Hello People! Hope your Monday is super and I hope you stay warm and safe! It’s actually warming up here. Yesterday it was -29C almost all day. Today it’s a balmy -1C (30F) here today. It’s even supposed to get warmer tomorrow, but we have the wind to deal with again, so blowing snow. Oh well, could be worse I suppose.
So as I sit here trying to keep my fingers warm, I ponder the Daily Prompt for today:
When and where do you do your best thinking? In the bathroom? While running? Just before bed, or first thing in the morning? On the bus? Why do you think that is?
I can do my thinking just about anywhere, doing anything. But, my best thinking is usually done just staring off into space. I’ve always done this. I can sit in one spot and stare out a window and think through problems, think of story ideas, or just think about things I wonder about. My mother called it ‘daydreaming’, my ex called it ‘frustrating’ and everyone else just thinks I’m nuts.
I’m able to tune out everything and everyone when I do this. All my thoughts are focused inside. That’s when I listen to my heart as well as my mind. I can figure out the answers to problems I’m having. I can figure out story plots, and character’s become born, all in my mind.
Now sometimes, real good ideas come to me when I’m in that state of not quite sleeping, but not quite awake stage in bed. Unfortunately I never remember to put pen and paper on my nightstand to write these things down. I should because I can think of good stuff at that time. By the time morning comes I usually forget them unless it’s super good, then I tend to remember.
Of course even if I did put a notebook and pen on my nightstand, it would be too dark to write it down, as I have no lamp on my nightstand either. I would have to get up out of bed, turn on the light, write what I want down, turn the light back off, then crawl back into bed. Sounds like work to me, so I’ll pass. Plus, I keep my bedroom on the cold side, so once I’m in bed and all warm, I don’t get out of bed unless mother nature calls, or it’s just plain time to get up. I’m lazy that way.
Well I’ve spent most of my morning and early afternoon updating my blog. So far I’ve got the theme done and some other odds and ends. Let me know what you think.
On that note, todays daily post deals with honesty;
Is it possible to be too honest, or is honesty always the best policy?
I don’t think it’s possible to be 100% honest 100% of the time. We are all guilty of those infamous ‘little white lies’. According to the dictionary the definition of a lie is;
1. A false statement deliberately presented as being true; a falsehood.
2. Something meant to deceive or give a wrong impression.
When someone asks you if you like their new haircut and you hate it, what do you say? Are you going to say the truth? I doubt it. Why hurt that person’s feelings if a little white lie makes them feel good about themselves? See what I mean? How is it possible to be 100% truthful?
I try to be as truthful as I can. But, in that same sense I will not hurt someone’s feelings intentionally if a little white lie works better. So yes, I lie. A little, sometimes. Am I a liar? I don’t think so. I am trying to be a kind person and sometimes you have to make a choice between being honest and being kind. I would rather be kind.
That being said, I will sometimes not use those little white lies, if I think someone I care about is about to be hurt more if I wasn’t honest, then hurt for a few minutes with my honesty. If someone comes to me for advice, I will be honest with what I think. Then it is up to them to take my advice, or not.
“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”
― Mark Twain
I lived with a pathological liar for years. Believe me when I say I know what lies sound like.
What Is a Pathological Liar?
A pathological liar lies compulsively and impulsively, almost without thinking about the consequences of his action. He lies regularly on a spontaneous basis even if he gains no benefit from it, or even if he traps himself into it. A pathological liar cannot control his impulse to lie and it is usually a self-defeating trait.
He was narcissistic and everything (almost) that came out of his mouth was a lie. Unfortunately I didn’t learn that till it was too late. Ah, I was young and naive.
As I said, I don’t think it’s possible to be 100% truthful. One should strive to be as honest as possible though. Lying just breaks trust and it’s almost impossible to get that trust back.
I don’t understand people who lie for no reason, I really don’t. I think it would be hard to be a liar. How can you keep track of lies? They do have a tendency to grow. Then you’re covering lies with more lies. Terrible way to live.
So for me, I’ll be as honest as I can. I’m lazy, I don’t want to have to work that hard to keep the lies straight.
Hello people! So, I was sitting here this morning, reading different blogs and wondering what I was going to write about today. Then I saw the Daily Prompt today and its subject, which is Progress.
