A St. Patrick’s Day Poem…Inspired by Dr. Suess

March 17, 2017 – St. Patrick’s Day                                                         Nancy Pilling

Inspired by the master…Dr. Suess!!!

I am Sam…Sam I am!

I do not like green beer and lamb,

No, no…I do not like green beer and lamb,

Even if my name is Sam!

I like my beer with a golden hue,

A full body with a malted flavor,

That delights the palate but adds  a wee kick too!

Green beer began,

With that damed Leprechan!

‘Fiddle dee dee!  Fi Fie Fo Fum!

He shouted gleefully as he twiddled his thumbs.

He wore a tattered green top hat,

Boots and britches that did not fit well,

Ah! But his top coat of green velvet did look mighty swell!

The fiend had a face ugly as sin,

With a loud cackle he held up his glass,

And with a devilish grin,

He challenged the folk with a passionate cry,

‘Drink yee a toast to the Emerald Isle,

No potatoes – for sure,

But plenty o’ ale!’

Drink to the Saints

Who are long since dead!

Drink to the poor bastards,

Who…through their own stupidity…lost their head.’

‘You’ll never catch me. Oh no, you won’t!’

Me pot o’ Gold remains a mystery,

Secured in and riddled in history,  But its is on this day that I taunt,

Chase those rainbows, high and low,

Catch ‘em and a 1,000 gold pieces to you will go!

Be swift now, if you dare,

But have a care.’

Roast a lamb in good faith.

And raise a glass,

St. Patty’s day will soon pass,

Your memory of green beer and lamb,

Will leave you with queasy disgust,

Yet a year from now…on this date,

Even though you may protest,

You’ll drink green beer and dine on lamb,

Even if your name is Sam,

You’ll scream in sickly delight as you play,

“My name is Sam…Sam I am!”

I do not like green beer and lamb!

But what the fuck,

I’ll raise a glass of green beer and with leg o’ lamb in hand,

And say to all my friends oh so dear,

I’ll say it is loud, I’ll say it in good cheer,

Oh what?

What will I say?

Why I’ll shout

Have a HAPPY ST. PATRICKS DAY!!!

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On a Lighter Note…Problem Solving 101

So much strife exists these days.  And me?  Well I get on my blog and rant about the state of this world.

Then the latest incident hit regarding Apple vs. FBI.

Now I could go on a rant here as well but I will simply say that I’m on Apple’s side in all this and I don’t even own an iPhone.

I’ve got a Smartphone Android that likes to show me just how incompetent I am on a daily basis.

Technology is moving at an unbelievably fast pace.  A documentary I viewed the other evening spoke of computer chips being injected into us humans and correcting all of our ailments.  This is to happen by 2030 which really is the not so distant future.

During my drive to work the other morning I witnessed a beautiful sunrise. Frost had kissed blades of grass and trees during the midnight hours.

And while I was pondering the fate of this world and taking in the beauty of a new day, I glanced in the rear-view mirror.

Horrified at my image with this hair…

‘

Now I’ve not complained about my hair in a good long while.  Indeed, after chemo left me bald I swore I would never complain again.  Even when my hair threatened to come in as curly do giving me the appearance of a cherub that scared me more than you’ll ever know.

And as I thought about the FBI wanting technology to unlock a terrorist’s phone and Donald Trump wanting to build higher walls to keep out the ‘bad guys’ along the border should he become President, I also pondered concerns about global warming and how the price of everything is crazy.

What would make me really happy at the moment I considered?

Well, all I want is wash and wear hair.  Just to look lovely from sun up to sundown.

Oh, I’ve met those tortuous beauties so kind and gentle with locks that bounce and glisten in the sun.

Even when the rains have come, their hair defies the dampness and takes on a life of its own.

And here I am, so petty in my wanting, that I covet the hair of my betters while this world sinks even further into despair.

How sad.  It would seem I am not the prolific and profound suffragette that I thought I was.

Then it struck me!

I phoned and made the appointment with my hairdresser at the end of March!

If I can find solace and peace with my hair, a truce perhaps, just maybe there will be hope for the rest of this world!

I believe! I believe! I believe!

 

Time Be Flyin’ and the Beloved Characters on ‘Game of Thrones’ Be Dyin’!

 

This year has quite literally ripped past me with the speed of somethin’.

I think I had it in my head that by June 2015 I would surely have sold at least 100,000 copies of my book!  I would be getting ready to retire and devote myself to writing on a full time basis and begin the process of publishing others and building a giant of a company built on free thought, passion and creative genius!

