise now.  One is Tabata training.  It may be able to kick-start a few things.

It is my understanding that it takes time for all the toxins to be cleared from the body and for me, it has not yet been 6 months.  Am I expecting too much?

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In any case, I’ve found a series of foods that should assist in cleansing the body of the toxins and help to restore the good bacteria that was killed off along with the bad during chemo and radiation.

And between these health issues that I’ve really tried to treat as just a minor inconvenience, I’ve written about any number of topics that have popped into this head of mine.

I finished the memoir which will be released soon.  In the mix I decided to start my own publishing company.  I’ve got six other books of various genres on the go.  I want to make a go of this and write on a full-time basis. I want to publish other writers as well.

If all goes as planned, and I’m sure it will, I will be quite successful.

In the meantime I will carry on posting on this blog of mine.  This began as a writing exercise.  I’ve had my moments where I’ve questioned why I am doing this.  I’ve questioned why I’ve never been featured on anything.  I’ve questioned a lot of things.

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At the end of the day, it comes down to marketing.  Admittedly, when it comes to this blog of mine I am woefully bad at trying to market the thing.  I decided to stay true to the original intent which was to use this forum to write regularly and hopefully improve my skills as a wordsmith.

If I had more time then perhaps I could devote a bit more of this commodity to marketing.

As it is I’m stretching it.  Perhaps that’s why my sleep as of late has been off.

I’ve shared my heart with all of you along with some of my photography which is another love of mine.  I hope you’ve been able to take a little piece here and there and been able to either relate to a situation or given pause and been touched by something I’ve written.

What matters the most and is the highest of compliments, is that you, the reader, can walk away after reading one my posts and feel that the message conveyed is understood, heartfelt and honest in its diction.

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And always I am humbled by those of you who do follow my ramblings.  This isn’t a popularity contest…at least not for this gal.

What this is and always has been is my deep love of the written word and wanting to become better at it with each passing day.

Many blessings to all of you.  Thanks for checking in.

th

 

 

The Training Game


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Summer is fast approaching and I have much to do.

I haven’t been posting to often these days.

Yes, I was away and I’ve told you all about my little adventures.

Now I’m back making some big committments to myself.

Time to get the book launched.  I am starting my own publishing company and have it registered.  I had to purchase another computer as the one I have at home is in its twilight. Once I get that in I can set up all the software and format the book.

By then I will have purchased my ISBN numbers and obtained my EIN number.

Then it is just a question of setting up a business account along with a few other accounts.

Also I have decided to run the Coho this year which is a 14 KM race in September.

So I am officially back in training.

This time out will be very different.  I am far more focused on my foods.  First up I am doing a Liver Reset program.  This will begin next week and run for 14 days.  It is designed to flush out toxins and restore the good bacteria.  It is done with food groupings.  From this I hope to learn alot about pairing my foods and the logistics behind it.

For example, did you know that you should never drink while eating?  In fact, you should not eat for an hour prior and an hour after.

Sounds crazy but as I researched it I began to understand the why.  If you drink any liquid just before and during your meal, water included, your digestive juices are diluted.  It will then take longer to digest your food.

From what I understand the longer it takes to digest, the fewer nutrients you get and your body will absorb a bunch of the bad stuff too.

Sandra explained that if I start just not drinking while I eat and then adding to the time on either end.  Five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty. You get the idea.

I have every intention of enjoying the food as well.  I`ve been looking over the recipes and they sound delicious.  You can also substitute veggies and fruits as well, as long as they are in the same category (i.e. lettuce, spinach, kale)

I need to rebuild my fitness regime and make it progressivley more challenging as well.  I can tell you that currently it is tough to run with the added weight.  I should know in about one month what my progress is.  I am going to keep a food diary as well.  This I find useful in that you can look back at the various combinations that worked really well together.

Also, making the effort to keep a record will hold me to account.  I make it a point to write down everything.  Even the little bowl of potatoe chips I have at the office on Friday afternoons.

If I were to go and have a couple of beer, I would need to record this as well.  And beer, while I love it, I will have to abstain for a while.  I will allow the odd glass of wine but that`ll be it.