When you look back at your blog on January 2, 2015, what would you like to see?
I’ve been thinking about writing a post based pretty much on the same thing, so why not just combine it all and so here I am. What would I like to see on my blog on this date next year?
Well, I have all sorts of lofty goals in mind. So I thought I would just make a list. This list is a combination of where I want my blog to be and where I, as a writer and a person want to be this time next year. It will be interesting to read this next year on January 2 and see what I can check off as being accomplished.
1) I want to have 1000 followers on here. I have a long way to go, but I also have 12 months to do it in. Not so bad when you look at it that way. Right now I have a little less than 300, which is great! I enjoy every single one of you! But I’m greedy, I want more of you! More I say! Please?
2) I want to be able to announce that I have a book published! I am going to work hard on this one, so it comes to fruition. I have two works in progress right now. One is a fiction novel, one is a memoir. Also, I have another idea for a fiction novel floating in my head and I am thinking of making a book of either my flash fiction, or short stories. I have lots of ideas, now I just need the time and the moxie to pull it off.
3) I want to have more reader participation in my posts. I’m not sure how I can do this, but I’m thinking about things. I love comments, I love interacting with my readers. Now I just have to figure out how to go about this. I don’t write about controversial subjects. That’s just not who I am. Sure they get lots of comments and stirs things up, but I’m not sure that’s the way for me to go. I’ll leave that to the ones that do it so well, like Le Clown and a few others. If anyone has any ideas, I’m open to read them.
4) I want to be able to read and comment on more blogs. I’m not sure how I’ll have the time to do this, but I’m going to try. I follow so many great blogs, but it eats at my time to write. I think I just need to manage my time better. I’ll work on that. Also, there are plenty of great blogs out there I have not discovered yet! I want to find and follow at least one new blog a day.
5) I want to join more writing groups. I am a loner at heart and writing for me is best when done in a quiet and solitude existence. But I need feedback on what I write and to do that I need people. Or at least their eyes and minds. Oh, fingers help too so they can type.
6) I need to clean up my blog I’m thinking. Maybe a new theme, new ‘about me’ section. I’ve grown as a blogger this past year and I’m not sure my blog reflects that. I’m just not sure where to start. I suppose one step at a time. I know I need to organize it better so readers can find different things faster. I may need some helpful advice on this.
7) I also have some more personal goals I want to accomplish this year. Get healthy, lose weight, get my blood sugars more stable. Minor things like that. If I keep myself busy and plan my time right, everything will fall into place I think.
I think I’ll leave it at 7 things. I like the number 7, it’s lucky for me. Now to get things rolling in the right direction. On that note I better get my butt moving. See you next time!
Click over to your favorite blog, and pick out the 4th and 14th words (that aren’t “the” or “an”). Drop them into this phrase:
“_____ is the new _____.”
There’s your post title. Now write!
I thought today’s Daily Prompt was an interesting one. All I had to do was go to one of my favorite blogs, pick out the 4th and 14th word, plop them in the blanks and wham! I got my title for my blog today.
So off I went to tiny’s blog called “tiny lessons blog”. She writes poetry and everything she writes is beautiful and full of joy, wonder and hope. I love her blog and consider her a true friend. So go on over and enjoy her words, after you finish mine that is.
Distance is the new Rainbow
When I left home many years ago I was young. Yet I had been so old in other ways. I was a strange mix of naive and wise, trusting and leery.
I had never dated. Didn’t have boyfriends. Not a lot of friends. I still lived at home with a few years living with a girlfriend. Living with my friend ended in tragedy so I moved back home. I hated living at home. My mother and I rarely got along and my dad did what my mom wanted. Or played referee.
I worked and paid board and usually bought my own food. So it wasn’t as if I was living there free. I wouldn’t have if I could. I was proud that way.
Anyway, I was corresponding with a man who lived in Mississippi for a long time. Decided to go for a one day visit and see how we hit it off. Flew down there early one morning (I lived in Wisconsin at the time) and after a really pleasant visit flew home that same night.
We wrote and phoned each other every day after that. He convinced me to move down there. So I did. Yeah, I did say I was naive. I had innocently told him about my savings (I had quite a bit) and I even owned some good land in upper Wisconsin.