I don’t expect much, do I, considering that I released the book in February 2015.

I am, of course, being a bit of tool here.

Realizing that public speaking was going to be a part of this journey that I’ve chosen and having done it a couple of times and in that process became a pool of human slush while I trembled and quaked before the masses (I’m exaggerating, of course), I joined Toastmasters.

I am trying to discover the key to distribution in book stores.  I have expanded distribution online and a small book store in New Westminster is carry a few copies of my book.

Now I contacted Chapters who referred me to iUniverse and everyday for close to two months Jessica Abbney has left me a message.  I will call her back, but what this iUniverse thing is appears to like an Authorhouse type thing where you pay them to publish your book.  I’ve published it.  Now I just want to distribute it.

My hot water is back on, though it’s still rather tepid.

I am finishing up physio and beginning active rehab to assist in recovering from the accident.  At this very moment, I’m exhausted.

I’m getting out and going for walks and end up being in absolute agony as the hips have a tendency to lock up on me these days.  Oye!

Also I’ve been practicing my writing of prose and poetry.

Have I mentioned I’m a little tired?

Keeping a clear head is paramount these days.

In the meantime I’m ordering and selling books on my own and I’ve been humbled by the gracious comments that the book has garnered and I’d like to share this with you from the Amazon site.

Most helpful customer reviews

 

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful By Arlene on April 26 2015

Format: Paperback

Nancy writes a powerful account of survival, being a child in an abusive upbringing and her long and uphill fight to find her true worth and embrace it as a grown woman and mother. Her story is well written and compelling!

By Kelly Mitchell on May 12, 2015

Format: Paperback Verified Purchase

I truly appreciate being able to read a story that is so bravely written! From start to finish, I felt like a part of Nancy’s struggles and accomplishments. This is such a motivating story and proves how anyone who has been dealt a bad hand can make a choice to make their life better. Thank you for sharing your story with me!

So I will continue on in this vein and try to keep thing rolling along.  Lately it’s the time thing. But I’ll keep the machine going.

Back in March 2015 I did something I’ve never done.  I ‘binge’ watched a TV series.  I initially started to watch ‘Game of Thrones’ part way through the 3rd season.  It was now available to me to watch all four seasons in their entirety then launch into the new season.

That show consumed me!  Sundays I’d get up early, do my laundry and other relative domestic duties.  I’d clean myself up, kinda sorta, because I had no hot water and dependent upon how my back was feeling…I’d sit to take in an episode of ‘Game of Thrones’.

This series has seriously brought out every emotion in me.  Last night was the finale for Season 5.  And I’m still in shock, still mad as hell, still….

I’ve not read the books though I will but after the series wraps.  I’m enjoying the ‘shock & awe’ aspect that this series has inspired.

Still, did they have to kill off John Snow?  But…is he dead.  While ‘binge’ watching the show I did pick up on a number of nuances.  What pisses me off is I have to wait another 8-9 months to find out what the writers doth do.

So we were left with Daenerys and a sickly dragon and she is surrounded by the horse people.

Cersei having walked her atonement will either buckle or become incredibly dangerous.  I’ve a feeling next season will see her darkness truly shine.

Arya, well I’ve a feeling she’s going to be a killer of sorts, all in good time.  There is a price for everything.

Stannis got what he deserved and the poisoning thing is getting old.

Well, maybe by the time the 6th Season of ‘Game of Thrones’ begins I’ll have sold those 100,000 plus books.

Dreams are better when they come true.

Peace out.

Back in Training: Week Seven, The Christmas Week

I’ve worked out a few times leading up to Christmas.  I worked out good and hard too!  On the 23rd I was at the gym getting my sweat on.

Time for the Christmas confessional.  I’ve imbibed a wee bit.  I’ve consumed some beer and wine over the past few days.

On the 24th at noon my boss tossed a couple of growlers up on the table and along with the rest of the staff I raised a pint to toast the season.

For the most part I’ve been quite good with not over indulging in the food area of the holidays as well.  Mind you a pizza recently visited my life as well.  I’ll man-up about this though.  I was simply too damn lazy to cook.

This occurred on the 26th.  I drove a great deal that day you see.

I visited with my sister who lives about a one hour drive away.

And as I left I went about my second task of the day which was to replace my T.V.

