Category Archives: Stories and Prompts

Words to live by?

“In all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other”
Carl Sagan

Is it true? For you, for me? I live a world of aloneness and many times m distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of a group of people. I’m not sure if I’m always comfortable with just one person. Aloneness does that to you. It takes the need for others and twists it into almost a fear of others. Or, maybe just an out of touch displacement in communication, in touching, in hugging.

There are many people I care about, I just don’t know what to say to them. There are people I dearly love and I can find myself stumbling over words, chiding myself over the sarcasm I often use as humor.

I know I need others, but at a much less degree it seems others do. The vastness of space enthralls me. Sure, wormholes which zoom us from point A to point B in the next galaxy are great but, with the exception of computers like HAL that take over spaceships, I think I might like a long voyage into space.

And yet, I found myself planting an Easter lily at my parents’ graves today because I miss them; even though our paths were often torturous. Aloneness is a curious thing. The second you realize you haven’t seen anyone else for a day, you feel a longing for connection. So I guess Carl Sagan is correct – to greater or lesser degrees.

Daily Prompt: Tree

via Daily Prompt: Tree

A hole, smooth around the edges, thrusting out of the ground, moss forming a bed within it, triangular in shape, encompassed by a massive tree, eons high. It is a  leprechaun  hidey hole, eternally safe from prying eyes of those that think they can see, but can’t even begin to imagine. A Sequoia, or maybe a Redwood, it’s branches escaping humans who wish to climb.  Ragged bark, careful, slivers are toxic and cause much pain, the squirmy, nauseating kind that hurts almost as much to take out as it is to leave in. Of the Pine family, though others of the species hang their heads ecause of their shrunken size in comparison. A giant, necks creaking on heads as eyes struggle o see the top. Minds can not begin to imagine the life it’s led, all it has seen, the world shrinking around it. While the leprechauns dance within their home in the roots.

 

Prompt – Why Do I write?

Why write? There are so many reasons, yet in the final analysis, so few.  I write because it’s a driving need.  I write because unless I do I am cast adrift with all those feelings I NEED TO GET OUT OF ME!!   I blog to reach out and find if there are souls similar to mine in this planet and where they are.  To find out that Bipolar or Fibromyalgia or Traumatic Brain Injury goes further than the entrance to my door is comforting, informing and quieting. It is where the stuff I have in my head gets out so I won’t be trapped within a miasma of discontent, frustration and pain.

The Dreaded DMV Story

‘Da Dreaded DMV story

Reading Atypical 60’s blog today reminded me of the nightmare I underwent when I moved to Connecticut.  It wasn’t the lines – although they were there.  It wasn’t the hot, heavy, rank smell of sweat, although that was there as well.  It was about the persecution of a woman that could never be done to a man, simply because, he was a man.

I had all my little documents in my hands as I spent a couple of hours in line, to be told to go stand in another line (well, this time I could sit).  When finally called up to the representative, I was told I had to provide proof of all the times I changed my name during my life.

That presents a few difficulties.  Two marriages, a business name, the name I used between marriages, the name I used after both ended. Oh, and my maiden name. Additionally, I am someone who has trouble staying put.  I’ve lived in about 15 places in my life.  My dad was a minister and they tend to be trotted here and there at the District’s/Bishop’s whim. So that was a few in New York and Connecticut.  I was born in Kentucky (1)  while my dad was in college.

Then there were my life choices. (2) A marriage and move to New Jersey. (3)A divorce with a name change but instead of using the American spelling of my maiden name, I chose the Norwegian spelling. A move to California and marriage a couple of years later (4). Since I was already using my business name (5), I incorporated it into my marriage name (6). Backtrack . . . We got married in Seattle, Washington. One more state of paperwork.  Then there was there was the eventual divorce number 2. I chose to adopt my grandmother’s maiden name because I wanted to honor my father but I was damned if I would ever take a man’s name again (7) once I had moved to Connecticut and the divorce was finalized. I am only grateful because I didn’t also have to provide proof of residence, just state, or it would have been another 7 or 8 places.  I am terrified that down the road I’ll have to show proof of my Facebook name or my email address or other internet names which will need to be included.

I had to go back to the DMV five times.  Each time it was to face the lines only to find out I needed something more or different or from another department in one state or another. Finally I had enough!!!  I called my State Representative and explained the persecution I was undergoing.  Within a week I was granted my license. I didn’t even have to stand in line.  However, when my renewal comes, I will have to finish this process DMV declares just.  I may take them to court.  I realize this has some vague connection to NATIONAL SECURITY but let’s be real – this is ridiculous!

I have one question?  Would this happen to a man?

Program for Parents with Young Children

Somewhere in the world it’s still Wednesday . . . right?  Hoping so because I can barely remember what week it is – scratch that – I Can’t remember what week it is much less what day it is.  I judge the days by whether it’s a work day or not.  I work part-time so that is an easier judge for me.  Nevertheless, I have trouble in this area.

I’ve been feeling an overwhelming need to contribute  to the world.  To volunteer, to write something, anything with meaning to someone more than myself (Not that this is).  I’m hopefully going to start a group for parents and children at my church.  We are a poor, small, and largely elderly lot in a colossal, stone church with magnificent Tiffany windows that is also elderly and in need of repairs.  It is my hope that younger families and children will become interested in joining although that is not my primary focus.

