I.O.’s Aside: The seeming randomness of our tragedies gives me pause. It’s times like these when one questions if there is a Universal Intelligence/God. I wonder what answer you will come up with when you’re are standing at the edge of the abyss.
I like lists. They make me happy. They keep me focused. Lists are my friends.
I tell my sons to make lists. They haven’t discovered the wisdom of such a simple task, but isn’t it the simple things that offer the most satisfaction?
Caroline Miller, in Creating Your Best Life, swears by them. My bucket list came from her book. I think that book was the doorway into the crazy and amazing life I’m currently living. Lists help us focus on what we want in life–our goals. Lists help us break down those goals into meaningful steps. And it may take a little while, but if you follow those lists, you’ll get where you want to go.
I enjoy reading other people’s lists. There is one going around Facebook right now that requires people to list a certain number of facts about themselves. The number is assigned by the person whose list status you “liked.” I received 25 and I list them below (with tongue-in-cheek) so that you can get to know me better.
- I’m a MILF not a Cougar. Remember, it’s all about mystery.
- I want to live in a house that can travel anywhere.
- I’m Irish-Italian with a touch of Viking, Greek, and Egyptian.
- My life is mostly 3Ws: Working, Working out and Writing.
- I’m trying to fit in the 4th W, making Whoopee, but haven’t found the right person yet.
- I’m a published author as of 2013 but I’ve been writing coherent short stories since I was 12.
- I’m an introvert but that only means I need to recharge alone after I’ve hung out with awesome people.
- I love to sing karaoke and my bucket list includes an entry that I will sing karaoke in one major city of each state and the District of Columbia.
- My job lets me travel all over the country. I’ve met fabulous, interesting people and have managed to sing karaoke in CA, GA, FL, CO, VA, TX and MD (I just started this bucket item last year).
- I’m pagan.
- I’m a Jesus freak.
- I’m also the Morrighan’s hand maiden.
- I’ve embraced the mystery of sex-blood-death.
- I am a metal junkie.
- I do not care for donuts but I like meat, mead, metal, coffee and Mr. Krasman’s metal reviews.
- My son is an awesome drummer for Xstrophy who will be playing the Fishhead Cantina in Halethorpe, MD on 11/23 and yes, I will be there, probably selling merchandise.
- I have a wicked sense of humor.
- I’m too smart for my own good.
- My cat’s name is Mr. Hanky the Christmas Pooh in honor of the cat who preceded him, Pooh Bear.
- My other cat’s name is Research & Development (R.D.) because he is an idiot.
- Both my cats are from a rescue shelter (they make the best pets).
- I enjoy doing things that scare the crap out of me emotionally because it reminds me that I should live instead of giving a crap what others think.
- My favorite song right now is Get Over It by Battlecross because they must have met my ex-boyfriend and thought he was a complete douche as well.
- I think life is hilarious.
- I took a Brief Strengths test that ranked the 24 human strengths in order based on my answers. At #1 was Courage/Valor because I am a great person to have at your back. At #24? Humility.
I encourage you to comment. Pick one of the following numbers: 3, 5, 7, 9. Tell me that many things about yourself. Dig deep. Say crazy things that you know are true, things that you dream about doing, things that scare you witless because what would [name of influential person in your life whom you don’t want to disappoint] think?
After you’re done, I want you to look at that list. I want you to put a star next to one of the items that you think is important enough to pursue. I want you to put exclamations after it on the post. I want you to paste it on my blog, right here, in big bold letters, that this is something you’re going to do or that you’re going to cultivate within yourself.
Once you’ve made your choice, go do it. Make your lists. Wade into the fray. Give your battle cry. I’ll be cheering you on. This blog has your back.
Ah, that realization that you are favored by an archetype, and a trickster one at that. If you need any advice on how to handle the capricious Hermes, hit me up. He’s a hoot but he can be pretty scary too unless you like chaos, alchemy, and change the way I like coffee. I REALLY LIKE coffee.
For my next life, I will be a heavy metal musician. Hopefully, by the time I reincarnate, my gender will only determine if I purchase the baby-doll tee or the straight up Fruit of the Loom screen print from my favorite bands. I will write potent, mind-altering lyrics thanks to this current life as a writer. I will be born into a musically-inclined family, hopefully a great grand-something of Mike Mangini or Ann Wilson or Sully Erna. I will play every instrument including the vocals.
