Tag: Write

First One Word, then Another, One Step, and Again

First One Word, then Another, One Step, and Again

I have heard that when struggling for words, when laboring for a topic, it can be helpful to first put down one word on the page.  After that initial beginning place a second word, then another, and again until your first sentence is complete. Follow the same pattern to compose your second sentence, then move onto your third, and before you know it the words will spring from the page and your post or writings will take shape.  Seems like sage advice.

Read More Read More

So much Activity, So much Noise

So much Activity, So much Noise

Although I’m looking forward to camping and seeing family this summer I hope the hubbub doesn’t get to me, and there’s a good chance that at some point it will.  The activity and noise will wear on me and I’ll likely withdraw somewhat and retreat to my safe place.

I’m a very private person, some would say reclusive and others may think snobbish or stuck up.  I don’t think I’m either of the latter, I just don’t mind my own company and I’m easily overwhelmed by activity, especially if I feel as if I’m thrust into it.  It’s just the kind of person I am and that has to be ok.  I’ve heard it described as gifted, or over-excitable but whatever the reason the intensity of a group interaction is often stressful, sometimes very much so.

Camping in Pioneer Park

My wife has grown to accept this characteristic of mine and when we family camp we always take our own site rather than sharing a double site or trying to squeeze, with others, into a single.  Frequently we’ll take some private time camping before or after the family camping so we can re-connect and share alone-time together.

I need my space and am much happier when left to read or otherwise bond with myself.  I can write or journal, putter on something like my bike, the trailer or truck, or just have a beer and chill.  It’s the closest thing I can find to Nirvana and I’m perfectly happy being left to my own devices.

The rest of the family also appears to accept it and although I’m not sure how my alone-time is explained to my nieces and nephews it is still respected.  “Uncle” (me) is still asked if he wants to go on bike rides or walks and I will frequently accept.  I still love my family and cherish our relationships.  It just has to be in smaller doses than it may be with other families.

So despite the activity and noise I will adapt, I will enjoy the camping and family time holding to the thought that they won’t always be with us.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that life is short, and fickle.  Enjoy the moments while you can.

My Holy Place

My Holy Place

The rain has continued now for the past two days and while it brings much needed moisture to the grounds it dampens any enthusiasm for one to go outside (pun intended).  I’m ok with it at this time though as it supports my choice to get something accomplished indoors, chores around the house being one option.  It also supports me spending some time blogging, which is getting sadly neglected and in dire need of a boost.

I’ve managed to keep up my journal, the morning pages, and even though the weather is wet and cool I have stepped out of the house onto the deck to write.  It is in the shelter of the house and is close enough to being outside at this time. I wrapped myself in a lap blanket and have persevered, relishing the freshness of the air and listening to the birds sing their spring songs.  Our wind chimes play their tunes occasionally as well, and when the breeze picks up their rich notes bring a church-like quality to the atmosphere.

Chairs in the Holy placeWhat I’ve been waiting for however is the opportunity to sit in the area of our front yard where I feel at most at peace, the spot I’ve recently christened my “Holy place”.  The descriptor came to me days ago when I was sitting in my recliner looking longingly out the window at that area, thinking the time will soon come when I can be out there, when both the weather and temperature will support my visit.  First, or best I should say, would be when my Adirondack chairs will be finished and placed in their special place under the boughs of the maple, where I can sit in the dappled shade and relish in the beauty of the moment.  The fountain will be gurgling in the background and sweet fragrance of flowers will be in the air.  The temperature will be perfect and my mind will temper it’s exuberance to take me into outside chores, there will be time a plenty for those.

In addition to the peacefulness of the area it’s a spot that provides me a glimpse of my toys, a truck or two, and the camping trailer that’s about to be used. It’s a comfortable area and I feel enclosed in it’s graces.  It saves me, I am at peace in my Holy place.

Do you have a holy place, and if so where is it?

Wake up and Smell the Roses

Wake up and Smell the Roses

The title for this post is a mis-quote by a chap I used to work with, we called them Tommy’isms and there were a few. This one is a cross between “Wake up and smell the coffee” and “Stop and smell the roses” and it came to mind after reading a post by RCGale called “Writers seem to be writing about the things they feel they ought to be writing about, and not the things that obsess them”. The post resonated with me because that particular challenge is one I currently face and struggle with almost every time I post. It seems to be so prevalent in my blogging life I’ve posted about it before.

The original intent for me was to record what I was thinking and feeling on any given day and somehow make some sense of it. By journalling I wanted to provide something to others, to show readers (if there were any) that they were not alone, there was at least one other person out there who thought the same as them or was experiencing the same or similar things. Somehow, in some subtle way, it morphed into being more about the writing and less about the “why”.

I still have the challenges and I have taken Ross’s post as reminder that the writing should be from “the heart”, with the purpose of expressing ones thoughts and feelings, and not for the sole reason to collect readership and in many cases increase sales. That’s not to say that books written for that purpose are somehow wrong or mis-guided, the author need only be clear in their own mind what their intent is.