I’ve had the current television for close to 15 years.  It is just the third T.V. I’ve owned in my life and still worked just fine, however, with the new technology my unit kept losing the signal.  The technicians, who were are very pleasant and based out of Guatemala did their best to assist.

The problem still persisted.  I pondered on the fact that perhaps my old tube T.V. just couldn’t translate the information adequately. I had been advised that if a technician was sent to my home and the problem was my ‘fault’ then the cost would fall to me.

Odd, yes?  I haven’t touched anything behind my T.V. other than to clean in the last 5 years.  In any case I considered what my response would be if I was informed that my T.V. was too old for the technology.

I decided that perhaps it was time to purchase a new T.V. rather than possibly causing bodily harm to a technician.

I did my homework on the Boxing Day offerings.  Had my budget set out and decided that Visions Electronics had the most lucrative deals.  Next was to find a location that would not be inundated by the masses.  In other words, I had to find a store location that was not attached to a godforsaken mall.

I decided upon the store location on Marine Drive and as I arrived it was as I suspected busy but not unreasonably so.

A young store clerk showed me my options and I asked a series of questions then I told him I would like consider my options and he left me alone. I read the fine print and half hour later waltzed out of the store with a 40″ Hisense LED Smart TV at a cost of $350.00.

Yay!  I had met my objective.

I headed home with my purchase.  I passed the lineup on the Queensborough Bridge.  The outlet mall on Queensborough Landing was just insane as cars were lined up for miles trying to access the stores.

I was really hungry at this point so I dropped the T.V. off then headed out to grab a quick bite.  And as I consumed my meal it occurred to me that I have a ‘Smart’ phone that still confounds me on many fronts.

Now, admittedly, I really only require the basics of talking and texting from my phone.  There are a plethora of apps available to me of this I’m assured, but they hold no appeal to me personally.

They don’t really make phones with just basic functions any longer.  Still there are those moments when I’ll push something I ought not to have and the damn thing won’t do what I want.

Bloody hell!

And it is in these moments that I feel very foolish and not particularly intelligent.

For example shortly after I had purchased this smart technology, I was certain I’d found a ‘lemon’ as it was now frozen.  I went back to London Drugs and expressed my dismay to the clerk.

With a slide of his finger and an apologetic smile on his face the clerk handed the phone back to me.

I had inadvertently locked the phone.

I have this affliction though.  When it comes to directions I glance at them then launch into whatever it is I am trying to accomplish.

Why I have this idea in my head that I should know what I’m doing without the benefit of being guided by the directions that have been so thoughtfully included, well I wish I had an answer to this.

I paid the bill and headed back to my homestead to get this technological wonder up and running.

So let me ask you this.  Having just made the confession I did, do you think I read the directions prior to embarking on this task?

After all I only wanted to plug it in and ensure that it did in fact work.  How difficult could this be?

Welcome to the episodic adventures of ‘The Dumb Blond Meets the Smart TV.’

First I had to unhook the old T.V. and this proved to be a challenge. I needed a wrench to loosen the cable that was screwed in tightly to the back of the set.  Then I pulled the cumbersome beast off onto a sheet I’d placed on the floor so that I could pull it out of the way without scraping up the floor.

Next I removed parts from the box.  The stand seemed to require screws and after a brief search that lasted a nanosecond I was convinced that his puppy snapped together like Lego as I could not find any screws.

(Queue the music…the theme from Pyscho or Jaws will do)

Note to self:  It would have been very beneficial to have read the directions at this point.

They did in fact kinda sorta snap together.

So I crawled in behind the T.V. and began plugging in various coloured cables into various coloured plugins.

The flashlight was directed at the plugins and the batteries were fading fast. The object was so that I could see which colour I was inputing and damned if I could find a yellow plugin for the yellow cable. Briefly I wondered at their various designations.  It was at this point as I poked about the back that the T.V. that it fell forward onto the floor.

I gasped in horror as my mind immediately began trying to make excuses to trade this back to the store with no additional cost to me.  Now just how pathetic is that?

Gingerly I lifted it up and it appeared fine. My smart T.V. had just survived its first test of having me as the owner.  Laying the screen down gently I walked back over to the stuff strewn across my sofa.  There an image glared at me depicting screws going into the holes on the stand.  A few moments later said screws were located.

I now had everything secured and hopefully plugged in correctly.

Several buttons ran down the side of the screen and I noted the power button and with baited breath pushed it.

A red light came on and I felt a small wave of triumph wash over me.  The word ‘HISENSE’ appeared on the screen in a lovely shade of light turquoise.

