Quick update: I lost internet after a switch to a new ISP. Everyone's computer but mine could connect. Nobody knew how to fix it. I seem to have poor luck with anything electronic these days! But all is well now.
We're experiencing one of the biggest snow storms Seattle has ever seen. I have a foot of snow at my house. I love the hush that snow provides, but if I lose my power I suspect the snow will lose its beauty.
Sean has done it again! I like this poem very much. In this English assignment, his poem needed to portray a paradox. I think he also manages a bit of a transformation here as well. No, he is not an angst-filled teen; he is actually a well-adjusted young man with a great imagination, the inability to put his dirty socks in the clothes hamper, and a little too much RPG experience :)
Death
By Sean Roberts
Life is existence.
Living.
Breathing.
Sleeping.
But, is it really life?
Are you free?
Do you have power?
Are you always happy?
Are you sure?
Death is nonexistence.
Your soul,
Your spirit,
Living in an invisible world,
Spying on the ones,
Who appear to be living.
Watching as the world unravels.
Watching as new souls are prepared for torture.
Knowing that soon,
It will be your turn again.
Is it truly life we experience?
Or is it death?
Vessels to a spirit who cannot roam free,
A spirit waiting to get out,
Waiting to live as it pleases,
Not needing food,
Not experiencing pain,
Not experiencing sadness,
Able to live with freedom.
Life is Death.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Sit, Stay, Hyperlink
For today's joy-finding expedition, I didn't have to go far! I'm trying out the gift of knowledge and the fact that this old dog can learn a new trick. Here's my attempt at putting Madison Leigh's name in link format. Woohoo! It worked!
Thank you Elysabeth and CJ :)
Thank you Elysabeth and CJ :)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
It gets easier with practice
Today's unexpected joy came easily: the devotion of friends.
My friend Madison Leigh (I wish I knew how to do that thing where her name is underlined and it's a link to her blog) did a little research on a problem I've been having. She put a few bits of information together and connected it to something else and voila! A clue that I can use to try to find some answers.
Thank you, Madison!
My friend Madison Leigh (I wish I knew how to do that thing where her name is underlined and it's a link to her blog) did a little research on a problem I've been having. She put a few bits of information together and connected it to something else and voila! A clue that I can use to try to find some answers.
Thank you, Madison!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Purple Is All That It Should Be
Oops - I missed 2 days! I forgot to factor in the weekend element. One of those days was a fun-filled family day, but I don't think it's fair to "go back" so I'll just pick up where I left off.
My 14 year old son wrote a poem for school and has graciously given me permission to post it here. It made me think and it made me smile so it's my "focus" option of the day. His assignment was to choose a color and write a poem about it. He chose my favorite color :)
The Color Purple
By Sean Roberts
The gentle blaze of a fire,
To a skier trapped in the snow.
The grace of an angel,
To a fallen soldier,
Purple rewards the patient.
Purple saves the punished.
Purple is all that it should be,
The regalia of royalty,
The symbol of patience,
The image of justice,
The emblem of hope and peace,
The pattern of prosperity,
The insignia of bliss,
The mark of a higher power
For all who have earned it,
Purple is all that it should be.
My 14 year old son wrote a poem for school and has graciously given me permission to post it here. It made me think and it made me smile so it's my "focus" option of the day. His assignment was to choose a color and write a poem about it. He chose my favorite color :)
The Color Purple
By Sean Roberts
The gentle blaze of a fire,
To a skier trapped in the snow.
The grace of an angel,
To a fallen soldier,
Purple rewards the patient.
Purple saves the punished.
Purple is all that it should be,
The regalia of royalty,
The symbol of patience,
The image of justice,
The emblem of hope and peace,
The pattern of prosperity,
The insignia of bliss,
The mark of a higher power
For all who have earned it,
Purple is all that it should be.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Multiplication
I set out to find one positive, uplifting moment from today and ended up having a hard time narrowing the field. Here are just a few things that brought me unexpected joy, in no particular order:
- Internet shopping (less hassle!)
- talking to my other sister today and laughing together
- my cuddly dog
Although I'm tempted to tell you how the "good" things just kept piling up - like something funny my son said, how my husband kept sending me bad Seahawks jokes today, and catching my daughter in an act of kindness - I think instead I'll try to focus on a few "good" moments at a time and really absorb them.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Don't say nothin at all
Remember Thumper? If you can't say something nice...
That's why I haven't been updating my blog. I realized today that I didn't want to post anything negative on my blog, and with the stuff that's been happening in my life lately, I honestly couldn't think of anything positive to say.
I was driving at the time and the thought had such a profound affect on me that I almost slammed on the brakes.
Bad things happen all the time. We are all surrounded by negativity, stress, unpleasantness. The only control we have over the negativity is how we allow it to impact our lives, right?
But heck I wouldn't even torture my characters the way I've been tortured this year! The deaths of pets, friends and family; a devastating loss of income; head-to-toe hives...? First of all, no one would believe my life in story form if I even had the desire to write it, which I don't. Second, the melodrama is just too far-fetched. Third -- oh, wait; I had a point to this rant.
For one week, I'm going to post a "positive" thing that happened during each day. A good thought. A kind word. A small accomplishment. Something uplifting that stands out from the rest of the day. Then I'm going to see if the act of shifting focus has an impact on my life. I don't expect my perspective to banish the bad, but perhaps it will turn my health around. It certainly can't hurt. And if it makes the spots go away, I'll be very happy.
Let's see...today...
One thing that stands out from the day is hugging my sister, because she needed it - and the wonderful feeling that a hug from me means a lot to her and vice versa.
