Day 27

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Jean shorts and a black tee shirt with ‘hot mama’ across it.

Day 26

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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.

Day 25

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Hmmm weird traits. I am not sure I have any.  Weird personality quirks and weird idioms,  perhaps.  But honestly I see there being nothing about myself that is truly weird.  I am unique.  Weird implies that there might be something wrong with any of my traits.  Nope. Unique.

You Are A Work Of Art

Reblogged on WordPress.com

Source: You Are A Work Of Art

Day twenty four

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Hmmm something I miss… cartoons.  Saturday mornings with cereal and early morning cartoons. The cartoons of today really are subpar. I have tried to introduce my daughter to the cartoons of my childhood,  but to be honest,  it really saddens me that cartoons are no longer like that.

Late night ponderings.

                  So. I am awake.  It happens. And oddly enough when it does I manage to do some of my best writings.  It’s like this is when my mind is clearest.  When I fight with the demon known as insomnia.  I already added two poems to my poetry W.i.p. and now I am going to ramble here. My thoughts are this….
                    Is social media truly being social?  We have been asking this question as a society for a while now.  These sites allow us to lie. To become people we wish we were. There is a serious issue there.  Still it also allows us to communicate with people who are so very far away.  It makes the world seem so much less.  It allows family and friends who are far away to connect it ways that would be impossible otherwise… but that’s not always a good thing.  I personally use it to promote my books and sell my crafts.  I use it to keep in touch with those who I have known and love. For me…the recluse writer…yes it is social activity.  However I am strange… what?  Did you really not know that?  Lol. What about you? What do you think?  Is social media truly being social?  I wonder for the non introverted people out there,  if social media is something else?  Perhaps it is tedious.  If so do you only do them for your family?  What is your reasons for being on them?  Which do you use? There are so many choices.

Discipline

Nary a thought
to organization,
Not one to abide
Micro managing
My time.

As long as I do
Does it matter when?
Or can it be late
When my mind refuses
To quiet at all?
Or early morning
As I watch the dawn?

Discipline in my work
Is not the same as
For another.
For me know that I
am doing.
And it is enough.

Posted earlier on my personal Facebook

It really is the little things that hurt…and heal. Seeing affection and pride felt by those whom you wish were proud of you. Or who paid enough attention to see who you really were. So I end up feeling the little green eyed monster creep in. And then I self recriminate because I see myself as better than that.  I don’t do my writing or my crafts or my art for the recognition.  I really don’t.  I do all of it for me.  However,  the primal urge for recognition exists in everyone. Then along with the self doubt,  a few someone’s stood up for me. It heals the little cracks in my soul.

Day twenty three

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Oh well… this is a tough one. I am an oddball.  I really don’t dislike people  overall… not any more.  For me it is a case by case – moment to moment thing. So saying I dislike someone… well for me that means they are not family.  Blood doesn’t always mean family.