Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Prose and Pyrite

Another day grinds to a dull end and I find myself prepping for the inevitable scourge of rush hour traffic and if I am fortunate – some prepackaged sustenance of the please don’t squirt out on my blouse kind. Home is still a few hours away and there is simply no time to ponder the complexities of my life. As usual I steal this moment, that ache in the back my throat reminding me of the beauty locked in my spirit that will never quite reach the page. I am forced to expel bits of pyrite and tinsel, cheap words easily forgotten in the blur of the cyber world.

Life is frantic, messy and painful on so many levels. I’ve killed a lot of monsters but I am bloodstained and weary from the effort. And some of them bred like bunnies, leaving scurrying furtive offspring to bite my ankle and trip me in the middle of my upswing – propelling me into that awkward face-planting downward spiral. I’m a fighter. Rough, raucous and earthy. My wings are only for stability and not flight. I am at this moment in time – ground bound.

I am not without the random aspiration slash obsessive compulsive slash ridiculously unattainable dream. That’s why I’m here. There is a writer in me somewhere. She is a prolific, tenacious creature. Asurvivor. She is not beautiful but she is loyal. She has never left me – even when I have begged her to do so. She simply amends her personality to fit the current situation – taps on my skull and says – “Let me out….please.”

And so I relent. Once again I’m on the train, hurtling at the speed of light to God knows what derailment. I’ve survived so many personal pile ups – I am no longer afraid of the careening course. I’m on it for the duration and if you read me. So are you. The difference this time? I’m in the engine room. That little girl with the freckles and the #2 pencil? She’s at the controls. Writing will come first because I want it to be so.

Peace. You know what this means. It means poetry. It means rants. It means novels. It means I’ll be giving up sleep. It means….I’m setting myself free.

The Maid of the Hesperus - From the Archives – follow link to read the original poem by Longfellow

The Maid of the Hesperus

On wintry nights the mariners sing

Of tales such as these

The sound of a fair maid crying

Carried on November's breeze

On moonless nights along the shore

Where plaintive surf does sigh

A chill will set in the bones of those

Who hear her mournful cry

Beware good men who ride the waves

Should you hear young maiden fair

Set a new course for the open sea

Lest frigid death find you there

She drifts alone on storm frothed waves

Icicle tears form round her eyes

Her frigid embrace a sailors' death

When winter's wrath fills the skies

Alas, fair maid of the Hesperus

Her spirit a slave to the wretched sea

The deep no kind of resting place

For beauty such as thee

Beware good men who ride the waves

Should you hear young maiden fair

Set a new course for open sea

Lest frigid death find you there


dedicated to Longfellow

Ten Things Tuesday

1. I stepped on the scale this morning. Any nummy who sez “Stress fat is a scam” – I bequeath you the additional tonage reflected by my scale. 2. For all those who would patronize me – offering platitudes and pollyanna mantras – I’m 47. My finances are on lock down for at least three years and I’ve already dealt with the drama that is my life situation since 2006 – doing everything possible to make a change. Doesn’t matter if the flames are green or blue – hell is hell and I’m in it for the duration. I have to weather it but I absolutely don’t have to like it. And at 47 – I’m done faking it. I either need a chunk o’change dumped on my doorstep or I need several suits in corner offices forget my name and address before August 17th. Otherwise – is it getting hot in here? 3. Some ingrate with a diminished frontal lobe couldn’t figure out how to appropriately leash his idiot canine – and on Saturday my husband who was ON THE SIDEWALK got bum rushed and nommed by a mutt with big teeth and a bad disposition. The dog put puncture marks in my hub’s hand and left six teeth gashes in my hubs calf. The owner responded to my bleeding husband with “Oh he likes you.” SERIOUSLY? My hub missed two days of work because he couldn’t hold a knife in the bitten hand. If’ I had been there – there would have been a serious altercation. I love dogs. I have always owned dogs. I do not let them draw blood on other people. 4. The field work for the great audit of 2012 is done but we won’t have numbers for a couple weeks yet. Meanwhile I’m scrounging through the entrails of the last audit looking for salvagable leavin’s, some things just refuse to die 5. Bigspawn will be twenty one in less than two months. Big spawn eats like a locust and has no source of income. Bigspawn needs a job. Considering selling Bigspawn by the pound. Any takers? 6. I got a wild stone in my gizzard and power reviewed something like 250 read requests at my old haunt – Writers Cafe. I finally started deleting some requests. I just can’t read the same vampornems (vampire/porn/poetry) or gloomy angst ridden introspection – or shlock poppy lyric ish ad nauseum. I love you – but send me something worth reading – oh and BT DUB – I like reviews too. Sigh. I should be nicer. I still have the crap I wrote when I was twenty. It sucked. Takes practice. 7. Why did I watch the Road again last night? Its such a SAD movie. As if I need my guts ripped out and stomped on. 8. The cat is not my friend. The cat does not know boundaries. The cat had her entire face in my water glass night. I know where her tongue goes. I don’t want it in my water glass. 9. I rejoined choir last month. They were getting desperate if they had to ask me. But I was singing last Sunday – in the choir – next to the guitarist and something happened. Just for a moment I felt like I was where I truly belonged. Its weird. There are three girls in my past that I deeply admire and I sang with each one and I always saw them as better – and figured that they would continue in music successfully. And here I am – on a stage under lights singing. It is for worship – not entertainment – but in an odd way – it fits. And I never expected it to fit. I love to sing even more than I love to write. I’ll never be a microphoned singer again – but I am in the choir. I miss my girls though. Terry, Evonne and Laurie. I miss singing with them and writing stupid songs. 10. The “future daughter in law in training” (I want grandkids. No pressure, right?) has gone vegan. Good thing she’s cute, sweet and good to my son. Seriously. I don’t know if I could give up munching on things that have eyes. I’ve cut down on my meat intake but to cut it completely? Naw dawg. I did make some lentil soup and quinoa – just so she doesn’t go hungry when she comes over…Could you do it? Go vegan? Just curious. Peace.

