Why do you tempt me with your cheesy deliciousness? Mocking me with the sweet aroma of your fresh carbohydrate laden, wood fired crust. Taunting me with every savory plum tomato in your rich smooth sauce, and flaunting your ample succulent steaming hot toppings. Your garlic pungency permeating my every olfactory sense in a beckoning swath of pleasure. Promising me a few minutes of ecstasy in exchange for pounds of regret. Oh the Humanity!
An early morning view from my deck-inspiring?!
“I can’t decide if procrastination kills creativity or is essential to it.”
I am Feeling uninspired,
In my messy, muddled mind,
I hope I’ll focus my attention soon,
And catch up from behind.
I start too many projects,
And have way too much to do,
So I’ll sit here doing none of it,
And I’ll start on something new.
When my imagination takes me, on a journey till the end,
I’ll know I’m finally really over, my procrastination trend.
“All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.”
~Edgar Allan Poe
Parallel to what we know, does another world exist? Natural order, ebb and flow, still symmetry persists.
If atoms burst outward as they meet when molecules collide, do particles react as they retreat to an equal and opposite side?
As elements extract moving energy and antimatter expands, we may find there is a path to synergy, a new universe to understand.
One by one we leapt into the abyss of life. Some still haven’t reached the fresh clear water of adulthood. Many friends left a bloody mess when they jumped one too many times and never cleared the rocks at all. Many fellow jumpers in our “Crew” live only in our memories now, lost to poor planning or just plain bad luck. Some jumped well yet still never surfaced from the depths to jump again. Weighted down by injuries too heavy to carry on with, or forever anchored to the bottom by a poorly placed landing. Wasted potential, unfinished lives, stuck in the muck with one foot through a rusted out car roof.
We jumped over and over, scaling the wall again and again, leaping from the cliffs with reckless abandon, crying out with glee each time as we sailed through the air on the way down to forever. We were living in the moment, our moment. No consequences, responsibilities, or excuses. No tomorrow just today.
The “Pit” was a spring fed oasis of fresh water just a mile inland from the salty Atlantic coast where I grew up. A granite quarry long ago abandoned by the Finish immigrants who mined the stone from pits scattered around the wooded center of Cape Ann until the turn of the century. It is said that most of the hard granite stone in Philadelphia and Washington DC came from these very Quarries.
It was our swimming hole. Our secret place in the woods. A place away from rules and judgment. The quarries were a long walk down a rustic path. The trails were former mining roads, now most impassable by motorized vehicles – although some were brave or careless enough to go “woods bombing” with their junkers. This often resulted in flat tires and broken axles, but getting the kegs to the pits seemed worth it. Away from the prying eyes of cops, parents, and informers, we languished away our summer days, and partied with Cuckoo juice bonfires till the wee hours. It was more than a place for our teenage shenanigans. It was a safe place to detonate our teen angst just outside the periphery of our small village community. Imploding the last remnants of our youthful innocence together, we were letting go before moving on.
The pages are blank and all I see is the potential of filling the space with words and ideas that float from my fingers and fall from my hands.
Never to be spoken aloud, my voice is mute but yells “Hear Me” on paper.
My heart bleeds in ink and my neurons fire online in an organized chaos of muddled memories and lessons learned.
Imagining what could be and making sense of what is draws me closer to the peace that lies within.
I write because I am hopeful, I write because I am confused, I write because I have something to say.
Wow- this week flew by! I started this blog to encourage myself to write more when I took a writers101 course last year. At that time I just picked an easy theme and posted a few words never giving any attention to my blogging site itself or really learning how to use it. Time got away from me this year and my blog writing took a hiatus while my thoughts and dreams ended up scribbled into old journals on my bedside table. I am determined not to let that happen again after this course.
I need to write and I need to share it! I need to give myself the gift of doing something just for ME! You see I am a caregiver by trade (nurse) and a giver of care at home as well (mother), taking the time to really immerse myself in a good book for pleasure or pouring my creative urges out into my writing are indulgences I unfortunately have had to sacrifice for too many years. No More! My kids are almost grown, (dropping the first at college next week!) and I am finally done with my own schooling. My work schedule has become more predictable as I’ve gained seniority and I can now leave work at work most days. Nursing is a calling for me just like writing is and I love it but it can be draining! I finally have the time and energy to pursue other interests when I get home.
Blogging 101 has been great so far. On day one I announced my goal of becoming a blogger. I also learned how to tag! On day two I gave my blog a new title by getting nostalgic. I posted about how I got the name from a nickname my mother once gave me. Day three I spent reading other blogs. SO MANY INTERESTING, ORGANIZED, and BEAUTIFUL BLOGS_ SO MANY FABULOUS, INTERESTING, and TALENTED BLOGGERS!! I am following A LOT of really cool blogs now! It made me realize I wanted to improve the look and organization of my blog and I started messing with my theme and other features that very night! The day four task was to identify your audience. I realized that poetry, writing, and philosophy are the focus of my blog and anyone who loves words and thoughts are my target audience. I also learned to add photos and media to my posts. Today, Day five was theme day. I did try many themes this week but ended up just customizing the one I had originally by messing with images, fonts and colors. I am proudest of the fact that that I finally understand how to navigate around the admin area to organize and categorize my posts- since I am not a tech girl this has been a huge source of frustration. I still don’t really understand what a widget is!
Although it is a work in progress, “St. Mary the Martyr’s Blog” has come a long way in just one week. Thanks to all the folks at Blogging University and all my fellow bloggers from Blogging101 who have been so kind! See you next week!
Relentlessly reaching for the land, rolling, pulling at the sand,
Thrashing, crashing into the rocks, that’s the way that a wave talks.
Whispers of the Sea unheard, if one could interpret every word,
Would hold the secrets of this place, from every era one could trace,
A seashell will always hold this sound, with hope that answers will be found,
So someday maybe we could be, from the disease of ignorance forever free.
I wish to see the everyday monotony of life from a bird’s eye view by asking “who, what, where?”
The innermost thoughts of others’ are imagined with ease by asking “why?”
The actions and reactions of human nature are predicted with each monkey wrench scenario and ‘what if’ possible when asked “how?”
What is expected to happen is joyously twisted into what I want to make happen.
Like a grand puppeteer I thrill in mastering each turn of events, controlling with the flick of my wrist how it all makes sense.
Surprises are even more delicious when they make no sense at all until they are tied up into a tidy ball of revelations at the end.
Descriptive words are too easy and the greatest discoveries come in the form of unfamiliar phrases, similes, and symbolism that ring familiar and true to their describer in a perfect metaphor.
Beneath it all a constant inner monologue reigns king and it pours from my brain -to my hand -to my paper like tears turned to melted silver memories in Dumbledore’s pensive.
I long to express daydreams of what never was.