So in order to accommodate both purposes (because I’m all about pleasing everyone) I will try to remember my original goal and write from my gut, but do it in a pleasing and palatable way that makes it a “good read”. After all, if it’s not easy to read and enjoyable what’s the point, right? Please let me know what you think.

The Day is the Same, Just Different

The Day is the Same, Just Different

Wow, where do I start?  Today is, as they say, ” the first day of the rest of your life”.  It is a new beginning, it is an end to an old life.  I have officially worked my last day.  Now some may argue and say I’ve never worked a day in my life but I would differ, I’ve worked lots.  It’s only my career in the mill that’s over. At least it’s over for now, if I get called back then it’s all bets are off, it’ll be an old “new” beginning or a new old one I’m not sure.

To celebrate (or drown my sorrows) I’ve hit the pub where I’ll ruminate and write down my last thoughts, as long as I can still write anyway.  The day was not bad, just not good, not happy nor sad but full of emotions nonetheless.  I did my glad handing and had the token coffee and cake with the administration group.  I rambled at the mouth and tried to say something profound but I didn’t feel as if the crowd was with me.  I sensed they were waiting for the pain to end so they could get back to their desks and continue with whatever important tasks they had.  In all truthfulness I got a warmer reception from the rank and file, the front line as opposed to the back office group. Grunts instead of accountants if I may be so bold. Don’t get me wrong my son in law is an accountant but the real work is done on the floor in the “hands on”, not in the administration of the work.  Sorry, sad but true.

Anyway I digress, lets get back to me.  I’m melancholy, back to s’appy and h’ad (or a cross between happy and sad for those that miss my intent). The beers are having the required effect so it appears my rambling may have carried over from my goodbye party.

Sooo, this leg of my work life is done, who knows what this next leg of my life will bring.  After experiencing the twists and turns of life that we’ve gone through I feel up for almost anything.  Certainly losing a child has got to be one of those moments and coming through that has made me stronger, retirement will pale in comparison to that.  “I am woman, I am strong”.  Wait a sec I’m not a woman, but I am strong.  Live long and prosper.

‘Nuf said.  Time to sign off.

Ennui, Now there’s a Word

Ennui, Now there’s a Word

I just “re” learned a word, “ennui”, meaning (from the Free Dictionary) “a listlessness and dissatisfaction, resulting from lack of interest; boredom”.  That pretty much sums up my state of affairs, I’m ennuied.

photo from http://workplacepsychology.net
photo from http://workplacepsychology.net

Nothing much has changed here since my last post (yesterday), there has been no discussion nor questions by my Manager as to what I’m doing or when I’m doing it.  I’m operating in a vacuum on that side.  I told myself that I would try to maintain an ongoing diary of my last days so this is my purpose in posting this drivel, Some day I’ll be able to look back and gain a understanding of my past life.  I don’t know if this can help anyone else but who knows.

I have actually considered making another appointment with my counselor, I haven’t seen her for quite a while and there have been a few changes in my life, most notably a grandson and imminent retirement.  Neither of these were at hand when we last met and I think she’d be interested.  I’ve also changed the dosage on my meds (self adjusted as it were) and that may be of interest to her as well.  She was the one who suggested I write, not a blog mind you but in a paper journal.  So here I am.  I’m also thinking retirement may help me keep my mood on track and my hope is to get off drugs all together.  The whole mood thing has me a bit baffled and is it just my sunny (or otherwise) disposition or some other chemi/psycho issue.  Mostly I just think I’m weird but the verdict could be out on that.

My writing was initially a means to an end, a way to track my progress and if I developed any readership then my postings may mean something to them.  We all want to help others, right?  So I’ve blogged, sometimes faithfully and sometimes periodically, and found I’ve enjoyed it.  It’s helped me avoid some boredom, I’m less indifferent, it’s given me a bit of a purpose different than family and outside of household repairs.  Soon I can focus solely on all these things.  I’ll be de-Ennuied.

I have something to say, but I don’t know what…

I have something to say, but I don’t know what…

I have something to say, can’t tell you what it is.  It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, a sneeze that lingers just out of reach, a love you can’t connect with.  I may be rambling but there are words somewhere inside me that yearn to get out, if I speak (or write) enough I’m bound to find them.  I’m not at a loss for words but my words are lost.

This will be my 3rd post in 2 days, not a record I’m sure but I haven’t been this prolific in quite a while.  Can’t explain it, just is.  Could be because I’m in a good space.  I’m spending time with my daughter and family, visiting my 2 week old (today) grandson, and I got the news yesterday that I can retire from my job 3 weeks sooner than originally planned..  All in all a good place to be.

I showed one of my posts to my wife last night, the first time I’ve ever done that.  She knows I blog but up until that point I have never told her or anyone else where my blog is, nor it’s name.  I’m not ashamed of it but there are posts that may not be received in the manner in which they were intended.  Some of my earlier posts were more “venting” in nature and part of my healing, a journal of my journey so to speak.

