Patience is a Virtue?

It doesn't pay to submit your work and expect a quick response. We can check email once per hour, but that doesn't speed up the average editor. Even when we inquire, we don't always get an answer. We must learn patience.

I think, with patience, we also need persistence. Keep after that slow editor and keep submitting your work. I mentioned this before, I have four poems showing up in ezines for the month of July. I also have three that were submitted in April and I'm still waiting to hear. I just submitted another five to a print quarterly the other day. I have a couple more places I where I want to submit in the future.

As you write, think about which pieces are worthy of submission. This will save you a lot of time when you find a call for submission. As long as the pieces are in keeping with the image of the publication, you'll be half-prepared. Being prepared helps us to avoid procrastination and not submitting at all.

So, go a few hours without checking that email. The next time you check that darned email, you might find yourself pleasantly surprised.

Check Your Work

One should have their facts straight when posting on the internet. Yesterday, I spoke about Humpty Dumpty and got it wrong. I will attribute this to advancing age, but if I was unsure of the rhyme, I should have checked it. There is a wonderful resource at our fingertips.

If an error is noted, we should do what we can to fix it. Understandably, there are some cases where we cannot have access to the errors. An error noticed after a publisher's proof has been approved would be one example. We want to check our work to make sure it is accurate before we send it off. Even after we check it, do it one more time. Once the error is printed, it doesn't change.

In our excitement of being published and in our closeness to our own work, we might forget to check the work again because we are eager to send it back. This is a giant mistake. If nothing else, have someone else look at it for you. A daily blog isn't a big deal, but a published work would be a huge deal.

Take the time to check your facts and to check your work. Little things will always slip through, but let's try to minimize the instances of those little things.

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty broke into a lot of little pieces that no one knew how to put together. All of the king's horses and all of the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again. It is our job as writers to solve the puzzle. We take all the pieces of information that are important to our story. Arrange the pieces as you see fit and then apply the glue that holds it all together.

Many puzzle pieces, or pieces of Humpty, will look similar to each other. We want to watch the placement of our pieces so that they achieve a good fit. While I wouldn't want anyone to toss a critical piece of our broken friend, we want to watch repeating pieces. Repetition is good for effect, but can be redundant in many cases.

The glue we use is probably the most critical part of our writing. We want something that will create a solid bond. We don't want the page to fall apart on the reader. If our words aren't applied with the proper adhesive, this can happen. We want to solidify our words and keep our reader's attention as well.

Humpty wouldn't last very long with holes. Neither will our writing. However, we want to also be careful that we don't use too many pieces as well. Humpty began in a solid oval shape. We don't need to add a beer belly.

A non-Typical Day

Invariably, we find ourselves places we’d rather not be. I like my job, but there are so many times I’d rather be elsewhere. When things are going slow, especially, I can think of so many alternatives. Writing can help us through these times. We have the ability to create scenarios that are more appealing to us in so many ways.

What more could I ask for? I have coffee, music, and a blank page. I’m still doing my work too. Life doesn’t get much better than this considering that I actually get a paycheck for doing what I do. I run a lot of queries on the mainframe. These take time when dealing with providers, members, and claims. I have a lot of down time. While I wait for things to finish, I transport myself where I would rather be.

In my air-conditioned world,
the heat of outdoors is controlled.
The thermostat adjusted to my comfort level.
I don’t sweat gallons doing nothing,
but fret to be productive differently—
efficiently and effectively.

Modern technology cooperates sometimes.
Each day, it assumes a mind all its own
that tries to capture and control mine.
We play the waiting game often,
hurry up and wait—for what reason?
Machine dictates terms of endearment.

Instead, we can travel to Oz or the other side of the rainbow and find things much more to our liking. We can find others or not to suit our moods. We can defy the scheduled rigor mortis of life. Each moment of life, we are one moment closer to death. We can let these moments simply tick away, or we can make the most of them.

The clock marks time in my life,
tick, tick, tick go precious moments
spent in idle anticipation of no one.
This time could be better spent enjoying
my own company and yours
even if only in the utopia of my mind.

We could embark on the perfect sunset
and explore each other’s silences
without hesitation or reluctance.
We could stroll through the garden
of nod and find a fairy willing to share
a tale of after the ever after and then.

Just think of how many places we could visit in a normal day. Even better, imagine the people we could interact with in our minds. All it takes is a little imagination. Capturing that imagination on paper wouldn’t be so shabby either.

There has to be more to life
than the wait from one weekend
to the next, from one holiday
or vacation to retirement.
Yet, it is a tolerable cycle.

I’d rather have tea with Alice
and explore her Wonderland.
I’d wait for the late rabbit
and wonder where he’d gone.
I’d find a hole to plant myself.

I’d question the Cheshire Cat
to see what he really knows
and if he’s met curiosity and won.
I’d eat, drink, expand, and shrink
to know Alice’s world better.

We simply need to maintain our grasp on the reality of life while we venture on our side excursions. We don’t want to be too far gone at any given time that we miss an important indicator of performance. When all of a sudden you have three email and four voice mail waiting your return, we’ve lost our grip.

My phone rings insistently
to remind me I’m still
on the clock and ticking.
What a rude awakening
as I pull myself back
from the land of Oz.

Must I surrender
to yet another machine
and cease my revelry?
Unfortunately, the clock
owns me until quitting time.
“Good afternoon, Work.”