A tentative sense of relief slipped in.  I’d not broken it!

Now it asked me my language preference and where I lived.  It asked my provider and my password and that is as far as we got. It kept looping back.

Maybe I did damage it I thought in despair.  Would I not be able to watch a show?

I gazed down at the remote and pressed the button that said TV on it.  We had contact, baby!

Brightly coloured people appeared on the screen unusually short and wide much to my delight.  I played with the settings and managed to get them looking fairly normal.

And the manual sat before me taunting me.  Yes, I will read it.  Just not at that moment.

My home once again resembled a war zone. I stared at my kitchen and loathed the idea of cooking.  I had tested my mental acuteness and the idea of cooking just seemed a rather exhausting task, hence, I invited a Pizza into my home.

As I nibbled on the cheesy goodness and watched ‘True Grit” on the Tele, I assured myself that I would go for a run in the morning.

At 7:00 AM I woke to the sound of rain falling outside.

People, I ran in my heart!  Truly I would have but hey, this induction back into running in the dark of morning just can’t begin with a torrential rainfall in the mix.

But yes, it is time to hit the gym and get back to training in earnest.

I had a lovely celebration with my daughter and her boyfriend.  My daughter cooked her first Turkey dinner.  She was insistent from the outset to do all of this on her own with no assistance from moi.

I smiled in pleasure as she swore like a banshee as she tried to extract the food she’d stuffed into her too small apartment oven.  In the end everything was delightfully delicious.

This was a great Christmas.  The last few years I’ve felt the strains of battle.  The continuous fight with depression, issues with my heart and the battle with cancer.  The residue effect has been felt over the last few Christmas seasons but always I’ve been with those that I love dearly and for that I am so blessed!

This Christmas I felt as though we’d come through that darkness and a promise is beckoning.  I just have to stop and read the directions.

I am rebuilding and I’m back on track.

On the morrow I have my reading tasks set out.  Not too sure still why I feel I should know that which I do not.  Perhaps I’m simply human after all.

Cheers!

The New Independence

A teenage boy sits in the middle of the wilderness.  A shiny clean Ford pick-up and a man (presumably the father?) are in the backdrop.  A computer is perched on the teen’s lap and he is skyping his mom.

She gushes “You made it!” to her smiling son.

The punch line to this Ford commercial is ‘Welcome to the New Independence!”

If that is what independence now looks like,  I firmly believe someone forgot to cut the umbilical cord.

I did something last week I’ve not done is a long time.  On Sunday I slept in.  And I didn’t go anywhere or talk to anyone.  I did some writing, cleaned my house, washed some clothes then curled up and watched a bit of television.

I can’t remember the last time I decided to just cocoon myself within the walls of my home.  Perhaps what was stranger yet is that I found this rather remarkable in some strange sense.

Just how plugged in have we become?

And so I pondered this commercial and so many more that cater to a populace that seems to thrive on the next technological ‘wonder’ with a fervor or perhaps a fever?

Send a text or an email to a friend, family member or loved one and if the response isn’t reasonably quick, worry sets in.  Something is wrong!  The phone call is made and voicemail comes on.  A sense of panic washes over you.

Then you stop to think if you’ve perhaps offended in some way?

You feel a little foolish when it is discovered that they were in the shower or in a meeting….or, I don’t know, living?

And they were doing so without you.   Strange.

I stopped to get my coffee fix at Starbuck’s this morning as I always do on my way to work.  A beautiful day was dawning.  The rising sun was kissing the clouds causing them to blush a deep pink.  The sky was a sleepy blue and a mist hugged the trees.

I slipped back into the car and began my trek to the office as Willy and the gang discussed on the radio that distracted drivers (i.e. those using their phones to text and  talk) were now responsible for more vehicle accidents causing serious injury and death than drunk drivers.

This caught my attention and began to really observe those on the road with me this morning.  It didn’t take long before I noted driver’s with their heads looking down toward their lap or looking downward at the passenger seat even though no one was in the car with them.

Some openly held the phone in front them as they spoke into it.

Hey I’m no saint.  I’ve used my phone a time or two while driving, though rarely.  I’ve never tried to text.  Still, this really raised a certain awareness for me.   I am now committed to never using the phone while driving.

I love to drive.  I love to crank up the radio and sing to a favorite song.  I always enjoy the changing vista that surrounds me and often I am stimulated in the creative sense.  Man, there is nothing worse then having a line or two for a story that you’ve been working on suddenly rise to the surface and you just happen to be doing 100 KM on the highway!

