Who knew? I have always loved words, books, books of words….you name it. With the advent of the online dictionary came the eventual blog about words and all things wordy. I was hooked. This one in particular, as I see it, is really interesting. Thought I’d share!
Rather than work on my work work, I found myself poking around on WP today….how did that happen?
I should be finishing up my current project. Nothing has the capacity of dashing my spirits mo’ bettah than a tail-between-my-legs late submission. It just makes me feel like a heal.
Yes, I meant to make a rhyme.
But nooo; heal or no heal, I can’t seem to refocus myself to the things I am supposed to be doing. Instead, I am tripping over all of the clutter on my dashboard.
Where did all of these drafts come from? I have no recollection of writing any of them. Nor did I ever take the time to actually edit and publish them. No wonder I haven’t posted anything in close to a year. Why bother having a blog if I can’t commit to it?
[pause….5 minute break]
So I thought about it and have decided not to be so hard on myself. In taking stock of the year since my last post, I have been pretty busy. In fact, busy to the degree that I feel it important enough to compile a list of some of the things. A list for my own personal reckoning.
Okay, forget the list, I’m going to detail everything in one kick-a@@ run-on sentence. Bring it.
I….completed a master’s degree in less than 12 months – with a 4.0 no less, started writing for money (yeah, I know, real dollars for scribing my half-baked ideas about law enforcement testing, shwong), had things surgically removed from my body, lost the innocence of thinking that no one would ever hurt my children, struggled (and continue to do so) to stand by and stand tall for the injured child all the while trying to not crumple up on the floor in overwhelming mommy-pain, attempted to come to terms with the fact that I can’t go home to visit my peeps until I can accept that home is where an excuse for a human being robbed my daughter’s innocence close to a decade ago, metaphorically lost my other child via the enlistment process into the US Air Force, adopted the most amazing socially-disordered animal and then fell head over heels in love with his stinky butt, decided to pack up and relocate across country again, lost an amazing family member after her wonderfully full and long life (RIP Cake Granny), reaffirmed that my man really is my soul-mate and I love him more as each day passes, have determinedly begun the journey to start another educational pursuit…and I didn’t even lose any hair…or the weight from having my thyroid surgically abscond from my innards. Busy.
For those that know me, I totally would have tried to say all that on one breath; and probably would have succeeded. Lucky for me my fingers don’t need to breathe.
In closing, I have taken it upon myself to schedule a number of sessions to reacquaint myself with the lackluster things in my blogger past. I shall reconnoiter the impedimenta of notations left laying about. With due diligence I promise to pursue and complete the dashboard spring cleaning.
Call me STUPID MISS CLEVER PANTS. WHY do I always do this?! That’s the exacerbating question I have been asking myself…repeatedly. Lately. Every time I try to sign into a web site. BLANK stare. Wanna know where my brain goes? … Continue reading
Quite Interesting! I am reblogging this to share with anyone who may not have come across it elsewhere!
After moving from New York City to Chicago and getting married, Rachel Bertsche realized that her new life was missing one crucially important thing: a local best friend. So she decided to go on one friend date every week for a year, and she documented her quest on a WordPress.com blog at MWFseekingBFF.com.
But before Rachel even started the blog, the 27-year-old writer put together a book proposal based on her search for a local BFF, and successfully pitched it to agents, and then editors. She says, “After I sold the proposal, I decided to start a blog so that I could have a place to document my journey and some of the research I was finding. I also wanted to start building a community and to engage with readers.”
It’s now been over two years since Rachel first launched MWFseekingBFF.com. So did she accomplish her blogging goals?…
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Perplexing Prompt Regarding My Ability To Name Names.
Being that my BFF in the entire universe has a successful trattoria, and I was on the sidelines watching from start up, and then worked there for a short time; I would say that I would never own a restaurant. For whatever reason this basic belief on my part has rendered my creative ability to make up a name, just for the sake of argument, useless. However, since this prompt is inclusive of any entrepreneurship, I then retrain my focus on my fiancee, who is also a business owner, and so are some of my other closest friends, and I ponder the sources of their businesses. I marry their personalities, with their creative abilities, and then incorporate the type of businesses they have, and finally contrast this with the name they chose for their own company. I attempt to adhere these same formulas to my own ghost company….tick tock. Tick tock. Grrrr. Tick tock tick tock tick tock…….