There are times, of course, when everyone is on the same page and things just work right. These days may be few and far between, but they do exist. Sometime there will be one small event in a given day that leaves you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I was fortunate to have such a moment today.

Shower me with candy
for being who I am.
It is the one gift I know
that transports me
above the heavens.

I never sought return.
I had something
you admired; I gave
without regret.
Chocolate rules!

Be Creative

I was aiming for a short poem one day, but decided that the haiku was just a wee bit too short. A tanka just wasn't right either. So, I got creative. I took the haiku format and adapted it. Instead of 5,7,5; I did 5,5,7,7,5,5. I could not find any claim to this format, but decided it suited me nicely.

In the process, my form got dubbed the Vicku. This is very sweet since I've never had anything named after me. The nice thing about it is that other people (well, one) have used this form. The down side is that you will find some people that won't embrace any form that is not thoroughly documented.

I'm documenting the form by putting it here. If being creative means being stuck to well-documented forms, then good luck to you. Being creative means being able to try new things and being comfortable with the effort. If you can't embrace true creative spirit, then you don't need to read my Vicku. One fewer reader isn't going to hurt me.

A poem is a poem is a poem. Whether is follows a formal structure or not. Why judge something simply because you've never seen it before? The outcome is still a poem, enjoy it.

Weather and Writing

The June heat is back and I'm not feeling terribly motivated. It seems to be getting dark, though, so maybe we will get a storm. It is hard to tell some times. The wind can shift just so and we arrive at a totally different outcome. This, of course, is much like writing.

No matter how much we plan, what actually emerges can be something totally different. How many times have we watched a movie where a twist happened right at the end? This is the same thing. It all depends on what is happening as we write and where the mood takes us. It depends also on our own interpretation of what we've written.

This doesn't mean that we should scrap the plan. It means that plans are guides. Sometimes we find a more a scenic route by veering off course just a bit. It may be that by the time we reach our destination, we realize our directions were off slightly. We can make adjustments accordingly. The main thing to remember is that whatever you're writing is yours to do with as you please.

Maybe the very last paragraph on our page is only one line across the written page. It sits there like a sore thumb. We can add to it. We could even take it away if that suits us better. No one dictates what to include and what not to. Another major point to remember is that writing should be fun. If you find that you're in the middle of a project and you find it isn't fun any more. Stop writing.

If you continue on the current path, chances are, you won't be happy with the outcomes. Put it aside and come back to it another time. You might be able to finish the piece and enjoy it at that time. If not, maybe the topic just wasn't for you. Try something else and see if it becomes fun again.

Roots

I would really hate to think that I'm running out of things to write about. That's impossible! It may well be true.

There comes a time in everyone's life when we go searching for roots. Yeah, I'm talking genealogy, here. Roots...where we came from and what keeps us anchored. This is actually the biggest puzzle possible since the pieces are real people. At least, they were.

Writing can help us establish roots. Maybe the characters we write about are people that we know. The names have been changed, of course, to protect the innocent. Maybe our characters are people we would like to know. In this case, it is a little of both.

My father was born in Calhoun County, West Virginia. The city was Grantsville. He doesn't remember all that much about West Virginia, but he can tell you about the two-room school house and moving from the one house to another. Of course, everything seemed large back then. He was, of course, small at the time. He remembers a man in a pick up truck. We believe this is his only memory of his father.

At the age of 6, my father came to Ohio with his family minus his father. He has two brothers and one sister. To the best of our knowledge, his father has been dead for years. When my grandmother remarried in 1959, her fiance made it known that her husband was dead. This could actually mean any number of things.

Back in 1930, cities and counties weren't all that great with their record keeping. The census was done April 1, 1930. It was probably performed by door-to-door census-takers. It was completed by hand, too. In April 1930, my grandmother would have been 19 and my uncle would have been one month old. We have been unable to find a record in the census of either. Presuming that my grandmother actually married the father of her children, we should find a family of three; we don't have a record of the marriage either.

My grandmother died in 1993. What information we have on my grandfather, we got from her. We believe others in the family may have knowledge that we don't possess, but they are protecting her memory. At this point, it wouldn't make a huge difference whether she was married or not. In today's age, more and more families are not of the traditional nature.

I often wonder, though, if they were married and after being missing for so many years, he might have been declared dead for legal purposes. We really have no way of knowing since those players are long gone. Grandma's second "husband" died shortly before she did. It is entirely possible that he had the man investigated, but he never shared the specifics. At least, he didn't share them with us.

My grandmother spent her last months with her family. For years, she and Max (her husband since 1959) were in Florida and then California, but when Max was ready to die, he brought his wife home. He knew her family would take care of her. He had been on dialysis and decided he'd had enough. I'll never forget some of his stories, though. We'll save those for another time.

Grandma lived with her youngest son after Max died. She had Parkinson's disease. I'm not sure if this is when the confession was made, but she told my uncle that the well-remembered family "friend" was actually his father. This "friend" passed away a few years back, but my father even remembered him.

So, my grandfather, who is listed as the father of all of grandma's children, may be a figment of someone's imagination. In the genealogy world, they call this a brick wall. In my world, I just wonder...

The Many Analogies of Writing

The page can represent so many things. It can be your worst enemy or your best friend. Even just a few words, strategically placed, can complete a page. A few words can also leave us struggling for more.

There have been so many analogies for writing lately, or more specifically, for the blank page. We can liken it to the artist's canvas, the empty pot on the stove, the empty garden plot, or simply an empty page. Regardless of what analogy we use, we need to find a way to fill it. We want our pot to feed an army and our garden to bloom spectacularly.