But here we are now evermore enslaved by these technological tools that have invaded our lives.  I am no longer working in the downtown core, however, when I was it was increasingly apparent this absorption with the iPhone, Smart phone, Android…whatever it is we are calling this thing.

I’ve posted about this.  Of how I’ve had people walk into me and barely glance up.  Heads bent with that familiar little screen glowing up at them.

My daughter mentioned at dinner tonight that this was likely becoming an addiction of sorts and it was probable that some form of neurosis would result.  Sadly, I do believe she’s right.

She was also correct in stating that collectively we’ve never been lonelier.  I love conversing and sharing ideas.  I confessed, and rightly so, that often I have very strong opinions and its a well known fact that I’ve had my foot in my mouth more times than I can remember.  That is who I am.  I do learn from conversations and debates though.  A point of view will be expressed giving me pause and open up an entire new path of thought for me.

New Westminster in its infancy

Still, even when the tongue is running with blinders firmly in place…it is still just my expression of thought.  There is no malice or ill intent.  Just me thinking I know everything.

And I say this with tongue firmly planted in cheek.  I’m silly, garish, brash and at times amusing, even humorous.  I’m also intelligent, thoughtful, intense and care very deeply about this world I inhabit.

The idea of conveying all your thoughts, of who you are through, texts and tweets, well, my daughter pointed out that all of this could be edited, until the sender was satisfied it represented who they thought they were.

But was it accurate?

In a conversation you can say things in the heat of the moment.  Emotions can run high at times.  At the end of it however, Are you giving an impression of who you really are perhaps?

And as I write this, there is some conflict, because writing is such strong expression for me.

There is a difference though.  I’ve a very deep love of these things we call words.

And while I have a Twitter account, I’ve found having only 140 characters impossible to work with.  I’m still far too long winded.  But again, I digress.

What is happening to us?

In 1997 I purchased my first computer.  I can recall being on a ‘chat room’ talking with people who were in Australia.  This fascinated me.  And what do you suppose I asked them?

Oh, it was hopelessly mundane.  “What’s the weather doing?”  “Do your toilets really flush counter clock wise?”

Why I needed verification of this type I cannot say. I was a different woman back in 1997.  I was emerging rather awkwardly into this life.  And while I’ve made leaps and bounds in the social department, I can still be totally inappropriate in what is uttered from these lips of mine.

Still I am searching for the human experience. I want to drown in it.  Want to find its honesty, its wealth, its truth…my truth.

I want to find a certain peace.

I don’t know.

Somehow skyping someone from a desert or a forest or from wherever to let them know they are where they are holds little appeal.

The new independence.  From what?

Definitively I am very independent. I’ve had to be.  The life plan dished out dictated as such.  And what is independence?

It is in my mind it is someone who is ‘stand alone and self-sufficient’.   They don’t need anyone.

There are times when I wish I could ask for help, when I could admit I’m only human, when I could express comfortably my vulnerabilities.

That requires a great deal of trust and I’m still working feverishly on letting myself do this naturally.

I hope Carol reads this post.

She was a pen pal of mine some 40 plus years ago.  It used to take some three weeks to a month to mail a letter over seas.  Carol lived in England and I, of course, in Vancouver, BC Canada.

We wrote for a few years. Pen pals were the thing back in the day.

And while I was writing Carol, my life was falling apart…rapidly.  I don’t know what I told her.  I don’t know if she knew.  But close to 40 years later I received a message on Facebook.

At the time I wasn’t very good at checking messages.  Carol had sent me a message asking me if I was the person she’d written in her youth.

It blew me away.  This was my pen pal after all these years.  And I hope to meet her one of these days.

We shared an energy, a time, a confidence.  Both young girls with a life ahead of us.  And we made choices.

Yet I must thank technology for allowing me to connect to her again.

No, I’ll not slam this ‘new independence’ of ours.  Perhaps we should use it with caution and appreciation though.

The frailty of youth is that they think they know how to resolve the sins of the past.

In time they’ll come to know it’s just human behavior.

A bronzed moosehead gazes out above a fake fireplace tonight down at Begbie’s.  A barrel of peanuts sits at the door for those barbarians who will swill the shells upon the floor after consumption.

The Eagles serenade me over the sound system as I wrap this up.  I’ve watched an array of personalities come and go in the last two hours.

The girls that work here know me.  I pop down from time to time on a consistent basis to write.  It’s what I do.