To make a long story short. I moved down there. Stayed six months. Found out he was a momma’s boy asshole of the first degree. He was a man who liked to swing cats by their tales and kick small dogs. That wasn’t a lie. I actually saw him do these things!
So after six months of total assholiness (don’t think that’s a word but it fits!), and after he called me a whore (I knocked him off his feet on that one) I called my mom and asked if I could come back home. She said no.
I called my brother in Texas. Told him what was going on and I wanted out. He told me to come to Texas and he would help me find a job and a place to live. At the time my brother and I were really close, so I took a bus trip to Ft. Worth, Texas that same week. Little did I know my life was never going to be the same.
What I thought of with the guy in Mississippi was not going to compare to the hell I would go through for the next few years. But at the time I was full of optimism and hope. My thoughts during the long 24 hour bus ride was this……….
Distance is the new Rainbow.
Good thing I never knew what was coming, or I would have laid down and had that Greyhound bus ride over me instead. But that’s another story.
Tell us about the blog post you were most nervous to publish — and what it was like to set it free.
Well the very first post was the scariest. I had never blogged before, nor had I ever written anything for public consumption.
All of my writing was done for myself. In journals or notebooks, even on the odd scrap of paper I would write my thoughts and stories to be read by me alone.
I’ve always wanted to write books. Novels to be read by millions of people. Wouldn’t that be a thrill? I’m a bit more realistic about the millions but having people read what I write and enjoy it still is a thrill.
After the first blog post I got a little braver. Then I felt the need to write about my abusive ex-husband and his stalking of me. I had never told anyone the whole truth. Not sure I could do it even now. Maybe because I was afraid? Embarrassed? A bit of both actually. But I had to tell the story.
My family didn’t know all of what went on in my 13 year marriage. They all disliked my ex, as he was a liar, thief and worse. I don’t think they ever thought about what I might have gone through or was going through those years I was with him. They have a habit of burying their heads in the sand when there are things to deal with they don’t like.
It’s also much easier to think I was a part of all his schemes then to think I was more his victim than anyone. It’s sad to say, but it was and is easier to paint me as the bad guy than it is to think of me as helpless to stop what he did.
If anyone is interested and hasn’t read it before that part of my life is in a three-part series I wrote almost a year ago called “I was a Stalking Statistic”. Part one, Part two,Part three.
As for how I felt after I wrote it and hit that dreaded ‘publish’ button? I felt scared. Isn’t that silly? I felt scared. I was scared no one would believe me. I was scared he would find me again. I was scared to have people think less of me.
Than when none of those things happened. When everyone was sympathetic and kind and supportive. I got over being scared. I was happy I finally got it out there. I haven’t written about those 13 years of marriage per se. I have alluded to them now and again. But it was the aftermath of my leaving that has stayed with me more in a strange kind of way.
There is one more post that I haven’t written. Why? I didn’t think the time was right, yet. It was a dark time in my life, when it should have been some of the happiest. I’ve written bits and pieces here and there about it. I haven’t written expressively about it though.
My childhood. My dark childhood where I was sexually abused for years. I haven’t written that. It’s eating at me though. It’s telling me it’s almost time to write that story. Soon enough I will. For now that skeleton is staying firmly in the closet. But I hear it scratching to be let out.
What’s the first thing I do if I get some wonderful fantastic news? Faint? Shake my head in disbelief? Double check to see if it’s really true?
All the above. That’s just the way I am. I’d keep it to myself until I know for absolute that it’s true. Then I suppose the first person I would tell is…….. Hmm depends.
Now most people would tell their spouse. After all it’s the person you’re married to, for better or worse. They are supposed to be your best friend. Unless they love to gossip and can’t keep a secret. Then you need to re-think things.
That would be my dilemma. I have a spouse. He’s a good man, kind, generous, funny. But he is the biggest gossip I know! Now, if I would want this super good news spread faster than the wind, I would tell him first. Then he would tell his friends. His friends would in turn tell everyone else and before long the whole damn town would know. And believe me this would happen fast!
BUT, if I want to keep this wonderful news at home for a time I would not tell my spouse. If I just had to share this news, I would call a real good friend I have (Maddie, Lois, Tiny, you all fit this). She would squeal with delight for me and then we’d talk for hours about it. Also, if asked, it would stay between us!