Our methods for doing this will vary from person to person. We can splash paint on a canvas and call it abstract. Or, we can painstakingly and lovingly apply each brush stroke of paint until the proper image appears. Neither method is wrong. Both can yield "art." Some of us even have a flair for creating art when we cook. How many times have you heard that something looks too pretty to eat?

The page takes many forms and so does art. As a writer, we want to get something out of our art. I don't know of many people who write and hate it. They may not always like their end result, but it is simply not possible to write and not like writing. At the same time, as artists, we want people to get something from our craft as well.

Not many of us will be responsible for an earth-shattering epiphany in another. Many of us will probably not even have a lasting affect on another. Yet, if one person remembers something you wrote. It can all be worth it. I have two examples of this today. A couple of weeks back, an old friend of mine wanted to include one of my poems in his ezine. I gave him permission to do so. I mentioned this to another friend of mine and he told me he remembered the poem.

The second instance involved my Dad. He asked me if he might share a short-story I wrote with a neighbor. Okay, sure, he's my father. But, still, he wanted to share it with someone else. These things make writing worth while. Even if they are few and far between, they are our rewards. We can't reap those rewards unless we write.

Get to it!

Validation

Today was all about validation. Everything about my new job makes sense and became worthwhile today. It doesn't hurt that I got 8 steaks and a wonderful email and card in the process. Some pretty exciting things are happening for me jobwise. Any good I can do now will definitely make things easier for me once we transition to the new director (whenever that might be). Things are good.

On a more personal note, I have four poems that will be appearing in 2 ezines next month. I'm waiting on a third ezine to make up their mind about what they are doing. Three of my best poems are tied up with them. It would be nice if they were print zines, but online is nothing to sneeze at. I think there is greater exposure online to help promote the self. I'd be thrilled if I could get all 7 poems (six submitted and 1 solicited) to be appearing at once. It sure beats the occasional rejection.

Mike and Austin officially packed up a moving truck today. I saw Mike and he made sure I knew they would be back to straighten up. I saw Austin earlier and gave him one final present. A few weeks back, I won a "make a wish" stuffed star. Technically, it is an ornament. I've had it hanging in my office ever since. I decided that Austin needed to have this star. I brought it home tonight and gave it to him. I hope he hangs it somewhere and remembers me from time to time. Hopefully, I will get a chance to say a final goodbye to him.

I quite feel that I've been stalking my neighbors. I just really enjoy seeing this little boy around the apartment. The fact that he's been through some tough times only makes him more endearing. He's a gem of a kid and I won't be forgetting him any time soon.

It has been a hell of a day. Now, I'm gonna play. Later!

Summertime

Summer has finally arrived according to the calendar. Everyone you talk to will tell you that summer starts Memorial Day weekend and ends Labor Day weekend; but today, we will listen to the calendar. At 2:46 a.m., then, summer officially arrived. Today also happens to be the longest day of the year. This is actually incorrect. It is the longest span of daylight each year. Funny thing is, the human race is so scheduled, that I doubt it makes much of a difference.

We will still get up at our usual time and go to bed at our usual time. We eat at our usual time. There are probably many more things that we do on schedule. After all, we're all human, aren't we? I don't know anyone who changes their schedule to accommodate daylight. When we change our clocks, we adjust to the new time. I'm sure some people have body clocks that still get them up an hour earlier just because they always have. Most of us adjust.

To many of us, it is just another day. We work or play they same way we always do. The weather will sometimes dictate our activities, but not to any great extent. We still make mistakes and live our lives because it is what we do. Unless something spectacular happens, we move on. Sounds pretty boring, doesn't it? I would love to take some time to stop and smell the roses, but I'm afraid my allergies would have me do otherwise.

There will always be excuses or reasons. Let's try to take moment and acknowledge each day for what it is. It is summertime, after all. It is time for the Beach Boys and beach balls and for getting closer to nature. Just make sure you don't get invaded by the midges.

Computers and Information

Yesterday, being Father's Day, I mentioned my Dad. Have I mentioned what a computer clutz he is? Last year about this time, I did a major clean up on his computer. He had so much in spyware, adware, and viruses that his computer barely worked. We lost Norton's somewhere along the way, but I found him a new program that has kept his computer relatively healthy until now.

Last week, he got infected by a trojan. In the process of cleaning that one up, we found another. This is how you become an expert in internet searches. When you go looking for others who have experienced the same problems and see how they fixed the problems. I tell you that I can find anything on the internet...except my grandmother in 1930.

Any way, we've found some really useful tools over the last couple of days. There's a scan running on his computer now and after his show ends, I'll go back and take a look at the results. I think my computer is cleaner now than it has ever been. His is getting there. That one last trojan is causing problems.

Last year, I was almost at the point of reformatting his hard drive and reinstalling everything. Now, mind you, my father has video indexes all over the place. He takes great pain in making lists of all of the movies he has with information about who is in them. If any of those had been lost (and we've had a couple of fatal accidents), the video world would never have been the same again.

The worst I was threatening this time was to reinstall internet explorer. We haven't reached that point. So, what is the point? Treat your computer well and it will behave for you. Occasionally, give it a check up. I recommend a weekly physical. If it gets the sniffles, treat the problem. Safeguard any files you don't want to lose! Always consider the worst case scenario and have a backup.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all you Dads out there. Father's Day hasn't been one of my best days for the past decade or so. On that day, 1993, my own father had a heart attack. We ended the day by taking him to urgent care and eventually having him ambulanced to the hospital. Five days later he had a quadruple bypass. He's fine now, but every year we pick on him not to ruin Father's Day.