And as this night closes all I can think is just how grateful I am to be here.  How much I love all of those that share my life, how much I love the energy beings that encourage and drive me each day.

Blessings and peace to you all.  And always offer a smile and greeting. It’s just good form.

Namaste.

 

 

c

Affirmation

This has been an eventful week at the new job. There was a degree of discord from one of the worker’s there who will be leaving as a result of me assuming all responsibilities.

I am a ‘lovely woman’ whom she see’s herself ‘divorcing’.

I was and am very sympathetic  to her sensibilities.  Still, this is business.  Nothing more.  She can work her ass off trying to prove whatever it is she is caught up in, but I know all too well the bosses’ really have no interest in her personal life.  You need to produce.  Simple as that.

That acceptance as made me very good at my job.  And yes, it has taken awhile to learn these lessons.  Not that I’m  a slow learner…just a very stubborn one at times.:

I hope that the vision I am developing for this company comes to fruition.  I’m all business.  This isn’t about what the company can and should do for me.

I am the worker bee you see.  This is about saying ‘Lets try doing this and that.  We’ll be more efficient.  More productive.  Better overhead results in higher profits.’

It is quite simply, business.

I’ve learned this the hard way.  You must separate to some degree your personal self with your business self.

Because of my journey I actually have a deeper insight into this.

I left work and arriving home tucked my pages and computer into my backpack.  I decided to head off for dinner and do some editing.

Boston Pizza won the decision for where I would dine.

As I entered the establishment I looked past the host who was intent on seating me.  My eyes were now trained on an old friend.  I was half engaged with the gentleman who wanted to seat me and the friend whom was in my sight.

Brian.

I’d traversed through the hallowed halls of school from Grade 1 to Grade 11 with him.  We’d put together the 30 year reunion together.  He lives with is wife just a meer block from my domain.

I waved my hand and he looked up then rose to greet and folded me in his arms.

Brian had a stroke three weeks ago. This shocked me.

He smiled rather sardonically and sadly  stating ‘Aging sucks.’

I laughed and agreed. I told him of my issues.  Discussed the emotional head games these things play out.  Then informed him to commit to a few hours out with Marie and I.

The three of us put together the 30 year reunion.  What I can I tell you is that year of  piecing together out past cemented me to so many aspects of who I used to be.

And I needed that.

So if I see a friend who has suffered, know this.  All the positive energy I have is being directed to your well being.

There are people who so quietly touch your life.  Brian I would say is one of those people.

Yet, there is a profundity to it.

He matters. He has all the school pictures of us from Grade 1 to Grade 11. He sees just me, not the latest invention of who I thought I should be.  Brian has gone through his own hell.  And I guess that’s what we need to embrace and understand about our journey during this life.

Despite our successes and losses…at the end of day…we are all simply human.

And I will always try to offer the most sincere and honest response to someone’s situation.

To those I hold dear…know that it is doubled.

And if you cannot articulate what burdens you… I understand this so deeply. I will not speak for you.  Your voice, your emotions, your feelings are necessary.  All I can do is hopefully give them a face.  Give them voice. Give them life.

Long ago I accepted that my roll in this world is souly dependent upon the organic thought provided to me by simply living.

It sounds simplistic…but really its not.

I commit to this world to assist in bringing an honest and forgiving truth to how we live our lives.

50 Shades of….Orange?

 

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.

My 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.

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.  Little 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 Firewall…Creating a Creative Space

This is a selfie…oh, I know…I just booed about this…but I’d just gone for an interview that resulted in a new job!

I am starting my own company as you may well know. Equine Publishing is very close to becoming operational.  All the furnishings are in place.  Most of the legalities are taken care of.  I am getting close.  Exciting!

What has been bothering me lately is the colour of the room.  I’ve never really liked it.  In fact, when I purchased the place, both bedrooms were done in chocolate and tan.  The colours made the rooms cavernous and rather blah as far as I was concerned.

My home office at about 10:00 AM today.

I painted my bedroom a lovely sage green. It is a restful colour, a soothing colour.  My daughter, however,  liked the colour of the room so I left it.

Now that she’s moved out and I ‘ve transformed it into my office, a space that I want to be creative in, the colour had to change.  I pondered my choices.

The idea of a burnt orange, a deep autumn colour held a great deal of appeal.  So it was off to explore and I brought home swatches and taped them to the wall.

I wanted vibrant.  I wanted heat.

