Trouble’s a Brewing

So, why has it been so long since I’ve written this time? Well, life gets complicated sometimes. You know the adage, “When it rains it pours”? That’s what I’ve been seeing a lot of lately, pouring rain. Our family seems to be especially hard hit over the last six months with more than its fair share of tragedy. I guess I could just run down the list of bad events in chronological order, hmm. Oh, I don’t know, where’s the fun in that, right?

Perhaps a more effective way (it would be a long list) would be just to give a general gist of things and then maybe talk about stuff in future blogs. Let’s see…we have unemployment, illness, death, major surgery, addiction/relapse (no, not me) just to get the list started. Our entire family has been hit pretty hard with one thing or another. Don’t get me wrong there has also been some beautiful moments; the glimmer of hope…weddings, grandchildren (both here and expecting), but overall things have been very difficult. I basically find that Hee Haw song “Gloom Despair and Agony On Me” befitting life at this moment. So, all in all this life stuff has been very time consuming. It’s been pretty hard to find even a few minutes to myself where I am able to write. Then, if I do have a moment, well, the idea of writing honestly just seems burdensome because all I want to do is take a breath.


So, officially, (exhale) I’m going to try and discuss everything but I certainly can’t promise that there will be regular posts. I’ll do what I can when I can. I will ask this of my readers, if anyone out there can spare some positive energy, prayers, or thoughts they would certainly be accepted and welcome. From here I’ll post details when I can but suffice to say health issues are topping the list right now. My grandson, Mason, is top priority. He’s eight months old and will soon be facing and extremely delicate, major surgery on his head that will involve the removal of his entire skull cap. I’ll talk about the condition in my next entry, in the meantime, people…seriously need those prayers.

Thanks.

Reawakening

I’ve been trying to convince myself lately that my lack of writing has occurred because my life has been so busy and hectic. I think that I’ve been making excuses, though. While I have been extremely busy with kids, grandkids, puppies and kittens, not to mention everyday life stuff; the fact of the matter is that I just haven’t had the motivation to write.

I was told that a writer needs to write something “everyday” no matter what. I believe this rule of advice has been more trouble to me than help. You see, I’m not the type of person who reacts well to orders, and that’s kind of what this feels like to me. It makes me think that if I don’t write “everyday” like a good writer does, then I must not really be a “true” writer. Somehow, I’m deficient, less than the other “good” writers. There must be something in me that is unworthy of writing if I don’t do it everyday. Yes, I get that not all writers “feel” like writing everyday; but it goes beyond that.

I become resentful if I have to push myself to write. It becomes work when I have to do something I don’t feel like doing, and while writing may be my job it shouldn’t have to be “work”. Isn’t that what the saying, “If you do something you love then you never have to work a day in your life” mean? So, if writing is something I love to do, then it shouldn’t be work, correct? Unfortunately, though, when I force myself to write it becomes just that. Then, to make it even worse, if I miss a day the guilt begins to build. I don’t handle guilt well; I think this is why I try so hard to avoid guilt. The guilt of not writing builds up so strongly, and so quickly that it soon overwhelms me and I just give up altogether. Yes, I become a quitter.

Now, here I am months later and I haven’t written so much as a single word. In the back of my mind I keep hearing this nagging voice, “You should be writing everyday” and I try very hard to ignore it. Finally, this morning I worked past the guilt and decided, screw this….I feel like writing so I’m going to write. And so it is. I believe I’ve made up my mind to completely ignore the rule/advice of “a writer needs to write something everyday”. I think that from now on I’ll write whenever I damn well feel like it and screw the rest of the time. I can’t take the pressure of working like that; it’s not in my nature. I write because I love to write, not because it’s my job. If the day again arrives that this becomes work instead of pleasure I’ll probably stop writing again until I get over it. Until then, I’m going to write when I feel like writing and I’m going to spend time with my partner, kids, grandkids, the puppies and kittens, my garden, and my home in the meantime. I’m going to enjoy this life that I have been given and not work it into the ground. This is my new philosophy…I’m giving up on writing as my job and putting it back where it belongs…in the category of enjoyable things. Thus endeth the lesson.

The Recovery

So, after yesterday’s post and the tragic ending of a beautiful life I feel that it’s necessary to try and balance that negative with a positive. In this day and age we have all been witness to the trails and tribulations of our modern world. We have watched innocents be slain in genocides, mass murders, and murder suicides. We have all watched as the moral decay in our society has grown disproportionately to the moral well being of humanity. The earth itself is in pain over the way we human beings have treated ourselves. The question is, why? Why do we allow ourselves to suffer so? Why have we broken our bodies and minds to the point of anxiety, suffering, loneliness, and shame that we have? We have all seen it. We all know it’s out there. Everyday we question ourselves as to, “How can someone do something like that?” or “How has humanity gotten to the point of such cruelty?” We long for heroes and to hear word of good doings. We look to the sky with hope that things will get better, and there my friend is the key. The fact that hope is still present and alive in the human animal is what allows us the opportunity to change the world one person at a time, starting with our self.