Two years ago, yesterday, we picked him up off the street when he cracked his scalp open. My father and June don't mix. Of course, July isn't much better since his knee replacement was last July. He said his back surgery was also July, but that was actually April. But, man, fathers are a lot of maintenance.

So, at least we didn't have to scrape him off any surfaces today. This whole week, I will be watching to make sure he doesn't do anything dumb. Now if I can just get rid of that last trojan horse on his computer, all will be well in his world. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.

Long Saturday Fever

We are again reminded that life is too short and is quite a bitch while it happens. I saw this with a sore jaw and all. I don't do Saturday mornings, but I was up early this morning for a visit to the dentist. My mom had, in the meantime, asked if we could go to Walmart before the grocery store. Okay, fine, we were in for a long day.

Somewhere in the middle of grocery shopping, my novacaine wore off. Now, I have a soreness and hope it is because my mouth was invaded and not because I already have a problem with one of my two new fillings. Time will tell. I have other things on my mind besides my own discomfort.

We never know what tomorrow will bring. I've said it before. I've met some truly amazing and strong people in cyberspace. I have met some truly wonderful and amazing people in real life as well. Their problems are so much larger than my toothache. Yet, it is human nature to complain. Oh, but, I forgot one of the highlights of today.

It seems that Austin came looking for me earlier. I was probably at the grocery store. He knocked on my door and wanted me to come out and talk to him. He found us unloading groceries this afternoon and opened his door to talk while we worked. He's doing well and likes the new place, but they haven't really moved yet. He said something about meeting Sarah at the playground later.

At one point when I was inside, he asked my mom if Bill was home. She told him that when the truck is gone, it means he isn't home. He is so cute. We talked a bit about his bike that is still in the basement. I think he said he broke one of the training wheels. He was thrilled that I knew it was green. With everything that Austin has been through in his young life, he stutters a bit. Hopefully, the next time he knocks on my door, I will be there for him.

Once he gets into school and has more contact with others, we're hoping the problem will resolve itself. Once he gets into school, also, he may have access to a speech therapist who can help him with the problem. I think a lot of it is that he just gets so excited to talk to people that his words get jumbled. Any way, I had a wonderful speech therapist throughout my school years and I'm hoping he meets someone just as good. Even if he doesn't always need help, it is nice to know there's someone there who he can talk to from time to time.

So, life goes on and takes some twisted routes. Hopefully, the train will hug the track and make the journey bearable. Hang on tight, we're in for a hell of a ride. Next stop, the land of Oz. Remember, the Wicked Witch of the West, while unbearably scary, is a fictional character.

Erin Monahan

Erin Monahan is someone to keep your eye on. Only recently has her writing found appropriate exposure outside the poetry board atmosphere. Her chapbook, "Poetic Acceptance," was released less than a month ago by Meeting of the Minds Publications. She has recently been featured in two successive issues of Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry (TMP Irregular). She's participated in Tar Heel Tavern #16 at A Sort of Notebook, a carnival of North Carolina bloggers. And, The Other Voices International Project, has chosen a nice selection of her poetry for sharing.

These are only her recent credits. Round those out with site-specific publications of MoontownCafe.com, Meeting of the Minds, and Where the Sidewalk Ends once and again and you've got yourself an impressive record. This mother of five, ex-waitress, has stories to tell and places to go. Keep your eye on her.

Insomnia

I lie awake and stare at the ceiling. While my body sorely needs rest, my brain is in supercharge. I really need to cut back on my caffeine after dinner. The longer I stare, the more my ceiling resembles the night sky with stars twinkling their eerie light.

As the shadows begin to move, I sigh and resign myself to yet another sleepless night. I outgrew the night creatures years ago. Now, if I could only turn off the faucet of thought, all would be well in my world. Just when I think the flow may be slowed to a trickle, someone yanks the spigot wide open.

Even so, I don't have the energy to drag myself out of bed to do something productive with my time. So, I remain staring at the ceiling. I start to count sheep. After a couple dozen cross my line of thought, the sheep turn into clouds. My ceiling was becoming much busier.

All the while, my mind reviews the events of the past couple of days. Then, it reviews the calendar of upcoming events. Remind myself to buy stamps tomorrow. I can't mail the birthday cards without stamps. Oh, and add brownie mix to the grocery list, we used the last box today. Okay, stop this now! We need to sleep.

But, the faucet was still running. If my thoughts were water, the bathtub would most certainly be overflowing by now. Oh, that reminds me, I need to research flood insurance...

Stories

We don't often like the truth. So, we tell stories that contain some elements of truth and sugar-coat any parts that are difficult to deal with at that time. In actuality, telling stories is so much better than the truth because we can create a whole new truth simply by writing it out.

This really isn't about truth at all. It isn't about someone telling a lie either. It is more about our ability to tell tales. Yesterday, I wrote about my day. As much as it may have sounded like a tall tale, it was my day. Today didn't start out much better. Rather than telling you about that, though, I'd rather tell a story.

I took a little side trip just now to another blog. I had an incredible journey into the stories of a man I've never met and never heard of until just now. He took ordinary events and made them compelling reads. I thoroughly enjoyed my visit and hope I remember to go back to do some more reading.