I only say this because I’ve always been that kid who walked the outskirts of every known group considered acceptable by mainstream society. I would jump up and down trying to see what was going on in the middle of all that respectability. Only to discover that I didn’t want any part of what I had seen after crawling through the maze of legs. Ugly things can happen beneath a smiling veneer.
When I’m reborn, I will explore the things that everyone else is too afraid to discuss in voices above a whisper. I do so now, but in my next life I will start in my hell-raising youth. I will shout it out from the rooftops, not for attention, but because my compassion for humanity insists that I tell them the truth: sex, blood, and death. Everything else is but a variation on a theme and sometimes that theme isn’t so pretty.
We are created through sex. We are born in blood. We die. The cycle repeats. In between these events, many try to pretend that sex-blood-death isn’t happening. The very clouds are borne of the intermingling of air and water. Rain is birthed. The clouds disperse. Repeat. It is a beautiful, divine cycle and we are meant to be part of it.
How is it that humanity can ignore the cycles of life: the passion, the rage, the fear? Yet humans do and with cowardly abandon. In that very non-act, the twisted psyche is born and fed. Every known avatar has come bearing the tidings of sex-blood-death. Some have been laughed at, some have been murdered, but most have been ignored. And the illness grows.
I am no stranger to sex-blood-death. Neither is anyone who reads these words. Perhaps like me, you have embraced the dark truth. You have given it a name and yet still acknowledge its mystery. There is a freedom here. A freedom to follow passion, to speak truth, and to tell the stories that must be told. \m/
I was very disappointed. I planned on attending a #NaNoWriMo meeting at 1:00 p.m. My first indication that my plans were destined for the circular file was when my car overheated one-half hour prior to reaching my destination.
I should have seen this one coming since my mechanic seems to think I’m stupid and that I don’t know his garage is systematically sabotaging my Corolla with each oil change so that I will spend more money there. One of the suggested services was a coolant flush. Of course when I opened up the hood today and looked in my coolant reservoir, it was E-M-P-T-Y. There had been no mention that I was O-U-T of or even L-O-W on coolant.
Not one to panic, I called one of my morning coffee buddies and he came on down with a bottle of coolant. I will owe this man coffee for like a year now, but at 1:24 p.m. I was back on the road without any hitches.
When I arrived at the appointed destination, the place was packed. It’s a Panera Bread. I wandered around the entire place and could not, for the life of me, discern who was a writer and who was a student. The place is situated close to two colleges and that was an element I had not added into my life-of-chaos equation when planning my day.
Don’t think I had a by-the-seat-of-my-pants approach to this either. Before deciding to attend, I had looked around my #NaNoWriMo account to see if there was any contact information for the person facilitating this meeting. I only found a name. That’s it. So I crossed my fingers and hoped I would know my own kind.
Turns out, I wouldn’t recognize another writer unless they slapped me in the face and quoted Ernest Hemingway. I don’t know if there is a “kind” to which I could claim membership. The Divine broke the mold when I was made.
So I bumbled around the Panera, somehow able to escape without leaving a trail of chaos in my wake, and drove home (in a car that no longer overheats) to write. If the whole point of this month of November is to write, than I think the #NaNoWriMo folks are doing a great job because here I am writing. If their point is to get writers in contact with each other and to offer face-to-face support, then I say: “Epic Fail.”
Here are my suggestions: If someone is going to facilitate, then that person should be willing to provide an email address that will allow for interaction. I think there was a contact name, but that information has been lost in my frustrated desire to just look at another writer who is committed to this challenge. This lack of information just makes me think of my mechanic and his less-than-helpful suggestions. Eventually I’m going to fire him.
I’ve always been amazed by the stories that photographs tell. When written, so much of a story’s possibility is confined by the words chosen. Perhaps this is why ancient oral traditions such as the Druids were so set against putting their lore into writing. Then again, certain Native American tribes saw photography as a soul-stealing activity. I think both the Druids and the Native Americans had valid points in that the truth of what has been captured can be altered. Think of history being written by the victor and the female body being digitally enhanced. But there is something about the photographer as storyteller that has always captured my imagination.