We have all heard the call down deep inside us. The desire to be the best we can be. We long to fulfill our potential, so why not start today? There’s a book out there that’s been around for a while now. You may already be one of the ragpickers who have read it, maybe you haven’t, yet. I first read the book a little over 16 years ago and it helped change my life for the better. You see 17 years ago I was one of those people drowning myself in booze and drugs, looking for a way out of the thing I feared most, humanity. It’s easy to see the world in all its awfulness and then justify to yourself why you don’t want to be a part of society. The fact of the matter, though, is that it’s nothing more than fear. Fear that you may actually live up to your potential and then be responsible for not only your life, but the lives of those you touch. It becomes easy to say that you don’t matter and that no one will notice if you’re not a part of the game, but we all know that’s a cop out. We all have that gut feeling that tells us we do matter, we want to matter. The time has come to face the fear people. The book is called “The Greatest Miracle in the World” it is written by Og Mandino and it does carry the secret to peace of mind and happiness, seriously.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a religious person. I am without doubt spiritual, I always have been. I don’t believe that you have to be either Christian or religious in any manner to read this book and arrive at the benefits from it. While the book may seem to have a religious context to it, the message is actually much deeper than any religion ever has been. The story is an instruction manual, seriously, on how to alter your subconscious thought and create a positive mind that automatically sets your soul to heal itself and the souls of others. It trains your mind to become an instrument of hope. I strongly suggest that every person read it and sincerely follow through with the 100 days. It will change your life. I read the book again last night, after 16 years and I can see how it changed mine. Funny thing as I began to read the memorandum again, tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them; something inside me knew that I have been witness to the greatest miracle in the world. Honestly.

http://www.amazon.com/Greatest-Miracle-World-Og-Mandino/dp/0553259148/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1252764921&sr=1-2

“Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio.”

But do you ever really know someone? A very macabre topic today as I talk about the death of one of R’s co-workers. Seemingly a man that had it all together; a hard worker, nice guy, well liked, family man, had been at the company for many years, and then…

Last night I get a call from R who tells me they had just learned that this man had shot himself in the head and had died. Probably the most horrific thing about this is that he did it in front of his two children (R believes they are both in their teens). I can’t begin to imagine the horror of witnessing such an act and while my heart, and the hearts of all who knew the family, goes out to them; I can hardly think that any consolation is even the slightest bit comforting.

As near as people can figure he was under financial and marital strain but, of course, no one expected or saw any signs of this coming. I guess when something like this happens it’s never really expected, huh? I mean if it were then there would be a chance that the person could get help and maybe the end result would be a happier ending with the person surviving. It’s a very sad thing indeed but I also feel some anger here.

Not only did this man leave his children with a memory that will haunt them for the rest of their lives, he also left them with no means of financial help. He had paid into his life insurance and pension for all those years and now, his children are left without anything because of the suicide. I realize that this man must have been in immense pain to do what he did, but it was a selfish act indeed. It makes me think of others who have taken their own lives and/or the lives of others, and what it boils down to is selfishness. Sorry if I sound crass here but what right do these people have to destroy the lives of those they leave behind. I mean, it’s bad enough that they have taken their light, or someone else’s light from the world but it’s just down right selfish that they have also drawn the light from the people left behind who loved them.

I’ve suffered loss in my life, both of my parents passed on before I was an adult. Theirs’ was a natural death and that hurt plenty, I can assure you. But to witness the taking of a life of someone as close and dear to you as a parent…leaves me in the dark. It’s impossible to make any sense out of a senseless act and yet we try. The best I can come up with is selfishness. The person, this man, didn’t want to deal with his difficult life anymore so he opted out leaving his children to bear the burden alone and then adding to their pain on top of it. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m sorry for the topic of this post but I needed to vent. Send thoughts, prayers, healing energy to the family, sure. What else is there to do?

Just Another One of Those Poem Things in the Works

Making a Meaning

Can anyone make sense of life, real sense?
Who can call the cards before they fall?
Who can sing the song of the prophetess?
Life is splayed before our eyes and
even then
the sense has left us.

There is no waiting in the wings for the
Bird of Paradise has gone the way of the Phoenix.
The electric sensation of the heartbeat filled kiss
prolonged and left for wanting
in the memory of
beings.

Singing in the soul the creation of beauty
the lifeforce of the fermata
which slips into silence and
exhilarates the blood in the living creature;
we who crawl into the
world of forgotten midst and
burst into fury.

There is no collar for the savage
creator of our own mind.
The deck cannot be stacked or
counted on for anything but
the toss of the dice and the lady
whose luck is not her own.

Beyond the door of the setting sun
the fire ignites the path of recollection
and foresight.
But who is it that can gaze on the
corona and still contemplate the fate
before them?