I used to do a lot of reading. I even belonged to a book club. I would read a book every couple of days. Then I became the part-time student with the full-time job. I didn't find much time to read except for textbooks. Once I joined the alternative education programs, like weekend college, we started a new class every six weeks.

I've been out of school now for 11 years. I've probably only read two dozen books in that time (I guestimate). I do most of my reading online and I attempt to write. Between working, cooking, and not cleaning, there still doesn't seem to be enough time to read like I used to. I would be quite happy to read a book every two weeks. I even bought one a couple of weeks ago. I got as far as putting my bookmark at the beginning and that's it.

So, I actually did find a story to tell even if it took me some time to get there. Try to read more. Find avenues you don't usually travel to get some fresh reading material. You might find some pleasant surprises. Oh, then, too, when you find something you enjoy, please let the author know.

On the Road (to Insanity)

A couple of months ago, I wrote a poem about accepting a new job. I consider it to be one of my better pieces. It looks like this:

On the Road

Anticipation and reluctance,
genuine opposites, fight for the summit--
something new versus status quo.
Accomplish everything attempted
and try it all. Success smells sweeter
than succulent strawberries in summer.

Forgive only that which is not tested
to the best of our abilities.
Knowledge rounds the square
and sets perpetual motion
to the stillness of ennui.

Wade not when you can dive,
want not when you can have.
Take it, taste it, and use it
to your advantage.

Contentment serves only the dreamless.
Strive for utopia and sculpt your place within.
Reluctance shall lose to willingness—
gather greatness in victorious reflection.

Well, ever since, this job has been challenging my sanity and my wisdom. I wrote previously about a publication we were trying to complete. Yesterday, I ran the final draft. I must have made a half dozen trips all the way down to the other end of the floor to pick up prints from the color printer. I even made a trip when no print existed. I just about wore myself out. We shall see if this final draft survives, my manager was making copious notes on it at one point today.

Today, we had a major problem with some security issues. Someone all of a sudden decided that I no longer needed access to some of the functions of my old job. It doesn't seem to bother them that I'm still helping with my old job and I need some of these functions for my new job, oh no. The only one it bothered was me! So, I found plenty of other stuff to keep me busy.

I dropped off the final draft twice. She wasn't there the first time. I took the elevator down for the first time in probably five weeks so I could end up in the basement. I actually ended up on the first floor and had to switch elevators to go down the last one. If I had decided to take the stairs, I'm sure that those thousand sheets of paper I was carrying would have been happy to scatter on me.

The basement, by the way, houses electronic printing. We decided to put some quarterly reports I did into a book form to make them look real pretty and presentable. I only got there after submitting a second request for tabs from electronic publishing. Wouldn't you know that the "new form" button meant "reset form" rather than submit a new document? But, of course. Only, the second time, I got smart and printed it before I "sent" or "reset" it. So I walked down there and had my tabs made on the spot.

The master database we're working on is coming along nicely. Fortunately, my security for the queries I run wasn't affected. I also got to re-write something of my job description. I may actually get myself classified correctly under this new salary scale. There is some hope in the world after all.

Some of you may now that I have been logging my steps for over a year now. When I first started, I was lucky to break 10,000 steps once every three months. Last week alone, I broke that barrier three times. This week, I seem to be running myself ragged. I think I will have two days running at over 10,000. I need to slow down some.

Mother Nature

It seems that Rover rolled right over my enthusiasm. It is hard to get back into the spirit when oppression gets in the way. The weather lately has been great for being lazy and for sleeping. Even there, though, sleeping isn't all that comfortable because central air wasn't invented when this apartment building was built. You sweat to move, breathe, and sleep.

Our little store closed at work, so I found myself making a run to the drugstore during my measly half-hour lunch. I actually felt a couple of rain drops. The sidewalk even looked a bit wet. I don't know where the rain went, though. I never actually saw it. Good old Mother Nature decided since the earth had some water, the temperature could rise. And so could tempers.

Mother Nature is quite an interesting character in my mind. I picture her as a spiteful old spinster who has nothing better to do than get bitchy with the world. Maybe she needs to get herself a Father Nature. I don't seem to remember anyone ever mentioning him. She'd probably strike him thrice with lightning anyway.

So, Mother Nature is dressed in what used to be white and is now yellowed with age. She has a relatively youthful appearance except for a few permanent wrinkles that plastic surgery can't remove. She signs all contracts in invisible ink and can't be trusted. By the time you think you have it made in the weather department, the ink begins to fade and all you have is a worthless piece of paper. And, that is when the trouble really begins.

She'll rain on your parade every time and hide the rainbows in the mud. The sunshine you see is actually an optical illusion that is actually the door to the furnace. Clouds are really not as soft as they look. They are loaded with milk of magnesia that threaten to spill at any time. Thunder is more than just the Gods bowling. In is Mother Nature stuck in a loop throwing her most imperfect game filled with nothing but gutter balls. Lightning is her anger at having to replay the humiliation.

Floods happen when she gets upset. She has never been one to control her emotions and finds that she has bottomless tear ducts. With the floods come the mudslides. She always did enjoy playing in the muck. Somehow, we need to find a way to make Mother Nature happy.

Mother Nature needs to get laid.

