Fiction Friday: Remembering

{Prompt:Your character is determined to do something they know to be a mistake.}

The bells hanging on the door sound almost like church bells tolling doom instead of the cheap leftover christmas bells thta they are, hanging on frayed green and gold yarn. I swear the door slammed behind me and I expected everyone in the place to turn and stare at me. I paused, waiting, but they were all looking at the glittering jewel tones, trying not to acatch anyone’s eye themselves. It was only when the clerk asked if i needed anything that I realized I was standing in the middle of the entrance still, so I slunk over to the side, shaking my hand at him, denying, denying.
I hid behind a display of collectible sets for five minutes before I heard him speaking to a customer. Part of me was thinking I could make a bolt for the door and just get out of here. Should get out of here, but I felt stuck. I was here, I made it this far, and I was not sitting in the corner licking a bottle yet. Maybe I could make it through a simple purchase. Maybe.
I was walking down an aisle, tripping through a flashback slideshow of memories, linked to each different silhouette on the shelves. I couldn’t stop myself, I remember when I had that one in Vegas, I remmeber when Joe bought that one to the wedding, I remember…
Why I am here. Not for me, but now I can’t remember why not Those are good memories. Where are the bad ones? when DO they come floating in? Maybe it has been long enough as they say, or maybe not long enough, because it has taken me this long to walk down one asile of memories, and I still have not gotten what I came for.

So i literally take a big breath and start all over agin. Not at teh front door, but at least in my own mind. Noone here knows that I should not be here. In fact, maybe they should not be here. That thought at least carries me over to teh other aisle, where I should find what aI need. I mean, what I am here to purchase. Can;t believe it I am actually berating myself for doing a simple errand.

But it is not that smple, really, is it? I have been adding complex levels to teh entire chore ever since the PTA meeting last week when what’s her face said, “You can pick taht up for us, right? It should make a nice retirement gift.” I could have said no. Should have, but then I may have had to say why, and that was just not happening in front of her and the other moms. So I’m here. And it only took me twenty minutes to get from the car to the store, and now at least twenty to do the lap around.

[That was "at least five minutes" just to keep myself going, and now the teen's home and I must run all over town again...have a good weekend all.]

Because, I write.

Just a quickie because I want to share this link with the world. I recently discovered a group on WordPress called ReadWritePoem (see sidebar) and I just jumped at the chance to join yet another network. Seriously, it seems to be a  good network for poets and poetry lovers to gather. I am still checking it out and setting up camp, but I love what I see so far. I may even get the gumption up to submit some poetry   So, then I followed a link to a blog because the name “I Was Born Doing Reference in Sin” made me literally LOL, and I was fortunate to read the newest post called Why Do I Write from a poet named Arisa White, which is what I want to share. Definitely some very good reasons there i.e:

It is truly, the times when I feel safe. Free to take risk, to emote, and to be led by imagination without fear.

I believe we all have our own reasons, and some are more personal than others, but she has definitely summed up some of my own feelings. Hope you enjoy!

On an Upswing

Thank you to Danielle over at Calliope’s Pen for bringing me back from my down swing. I guess i was burnt out after all of that forced creativity in April. I did finish the Poem-A-Day Challenge, writing several obviously rushed pieces in the last few days. Then I volunteered to read through not one, but two days worth of poems for Poetic Asides’ blogger Robert Brewer, who was under enough stress. It was a lot of poems. And a good lesson in itself. I feel more confident in my poetry writing now, but also know I still have a lot to learn and improve. Just when I was thinking I should give up on the novel writing and concentrate on other things, I was struck by another idea for yet another story, the kind where you wake up from a dream anxious to write it all down before it is gone again. That always feels good So, even though I have not been on here, I have not been totally slacking, and I am working on getting back in the flow again. I still do not have  a job though. I guess we can’t really have it all…

PS: I am planning on doing a bunch of reviews in June, because I have also been reading [natch!].

