My thoughts

       So much a year can change . Life kicked me hard in the head exactly a year ago today. I am a survivor,  so i did what i do. I survived.  I struggled and learned.  The stability i desired so badly,  i have obtained. And what matters most is what i held onto. So for those who are struggling and feel that their world has fallen apart, i say hold on…things do get better.

Abundance

           Well this is a blow up topic.  One that if handled improperly,  could cause a flame war. America has never known a lack of abundance.  We have within our grasp everything we could possibly desire.  And this rarely is appreciated.  Don’t believe me? Try being homeless here versus in other parts of the world.  I have lived out of my car. There were plenty of places I could go to get assistance.  At least one shelter I left because it felt too much like they wanted to keep me. Poverty is horrible,  but often in the USA,  it means not having enough to do things on your own.  In other places,  it may mean worse.  The things so often taken for granted are just not there.  Food,  water,  basic shelter,  a land not at war.

Authors, and artists in general

   Lately,  well for the last decade anyway,  I have been surrounding myself with other artisans. Partly because I am insecure about my art. And partly because it’s nice to be among others with similar interests.  I think creative types all do that.  So for my mind,  it seems as though there are more creative types now than at any time before.  There are more ways to be a writer, or an artist,  now than there have been.  I firmly believe this is because the human mind is constantly expanding.  At this period in time we have less to contend with for survival.  Convenient grocery stores mean that the skills needed for survival are different than even what was needed a century ago. 
                 So since we have more time that isn’t devoted to survival,  we can be creative.  There was a line in one of The Earth’s Children books (written by Jean M. Auel)… and now that I  go looking for that exact line, I can’t find it. Anyway,  the gist of the line was that the reason that beads and artistry were signs of status were because of how much time a single bead took to make.  That was time that wasn’t devoted to gathering of food and shelter resources.  In our society there is less need for hunting and gathering.  So we as a species still have that mindset.  Since there is enough time for the unnecessary making of art,  then we are doing well.  So we hold the artist and the storyteller in high regard because of this.

Anxiety

    Okay,  now for a overdone topic.  There are so many blogs out there talking about anxiety… perhaps because as a culture we have over the last century become more and more anxious. Admittedly,  I am not immune.  It keeps me up thinking.  However,  I try not to feed it. I imagine anxiety as a terrible beast with sharp claws and way too many teeth.  It follows me, waiting for the weakness to take hold.  Waiting till I am so weary,  that I rest. We all must rest occasionally. Then the beast tears into me, stealing my breath.  Causing my mind to immerse in paranoid wanderings.  Causing fear to take hold. Most of the time the fear is manageable,  as is the self doubt.  It’s always there,  but perhaps I am better at pushing it down.  For me,  the beast called anxiety takes my power to push away. 

Art

              This is a touchy subject for me. I have to write,  I want to draw. I am not sure I have talent at as many art forms as I enjoy trying.  I know I am a talented poet. However my prose is occasionally flawed.  And though it’s improving,  my drawing is amateur at best. My photography is often out of focus.  My crafting has often got major flaws.
           All that having been said, I don’t let it stop me. I do not nor likely will I need my art to make a living. My art is for my pleasure,  and only for that.  I share so I can get opinions.  So I can attempt to learn and improve.  Practice is how my drawing has improved. I honestly think too many restrictions are placed upon art. It’s all good… just not all good to everyone.  Difference is what makes us unique. Without the diversity that comes from various talents,  art would not grow. So yes, my talents aren’t as outreaching as my desire to create…. but I never said they were. Constructive criticism accepted… all others move along.

Abuelas

I’m going to start with a topic that is fairly easy,  and close to my heart. Abuelas…aka grandmother’s.  I have been blessed in mine.  One could say i had four.  My mom’ s mother,  my daddy’s mother,  my stepdad’s mom, and the kind lady who refused to be anything but grandma brown. 
              To be Frank,  I only remember her kindness and her kitchen.  She was there for my mom and I when i was extremely young. Three years old to six. So some of my first memories were of her. She taught my mom how to cook. I know she died,  but I remember her telling us not to visit her grave. She used to say if we couldn’t visit her in life,  then we weren’t welcome in death. 
                  Grandma Ethel,  my mom’s mother,  was a very complex woman.  One of the strongest I have ever known.  It’s from her I have my love of reading.  She loved me unconditionally.  She was a natural born story teller.  I still repeat some of her stories… she used to work in hospitals as an admission clerk.  Well the ambulance brought in a drunk recovered from an accident.  The staff got him awake,  and he started looking around.  “Where is Bob? ” He asked getting more and more agitated.  The ambulance went back and found Bob. They get them together,  only to have both men start asking for Steve.  So this time before the return to the scene,  the emt’s asked how many there were. Five total men. None were really harmed by the crash,  which wrapped the car around a tree. All were drunk.  Turns out the reason for the crash?  All five were asleep in the back seat at the time. 
          However,  for all that I loved her, she was a stubborn person.  She literally could burn water. She had broken her back three times,  had to have it fused five.  So she was often cranky because she was in so much pain. She crotcheted, knitted,  sewed, did cross stitch and plastic canvas.  She loved old movies and British comedies. She was everything to me. I know i was a disappointment to her, but I never doubted her love for me.
           Grandma Harris,  my daddy’s mom, was old fashioned and strict.  She and I really didn’t get along as well.  She adored my brother and felt I was too misbehaving.  Maybe I was. She was also a strong woman,  raised five kids by herself back when that just wasn’t done. She made doll furniture,  did ceramics,  and made candy. She always kept busy.  There was a piano in her house, and music was a big thing around her.
           Last but nowhere near least,  “Grandma Sis”, my Stepdad’s mom. She was tough,  and I really didn’t get to know her well.  She when I met her was already unwell. Yet she took the time to welcome me into her family,  and gave me a box of books.  She took the time to find out what i was into,  so she could welcome me. She really was an amazing woman.
      Of course not everyone has such abundance.  I also had my great grandma and my momo. I think being surrounded by such wonderfully strong female role-models has helped me to really reach to be strong like them.