Miscellaneous

I read a wonderful story/poem at MTC today. If it is true, it certainly qualifies as one of those moments that restores your faith in the human race. If you get a chance, you really should read it:

Christmas 1996

It seems that our pic of the week challenges may be back on after a haitus of a couple of weeks. Maybe we can get some inspiration for some new poems. My picture poetry page has been suffering from neglect.

The round robin should be done with its 3rd round now. I posted the final poem on Friday. I haven't heard from anyone on that, but I think these people are offline on weekends.

It turns out the Half Drunk Muse was having some issues. There should be some action there in the next couple of weeks, so keep your fingers crosses for me.

It appears that Cayuse Press has discontinued most of its services. This would mean that there will not be a 4th anniversary edition of the book of remembrance. The previous editions will remain online, though. You can visit that at:

Book of Remembrance

I am in the sixth and seventh editions.

Life in General

The more I hear about the world and how it affects others, the more I prefer my own existence. My own existence is not in any way, shape or form perfect. It is no where near that. I lead a humble existence and have my humble blog. I rarely see myself as part of a bigger picture.

The weather is hot and uncomfortable and has been all week. We do, though, have power to run our fans and an air conditioning unit. Storms have been threatened for every day (which is not unusual in this heat), but aside from a spattering of thunder, we haven't had much in the way of storms or even rain.

We don't have hurricanes or mudslides and have few earthquakes. We're pretty sure the apartment will still be standing tomorrow. Some people can't say any of that. So, we have a relatively safe place to live and can account for all of our family members. I will enjoy that for the time being.

In general, life is moving in the right direction. The world is not a nice place on many occasions. Everything costs too much and doesn't last long enough. People are often questionable. But, we get by. Over time, this "life" has become acceptable. Few people actually have enough guts or inclination to stand up and make it be different from what it is.

Then, there will be just one thing that happens that makes everything "right." It may be a person encountered on the street or it might be simply that Mother Nature has provided a cooling breeze to accompany the scorching heat. Whatever it is, these are the moments that make everything else pale in comparison. I'm due for one of those moments soon.

Now if I can just get used to the position of the "insert" and "delete" keys on the new keyboard, life will be good.

Amazement

There's a nice feel to publication. There's even a nicer feel when someone seeks you out to publish your work. Not only do they remember you, they remember your work.

This happened to me today. I snuck a peek at email from work and found an email from a board that I used to frequent several years ago. They are preparing their next ezine edition and he wanted to know if he could use one of my poems. Since that poem has already been published online, I suggested that he note that fact when he used it. Needless to say, I was very flattered.

I mentioned this to a guy I work with also. He said, "Oh, I remember that one!" Once again, I was amazed and flattered. Not too many people at work know about my poetry. Or, they know about it but have never experienced it. So, yes, I was quite surprised when Dan remembered the poem. That is pretty cool.

Of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity either. I happened to mention that I wrote for the 4th anniversary of 9/11. I've been published in both the 2nd and 3rd anniversary editions of The Book of Remembrance. A couple of months back, I decided to write something in case they did the 4th anniversary edition. It seems there may not be such an issue this time.

Just for the hell of it, here are both poems...

---

I Survived September

1/21/02

I survived September--
just barely.

Ground zero had been a force
to be reckoned with.
It was not just my job to be there--
I needed to be there.
The pull to help, and hope,
were so strong--
we, all of us, plodded on
much like weary soldiers at war.

Now that the scars have faded,
unnoticeably,
I, myself, have paid high prices.
The memories of this time will fade.
The heartbreak will heal.
I may not.
My lungs absorbed the toxins
of that hell quite readily.
Now, I labor to breathe.

I don't necessarily blame NYC
nor do I belittle the terrorists--
at least, not much--

I'm thankful to have survived.

---

Pick Up the Pieces

4/18/05

Pick up the pieces still
after four years, of my life
and his. The economy
mimics my sorrow
with gas price fluctuation
akin to the apex of my
irrationality.

The war is not part
of the world I am living.
That September affected
us all; the war, only a subset.
The perpetrators still
haunt my endless days
and ruffle my intolerable nights.

I can’t see my normal
returning to my existence.
Half of me died that day;
the other suffers miserably.
I go on the best I can
and hope to see you again.

Internet and Email

We spent a couple of days talking about the internet and email. Today I have two stories I would like to share. The first one has to do with my Chicken Soup story. When I first tried to submit my story, I got an error message. I tried a second time and got the same error message. Instead of calling it a day, I stuck it out. I sent an email to the webmaster and copied the error message in the body. I told them I didn't think my story took. Could they check. The third time I submitted, I got the confirmation. Cool.

A couple of days ago, I received an email from the webmaster of Chicken Soup. They had no record of my submission, please try again. If I continued to have problems, I could fax or mail the submission. They said the confirmation should be automatic. Well, I had a confirmation from the third trial. Okay, so I went and submitted my story again. I got the confirmation instantly. Who knows if they really received the submission.

Chicken Soup says the acceptance process could take three to four years. They do not send rejection notices. The only way you ever hear from them is when they mail you for permission to print. There's really no way of knowing unless you get the permission to print.

The second story involves a friend of mine. I coerced her into submitting to a print journal back in March. I even sent hints to the editor about her work and still she never heard from him. Finally, I came right out and asked him if he found her submission. He claims to only have one person by that name in his submissions and it isn't her. I forwarded his email to my friend in hopes that she will turn right around and forward a copy of the original submission. We shall see.

So, as good as email and the internet are for submissions, they are not perfect. It never hurts to do some follow-up. Maybe it is about time for me to follow up with Half Drunk Muse...