We girls just are better secret keepers. I know I am and I’m sure my friends are too. At least I’m pretty sure we are. One way to find out, right?
I have a personal sculptor? Now that’s something! Poor sculptor though would be busy trying to figure out what to sculpt though. Especially if they want to do something from my life.
I don’t think it would be a likeness of me. No, that would be too mundane. If its to represent my life this past month a likeness would just not do at all.
I think something more, twisted, bent, curved, angled, knotted would be more of a representation, a truer one.
I don’t think marble would do either, too perfect. I’m thinking something in granite. Or just plain stone. No, granite is what I’m liking. Nothing perfect, nothing one colored, bland. Something with roughness to it.
Granite has that multi-color going on, that smooth with rough to it. It’s hardy, strong, yet can be beautiful. It would last for a very long time no matter what the weather is like. It can weather storms and during mild times look graceful and light.
Something like this would be good. It’s called “Promise” by a talented sculptor named Don Lawler. I love the curves and rough/smooth together. Beautiful yet strong. Practical yet there is a bit of whimsy to it. Like me. I’m very practical and yet being a writer with a strong imagination I have that touch of whimsy some see as alien to my makeup.
With all the curves it shows what life sometimes throws at me. I try to stay strong like a rock and let it roll off me, so in my mind all the trials and tribulations eventually wear me down to a smooth wonderful surface. I have survived and become stronger for it.
Do you like being scared by books, films, and surprises? Describe the sensation of being scared, and why you love it — or don’t.
Do I like being scared. NO!
No I don’t like being scared. I have never liked being scared. In fact the last person who tried to scare me ended up being punched. Ha!
I’m not a violent person, really I”m not. But I hate being scared. I think it’s because I feel out of control. I like having control, I need to have control. It probably has to do with my childhood.
My childhood would have scared the crap out of most people. Because of it, I’m a grown up adult who is afraid of the dark. I must have a nightlight! Like a little kid I can not go to sleep if it’s completely dark. I have to see what is in the room. It is what it is and I’m too old to change now.
I don’t read horror books. The last horror book I read was ‘The Exorcist’ by William Peter Blatty. That book scared the crap out of me! I had nightmares for weeks. I read it and just had to finish it. Then the book disappeared.
It did. It disappeared and I never could find it again. Now you might think that someone in the family had taken the book to read it themselves. Um, not that I could find out about. My siblings are not known for reading. My older brother was off on his own, my older sister was married and out of the house. My younger brother doesn’t read books. My mom only reads magazines and my dad wasn’t into those kind of books.
It was a mystery that was never solved. Spooky don’t you think?
Also, I believe in ghosts. Why you ask? Well because I’ve lived with them, seen them, heard them. I know a lot of people would say, balderdash! Well, if people actually said balderdash! What is balderdash anyway?? Never mind, got off track for a second.
So no, I don’t like being scared. I don’t like the feeling you get from being scared. You know the one. Where your lower stomach is swirling and you think you are going to have to run to the bathroom. Then your heart is pumping hard and your breathing gets tight. Yeah, that feeling. I don’t like it.
I don’t watch horror movies either. The same reason I don’t read horror. I don’t like all that blood and guts and gore. Ugh. Now I have watched the really old horror movies. But come on, those aren’t even scary! I guess for the times it was, but I always thought Frankenstein was kind of cute, in a mishmash way. And Dracula! Well what can I say? Bela Lugosi had such mesmerizing eyes!
Sure all those things are scary and I try to stay away from them. I’ll tell you what is really scary though! In fact I’ll show you! This is something that lives in my house, it’s always stalking me when I least expect it. Sometimes I think there are two of them! It’s scary, I tell you! Don’t believe me? Okay, I’ll show you then. I managed to catch it on film one day. I hate to do it to you, but you won’t believe me till I show you. Here goes.
Tell us about a time when everything seemed to be going wrong — and then, suddenly, you knew it would be alright.
First off, things for me rarely go right. At least in the beginning.
It could be something simple like nailing a nail in the wall to hold a picture. Easy right? Wrong. If you live in my world it would go something like this.
Search for the hammer and nail. Okay, I found the nail, but where is the darn hammer? I know it was in this drawer last time I used it.