I have failed to answer this Plinky prompt.
Does this mean I am not entrepreneurial? Or is it just that I won't name names?
I am aghast!
* Businesses referenced in this entry:
Bellavista Trattoria & Pizzeria – www.bellavistatrattoria.com
Goodeals – www.facebook.com/pages/Goodeals/181195305228371
J Hollywood Designs – www.jhollywooddesigns.com
Midnight Aficionado at your service, "How may I help you?"
It is a curse, it is a blessing, it is when I perform at my peak.
"Wisdom is scar tissue in disguise"
Well, I am proud to say that I celebrate the addition of three new & spectacular scars this year; adding them to a plethora of more seasoned and weathered ones that have attended the day to day of life with me. These junior scars are almost comic, forming an upside down face on my belly. Looking up at me, from the doughiness of my midsection, is a curvy little 5" nose ( partially circling my navel) akin to a question mark..while father down are two lazy eyes, looking more like caterpillars, or a bad day with the mascara wand. They are a little unevenly squinting back up at me. The face itself seems a little concerned, as the double intertwining scars from cesarean sections knit their thoughts across the span between the caterpillar mascara'd eyes. I think it, this cartoony face, is really just wondering what's going on outside of my shirt..perplexed by the sounds of daily life…or maybe jealousy driven by the knowledge that most of my other scars get to see and experience life firsthand every day. The others aren't shroud under tee shirt veils; hidden beneath a one piece bathing suit, something I never used to wear, a long long time ago. Within the hierarchy of my multitudinous collection of these markings, the most envied, and coveted by the others, is the scar across the front of my throat. When I got that one, some 27 years ago, my friends and I decided we could exploit the black garish stitches poking out of my lumpy red swollen skin. Rather than be dismayed by a large scar across my neck why not spend an evening with friends gluing big silver nobs to each side of my throat & coating my face and neck with a light green eye shadow & then debut the look at the local 7-11?! In truth, since it was still rather painful, we declined to go through with the evil plot. Yes, there was beer to be had, and so it shouldn't surprise anyone that we thought we were really funny at the time. Ahhh… Time and age have faded this particular scar to an almost see-through silver strip, barely noticeable to passersby. Yet it is still sitting in the best seat at 'the game'. Now, of lesser notoriety would be the scar over my eyebrow, the one below my lip, and the almost invisible one on my cheek – that is only to be seen when my face is pink from the sun. These each have a story. But they are simple and humble scars & no one talks about them much any more. ~ Now, majority rules as such, so the most popular and avidly -or maybe extensively is a more suiting descriptor- collected works can be found on my right knee….all 12 of them. There are three almost invisible pin point scars there too, but I don't count them, in an effort to protect their innocence. As I hobble around, with constant aching, straining on malformed muscles, and against tightened ligaments, I ponder how they, my knee scars, are truly a badge. Like the kind we earned as Brownies and Girl Scouts. The only difference being that these puppies exemplify the battle of having 4 successive knee surgeries; to which all have failed and at least one more biggun' is yet to come. In truth, I wait anxiously for that day. All along knowing that my scar collecting days could possibly be over, and that it all might be bitter sweet. Having collected so many, for so long, has become a gnarly little road map of succinct points in my life. A map that is tattooed across my being. So, the idea that I may not get any more brings me a little pause. Does that mean I will stop truly living my life? Alas, I won't really know. Though I doubt that will ultimately be the case, you know, being that I have been such a dedicated 'experiencer of life' and all…bbbuuutttt, ya' know…that joint replacement scar is gonna be a bute'! My piece de resistance! So, wanna hear about the scar between my toes? That scar has the best story, sure to make the squeamish wriggle!
i assume that cross country, to and fro', would probably count as a long road trip ~ as a kid we did it a few times….one of the funnest road trips, however, was an unexpected jaunt across Colorado in a tall mini van. ha! tall is the only way i can describe the van. it wasn't a low riding wide van like i had been accustomed to, but rather an astro, or something like that. i just remember it sat up high. the unexpected part of the trip was more a blunder on our part; we neglected to check closely on the details for our drive 'over to grand junction'….from denver! it was awesome and the crowd of us, 4 grown ups, a 3 year old, and an infant rather enjoyed the thrill of lightening storms and some serious grades. woo hoo. takes the cake over any college roadies and those sort of adventures. and yes, there were some of those!