So I’ve said enough for now, but still really not scratched that itch.  It’s still there waiting to resurface, to be dealt with another day.  It’s still on the tip of my tongue but just beyond reach.  Elusive and teasing me.  Waiting…..

Subversive Writing

Subversive Writing

For some time now I’ve been maintaining a daily journal, mostly of just this’n that with no real topics or orientation.  I’ve done it for a couple reasons, originally because my therapist suggested I do it to keep a record of how I feel on any given day and can then see improvement or changes over time.  The second reason came about later after reading a book about writing, and how it’s important to write regularly in order to keep the juices flowing (my words).

So while the act of writing is both therapeutic and motivational it can sometimes feel subversive, particularly if I’m doing it with others in the room.  Why the hell is that?  It seems to occur mostly when doing my morning journal, like somehow whatever I’m writing is wrong or perhaps speaking against whoever is in the room.  Too weird.  I suspect it is just an indication of a personal hang up, and one that I’ll beat down, you can count on that.  I am getting better at writing at any time, and will continue to journal regardless of location.  The only subversion that’s taking place is if I stop.

Morning pages

Morning pages

I’m going to try something new this morning, in fact at least a couple things.  The first thing I’ve tried and just completed was writing my “Morning Pages” within 30 minutes of my getting up. Now for those of you who don’t know, morning pages are essentially a handwritten journal prepared every morning and topics include anything and everything under the sun.  The goal is to just write, to open up your creative side.

 It’s an idea proposed by a writer named Julia Cameron in a few of her books on writing.  At any rate I typically only do it weekdays, once I get to work and have a few moments of solitude before my day starts.  So I am trying to do it on the weekends now too, and I’ve been moderately successful.  If I leave it too late however the day begins, and once my wife wakes up the activity in the house picks up, thus making it more challenging for me to focus.  A topic for another day.  So I brewed a cup of Joe and began.

Once my morning pages were completed my blog came next to mind.  It also has been neglected of late, or perhaps not neglected but certainly not given the attention it deserves.  So here I am.  I’ve repositioned myself in my easy chair so I can see outside, my laptop at the ready and the ideas waiting to pour forth.  Well, maybe not.  Certainly the view outside is nice, it is inspiring, and the idea has the romanticism that I expected, but the inspiration for a topic is a little more elusive.

There are times when I imagine myself doing this routinely, sitting with a cup of coffee, drinking it and the taking in morning sun simultaneously.  It’s cathartic I find, it does help me with some of my personal issues.  I can express myself in a way that I have few other opportunities to do so.  I’m not the most social person, nor can I talk to just anyone, but I can write and doing so frees me in a number of ways.

The day is gray, it seems the hint of spring we’ve seen a few days ago is now lost to us again.  Living in this valley as we do I find the weather somewhat oppressive, we get more fog and cloud than many other areas and those conditions aggravate any Seasonal disorders that I may have.  That poor mood may come out in my posts, and for that I apologize.  Improving my moods and general emotional condition is partly what this blog is about.

At any rate I find myself rambling.  Words pour forth that have no real meaning.  Perhaps it’s too much coffee, maybe the writing moment has passed.  I will sign off for now, bidding you adieu, and I’ll see you another day.

Write, For the Sake of Writing

Write, For the Sake of Writing

“Just write for the sake of writing” she said, “once you start don’t stop”. Boy, doesn’t that sound easy peasy. Just have to start, that’s the ticket.

Another workday was winding down, I peered longingly out my window at the sun soaked mountainside dreaming of stepping into the light, away from my desk and dispensing with my job once and for all. The glare from the sun was at times blinding, but no so much that I wouldn’t look again. It was like Medusa, I had to look, but I never turned to stone.

It’s been too long since I’ve posted, about 3 weeks, and I feel like going to confession, never mind that I’m not Catholic.  I feel like spilling my guts, blurting out all those things that I feel is wrong with my life.  I can’t do it.  Oh I can blurt alright but I cannot in good conscience lament the life I have or have had.  We are blessed, and my current challenge is maintain a hold on that perspective, and live it.  Whether it’s this thing called “depression” or the weather, or just that my nature is to be this way, whatever the reason or cause I am looking for a way out of this dark tunnel.

I have to see Dad today, maybe that’s part of my funk.  He affects me in subtle ways and not really for the good.  And the fact I feel that way makes it even worse.  Here’s a man that fathered me, wasn’t ever really a father mind you and that in itself causes me some hurt.  It’s a real “chase your tail” kind of dilemma for me.  So, take a deep breath and move beyond.  I’m a reasonably bright individual and if others can get past their baggage so can I.  Thanks for listening.

So once again, write for the sake of writing, that’s what I can do.  I can write about things in my life, taking stock of my life and through this pen maybe gain a better appreciation of where and what I am.  By this writing I can answer some of my own questions and come out of the tunnel into the light.  The light of day, and the light of life.