My Song of the Day

PAD Day 3

The prompt today was to make the title of your poem “The Problem with [fill in blank]“. Here’s mine:

4/3/2009 8:31:39 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)

“The Problem with Poetry”

The problem with poetry is
it does not always come when you
ask and sometimes it does not mean
what it says. There may be a few

poets who do not agree, but
I have fought with the words at times.
Maybe I just don’t have enough
patience to wrestle with their rhymes.

Yet, I keep going back for more.
What looks good to one may not be
musical for another one’s
eyes. See, on that we can agree.

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I just learned about this blog, just in time to share before the festivities begin. This week, Mar 9-13 there is a blog tour  happening which concentrates on children’s literature and literacy. Anyone interested in kid lit, whether as a writer, teacher or reader, will find a plethora of information there. Each day is hosted by a different blog and covers a different theme/topic. I got the heads up through The Reading Tub whose blog is hosting the first day. There will be related downloads and giveaways too. As a mom, I look forward to gaining some insight into teaching the skill and love of literature to my own kiddos. As a writer, I think we can probably gain some insight into what children’s literature encompasses and how to write for young audiences. Either way, encouraging literacy in the new generation is beneficial to our culture, future and anyone who loves books.

Happy New Era: my 2 cents and a poem

Glory be! I am writing from the comfort of my own home in the security of the Obama administration. I am definitely counting some blessings. I did spend several hours staring at C-Span on Tuesday taking in all of the pomp and circumstances. I believe the only highlight I missed was the removal of…departure of W… which was probably what I had looked forward to the most…for 8 years.

I have to admit to getting rather emotional during the ceremony and speech. Part of me was missing being at the party but mostly it was a happy set of tears of relief/joy/anticipation. Of course I celebrate the historic factors, etc, but mostly I am thrilled to hear the revival of a positive discourse in our culture. We should be able to “choose hope over fear” without sacrificing our ideals. We should be models to the world based on “what you can build not what you can destroy”. President Obama is not the first politician or even POTUS to offer similar hopes, but it does truly seem like he may be the one to make lasting changes and renovations in the culture. Yes, there is the obvious one [many claim this is a post-racial America now, but I think that in saying that they prove we're not quite there yet], but there is so much more to this “new revolution”. He offers a multicultural point of view, a world view which we need in the 21st century, not a close-minded view that says we only care about US.

So here we go , ready to change the world [again] for the better. I hope this is the end of American imperialism and the beginning of a simpler, open-minded democracy. We have a lot of work to do and it will not end in 4, 8 or 20 years. But I do still have concerns. I am not sure that everyone celebrating this week is getting the message that we have to stop wasting time, energy and resources on ’stuff’ and that part of the problem of the previous 2 decades has been caused by our need to succeed. Many people still want the rich lifestyle and the gadgets that go with it. Many people still see others as enemies or Different. And in that respect, I think the most brilliant statement made on Tuesday January 20, 2009 was not by a president, a preacher and definitely not by a pundit. It was a poet who said “What if the mightiest word is Love?”

First of all, I liked it. I listened closely and took notes. I have heard some ridiculous statements and criticisms by people who should not comment on things they do not understand, [but that's the American media for ya], though I have not yet checked out the Poetry community’s reaction. I did not really like the way poet Elizabeth Alexander read her “Praise Song for the Day”, and that may be one of the factors leading to the criticisms. The thing is, she read it the right way [obviously, it's hers, she can read it any way she chooses] as far as academics and poetics goes. I have been taught “how” to read poetry, but I always thought that the Beats had the right idea, and she probably would have made a great impact on the day’s events if she had gotten up and slammed it. But of course, staid and solemn is more appropriate for the event [tho apparently that message did not get out to the other 1.5 million people there]. A song of praise was exactly what we needed though it could have sounded a bit more jubilant.

