I don't take the time that I should to visit other people's blogs.
And often, when I do, I don't make enough of an effort to comment on what I read.
As much as I enjoy receiving comments—from the simplest "I like it" to the more constructive "You could try...."—I've been very bad at providing those same comments to others.
Part of this is due to the fact that there are only so many hours in a day. I've touched on how I split my time Living On Social Media.
Like it or not, Social Media eats into the time you could be using to do....something more productive, like writing.
The rest of it is due to, well, let's just chalk it up to a mix of self-doubt and procrastination. Thoughts of they really don't need to know what I think or I'll return later, read more carefully and leave a comment.
Later, of course, turns into…Continue
1. Why do you write: It's in my blood. I went many years without writing and I don't know how I survived. It's definitely a part of me. I can't see myself doing anything else now. I mean, what else would I do with all the voices in my head?
2. Where is your favorite writing spot: I usually write at my desk, which is in a corner of the converted garage we call the office. The rest of the garage is affectionately called "the mancave", however I probably spend more time there than the hubby does. I've been known to kick him out of his own mancave when he's home from work and I need to work!
I have recently discovered the joy of fresh air writing, as well, especially when I'm blocked. I'm planning lots of outings to the park this summer so I can write while the kids are busy playing.
3. What is the hardest post you ever wrote? Why? I can't narrow this down to just one. Any posts I have written from my teenage years…Continue
Our big, brown eyes locked.
Fast paced heart was about to jump out of his drooling mouth. Every breathe was sharp and heavy. Stressful fear had taken over. I could not reach to stop explosion. Part of him I never wanted to see, but did when we visited vets office.
This is the only time and place where fear paralyzed happy-go-lucky pup. Shaking air out of his lungs with speed of racing car. Joyous character perished in thin air. Nobody took notice of my continuous pleas to get over with it fast. It was like they where from another planet and I spoke different language.
Oh how I loathe times like these. Inner beast screams of injustice and wants to break their ignorant necks as they drag their feet. Furious blood-lust of a mother when she hears her cub crying beats in my human interior. Heart chokes under rivers of tears. Papers are signed without looking. Sentences are short to discourage any conversations. Terror in slow motion. Hopelessness to ease his…Continue
So much of me has changed since we first met. Life. It's chipped away at me. There are parts of me, parts of my soul, that are just dead. I go back and read my story, my earliest writings. I barely recognize her. I don't even look the same. I've tired. My mind has slowed. Bits and pieces ripped away, taken, stolen.
The brightest parts of me that were loved are all but gone. I've seized. All of me. Vapor-locked inside myself. I held back the storm for as long as I could. I painted a smile, pried myself open, each night wishing I'd wake and recognize some spark of who I was.
I am trying. I've not given up. But it hurts. I am broken. By this and that, flotsam and jetsam, pushed and shoved, twisted and pulled, slights and sharp words branded on my skin. The density of my own mistakes is pressing upon me, pulling me inside out. In all, I've held back the flood. I've stayed stolid, smiled on cue. I've not fought the tide, but gave into it like a deaf mute leading herself…Continue
Anyone alive today and with the capacity to think, reason, and remember knows where they were and what they were doing on that date. I had been with Southwestern Bell a little over a year and had finally landed a transfer to an inside job, out of manholes, out of the weather, and on the ground, not 30 feet up on some skinny telephone pole with tiny pieces of steel on my boots dug into the wood as far as they could possibly go.
I worked in what was then known as the Luther Central Office. In those days, we had letters in the phone numbers: LU for Luther or RI for Riverside or TE for Temple. I can still remember my girlfriends (now wife) number, TE-81662.
The Luther office was located in downtown Tulsa, the others scattered all over the city. My job had the title of Frameman. The frame was a monstrous hunk of wood, metal, and wires, about 15 feet high and half a block long. Let’s say a new customer wants a phone. There were no such things as computers where…Continue
After having temperatures threatening to enter back into the 90-degree range earlier this month, D.C.-area residents are now enjoying milder temperatures and foliage exploding with color. Finally!
This week for the Weekly Spotlight, let's all share a post inspired by or about fall. Dig into your archives or post something you wrote this season. I can't wait to read all the entries!
Just a reminder of the process:
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