The timing is fabulous too.  I want to launch the company and I need to be focused.  The two should compliment each other exceptionally well.

When I signed up for the 1/2 Marathon last year, I spoke often of acheiving optimum health.  I have a better vision now of what that looks like for me personally.

Time to make it happen.

 

 

Expressions


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The walk toward Robson Street on Friday morning was a little on the painful side.  My hips are on and off again these days.  They have loosened up considerably over the past couple of months but some mornings they feel as if they’ve been fused back together.

I’ve been working on my core in the gym, when I walk, when I run yet still the back will kick up a fuss and can be a deal breaker.  The ache was there upon waking.  I’ll just walk it out I decided.

Construction site abound in the downtown core these days.  I walked up Thurlow Street passing the high-rise being built at Alberni St.

As I emerged from the make shift cover over the sidewalk, street crews were digging up the alley alongside the Joe Fortes restaurant.

A flag woman stood gazing vacantly around her.

She had a beautifully formed face.  Long neck, defined jaw line with rich dark hair peeking out of the hard hat she is required to wear.

Despite the shapeless work clothes she was in good shape.

I wondered how she’d come to be a flag person and if she liked it.

The expression she wore was far away.  She was somewhere else in that head of hers.

An odd sadness washed over me as I passed by.

Then I got to thinking about hell.  I do believe I’ve visited it a time or two.

Then again, I guess it depends on your view of what hell actually is.

Is it a destination or a state of mind?  Is it simply a fear tactic?

I am not of a religious sect.  I am a spiritual being, however, with a deep fascination of the human experience.

There are rules that have been dictated to us for which we live by.  You’ve heard it no doubt.

No killing, stealing, cheating, coveting, lusting…etc.

I have an issue being told what I can and cannot do with my body. What I should enjoy and what I shouldn’t.

I understand that if I were endangering myself in a manner that may well threaten my existence that it may prudent for someone to step in see that I get help.

What I don’t understand is being told that having sex and enjoying it completely is a bad thing.  That should I choose to have several partners then I’m a sinner and am going straight to hell unless I repent.

Taking something as intimate and life affirming as our sexuality and dividing our sensibilities over it is sacrilege to me.

I turned onto Robson Street and made my way to Starbucks for my morning coffee.  No stores are open at this time, just a few people heading to work and shop keepers cleaning their storefronts preparing for the day ahead.

A woman, who I see periodically, was approaching.

Age wise my guess would be in her 70’s?  She could be younger or older.  It’s a tough call.

Her lips have undergone collagen shots one too many times.

Her hair is orange, her lipstick is orange, her attire is strongly infused with orange and her shoes are orange.

The skin seems frail and paper-thin sagging tiredly in areas that have been exhausted with surgical procedures in an effort to keep everything tight and youthful.

It isn’t working.

She tries to carry herself with an air of elegance and sophistication.

It isn’t working.

I smile at her but she doesn’t see me.  She never does.

And I wonder what she sees when she looks in the mirror?

Again I feel an air of sadness emanating from this person.  Is she trying to hang onto a life she thought she had?  What is she hiding from?  Are you scared?

I’m almost at the coffee shop and the mantra to loosen up my body appears to be working.  I’m feeling the energy move through me with much more ease.  Gravity is near normal.  My feet no longer feel as though I have moon boots on.

A petite older woman with dyed black hair and a worn face is approaching.  Her eyes tell the tale. She’s a firecracker.  Present.  In the moment.

She catches my gaze and gives me a sultry grin.

I return it.

And I knew in the brief exchange that this woman had lived a full life.  She’d known great times, she’d known pain.

Other than colouring her hair, she hadn’t tried to stop the aging process.  Had she aged well?

Many factors come into play.  Your gene pool will dictate to some degree how well you manage along with how you lived your life.

Did she live a clean life? Was she unkind to the body she housed?  Can’t say.

One thing is certain, we will all grow old.

At 56 I am embracing this notion.  It is what it is and I will continue to find a healthy balance between saint and sinner.

We are taught to aspire to certain things in this life.

Marry, have babies, be selfless & sacrifice for the family.  Propagate the species.