Finally found the hammer on a shelf, where I got distracted last time I wanted to pound something. Think I got caught up in a book, because there are well-loved books on the shelf where the hammer was found.
That’s just a silly, simple illustration. My life has never been easy. Never. Not once.
A more serious example of a time when everything seemed to be going wrong was right after my divorce. Things had not been good for a long time, I had been in an abusive marriage for 13 years and now I left him. I was broke, living with a good friend who had 3 kids and problems of her own. I didn’t have a job, no money, no car and where I was there was no bus service. Now what am I going to do?
Not to mention my ex was stalking me, my family was not speaking to me, again, plus they were all on the other side of the country. I had never felt so alone, scared and worried.
My friend assured me I was always welcomed in her home and I knew her words were true. She never once made me feel like I was a burden. She and her family always made me feel welcomed. I thank the powers that be every day for her friendship. She was a wonderful friend. A person who just wanted to help me. Plus she hated my ex. The lady had good taste.
So there I am, freshly divorced from a wacko. Needing a job and a car. Well a car first. I was in Texas where unless you lived smack in the city there wasn’t much bus service. I literally did not have a penny to my name. Where the hell am I going to get a car? How could I afford it? It seemed a vicious circle. No job, no car, no car, no job.
So I am worrying myself into illness. Really. I had my ex stalking me, I had no money and no family to help.
One day while I was sitting at my friend’s house alone. (The kids were in school and my friend was at work.) I’m sitting there crying because I didn’t know what I would do. I knew I had to move on and take care of myself. I wanted to take care of myself. I wanted to support myself and to show everyone I could do it.
In the back of my mind was my ex’s hateful words. That day I couldn’t shake them as much as I wanted to. He used to tell me all the time without him I was nothing, I could do nothing. I would always need him to take care of me because I was too stupid to take care of myself. I was worthless. No one would want me, need me, be there for me but him.
I remember crying my heart out that day. I was alone. Totally alone. My mind was racing with terrible thoughts. I was no good, I was stupid, I was fat and ugly. No one would hire me anyway. I hadn’t worked in years. I didn’t know anything. Why didn’t I just die!
When I was crying my hardest everything seemed to still in the house. Everything seemed to stop. Even my crying stopped. It was so quiet. Then I felt a warmth go through me. The only way to describe it was someone/thing gave me a big warm hug.
My tears dried and my mind calmed.
I suddenly knew, just knew, everything was going to be all right. Everything would work out like it was supposed to. I was going to be all right.
That same evening I got a call from my ex mother in law. Her and my ex father in law decided they wanted to co-sign a car for me! She said they had talked about it for a while and wanted to surprise me. That very next day they took me car shopping and I got my very first brand new car! It wasn’t even used! They paid the first payment and filled it full of gas.
The next couple of weeks was dedicated to finding work. Which I did in an Antique Mall. I loved that job! It didn’t pay much, but I was able to make my car payments, insurance and get a small apartment. After that my life got better and better. Because of that job, and the goodness of my ex in-laws I met the love of my life.
My life has had lots of downs since that time. But it has also had a lot of ups. I never forgot that warm ‘hug’ I received that day. It was certainly a time to remember.
How important are clothes to you? Describe your style, if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself.
I laughed when I read the daily prompt. Seriously I did. Anyone that knows me well will know I am NOT a Fashionista. Not even close. I could care less about clothes.
When I was younger and out in the work force, I may have paid a little more attention to clothes, but probably not. I have never been much interested in clothes and style and fashion. Give me a pair of jeans and a comfortable blouse and I’m good. Don’t even get me started on shoes! If I could go barefoot all year I would. I hate shoes. I hate shoe shopping. I hate clothes shopping.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m always clean and neat in appearance, just was never into dressing to impress. Which reminds me. I don’t even own a dress or skirt! Or heels. Ugh, heels. Torturous devices. Granted they make a woman’s legs look great, but I don’t care for them.
I have two closets in my bedroom. They are not even big closets. But there are two of them. Only one of them has clothes hanging in them. One! That one isn’t even full! So obviously clothes are not that important to me.