Blog topics

    Another writer,  a dear friend of mine, was challenged to do the the alphabet challenge on her blog.  It got me thinking…. in many directions.  One that I wasn’t sure I could be as brave as she. She asked her friends for topics.  That opens things up that I myself would be afraid to face.  I am a coward sometimes when it comes to blogging. I really don’t like that about myself.  I have written and erased quite a few because they felt tooo much like either I was whining or that I was having a pity party. 
              Second,  and to me more important,  it got me wanting to brainstorm. Which I was doing,  on a sleep deprived mind.  I think my mind works oddly better on little to no sleep. So i decided to try to do a alphabet style challenge of my own.  However,  I will do it differently.  I will list all the topics for a letter I can think of…then write a blog post for each topic until I finish that letter.  Then do a list for the next letter.  Yes it will take longer than a month…but it may help me kick my other writing into gear.  Or at the very least it’ll get me thinking. I apologize if any of the topics are too upsetting.  I may choose to not do some,  as these were also popping to mind at a time when anxiety and fear have the biggest hold.
              So here’s my topics for A.
Abuse,  Animals,  anxiety,  abuelas, abundance,  amorality,  art, asking,  assumptions,  asexuality (and sexuality in general, I think),  allowance,  (I would do animal abuse but that is the topic my friend did.  And she did it beautifully… here’s hers), Authors (and artists), anarchy ( and likely politics), anticipation and that is my “A” Topics. If you have any ideas to add, go ahead and leave them in the comments.  I won’t promise to add them,  but I will at least enjoy the interaction.

Various views

   I was saddened to awaken and find another idol gone. Each little light going from the world makes it such a darker place.  After a time each loss stacks on the heart,  weighing it down.  So I set about grieving on social media,  I set myself down and reliving the Joy I have felt in his music.  Rewatched my favorite movie that he was in. I felt sad, until I read a blog post by one of my favorite webcomics ( http://www.dominic-deegan.com) . He was far more elegant than I at how he expressed the combination of sadness and shock that this light going out caused.

Michael Terracciano
Don’t be sad that David Bowie died. The man lived a fiercely unique, artistic life. He was a relevant cultural icon for decades. He was Ziggy Stardust, Jareth the Goblin King, and just David fucking Bowie. His music is immortal. His last work is (from what I’ve heard) a masterpiece of a finale. He left us as ashes, not dust. This is probably the best ending to an artist’s story that any of us creative types could hope for. Hell, if I accomplish even half of a fraction of what David Bowie achieved, I will have surpassed my wildest dreams. Today I celebrate, not mourn.

        This got me thinking.  So i started looking at my behavior when each of these lights went out. Each time we lost a bright light who brightened my life in some way, I reacted the same way. I went back to what I loved.  Their light.  I really believe many do this.  It helps us make sense of death,  of disease,  and of violence.  So tonight i rejoice for the light I found in a creative soul. I also hope someday far into the future,  someone does the same when I pass.

R.I.P. to all those lights that have gone out in the last few years,  even those who only lit up one small world.

Self absorption

I have suddenly realized that all of my best “stories ” from my life center on me. I was the hero of my own tale. While that’s not really unusual, I never saw myself as that self absorbed. I have always put others first. Been sympathetic and empathetic.Yet, today I realized, I see things only from one point of view. As a writer I have tried to at least imagine things from opposing views from my own. I think of it as an exercise. Social media helps. Although I am often disappointed in things I see in others. Don’t get me wrong, I am far from perfect. However I hope to always see kindness and charity…. and I rarely do. Yet this morning I talked online with someone. She was a good friend in high school( admittedly almost thirty years ago now) …And although I remember her vividly, she doesn’t really remember me. Part of my ego was bruised at that.  It got me thinking. Wondering at the variations of all my life stories…. when seen from another set of eyes. Would the things that seemed so darn important to me even have made it to the footnote? Point of view makes all the difference in what direction the stories take. Does it make a difference in who I am? Not sure. Perhaps that still requires thought.

Titles

I started something tonight when i decided to post a blog post. Another step in life to make a mark on the world around me. Still not sure what my mark will be. I struggle constantly with self worth. I am forty… and although Ihave done a lot, I really do not have anything to show for it. I can write code in c#…but I taught myself to do. I craft, making jewelry, crocheting, sewing( although badly). Yet, in the long run, this too is not something where I took classes and have a certificate. I write, both poetry and stories. Yet, though I have four volumes of poetry, a novella and a children’s book published in various formats( still working on releasing them for Nook.) None have sold. Now I add blogger to my titles. Writing isn’t something I could even give up. Nor is drawing. (Even if it feels like I do both badly). Truthfully, in the end I doubt I could really give up doing anything that I do. So my titles grow, and I am still just a high school graduate…
Just for the curious…. my titles include…. Geek, Programmer, Jewelry Artist, Author, Poet, Mom, Crafter, Pansexual, Survivor, Blogger, Artist, Gamer, Pagan and who knows what I’ll add.