And what happens when you come from a family where every feeling remained bottled up. I never knew if it was permissible to express myself so I didn’t.  I can assure you that this fucked with the human experience.

Then again, perhaps that’s the point of it.

In the last few years I’ve seen a model life that would be so good for me.  I’ve tasted it.  Liked it.  Flirted with it.

So why don’t I just dive in and give myself over to it?

I’ve got thousands of theories on this.

Excuses perhaps?

An odd smile is playing about my lips at the moment.

What do I project to this world on any given day?  What do you see when you pass by me?

I’ll never know.

Have a great day. Peace.

 

 

A Look Back


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Today I read a few of my past blogs.

I had posted about the Sun Run earlier today.  I had commented on my appearance a year ago.  How I knew – deep down – that something wasn’t right.

I then I checked out my entry post for May 9th, 2013.

There were two entries that day.  The day began with me on a high.  I was still coming off of running the 1/2 Marathon and was recovering.

And I was so damned focused before, during and after that race.

When I began training I was shooting for optimal health.  That was the challenge and I was committed.  It was a challenge to myself, my well being.  Nothing more.

And when things started to go sideways, well I just pushed through.

I am dogged in my determination. I know that.  The hope of who and what I would be at the finish line was very different from the reality of the situation.

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Training requires commitment and dedication.

I learned an awful lot about myself in the fifteen week period that I trained and I am certain that ever body does.

You learn your strengths, your weakness’, your endurance, your faith…

Most of all you learn about humility, about suffering, and of perseverance..

Going into this, I saw myself attaining a super healthy body, mind, etc.  I saw an uber buff woman kickin’ it and on a mission to challenge herself to be her very best.

What I was at the finish line a year ago was a woman who had, despite a life threatening illness, finished this thing.  And don’t let the looks fool you.  She was always at her best.

I was a woman who recognized  her vulnerabitly, her humanity and her existence and prayed that it would be extended.  I understood so completely the gift of life and my appreciation for it evolved that much more.

And perhaps the training I did for the 1/2 Marathon prepared me for what was to follow.

Just four days later the words that were uttered sent me into a tailspin whether I want to admit it or not.

“You’ve got cancer.” was uttered.

And I inhaled…

And do you know that I will be doing on May 9th, 2014?

Mama’s going to be boarding a boat…a big, fucking ship…the Star Princess in fact…and we are going to sail to San Francisco.

I’m heading down the coast with some school friends.  A little more than that though.  All of them mean so much to me.

Cheryl was my first friend,,,ever.

Arlene and I connected in high school.  Her mother turned me onto coffee.  How it should be made…how it should taste.  Damn! You could smell the coffee brewing a block away!

Marie and I, while we were aware of each in high school, we really connected and bonded just a few years ago.

Sharon put the trip together and I hope that over the next few years I become more acquainted with her free spirit.

So in two weeks from today…Bon Voyage will have been uttered…and we will be heading out to sea.

No Gilligan’s Island reruns for this crew!

And I need this.  Good God, I need this so much.

I just want to let the mind wander, let go, have fun and not worry.

No more ‘What if’s…?”

No more surprises.  Just let me create the things I see for my future.

Gravity


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Many preponderances have been dancing through this head of mine as of late.

I’m on fire. Focus, now.

I have been devouring my fellow blogger’s articles

Helen has had success with her Lymph Node Transfer and I couldn’t be happier for her.  Cristian is trying to raise funds for a medical procedure that he needs.

People are chatting about anything and everything these days.  I can dig it..

There have been several articles regarding health and body image offered up.

Women cry out vehemently about the state of the ‘Barbie Syndrome’ and how it is affecting our culture, sub-culture, confidence, health, relationships, etc.

There is a whole hell of a lot more going on here, folks.

Cristan posted a sketch the other day depicting what ‘real women’ looked like.

This was interesting considering he is a young man who lives in Romania and is now disillusioned by the truth of the female anatomy.  Of course, I say this with tongue firmly planted in cheek.  I’ve never met Cristian.

It got me thinking though.  What I pondered briefly is what would I look like with a boob job?