Over the Edge

I know it must seem like I had fallen off the edge of the earth or something. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve posted. Frankly, though, those who know me should expect this from time to time. I, like many other people, find obstacles to put in the way of daily writing. Oh…and did I mention that I fell off the edge of the earth. *kidding*

What can I say? I just haven’t written for the blog. No real excuse, just haven’t been doing it. I have been writing, but I’ve also been doing other things as well. Still playing the RPGs, sewing, and gardening, taking care of family, dealing with health issues of my own, and basically living that thing we call life. I suppose that nagging feeling finally got to me and I could no longer resist the urge to put something on the blog. I don’t really have a topic today but I thought…Does everyone know that there is a total solar eclipse happening today? It’s true, across India and Asia the sun will go dark for what will be the longest solar eclipse of this century. It will last for a whole 6.7 minutes and apparently cause millions of superstitious folk to do many a bizarre thing.



Honestly, from what I understand there are many people in India who believe that the eclipse is such an evil omen that they will go to extreme ends to prevent their child from being born on the day of an eclipse. Others, will bath in sacred waters and some will use the day to create chaos and cause bloodshed. What will you do today? Oh…well there’s going to be a total solar eclipse so I thought I would go out and massacre a few hundred folk. What about you? Very unsettling.

I wonder how it is that the superstition over shadows the science? Really, I have to say that I feel it. It’s like a churning in the gut, the possibility of something more being out there. Even though we know what causes the eclipse maybe there’s still something mystical, or spiritual that happens to human beings during the time of the eclipse. Perhaps something is triggered in the world archetype when all minds are focused on the same event, maybe we are providing it with the power we feel. Could it be that our Gods have the power they have because we will it into being? Just asking. Energy is energy, right? If we focus the spark on kindling we create fire. Basically we’ve exchanged one form of energy for another. Mystic happenings…maybe our focus causes the energy to take on a new form. Just sayin’.

I Am the Virginal Sacrifice

It’s true; I was sacrificed as a virgin last night. But, I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. First, I’d just like to point out that I haven’t made my new posts on a regular basis, sorry. Shit happens, man. What can I say? It’s strange, though, the number of hits have remained pretty constant. Ok, ok…back to the virginal sacrifice.

There I was lying on a porcelain slab which was in the shape of a crescent moon. I was held down by some mystical force, completely prone, totally defenseless. The four of them held a huge five foot long sword and together they chanted over my body. Each of them, in turn, cut their own hand and let the blood run over me. They continued their chant in a language that seemed to be some sort of basterdized Latin. I vaguely recalled some of the large black symbols that were scrawled around me. I had seen four large symbols on the floor when they brought me in. Each of the four were standing on one of the four symbols that surrounded the alter. I knew, from previous run ins with them, that they were of the Cult of Lilith. This was not boding well for me.

As the chanting continued my anxiety rose. I knew this was going to be the end of me. I watched, helpless, as the sword was raised above my body by the tall, good-looking one who had given me this life. He smiled at me while a small bit of his blazing red hair fell free from the ponytail, as he plunged the sword into my stomach, right through my belly button and beyond me into and through the alter. There was no blood. There was a tremendous rush of pain which seared into my being. I was unable, even, to scream. The chanting grew louder, and my thoughts and feelings swirled around as if they were becoming one.

I began to feel warm, something that I hadn’t experienced for the last several months. I could feel my body pulsating as a horrifying scream penetrated my ears and ruptured any last strength I had. As I lay there slowly slipping into torpor, he leaned over my face, smiled, and kissed my forehead. He pulled the sword from my stomach, it was different somehow. It no longer resembled the cold steel metal that had been driven through me, now, it had an ichor black glow to it. Still unable to react, I saw them stand, turn and leave. The building around me was on fire, there were pieces of burning ceiling falling to the floor on the other side of the room. I laid there.

Finally, when I thought my end was coming, Harper lifted me from the alter threw me over her shoulder and ran. When we reached Lady Imogen’s house I was placed on a cold tile floor, held down by Harper, Jake, and PD. Lady Imogen slit her wrist, the blood leached down my throat and I began to move, to struggle, to come out of my torpor. I wanted more, and I tried to grab her arm to keep the coppery liquid flowing into my mouth, but I was held fast. She drew away and I was back, able to move again; but I needed to feed.

To say the least, the night was eventful. There were many, many things happening all around that night. The Prince of the city has formally declared war. Things are so bad right now, that the werewolves are helping us. Yeah, can you say “bad things are happening”? Icky ichor and Banes are showing up all over the place. There is something draining the spirit life from the Umbra, leaving the world cold and dead. I don’t know what my role in all of this is yet, but I know I’m an essential piece of the puzzle. And I wonder, as I look through the unhealing hole in my stomach, and study the bloodless white dress; why me? My sire said he chose me because I was a virgin, I’m his preferred feed, but is that why I was sacrificed? What about the others who were made with me that night? We were all deliberately chosen by our sires, what does that mean? Has the Cult of Lilith completed its task? Maybe, or maybe, their turns are yet to come.

So, I’m hoping that by now you’ve deduced that this story was my latest Vampire update. It’s was an awesome game last night and I look forward to its continued awesomness. Things are really heating up. Yeah!

BTW – Do you know how hard it is to find a decent picture of a classical virgin sacrifice?