In a time of such marvelous inventions coming out, I am appalled by how many are designed to protect women from assault. Now don’t misunderstand. I am not saying women should be raped. I am not saying that the inventions are bad. I merely am appalled by the need for such items. I am a survivor. So I taught my children personal space and responsibility. I taught my son to respect women. I taught my daughter that her body is hers, and no one has the right to touch her without her permission. Yet, I know that there are people out there who would anyway. It kills me to know that someday she will not be safe. I am allowed the sadness that the world is not a safe place. I asked her what she would do if someone tried to grab her, tried to force her to do things against her will, and my beautiful twelve year old girl said ” I will kick him in the leg, then the nuts and I will scream! ” While crass, it feels good to know she won’t be a easy target. She doesn’t separate. If it’s someone she knows who tries to force her to do things or a stranger. Her body is hers. And I have made sure she knew it. I cannot help wondering if more children of both genders were taught that concept how the statistics of sexual assault and abuse would be? After all abusers seduce. They convince the child that even though the child is not comfortable with what is being done, that it is something the abuser is allowed to do. I mourn the need for the devices to “prevent ” sexual assault because I believe that if as children we are taught not to do or allow certain behavior… well as adults it wouldn’t happen. At least not as often. The ones who did at that point would be seen as deviants. They would then be treated as the criminals that they are.
Category: Life
Poetry normality
I am a poet. My children to my pride have shown themselves capable of great pieces. Now I should mention that I have not always felt good about my poetry. I have so often been told how depressing it was that I took it to heart. However, I wrote because it was how I healed. As an abuse survivor, I learned that I needed an outlet for the poison that was forced into my soul. Or I would not ever be whole. So I wrote to heal. I wrote for the love of poetry. So I would never be as good as Emily Dickinson or Edgar Allen Poe. I wrote because it was part of me. I did not force anyone to read what I had written. So if it was depressing…. that was fine. I could accept that. Then I was talking to a social worker. I mentioned that my poetry was considered depressing. Though I think she was being sarcastic, she said something that got me thinking. She asked “Isn’t all poetry?” There are various types of poetry that express different emotions. Discounting sad poetry is basically like saying that feeling sad is unacceptable. Poetry should be able to have a nice range of emotions. It is after all an expression of the poets heart in word form. Then someone else I care about said that his beautiful poetry was so sad. My response “Poetry is often sad. I’m told mine are depressing. Just because they are sad doesn’t have to deny their beauty.” Not every poet can write greeting card poetry or love poems. And abusing the poets whose writing causes other emotions is not acceptable either.
Quote me knot
Tonight I was watching Gotham…when I got such a thrill. Dr. Hugo Strange quoted Alice in Wonderland. Which led me to offer it as a summer reading choice. I am planning a very busy summer with a couple of amusement parks and a long road trip. Still for me, Reading is a huge part of life. I am always carrying some book or another. So many of the best quotes are lines from this book or that. Inspirational words written in the stories many of us found comfort in. Each life finds a different quote to inspire, to encourage and to grow. The quotes that help me through darkness really depends on my life at the time. I often wonder why some quotes are considered to be inspirational. What quotes make you smile? Inspire you to be better?
Summer break
I may disappear for about a month. Still will be back, but summer vacation calls and I am uncertain about internet while I am gone.
What is in a name?
“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Names are unfortunately a necessary evil. There are so many meanings and so many options where names are concerned. Many grow to dislike the name that was given them, for various reasons. Some seek to change the name given them. As a writer I have often used a brain exercise involving names to clear my mind. It’s actually even a semi interesting game. Choose a letter… any one will do. I often do all the letters to expand my mind, but all that is necessary is one. Then using the chosen letter list every name you can think of. For example if I choose “f” I would likely do a list like this:
Forest Fredrick Francine Frank Franco Francis Flicka Flora Florence Flo Fred Frieda Fanny Franny Filla Francisco Francois Fenton Fester Fang Fresca Fip Frack Faith Ford Fessa Fry Frost Fauna Fenella Fena Fenelle Flava Fish
Admitted I usually do better but this was just an example. The only rules are that it must be a name or make sense if used as one. Now as a writer this has more than one purpose.