Now ask me how many shelves are devoted to books. Ha! Yeah, I have a lot more books than I do clothes. I like it that way. If push came to shove I can always tape some book pages over my body and call it good. hahaha! Whoa, now that puts a picture in your mind you didn’t want. Terrible injustice to books.
So to erase that picture I’m going to show you a picture of my closet. Don’t forget I warned you. Granted I need to do laundry this week yet, but still it wouldn’t look much different. 🙂
My closet speaks for itself.
As for appearance impacting how I feel about myself. It has nothing to do with clothes. It shouldn’t have anything to do with clothes. They are just a covering, a drop cloth, an accessory to what and who you are. What impacts how I feel about myself is, how I feel about myself.
Do I feel better about myself as a whole? Do I feel healthy, happy, in charge of my life? Am I feeling fulfilled as a person? Not how do I look in this piece of clothing, or how my hair looks today, or do I wear makeup or lipstick. None of these things impact how I feel about myself. Anymore.
See how I qualified that? Anymore.
When I was young, I was like most young people. How I looked, how I dressed was more important. Now that I’m older and have been through all the things that I have in my life, I’ve found it doesn’t matter how I dress. I could have myself wrapped in toilet paper and it wouldn’t make any difference about what I think of myself.
Well okay, I might feel silly. But what a good laugh I would have! You get what I’m saying though. You’re smart people. Clothes are just fabric, thread, buttons or zippers. They are not YOU. They are not ME.
How do you pick what blogs or books to read? What’s the one thing that will get you to pick up a book or click on a link every single time?
It surprised me that I had to think hard on this prompt. I’ve been reading books for so many years that I don’t even think about how I go about choosing them from the bazillion books out there.
As I sat and thought about the books I read, I found out that I’m an eclectic reader. I will try out new authors and new genres, if they grab my attention. The first few paragraphs are so important to any writer. That is where you will grab your reader by the throat and yell in their face, BUY ME, READ ME!
There are also times that I will just read the blurb of a book. If it doesn’t sound interesting, I will pass on it. Most times I will pass on it. I will have to admit there have been a few times I read the book anyway, even if the blurb or first few paragraphs didn’t interest me. There have been a few times I’m glad I did as the story drew me in and at the end I was sorry it had ended. Granted, these kind of books have been few and far between.
I also have my favorite authors that I read when they have new titles out. For the most part I enjoy mystery, suspense, crime dramas, some fantasy, paranormal and almost everything in between. Okay, maybe it would be easier and less time-consuming to say which types of books I don’t read.
************ um, Hmmm, well damn. That list was short.
I started reading at a young age. Around 4 I believe. As I grew older I would read my dad’s books which were Westerns. Louis L’Amour to be exact. My dad loved his westerns. Then when I was able to go to the local library or the library in my school my reading evolved. I could be found reading anything. I remember finding books by Mary Norton called ‘The Borrowers’. I devoured the whole series within weeks.
Then as I got a little older I found Charlotte Bronte, Lewis Carroll and many other authors which I still love today.
I even managed to read through every single book in my school library that they had on mythology. Then in my teenage years I found the world of Romance. I spent my allowance on romance novels. Then Regency romance, than poetry, then, well you see what I mean by eclectic. I read everything! I just loved to read, period.
Right now I’m more into the mystery/suspense books. I love to see if I can figure things out before I get to the end.
As for blog reading. I pick those for several reasons. I will choose what blogs I read or follow if they interest me. I follow several humor blogs. They make me laugh, smile and feel good. I love humor blogs. I am jealous that it seems so effortless what they do. They write funny stuff. I just can’t seem to write funny, but I love reading it.
Some I follow because they make me feel things. I follow several on domestic abuse and how they managed to leave their abusers and become independent. As a survivor of domestic abuse I cheer for them, I cry, I get angry and want to reach out and hug them. They make me feel less alone. They make me feel. If I can help them in some way I try to do that. Even if all I can do is give virtual hugs.
Others I follow because they are just great writers. I love reading their stories, poems or whatever they write. I love to cheer them on as they follow a path to published author. They give me hope for myself and they show me how good writers write.
Of course I do have some favorite bloggers. Who doesn’t? I have found some wonderful friendships in this blogging world. A few have carried over into personal friendships where we email and talk about everyday life. I love my friends. They keep me sane. You know who you are. 😉