The home office at 10:00 PM this evening

At first I considered doing the entire room in the chosen colour  Lunch with the girls on Sunday convinced me otherwise.  It would be too much for a space that wasn’t very big.  So I would keep the feature wall, that was currently chocolate and paint it Caribbean Spice ( a deep orange). The other three walls would be painted Salmonberry which has a peachy tinge to it.

I’ve never had an orange room before.

Last night I hit the hardware store and got them to concoct my colour schemes.  I felt that curl of excitement race through me.  I love to paint a room for a particular purpose.

Trust me when I tell you some of my choices in years past have become legendary and not for all the right reasons either.  Still they are remembered by friends fondly and sarcastically.  And you know, I’m fine with that.  If there is one thing I’ve always done it’s take chances with room colours.

Approximately twenty years ago I had been living in the basement suite of a house and had the opportunity to move upstairs.

The walls were a dull beige in colour, the kitchen had brown tiles and the rest of the house had glorious hardwood!

It was an old house built back in the 1930’s.  One of the owners had developed the attic into a loft.

I had been in a year long depression around that time and I was emerging from it.

I found the rooms drab and depressing so I asked the landlord if I could paint the place.  Affirmative and I could submit the cost of the paint and they would reimburse me.

The attic, which was my daughter’s bedroom and space, was done in a dusty rose.

My bedroom and the spare bedroom were done in a light lavender.  The kitchen was done in white and baby blue.  The floor tiles replaced with white and nave tiles and the living room was done in white and pink.

And the bathroom…well, it has become something of a legend.

This I did in florescent lime green.

Even with the lights off I swear it glowed in the dark.  Some will tell you they needed sunglasses on to enter.  Some will say it burnt out their retinas.  Of course, they are being a little mellow dramatic.  Still, I do admit that it was extraordinarily bright.

I like vibrant colours though, particularly in living spaces.  A bedroom for sure needs to be done in muted and calming colours.  I do like warmth in my choices though.

Today was an adventure in a new product I’d never tried before.  I opted to try the combination of paint and primer for the chocolate wall that I was transforming into a deep, burnt orange.  I figured I could save myself some time.

At 10:20 AM my saga began.  At 7:30 PM it had more or less ended.  I still have a bit of trim to do.

The chocolate wall required six coats and close to a gallon of paint.  The other three walls in Salmonberry required two coats of paint with a bit left over for trim.

The time frame noted above includes prep and clean up.

My body is stupidly tired and stiff.  I’ve a feeling that waking on the morrow might well be a painful experience.

Ahhhh! What we do for our art!

Still, its important if this is to be the space where I am to create masterfully crafted stories.

I need the insanity of colour. I need the rich heat.  I need to feel like the walls will burn me if touched.

And I would love to hear from my fellow wordsmiths what colours inspire them.

As stated I’ve never had an orange room before.  After six coats of paint I’m delighted with my choice of colour on the feature wall.

A hot shower, pain relief spray and some Tylenol will hopefully make waking tomorrow tolerable.

It has never taken me this long to paint one room before.

And this was an important choice as noted.

And please I would love to know what colour schemes inspire and entice you.  Let me know. Cheers!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stumbling Into the Future…

Imagine this…I am dressed to beyond impeccable (and trust me, should that day happen I will have been raised to the status of either a saint or as the most wanton of women alive or dead as the case may be.)

In any event, I am asking that you use your imagination in this, so just think of me as the ultimate femme fatale.

I am just a seriously sinuously piece of female pleasure.

Oh the breasts are high and peaked.  Ready to shoot any amateur who dares to think a pinch and squeeze will do it.

And when I tell you that they once bore the names Lethal Weapons 1 & 2, believe me they earned their names. And while they may have ‘relaxed’ a bit at this stage of the game don’t assume they won’t beat you silly if you don’t handle them  with care.

These days I am  somewhat inflated.  Not the slim, trim machine I was a few years ago. I do know I’ll get there again.  This body was built to move and that it must.

So back to our fantasy then?

Images from Google

I walk into a room of electric starlight.  All eyes turn to me.  I am wearing Calvin, off the rack no less.  A silver mesh dress of fleshy fabric that hugs every curve carelessly and with abandon.

My sexuality is a mantle worn much like the armor in days of old.  You either want me beyond all else or you despise me for it.

Every part of me exudes to mythical proportions what it means to be female.  I am the epitome of what legends are built upon

.

Dresses from Google Images

And with long, confident strides I walk through the room.  I’m on fire.