God Testing For Dummies

Yup, I'm still ruminating the whole Mack Wolford thing. Can ya tell? Dudes and Dudettes, I have a Bible and a brain and I can usually use both in tandem, provided its still early enough in the day and I'm not battling rush hour traffic, a cranky teen or an empty gullet. (Tam can't cogitate on an empty gullet) So here's my ish of the day. First and foremost, I am not a "Charismatic or Pentacostal", capiche? My church of choice is a non-denominational family church. We do pray in tongues. We do pray "hands on" - but we are never disorderly. There's no yelling and screaming and flopping around in the aisles. Our worship is ordered. We have music - led by a band - everyone sings (no hymnal, the words are on a screen.) the music is contemporary. We have offering. We have a message - with Bible verses - from our pastor. We have a Sunday school and nursery for kids. We have Tuesday night service - with a separate service that is amped up for teens. We have yearly conferences - one for teens, one for women and one for men. We have small groups that meet. We are orderly enough and Bible based enough that I still feel comfort when I step into a Lutheran or a Baptist or a Methodist church. We are very "normal" AND WE ABSOLUTELY WOULD NOT KISS A SNAKE! I guess it just sticks in my craw when the Fred Phelps (Westboro Baptist Church) and the Mack Wolford's of the world get all the attention. Seriously, the man had about 25 peeps with him for his snake fiasco service. On any given Sunday we see about a thousand to 1500 at our services. And none of us would lead you astray by telling you to "test God" by handling something that could kill you." That whole testing God thing is grossly misinterpreted and most Christians are savvy enough to know that "test" is equivalent to "prove" as in - if you have faith in God and you obey what you know to be God's will for you - you will be blessed. You disobey - and you and your free will can put you in a place where you will face consequences. BTW - don't latch on to the whole Malachi issue - again, that's only part of it and usually the test/tithe/bless thing is taken out of context. You can't tithe and expect massive money when you go out and sodomize your grandkids. (I'm just saying that for effect.) Christianity is not an a la carte buffet. Its a combo plate and you can't substitute one thing for another. I'm not gonna get preachy. As always - I have no conversion agenda. If you're Christian, pagan or stripey cat worshipper, its fine with me. I'm a Christian because I choose to be one but I am definitely not perfect and not in the position to pass judgement on others. I can only speak for myself on most things and exhort as I am able. And I seriously encourage you - don't kiss a snake. If you are seeking the appearance of God in your life, just ask. Its a whole lot simpler and won't require an injection of anti-venom is His response time isn't in your predefined schedule. Mack Wolford disappoints me with his display of flawed humanity. But I'm also disappointed by the people who are cashing in on his tragedy by making disgusting jokes about it over the airwaves. If you're gonna pick on a peep - pick a peep that can pick back. That's all I'm saying. peace. Its early in the day and I'm thinkin' I could probably make a dent in my genealogy hints. Yup. For all of you who commented on my Examiner article - THANK YOU SO MUCH. Even if you don't agree - your comments help me grow as a writer, so I appreciate your candor and input. Have a wonderful weekend. If you are a stripey cat worshipper - it may be ok to kiss the stripey cat - provided its really a domestic variety cat and not a 300 tiger...Perspective, people. perspective.

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