I’ve got big enough ones, by the way.  Size isn’t the issue here, stamina is quite another.  Trying to prop these babies up is a lesson in futility.  They fight me every step of the way.

When the bra comes off I swear the ladies heave an enormous sigh of relief.

Now if I were successful in getting them to be the perky little darlings they once were, what picture would that paint?

The beauty of aging is that everything begins to sag in unison.

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I would look rather foolish with boobs that were army ready when the rest of me began to succumb to the laws of gravity a few years back.

And if these lethal weapons of mine were plumped up like an Oscar Mayer wiener all the time, then the massage I had tonight would have been incredibly uncomfortable.

I was laying face down and lifted myself briefly to sweep my boobage into their respective armpit.

I’ve never liked Barbie, by the way.  She’s always kind of pissed me off, though I don’t know why.  She is a doll after all.

I can’t tell you how proud I felt when my daughter and her friend at the age of eleven years laid their dolls out on the road in front of our house to watch them get run over.  Ken was included by the way.  He and the gal both went down without a fight.

I might well have strutted about like an abstract peacock, albeit quietly.   After all throwing someone, even a doll, under the bus isn’t a good way to teach problem resolution.

The other thing though is just how reliant we’ve become on what is on the shelves in our grocery stores.  It’s changing us, messing us up.  Processed foods are killing us, slowly.

I picked up a can of Lobster Bisque soup.  It had 46% sodium content.  My arteries began to harden at that point.  I never made it to the sugar and saturated fat percentages as I returned the can to the shelf.

Soup is one of the easiest and least expensive dishes one can make.  Perhaps not Lobster Bisque, mind you, but chowders, bean soups, etc.  Good stuff.

I don’t buy into the ‘stick woman’ ideal.  I never have.  A healthy weight for me is in the 145 to 155 lb. range.  I’ve got to drop about 50 lbs. to reach that goal.

The effects of the Cancer treatments threw me into a tailspin of sorts.  But hey, I’m turning it around.  I’ll get my health back.  I’m easing back into my fitness regiment now and will step it up gradually.

We all want to be beautiful, I suppose.  We chase it, covet it…but what is it?

Like art, beauty if very subjective.  What I may find incredibly beautiful another might well scoff at.  In turn, I might shudder in horror at someone elses choice of ‘beauty defined’.

A while back I was at a friend’s house watching the Rolling Stone’s 50th Anniversary special.

Scary, eh?

In any case, Rose and Kathy gushed about Mick.  They would have sex with him in a heartbeat.  Rosey’s hubby seemed to be in agreement that should the occasion present itself, then yes, his wife should do the nasty with Mick.

I shuddered as if a thousand creepy crawlers were on me at that moment.

As the show progressed, The Boss…the one and only Bruce Springsteen came out to do a number.  I felt the juices begin to flow.

“Now there’s a real man!” I proclaimed

My friends both shuddered in horror emitting an exaggerated ‘Ewwww!”

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I’ve stood in art galleries spell-bound by the piece before me.  Emotions that are elicited are at times incredibly deep.  I’ll glance around to see if others are having a similar response and at times want to scream incoherently ‘Don’t you see it?  Don’t you get it?’

Of course what I see and feel is mine alone to experience and appreciate. That is the beauty of it. Pun intended.

What message then does it send when men tell us they like women with a ‘little extra meat on them’.  Later you catch the guy jerking off with a picture of some emaciated model gazing back at him from a magazine.  Her breast implants seemingly a workout just to maintain her balance on a daily basis.  No wonder the poor girl is so thin!

Hmmm!

The idea of beauty is definitely being marketed big time.  Packaged up and offered for a hefty price.  Women are not the only ones buying into this.

The boobs will cost you $5,000 to $10,000.  A tummy tuck…facelift…Botox…skin resurfacing…

It will add up quickly.

Now as you stand before the mirror having gone into debt to buy the perfect ‘beauty package’ designed to give you the life you thought you wanted, that you thought you deserved…I have just one question.

Was it worth it?

Characters


 

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She struts into the room with an air of confidence that cannot be beat.  Her smile rivals the sun and some might say her mannerisms are at times somewhat exaggerated. 

She can’t help it. It’s just her way.