Other Side of the Rainbow

The heat made me dopey. I got home from work and was just so tired I didn't want to move. The air conditioning didn't help to revive me; I thought a shower might. I settled in front of the computer and couldn't focus. My mind wandered and suddenly I was on the other side of the rainbow. Your guess is as good as mine as to what this is supposed to look like, but humor me.

The other side of the rainbow is just past the pot of gold. It is two stones shy of Eden since sin is non-existent there. It is a miniature utopia where all of life's problems disappear and the weather adapts itself to whatever outfit you're currently wearing. It is pure perfection.

Seems, somehow, that perfection is only pleasant for a limited amount of time. Utopia, even in miniature, would surely become boring without contrast and conflict. How can we gauge our pleasure if we've forgotten what pain is? Until the apple was eaten, shame did not exist. Unfortunately, we've gone way past eating apples to get away that easily.

Good is balanced by bad. It is also defined by bad. One really doesn't know good until they experience the opposite. One doesn't truly know anything until they've experienced everything. I think I just lied, but for argument's sake, we'll agree with it. The more you know, the more you realize you don't know. Everything feeds on itself and its neighbor to make the "big picture."

Everything impacts everything else. What we do today may change what tomorrow will be. For instance, if we finish our book today, it is highly likely we won't be reading that book tomorrow. We may very well read a different book then, but not the one we just finished. Another example is when we finally decide to throw something away. As soon as we do, we find an awful need for it.

Obviously, I should have stayed on the other side of the rainbow today since I had no inkling of what this post was going to be. I had fun on my little adventure and I hope you enjoyed yourself as well.

More Internet Stuff

As I mentioned yesterday, the internet is sometimes conducive to impulse behavior. It happens quick. Sometimes, it can be fixed quick. It can also be gone forever. This is just a reminder to back up anything you want to keep before you post it on the internet.

Also, remember that you don't know who your audience is, so protect yourself. Don't reveal personal information that you don't want to be public. You never know who might be collecting this information and what for purposes it might be used.

I mention these things for a number of reasons. One is that the ez-board system was hacked the other day. Many of their posts on 9,000 boards were missing. Some money was also missing. Much of the work can be restored. Some of it never will. As for the money, probably not.

The other is just a general warning since we've been hearing so much about children being stalked on the internet. Many children have been lured into less than pleasant situations. The less you reveal about yourself, the better off you are.

Just because it is possible to be quick doesn't mean that we need to be. Slow down and think about what we're about to expose to the world. Decide whether it needs to be preserved. Think about whether it can be made better. Then, go right ahead and post it.

The Internet

The internet has made a huge difference in the way things are done. It has certainly made a difference in the world of writing. I've been told that it is not the whole pen and paper thing, but it is. So, instead of arguing about it, I will just state my case here.

In the olden days, before computers and internet, people relied on the US Postal Service to manage their long distance communications. They took the time to pen a letter, poem, or story and often delivered it to the post office directly. They thought about what they were writing.

Now, in the age of simultaneous communication via email, instant messaging, and forums, people are spewing forth anything and everything. I'm not saying that poets don't take pains with their craft. I'm just saying that the internet and email have made it more of an impulse practice.

So, yes, getting into print online is wonderful. Getting into print offline is an accomplishment. Many print publications do not accept email submissions. Maybe they want people to consider a little longer before they send something through the mail. Maybe they are more interested in those people who are less hungry for instant gratification.

New Keyboard and Such

I bought a new keyboard today. When I went to log into DSL this morning, only half the keyboard worked. This is nothing new. I know that if I keep pressing the CAPS Lock key, eventually it all comes back. Well, it took a little longer than I would have liked today. So, fine, I bought a keyboard.

I bring it home and I'm ready to plug it in, and the cord is a bit short. Okay, so we won't wrap it around the monitor like we usually do. I got it all hooked up and checked, it came unhooked. I pulled the adapter off of the floor, only it was missing a piece. That piece was still plugged into the computer. So, I pulled that out.

I tried to put it back together, but sure enough, it was broken. So, I have to go right back out to get a new adapter. Now, without the adapter, neither keyboard will work. Oh what fun! My dad looked around to see if he had one; he didn't. Off we go to Office Max. Of course, once we get there, we can't find any sales people.

On the back wall, we found system cords. I first found an extension which would alleviate my short cord problem. The cord isn't actually short, but it plugs into the left side of the keyboard instead of the right. I still need an adapter, though. Finally, I found an adapter kit (maybe mom found it).

The world of retail is such that you can't simply buy what you need. I had to buy a kit with four adapters in order to get the one I needed. Okay, so, we're ready to go. This keyboard ended up costing me twice as much because of the extension and adapter.

It does have some neat features, though. I have buttons that automatically open word, excel, and power point. I have a functioning print screen button. I also have a scroll dial on the side of the keyboard that will move my page up and down instead of using the mouse. I have cut and paste buttons, too. I have a whole mess of buttons I may never use, but I like it. Too bad the keyboard is black and the rest of the desktop system is white.

That was my adventure for today. The adapter breaking may have been the cause of the malfunction on the old keyboard. Aggravation in 86 degree weather isn't very pleasant. We're all better now.

Recipe

I've started at least three different times to start typing here today. The beginnings of ideas are there, but they just aren't ready to live yet. Some days are just like that. They are full of half-baked ideas. What we need is to envision the final cake.

