I’ve been dreaming of friendly faces I’ve got so much time to kill Just imagine people laughing I know someday we will And even if it’s far away Get me through another day Cover me in sunshine Shower me with good times Tell me that the world’s been spinning since the beginning And everything will be alright Cover me in sunshine From a distance all these mountains Are just some tiny hills Wildflowers, they keep living While they’re just standing still I’ve been missing yesterday But what if there’s a better place? Cover me in sunshine Shower me with good times Tell me that the world’s been spinning since the beginning And everything will be alright Cover me in sunshine Shower me with good times Tell me that the world’s been spinning since the beginning And everything will be alright Cover me in sunshine Cover me in sunshine Shower me with good times Tell me that the world’s been spinning since the beginning And everything will be alright Cover me in sunshine
My Two Cents- Due to personal reasons this has been a bad week. Today is not Tuesday…but I needed Music and I wanted to do some posting. So though it be Thursday…Here is some shared sunshine.
I recently joined a few writing discord channels. There was an article shared. It spoke about Vanity presses, small presses, and indie presses. It advised the author to avoid all three. I will link to the article…as it was an interesting read. It gave me a bit of an issue, however…as I run a small press. It spoke in the article about checking the education of those running the press…I am not classically educated. I could not afford college. I learned via free classes and reading everything I could get my hands on.
Soooo this article made me wonder when the writers in that discord would call me out for the imposter I know myself to be. I have been publishing for a decade…and I am still learning. I don’t do everything perfectly. No human does. I, personally, advise you to use common sense. Does the small press expect you to do everything? Are they asking for money upfront? If you have to pay to get your book published then yeah they are likely not legit.
However, not everyone can afford to go to college. Those who go do not always know what they are doing, and those who cannot sometimes do have knowledge. Sometimes you have to ask questions and make choices that are not based on how many degrees are hanging on someone’s wall.
I’m Not a person I am a tiny little rat I’m Not usually formal but sometimes I wear a hat I like simple things like boggling and getting belly pats Cause I’m not a person I am a tiny little rat
I’m not a person I’m a couple of raccoons We’re all dressed up in Pj’s tho we know it’s well past noon You can say we’re trash pandas you can say we’re buffoons I don’t care I’m not a person I’m a couple of raccoons
I’m not a person I’m three possums in a coat We like to claim it’s Gucci, but we got it from a goat Say it’s vintage or it’s Avant guard whatever boats your float, I don’t care I’m not a person, I’m three possums in a coat.
I’m not a person I am four opossums stacked Dressed up in a fancy robe I’ll tell you that’s a fact we may look a little bigger that’s cause all the stacks are packed I am not a person I am four opossums stacked
I am not a person I am like 27 frogs we like poetry and moonlight and we like yelling in a bog and we are not even a hive mind we just mostly get along I am not a person I am like 27 frogs
My Two Cents- I usually do Youtube for the video, Today this song is from TikTok. (Second week in a row) This song is catchy and just bloody cute. I have decided I am not a person, I am 3 possums in a coat. There are other varieties of this one, but so far this is my favorite.
I am not my mother’s Pious Daughter I am one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones I am not my mother’s righteous daughter I will tattoo my skin I will not lower my voice She birthed a witch when she wanted a lady She prayed for a child who would walk with the lord But I watch the stars and I live by the planets I cut her dreams short with the edge of my sword We’re not our mother’s saintly daughters We forge our own paths, we sing our own tune We’ll make our own family and walk with our ancestors One day we’ll meet them with a song and a broom.
My Two Cents- I usually do Youtube for the video, Today this song is from TikTok. It is a reimagination of I am my Mother’s Savage Daughter. I truly love this. I am not the daughter my mother wanted…and that does not make me less. I am me, and I think I need to remember what that really means.
Well me, it’s nice talking to myself A credit to dementia Some day you too will know my pain And smile its “black-tooth grin”
If the war inside my head Won’t take a day off I’ll be dead My icy fingers claw your back Here I come again
Feeling paranoid True enemy or false friend? Anxiety’s attacking me And my air is getting thin
Feeling claustrophobic Like the walls are closing in Blood stains on my hands And I don’t know where I’ve been
Once you committed me Now you’ve acquitted me Claiming validity For your stupidity
I’m chomping at the bit I’m sharpening the axe Here I come again, whoa! Sweating bullets
My Two Cents- Remember the war within? Yeah, I am still fighting. Don’t we all fight those voices? I have spent quite a few years worried about my mental health issues getting me locked away. Asylums are not good places. Especially when you are extremely claustrophobic. My mind is a place where so many wars have been fought. And I know I am not alone.
As many of you know, I just took a vacation. The vacation was fun…and it was miserable. I will explain. My daughter and I went to visit my mom. We enjoyed the visit…but there were snide little digs that my mom made that we did not enjoy. I don’t plan on going into details. When we got back we were both upset and trying to get back to the happiness that was home. Then today we were talking about it.
“It wasn’t that bad” “I just exaggerated it” “I am just ungrateful.” “I blew it out of proportion.” “She probably didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” “I was just looking for reasons to hate the trip.”
This often happens to me when I deal with my mom. I end up feeling guilty because I take what she says the wrong way. I told my therapist about a thing that my mom had said that had my daughter upset. I told her that I had told my girl “My mother loves me, but I don’t think she likes me very much. The difference Is I love you and I like you just how you are. I would not change anything about you.” My therapist asked me a question that has been bouncing around my head ever since. “Are you sure that your mom loves you?”
The question becomes how are we sure if anyone loves us? When my parents got divorced, my mom told me something that stuck in my brain. She said that Daddy loved her, but not in the way she needed. Perhaps the demons eating at my brain are doing so, not because I am unloved or unwanted, but instead because I need more than those who have loved me were capable of giving. So my internal war today is the question – Am I too needy? Is everything I do stemming from the desire to be loved more than anyone is possibly capable of? And is my inner voice just looking for an excuse to be miserable?
I am at war with myself, and to be frank, I doubt that I am going to win. I am fighting the demons within, and it looks like I am losing again. The words that whisper in my brain are getting real loud within. Teaching me that I am failing seems to be the goal, Leaving me there to somehow the answers know.
Yeah, I guess I am going slightly mad, For I find myself doubting even the truth I had. Instead of knowing that I am whole and hale, I find doubt behind every thought, everywhere.
I don’t know if I will get every day this week posted. I am not able to get the week scheduled today. I am busy fighting that war inside me.
She was born in the 1930’s in Washington DC. She said that young women were not allowed to carry any weapons…but they had hat pins. I put a picture on this post…She told me that the hat pins were sharp and it baffled me. How did women use them with out poking themselves? The hat pins were seriously the same as a dagger in the hands of these young women.
Her story made me think that DC was a really bad place in her youth…(though I guess I can’t say it is a good place now)
I don’t remember the whole story but it was full of the necessary thrill to ensure that the teen I was would be hooked on every word. Now the woman I am in the middle of a dystopian nightmare for women am wishing I could have recorded every single story she told. I will always remember her telling me that Roe vs Wade didn’t make abortion easier to get, it merely made safe abortion easier to get. Women were still getting them, just most of them were dying. She told me about back alley butchers. I was so happy that I was born in post Roe vs Wade America…now I am sorry that I have lived long enough to see my home become a place where I am no longer free.