First it really is a brain exercise. It causes you to concentrate. Thinking of those names are harder than you think. Find it too easy? Set a goal for how many names you will think of. Brain exercises are something that gets your mind thinking, not always something that requires genius levels of thought.
Second it can clear the mind for writing. Sitting down to write is sometimes complicated by the random thoughts bouncing around in your mind. Meditation helps but some fun can as well.
And lastly, it gives you a list of names to help to flesh out various characters in your story with.
This is a easy game to use in both solitary and community play. Set a time frame. A minute or five. Then whomever gets the most names in the time allowed wins.
Remember unusual names are more possibility. Especially if you can give a neat background on the name. For example, My little brother is named Shane. My parents had a difficult time naming him. My father wanted to name him John ad a relative. My Mom felt the name John too common. So they reached a compromise. Shane is a derivative of john. This adds to the story of who the character of Shane is.
So what is your favorite name? And why? What does the name mean? Sometimes choosing the meaning of the character name will help you to build a character that sticks in your reader’s mind. Keep in mind that if the person grew in some societies with an odd or unusual name it may not have been a pleasant thing. Or when they had said name. For example. I had an aunt named Beulah. Now days this name is fairly antiquated. This would cause cruel treatment from the peers of any child with the bad luck to be given it.
So cmon…names…. discuss.
Genetics or something else?
I am a poet first and a writer second. I just do better with poetry than I do with stories. I am not bad at stories, just better with poems. Now there is a reason I state that. My daughter came home and was asking about poetry. She has no patience with writing stories. So I was helping her with her poetry for English class. At this point I was tickled to find out that she enjoys writing poetry. Mind you I have had three children. My eldest has written one beautiful poem. Then he allowed his own self doubt to keep him from writing. My middle one (who due to situations I refuse to explain here was given up for adoption at birth ) writes wonderful poetry. I am so tickled that the three of them have shown such talent. It actually got me thinking. What do we pass on in our genetics? My children are all taller than I. None of them look exactly like me. My daughter looks the closest. There is personality traits that all of them possess that I have. So that leaves me curious. What do you think we pass on in our genetics?
Day 29
I had been visiting a wonderful sports bar for a couple of years. The owner had promised my first beer for free. I went, played pool(i was forbidden to play darts as my aim was horrible ) and enjoyed a free beer.
Personal faith in self
Each creative person goes through it. The crippling self doubt. One often expects encouragement from those in the life of said person. And it really doesn’t always happen. I’m not alone there. For me it’s just a baffling thing. I am seven time published. Four volumes of poetry, two children’s books and a novella. Still there are days when I wonder if my writing is any good. And since my family doesn’t seem to be proud of me and what I have done… it seems to wear on my confidence in what I do.
Then my bestie, my sister I chose, who is also a writer asked for my help. It doesn’t seem like much to a outsider I am sure… but for me this was huge. It felt like validation of my writing. My writing is such a big part of who I am… this felt like I was being accepted. So it got me thinking. Why does my family, my blood, not accept what I do? Really the only thing I can think of is that to them, since I have always been a writer, it is simply nothing new. So perhaps I am going to have to accept the idea that those who are not showing pride in me aren’t doing it in cruelty. Perhaps it is in ignorance.
So perhaps I should not expect the world to have faith in me, and be thankful when it does. Instead I should have faith in me.
Day 26
Things I would say to an ex. Honestly it depends upon the ex. There are always good reasons why they are ex’s. Still usually… it’s hello, how have you been? I see no reason not to be polite. The only reason not to would be if they hurt me…and since I have moved on…the hurt must not have been as bad as it felt then.
Sometimes I write poetry not meant for the Wip
Occasionally on my personal Facebook page I will post a good night that is a small poem….something not truly long enough in my opinion for inclusion in a poetry volume.
This is last night’s.
Well today was hell.
The night as well.
Time for me
To let life be.
Rest my head
In my bed.
Time to wish for all the best
And pass it to all of you,
Nothing else but sweet dreams
And gentle rest,
Till the morrow comes.
Pattimouse 