I was reading a newletter recently, where they likened writing to gardening. I don't do any gardening. I don't have a yard and too many things in the yard irritate my allergies. My writing is generally likened to cooking. It isn't that I'm a fantastic cook or anything, but I do enjoy a good recipe. The principles involved in cooking simply transfer to many other areas of life.

We "stew" on a problem. We "simmer" in anger. We let ideas "marinate." I'm sure there are many others. Writing, as I've said so many times, requires a plan, a recipe, if you will.

Ingredients:
1 good idea
3 solid images
1/2 t salt (conjunctions)
1/8 t pepper (adjectives)
metaphors to taste

Trim off excess words. Combine ingredients. Bake until tender and brown. Serve warm.

Yeilds: 1 Poem

Attack Plan

I find getting ideas is not a problem. Taking those ideas from seed to full-grown plant is a different story altogether. The Chicken Soup story was submitted last night. I had meant to do the whole name change bit and all, but I felt it was more important to get it submitted. Then I started wondering what my next project should be. I have ideas. I just don't know exactly what I want to do with them.

I've made myself the unofficial PR person for Erin Monahan's chapbook, "Poetic Acceptance." I got my chapbook today. It is GORGEOUS! If you're interested, the promotion can be found on May 30th. Remember, poems are portable. A chapbook is a nice size that should fit in your purse. The cover is nice and sturdy. If, however, you're concerned about wearing out your copy by carrying it with you, I advise you to buy two. Keep one at home and take one with you.

There's a call for submissions for the MTC calendar. There's Pocket Full of Posey's that I need to submit to also. So much to do and so little time. I will need to follow my own advise and break these tasks into smaller, more manageable pieces. For instance, rather than staring at the whole pie, I just need to concentrate on one piece at a time. Once that piece is done, I can move to the next.

I cheated on the MTC calendar and submitted some older work. Now it is time to get serious and write something for a specific picture. I do this on a weekly basis and, for awhile, it was a daily basis. How difficult can that be? At least this time, we have 12 pictures to choose from and the cover. I seriously think I'm more interested in the writing tips or the blurb for the back cover. We'll have to see.

Either way, I'd get more done if I actually started working on some of this stuff rather than simply writing about them. Consider this my plan of attack. Everything and everyone needs a plan.

What Does Your Birthdate Mean?

Your Birthdate: April 10
Your birth on the 10th day of the month adds a tone of independence and extra energy to your life.
The number 1 energy suggest more executive ability and leadership qualities than you path may have indicated.
A birthday on the 10th of any month gives greater will power and self-confidence, and very often a rather original approach.

This 1 energy may diminish your ability and desire to handle details, preferring instead to paint with a broad brush.
You are sensitive, but your feeling stay somewhat repressed.
You have a compelling manner that can be dominating in many situations.

Bury the Past (Not!)

Cherish each moment since they will disappear too quickly. We never know what is around the bend. I wrote once about the past, present, and future and I still remember the piece. It is so true! I thought I'd share part of it with you today.

"One problem will always exist in comparing the past, present and future. The past and the future continually cover more ground. The further back in time you go, the more of the past you will cover. The same is with the future, only you’re covering the opposite direction. But with the present, ranges may vary from one-tenth of a second or less to a year or more; depending upon your opinion of exactly what the present is. If you think the present is the exact second of time, then efforts to compare that present is wasted because it all too quickly becomes the past." (10/13/76)

Not too shabby for a 16-year old, heh?

I also found this today, it is in keeping with waiting for a rejection...

Which Way is Up?

5/14/03

Dramatize spectacular events
and believe them to be real.
Televise predictable experiences
and the script acts itself.

Once in a purple, cheese moon
my day will go as planned.
Only then does life read
like the written poem.

Shake up the world
and be out of character.
Only intelligible words
make it to print (in crayon).

Decisions go undecided
and cause dire predicaments
that enable us to completely forget
the way back to Oz via Kansas.

I like this one too. Seems I still have the same complaints...

The Internet Junkie

5/24/03

I’ve been trapped inside myself
a thousand weeks. My head
aches for release from pressure
and bleeds from self-inflicted torture.

Introverted hell.

Relief comes only in transference
to digitalized highways of hardware.
My mouse acts as a neurotransmitter
to jump the synapses of the internet.

Extroverted heaven.

Companionship is the web page
that loads painstakingly slow
and redirects psychotic users
to advertisements of useless sex.

Pessimistic reality.

Communication is sporadic
in insufficient email responses.
Supplements often justify
the existence of empty chat rooms.

Optimistic rationality.

The Wedding (inspired by round robin)

The clouds were looking ominous. The white, fluffy cotton balls of an hour earlier had been replaced by various shades of grey. There was a storm brewing and I knew it would come to full boil just in time for the ceremony. At this point, there were two choices. I could move the wedding inside where everyone would stay dry but cramped like a tin of sardines. Or, I could defy nature and pray that the storm would hold off. Midnight had descended mid-afternoon. My decision had been made for me.

There was already enough confusion in the wedding party. The bride and groom were acting like strangers and trying to sort through the bountiful guest list. No one could remember where Uncle Ralph fit in the family tree. The real question arose as to which tree did he fall from. The bride's mother was already halfway to creating new memories before the ceremony even started.

The small entranceway was large enough that we could seat the most important family members. Those still capable of standing could fall in behind. Now, how many more aren't capable of standing? This wedding is never going to happen...