That is one of the powers of poetry which I have always loved, however. To me, a poem begins as a thought: the poet has a thought, jots it down [at keyboard, in journal, on napkin grabbed out of the glove box, etc]; the poet elaborates on the thought, then shares it with others. A listener or reader will take that thought and make it their own, based on what they hear, what their experiences are, what their interpretation of metaphors, images and individual words are- or what they think the poet meant. Which is why some poetry lasts centuries, because it is open to interpretation by whatever reader encounters it, whenever it is read.

So, I suggest we read it again. Silently, slowly, to yourself, over and over if you need to, then out loud as expressively or solemnly as you want. Her words are “words to consider, reconsider” just as the speeches are.

Praise song for the day. Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair. Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum, with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky. A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.” We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed, words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side. I know there’s something better down the road.” We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign, The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.” Others by “first do no harm,” or “take no more than you need.” What if the mightiest word is love? Love beyond marital, filial, national, love that casts a widening pool of light, love with no need to preempt grievance. In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, any thing can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light. —transcribed from the Presidential inauguration ceremony January 20, 2009 © 2009, Elizabeth Alexander

I did attempt my own creation after the party had ended, though of course it is nowhere near as profound. At first, I was focusing on the idea of Freedom, specifically the so-named statue atop the Capitol building that was cast and placed by a slave. There is even more irony to that story. I have to work on that piece more especially if i want to use poetic metre, but then I jotted out my ode to the crowd

[photo from michaeldeangelis on flickr]

Come, Together

They came to gather
Whether for history or
For honor,
For celebration or
Revolution,
They were there today.
They weathered it together
As the winds of change
Swept the world up and
Blew them all away
Leaving chapped cheeks
And cheerful smiles.
They filled the monumental Mall,
Each a drop in a grand pool
Reflecting the “patchwork heritage”
Flowing through
The nation’s veins.

Millions have worked,
Prayed and hoped for
Positive resolution
And so they milled together
To enter the new era of Love.

I am sure others have created their own lasting tributes to the day and I would love to read more. Please share if you have a poem, post or opinion. Now that I am back in the virtual world, and we are in the midst of the new administration, I am eager to connect with everyone. Happy Day! Write on!

Going through virtual withdrawals

Due to a major malfunction caused by my son’s need to be a high-tech gamer, my personal computer is in a coma. I am not giving up and will be pulling for its recovery, but meanwhile, I am posting this from the public computer [gotta love your local library!]. I realized that I had not blogged here ‘all year’ and I do have a blogging resolution to maintain.
Being offline at home has been something of a blessing in disguise because I have been forced to go low-tech and get back to the basics. Hence, the old compostion notebooks are getting dragged out, I am actually getting more reading done and I am using any other ‘freetime’ to organize and plan for the year. I also have to be a bit more selective in what I do with my limited time online [and not just because they don't allow access to facebook here ]. So, I am cramming proofing, posting and querying into a two-hour time period, generally on Tuesdays and Thursdays while the wee ones are in their preschool class. I am taking a look at my virtual habits and winnowing away at the time-wasters, just as I am going through the collected stuffs at home and throwing out the old to make way for the new.
I had planned on doing something similar with my blog, by reviewing my past posts and links and maybe even changing my layout, but much of that will have to wait until I get my PC back.
Yes, I miss it, and it shows [obviously, since it has been less than a week and I am already waxing nostalgic-like]. It seems a bit strange, since, like most of us, my writing definitely started the old-fashioned way [apply pen to paper], but I have to admit that the net and writing software are fundamental to a modern writer’s career, and even to publishing and education. So, again, I count the blessing of the public library’s services, because I would not be here without it!

TGINYE: Thank Goodness It’s New Year’s Eve- Peace Be With You All

I was very happy to find the iPeace site this week, especially because I was in time to participate in their first “iPeace Day”. There are some physical gatherings occuring around the world and a lot of virtual events happening too. I could say a lot about the idea of peace, though I believe that most people already get it, or refuse to try to get it. I have been contemplating what to write the past couple of days. I can say little about living in war, because I have lived the privileged life of the suburban American- privileged in that war is seldom in our backyard. I do have friends and family who have been closer to the physical tragedies and I was raised as an Army BRAT. The area I live in is a military region and I think often of everyone affected, on all sides. The truth is that war and violence does affect us all, no matter how much or little we see in our lives. The truth is that we are all living in a constant state of war. iPeace has many activists, artists and writers working and sharing the same goal and hope. There are many blogs and resources available there, and all over the net which I encourage you all to explore. I can say little to add to the conversation, but I am happy to add my voice to the crowd praying today, tomorrow and every day.