The other day an elderly woman struggled with the door to a cafe.  Our heroine bound up from her seat in a mad dash to offer her assistance.  In the course of her efforts, however, she managed to upset another patron’s drink and knock a plant over.  

Ah, yes, the eccentric blonde.  Always so willing, not always so able.  

Of course she purchased a drink for the person whose drink she had maligned.  He turned out to be quite fetching in appearance, so she offered her phone number as well.  Never know, there just might be a stain on those pants that she would be happy to remove.  

He was of course enraptured by her golly gee good nature and assured her that he would indeed take his pants off for her should the need arise.  

And the plant?  Amazing what a little duct tape will do.’

The eccentric blonde is a character I created about twenty-five years ago, if not longer.  I took a creative writing class and one of the assignments was to come up with a character that could be used in a variety of scenes and settings.

And this was the birth of a character who has indeed endured the test of time.  I have written some really silly scenes such as the one noted above. The premise of the character is her well meaning and somewhat clueless personality. No matter how much she screws up, no one ever gets angry or upset with her.

The creation of this character also allowed me to try my hand writing light, comedic sketches.

I’ve been thinking about the confidence lately and oddly enough the eccentric blonde character popped into my head.  Confidence is an attribute she always possessed.  There is no ‘wrong’ in her world.  Everything always works out for her and she expects nothing less.

I wonder if the characters I create hold some ideals that I would like to exhibit?  Perhaps its just a way to emote various expressions.  I enjoy how characters come to life in my mind’s eye.  Quite often it occurs from simply seeing someone on the street.  They may come across as being removed from their surroundings.  They may be someone of high energy.  It could just be the way they walk, the fluidity of it or even an awkward gait.

Once cataloged, when I have an idea that flashes in my head for a story, this bank of characters and their mannerisms that is tucked away in my grey matter is accessed and one of them is brought to life.  Sometimes it evolves into a first chapter with the basic story line posted in point form to come back to at a later date.  More often though, the character is shelved as the idea doesn’t merit further development at the time.

When I think of guys like Steven King and the genre that he writes in, I wonder how he develops his characters and where they come from.  I don’t think I could ever write horror novels on a consistent basis. It would be a very dark a place to have go to and ‘create’ on a daily basis.  I can see the interest in wanting to explore the depths of human depravity and our ill-begotten ways.  There is s an odd fascination with the dark side to humanity.

I do have disturbing characters tucked away that shall otherwise remain nameless but will likely turn up as a foil or the end to a tragic means in a book waiting to be written.

Writing gives us license to do just that.  We create stories and explore the outcome for our characters.  Impossible odds are meted out in circumstances that are nothing less than extraordinary.

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We flock to movie theatres to watch Godzilla trample a City such as San Francisco.  I’ve been watching these movies since I was a kid and I’ve forgotten why he is so pissed off and for reasons I can’t explain, I have always felt sorry for the big guy.

Then again if you’ve been blown up, set on fire, shot at, etc. as many times as he has then you’d probably have a chip on your shoulder as well.

We have the action hero movies where one guy saves the world and always quite selflessly.  And sometimes I’ll think, what if they changed the ending and our hero didn’t save the day or what if he died in order to be successful?  I do get tired of cliched endings that have a happily-ever-after tone to them.  

Then we have superheros.  Would we really embrace a guy in tights and a cape who could fly?  Somehow I think if I saw a guy spinning a web from his arms and swinging down main street I may just call the authorities.

These movies always have the ultimate evil to offset the ultimate good.  Of course ultimate good wins out every time.

I have a few characters that I’ve created over the years.  Some are timeless such as the Eccentric Blonde.  I can take that character and put her into anything and make it work.  Other characters are on the shelf waiting to be dusted off and featured in a story at some point.

I would love to hear how other writer’s develop their characters.  What’s your inspiration?  Also, I would love to hear from everyone on what some of your favourite characters are and why?

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For example, now that “Lord of the Rings” has been made into a movie will we always think of Frodo as he was cast by Peter Jackson?

The movie is one man’s vision of the book.  When I read the book years before the characters spun in my mind’s eye were very different from Peter’s.

Thanks for stopping by!