Then my heal catches on the carpet and I find myself sailing, as if in slow motion, through the air.

The crowd gasps collectively.

I have been returned to my human stature, however humbly, and  am now laying spread eagle on the floor.

And what, you may be wondering, is where am I going with all of this?

It’s the examination of ego really.  Of what we create, of what we project…or what we think we project.

It starts as a child in the sandbox.  How you want to be seen and what in fact you manage to convince the world around you at that time that you are.

I guess in some manner it is just a part of growing up. These days, I’m not so sure. I fell asleep on the sofa the other night.  I’ve had five days off and in an effort to try and examine the world at this point in time, I isolated myself and then observed my state. I’ve been secluded.

Each day examining various stages that I’m at currently and in the recent past.

And so I woke on the sofa with the TV on displaying a long ago documentary on 2nd Life.  This weird, and in my mind, fucked up game where you create your alter ego.

The time put into playing this game is almost exhaustive to me as it seems to be like a full time affair.

And as each body part slowly came awake, I wondered if these people actually put the amount of effort that they do into their alter egos, who would they be?  And I wondered would they still be sitting at a computer screen telling a make-believe world  who they were and developing an online persona as such.

And as I watched people with real lives that were neglecting their families for this make believe world.  These people were becoming so emotionally charged and connected to these characters.

A character from 2nd Life (from Google Images)

 Now I have asked you to think of me in a certain way.  I have tried to sell it you with words.  Did you, for a brief period, see me that way?

Or did you simply laugh and think, ‘here she goes again.’

In either case, it doesn’t matter.  I’m not so two dimensional that a hot bod and perky tits can convince you of my complete female mythology.

At 2:00 AM I leaned forward now watching saddened by the documentary and what it revealed.  When, I paused to consider, did technology become sexy?  When did the creation of an animated being become more exciting that the real thing?

2nd Life landscapes & characters (from Google Images)

Then again, it really began with the automobile in terms of transferring our sexuality onto technology.

And somewhere in the mix over the last few years we think the epitome of sex is with a hard muscled man and a skeletal woman of extraordinary appearance.

Both are void of a single hair on their body except for the crown that adorns their head.

How wrong all of this is.

Sex is an exploration of one of the greatest gifts we humans can claim.  It is a beautiful study of sensation, imagination, and the resulting expression.

And my god, the imagination we’ve created in this one act.

Every year I will see any number of  two leather jackets (flying bugs) stuck back to back copulating.  In the last few weeks as I’ve walked through Queen’s Park I’ve noted the Peacocks wanting to mate.

Always, the male displays his foliage and with various moves tries to convince the female (who often looks very uninterested) that he is virile and ready.

Two very odd comparisons.

But do they feel?  As we do? There are species that do in fact mate for life such as the good ol’ Canada Goose. Crows, too, take a lifelong partner.

A few years ago there was moose featured on the evening news.  Seems he had it bad for a cow.

And we chuckle at such things.  Does it mean anything?  Not really.  Or does it?

Cleopatra was said to be the most desirable woman of her day.  Powerful, smart, beautiful.

Taken from Google Images

Yet the image on the drachma shows a woman that in this day and age would be considered far from beautiful by our standards. And I guess that’s the sticker. Perhaps that was their definition of beautiful. Still her sexuality it would seem as become legendary and mythical in its own right regardless of her appearance.

I’ve seen enough art pieces through the ages to know that what was desirable a thousand years ago doesn’t stand today.

Taken from Google Images

And I found myself wondering at 2:08 AM if woman have always had this dilemma.  To be appealing to the male of our species in a manner we believe will nab us the best of the bunch. Strange. And as I watched these people talking dirty to each other and living out their fantasy life through animated characters on a computer screen, I must tell you I was confounded.

Taken from Google Images

Now it seems we are on a stage.

2nd Life Images taken from Google Images

Go on Craiglist and men are quite happy to take a picture of their penis and post it in its erect state.  And they will tell you they are ‘cut’ whatever that means.

And I feel deeply saddened that we now take pics of our genitals to try and excite and entice with these images.

If no emotion is involved in the act, then sex is very mechanical. Oh, sure, the body rush occurs…if it’s good.  And then what?

The loneliness   resumes. The want to be loved resumes and the crushing feelings of desperation return. So we sidle up to our computers and play games in forms that do not resemble us at all to express who we think we are.

And we continue to stumble into the future.

What’s Goin’ On?

 

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.

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.

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’.

 

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?

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.