It is hard to watch images of the Gaza Strip, Iraq or any war-torn area, but it is harder to ignore them, at least for me. I have always considered myself a pacifist and most people who know me irl would agree. I also have  a tendency to take the pain to heart and worry, stress, despair. It is not healthy and I am “resolving” to get back to my youthful activist ways. Though I have become a bit of a keyboard activist in the last couple of years, it does not feel like enough. I do want to dedicate my writing to positive change, including peaceful activism.

The thing I am dancing around is that I was struck by something else yesterday. I do want to work for peace in this world, but I must also work on my own Inner Peace. I learned yesterday of an old friend’s death and it is hurting my heart. He took his own life, after years of inner turmoil, loneliness and possibly alcoholism. He tended to keep to himself, living alone and, the saddest part of all, he was not found for a long time after his suicide. That part breaks my heart. We were friends in Florida, but now I am in VA and he ended up in HI. Obviously these things happen in life, as our paths meander and cross and diverge. I believe he is at peace now and I am remembering several others lost this year, as we tend to do on The Last Day of the Year.

My point is, as much as I want world peace, and want to work for peace, it really does begin with me. We all have to make peace with ourselves, with our friends and families, with our Inner Critics, demons, etc. Most of the people dying in the wars, massacres and daily violence do not choose to die as my friend did. Most of us would choose to live rather than the alternative. How we choose to live is solely up to us.  If we could all truly find make peace with ourselves, perhaps we could achieve that goal of world peace too.

As somber as this post seems, I do refuse to give up hope and I do want to send out lots of blessings to everyone for 2009. New Year’s always seems like a chance to start again even though most of our struggles and strains keep going regardless of the calendar page. So have fun tonight, count your blessings and keep shining, for tomorrow is another day. Love and peace to all, all ways <3 j

Happy December for all

Experiencing a bit of post NaNo blues after staying up to celebrate on the forums and then could not sleep well. I am proud of and happy for everyone who made it through November. I can hardly wait to set up my winner icon! i cannot decide between cool viking ship or chalice of java [though it looks good enough to drink].

Now, today, to me begins the real Xmas season, though I did open some decor over the weekend AFTER Santa ended the parade. NOW we can begin the season of giving, after we have given thanks for what we do have. I have some major issues with the shopping frenzy that accompanies this time of year, especially when there is so much economic and political turmoil these days. I think it is a good time to think about what we really want to share with our families, friends and the world around us.

Today is World AIDS Day and coincidentally, it is also the launching date for Mocha.org. I wrote about this new campaign/site last week, but they have officially opened. The link I had before may not have worked. They asked some bloggers to respond to the statement “I need Africa more than Africa needs me” and they have answered with their own response which I will share with you now.

I NEED AFRICA MORE THAN AFRICA NEEDS ME

When I think of Africa, the following images immediately come to mind: Starvation.  AIDS.  Child soldiers.  Genocide.  Sex slaves.  Orphans.  From there, my thoughts naturally turn to how I can help, how I can make a difference. “I am needed here,” I think. “They have so little, and I have so much.” It’s true, there are great tragedies playing out in Africa everyday.  There is often a level of suffering here that is unimaginable until you have seen it, and even then it is difficult to believe.  But what is even harder is reconciling the challenges that many Africans face with the joy I see in the people. It’s a joy that comes from somewhere I cannot fathom, not within the framework that has been my life to this day. [read more]

I am sipping a [homemade] mocha right now and counting my December 1st blessings. Happy Twelfth Month!!