Young, stay at home parents are frequently isolated, lonely, full of questions out of answers  and bored with the daily routine. When I was younger, there was a program in our town where parents would meet once a month for a program while their children were babysat.  The program each month would focus on a different aspect of importance to parents. A speaker might talk for 20-30 minutes, followed by a question-answer period. Topics could include: Saving for College funds, When to get a tutor for your child, First Aid, Budgeting for childhood expenses.  There are plenty of relevant topics to draw from.  (If any of you have suggestions, please let me know).

Children would be in a separate area with minders who have been background checked. Activities would be provided for participation. At the end of the parents’ time, there could be a potluck lunch.

Out of this, a couple of programs could evolve.  First, a babysitting co-op could be developed.  A parent needing a few hours off could find another parent in the co-op to babysit.  The parent would then owe the co-op a number of points which would need to be eliminated by babysitting for someone else in the group.  A small steering committee would keep track of the data and ensure quality care was being given. For instance, if a babysitter talks on the phone or works on a computer the entire time, watches inappropriate (adult, violent) shows,  or is using drugs or alcohol during babysitting sessions the person could be eliminated from the program or warned, depending on the severity of the issue.

Another program I would hope to see emerge from the program would be playgroups that met weekly or every other week at different parks or places in the area. My children were in a playgroup from the time my oldest was five months old until he entered kindergarten.  The playgroup mothers continued to celebrate births or other special occasions after the kids went to school.  We even had an annual mothers’ weekend away at the beach.

There are a couple of more ideas I have for this population but they can wait a while.  The nice thing is, once started, my contribution would be obtaining speakers while all else could be run by the parents.  I’m past those years so it would not be appropriate for me to be involved any more.  As I said, suggestions are welcome.  Puleaseeee . . .

 

 

Write Anything ?

Write Anything? Anything at all? The vastness of possibilities is mind numbing.  Okay – got one.  This blogging thing is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I write – love to do it. But on command I get a little stumped.  And setting up the blog for the way I want it to be is enough to make me scream (in deference to my neighbors, its an inside scream so only my head explodes).  Every learning experience I do is fraught with hazard and due to memory issues, I have to reinvent the wheel again and again . . . and again.  If I have to do it a couple of days later, I have to learn it all over.  Then I have to hunt – under rocks, under tables, up in the attic, god knows its not in my head – for where to find information to learn from or where to send it.  So Wednesday is a day like any other for me – “Groundhog Day” Revisited.

Target . . . Me

I was reading a new blog, Awkword and what Michelle has asked us to do in choosing a target audience and I realized not only do I not have one I am aware of, but I don’t know who the target me is.  I have lived alone for 20 years. No dating, not a really active social life, and though there are some reasons why, I also find myself saying, once in a while, why not?

My writing can tend to be somewhat, or very, on the dark side.  I have a low to mid grade bipolar condition.  It keeps me more on the depressed or withdrawn section of life.  I also have a boat-load of physical issues and have for all those years and before. So I suppose I might draw people who have similar issues.  These can range from the conditions: once I was on O2 for 2 12 years and have had asthma, chronic eosinophilic pneumonia, and emphysema in greater or lesser strengths for all my adult life.  Fibromyalgia dogs me. I lost more than 3/4 of my intestines and gall bladder when I went septic and my systems shut down and was in a coma 3 weeks.  When I woke it was to complete loss of muscle memory.  This past year I had back surgery which didn’t help. I’ve had a migraine most of the last three months.  See what I mean?  There is more but that alone can make for a target audience.

I have Traumatic Brian Injury – caused during the coma, but which creates its own set of problems.  My memory is not always reliable. I suppose it is an understatement.  My sister calls it CRAFT – can’t remember a fucking thing.

Because of these factors, I am legally disabled. Work is hard. Complex assignments are too hard to process. Simple assignments bore the crap out of me.  I can’t work too much because Medicaid and my body won’t let me.  So I have been a caregiver for numerous years. I started off as a Business Management Consultant with clients all over the country.  Quite the let-down.

I am a mother of two twenty somethings 3,000 miles away from me and happy that way. They are living their lives well and that is the most any mother could ask.  But I live near my sisters and my 8 year old nieces are my delight.

Oh yes,  I am a recovering drug and alcohol addict – and food.  I have been sober from alcohol for more than 35 years with a 5 year break for a 5 year addiction to prescription pain killers which ended 11 years ago and had a horrible effect of my kids, especially my daughter. So there’s guilt and shame I can’t seem to let go of.

AND – I’ve wanted to be a writer  and missionary all my life.  I’ve been published a few times and I have an opportunity to go on a mission in 2017.  Until then I do what I can here.  I write a lot of poetry, some memoir pieces, and non-fiction articles  about women who have achieved greatness through tremendous adversity.  I write about what I know and want to know; what is inspirational to me and religion and spirituality.

So if you can find a target audience in all that, except that I probably sound very self-involved . . . playing with my navel and all that; let me know. And I still have to figure out pages, widgets, you name it.  Learning to be a good blogger is taking a long time . . . did I tell you about my TBI?

I welcome tips and comments.  I truly want to grow. So give me a hand why dontcha’.