That's why I haven't been updating my blog. I realized today that I didn't want to post anything negative on my blog, and with the stuff that's been happening in my life lately, I honestly couldn't think of anything positive to say.
I was driving at the time and the thought had such a profound affect on me that I almost slammed on the brakes.
Bad things happen all the time. We are all surrounded by negativity, stress, unpleasantness. The only control we have over the negativity is how we allow it to impact our lives, right?
But heck I wouldn't even torture my characters the way I've been tortured this year! The deaths of pets, friends and family; a devastating loss of income; head-to-toe hives...? First of all, no one would believe my life in story form if I even had the desire to write it, which I don't. Second, the melodrama is just too far-fetched. Third -- oh, wait; I had a point to this rant.
For one week, I'm going to post a "positive" thing that happened during each day. A good thought. A kind word. A small accomplishment. Something uplifting that stands out from the rest of the day. Then I'm going to see if the act of shifting focus has an impact on my life. I don't expect my perspective to banish the bad, but perhaps it will turn my health around. It certainly can't hurt. And if it makes the spots go away, I'll be very happy.
Let's see...today...
One thing that stands out from the day is hugging my sister, because she needed it - and the wonderful feeling that a hug from me means a lot to her and vice versa.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
May I Have the Keys to the Literary Kingdom, Please?
I have been having an identity crisis and I have no one to blame but myself.
In April of 2008, I attended my first writing conference and the world shifted on its axis. Did you feel it? I don’t see how anyone could have missed it. There was this l-o-n-g moment when the world stopped turning, and when it started up again, everything looked different. Suddenly, I could visualize my dream of becoming a Real Writer. And then the conference I went to last month had the effect of dangling a key just out of a prisoner’s reach. I could see my greatest desire, but even while I was surrounded by scores of supportive writers, I knew the four walls of my self-imposed prison would hem me in once I stepped back into my own reality (self-fulfilling prophecies are remarkably dependable). With great fear and stubborn determination, I soaked up the conference atmosphere like a drunk on a three day bender. I pitched my novel to Kevan Lyon of the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency and then, in a moment of reckless abandon, I accepted Cherry Adair’s “Write the Damn Book” challenge.
Please don’t misunderstand me: I am happy with who I am. I love my family and my life but I want – no, I need – to figure out how to make the transition from hobbyist to professional; to make writing an integral part of every day, not just something I do in my spare time; to stop treating writing like a dirty secret and bring it out into the open.
You know how much I love short stories. They are the perfect venue for the hobbyist writer. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, I can create a first draft and then spend the week toying with the story elements. For longer, meatier short stories, the semantics alone can consume months of Saturdays. All the while, new story ideas are brewing and the creative cycle repeats itself. Aside from NaNoWriMo month (November, for those of you non-WriMos), thus has been the extent of my writing for the past five years: a weekend here, an evening there, but otherwise, just a hobby. Oh, sure, I’d go through periods of binge-writing and have an occasional inspiration to enter a contest, but I always fell back into my usual routine of duty before hobby.
To be fair to myself, I have been a dedicated hobby novelist in the last year, with only a few brief diversions into short stories, but I tried to treat my novel writing like my short story writing and discovered that the two are very different from one another. Very different. My organic, spiral writing method isn't the most effective way to write a novel, but I have learned from successful writers that it can work and, as you may recall from paragraph two, I possess a stubborn determination.
So, while my fellow WriMos are dedicating this month, National Novel Writing Month, to the intoxicating infatuation of developing a new story, I am instead dedicating the month to developing a new writer: me.
In April of 2008, I attended my first writing conference and the world shifted on its axis. Did you feel it? I don’t see how anyone could have missed it. There was this l-o-n-g moment when the world stopped turning, and when it started up again, everything looked different. Suddenly, I could visualize my dream of becoming a Real Writer. And then the conference I went to last month had the effect of dangling a key just out of a prisoner’s reach. I could see my greatest desire, but even while I was surrounded by scores of supportive writers, I knew the four walls of my self-imposed prison would hem me in once I stepped back into my own reality (self-fulfilling prophecies are remarkably dependable). With great fear and stubborn determination, I soaked up the conference atmosphere like a drunk on a three day bender. I pitched my novel to Kevan Lyon of the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency and then, in a moment of reckless abandon, I accepted Cherry Adair’s “Write the Damn Book” challenge.
Please don’t misunderstand me: I am happy with who I am. I love my family and my life but I want – no, I need – to figure out how to make the transition from hobbyist to professional; to make writing an integral part of every day, not just something I do in my spare time; to stop treating writing like a dirty secret and bring it out into the open.
You know how much I love short stories. They are the perfect venue for the hobbyist writer. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, I can create a first draft and then spend the week toying with the story elements. For longer, meatier short stories, the semantics alone can consume months of Saturdays. All the while, new story ideas are brewing and the creative cycle repeats itself. Aside from NaNoWriMo month (November, for those of you non-WriMos), thus has been the extent of my writing for the past five years: a weekend here, an evening there, but otherwise, just a hobby. Oh, sure, I’d go through periods of binge-writing and have an occasional inspiration to enter a contest, but I always fell back into my usual routine of duty before hobby.
To be fair to myself, I have been a dedicated hobby novelist in the last year, with only a few brief diversions into short stories, but I tried to treat my novel writing like my short story writing and discovered that the two are very different from one another. Very different. My organic, spiral writing method isn't the most effective way to write a novel, but I have learned from successful writers that it can work and, as you may recall from paragraph two, I possess a stubborn determination.
So, while my fellow WriMos are dedicating this month, National Novel Writing Month, to the intoxicating infatuation of developing a new story, I am instead dedicating the month to developing a new writer: me.
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