Life in progress


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Deconstructing a Dream

I must remember this next time I’m writing a dream sequence.

Just before I woke up this morning, I dreamed I was ordering breakfast. I was in a bus station, standing at a tall counter looking up at a very sparse menu. Not knowing what else to have, I asked for toast and marmalade. The curious thing was, when I asked for the marmalade I knew the person behind the counter would have a hard time with the word and I remember having the time, as I was saying the sentence I used to order the food, to change my order to make it simpler for the clerk. All those thoughts went through my mind sequentially, much like they do when I’m awake only I was hyper aware of them and they were so fast! I decided what I wanted, thought I shouldn’t say it and why, all in the space of time it took me to say “toast with jam.”

It’s amazing what the human brain is capable of. I know I have the capacity while awake to have a thought, form a sentence in my head, and think to myself I shouldn’t say it, even as I’m either saying it or changing it mid-sentence. And yet while I’m awake the process seems so sluggish… perhaps why I sometimes say things I know I shouldn’t; I don’t have the mental capacity all the time to change once I’ve started, or stop in the first place.

I wonder if a study has ever been done to see if we’re more likely to put our collective foot in our mouth if we’re tired. Food for thought… preferably not toe jam…


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Stream of Consciousness Saturday – Reading

This post isn’t about what I thought to write about today, but rather, something that has come up. It’s about reading, yes. But then again it’s about not reading. Not being able to read.

Every once in a while my vision goes wonky. It happened today and I’ve been having a hard time seeing my screen. Last night before bed I was squinting at my book. Today I’m seeing double – one image is above and to the right of the actual image. It’s very hard on the eyes.

I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see to write, or to read. I know I wrote about losing one of my senses before (can’t think of the title of the post right now, but it was about losing either your sight or your hearing- which would you choose if you had to?) and at the time I said I didn’t know. Then again, I was sitting at the table with John this morning and he could hear a song playing in the other room and was able to name it – I couldn’t even hear a sound, let alone a recognizable song. So I suppose I’m losing both. I may not get to choose.

The things we take for granted – our senses if we were born with them being the most obvious. I sit here at the kitchen table looking out at the deck I plan to stain this summer and I wonder if I’ll always be able to see it. I wonder if we forget what colour is like when we go blind, or if we just assign another sense to it. I can imagine green would be warm to me, even though it’s not considered a warm colour (I don’t think). It represents summer, after all.

There are men outside chopping up the tree that fell in December. I can see them through the slats of the fence. It’s cold out today, so I imagine their work is comfortable.

Maybe I’ll stain the deck bright red. There goes a chainsaw – there goes my thought process.

I’m posting this without reading. I hope it makes sense.

This post is part of SoCS: https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/06/13/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-1414/


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Friday the 13th – I Met the Grin Reaper at Starbucks

The Grin Reaper (typo intentional) stopped by my table at Starbucks tonight and introduced himself. Seriously – he reminded me of the childhood image I have of Beelzebub.

I was sitting at a table working on my laptop, minding my own business and drinking a grande Mocha. Channing Tatum sat two tables away, alone, (yeah, unlikely, right? Okay, so it wasn’t him, but the guy I sat beside was the spitting image) facing the same way I was, doing something on a tablet. Our backs were to the wall. Here’s how it went:

Grin Reaper: (approaches my table and smiles, saying nothing)

Me: (looks up at him and tries not to shrink back)

Grin Reaper: (finally) Hello. I think we’ve met before.

Me: I don’t think so.

Grin Reaper: (holding out his liver-spotted hand) I’m Leo. Nice to meet you.

reverendkane

 

 

 

Me: (shaking his hand and deciding not to give my name) Nice to meet you too.

Grin Reaper: (smile slips) Do you come in here often? (smiles again)

Me: No, maybe once every six months.

Grin Reaper: Hmm. I sit in the mall every day and read four newspapers. And I play the piano at nursing homes so I keep busy.

Me: (staring at his crooked yellow teeth as he grins creepily) That’s nice.

Grin Reaper: (looks down at my laptop) What are you studying?

Me: Oh, I’m just writing.

Grin Reaper: You’re a writer? I’m a writer too. I write about psychology, sociology, neurology, philosophy, religion… (and he named off about four more things)

Me: Well that’s interesting.

Grin Reaper: (stares and smiles)

p2

 

 

 

 

Me: Maybe I’ve seen you in the mall…

Grin Reaper: Yes, that’s probably it. (stares and smiles)

Me: Yyyeah…

Grin Reaper: (stares and smiles)

poltergeist2

 

 

Me: (probably 20 seconds have passed but it feels like he’s been sucking on my soul for an hour) Well, it was very nice meeting you.

Grin Reaper: Yes, nice meeting you too. (smiles and retreats)

Beside me, Channing turns to look at me, smiles and shakes his head. I look back, eyes wide, one eyebrow raised, with a frightened look on my face. Channing laughs.

I swear to God, Leo looked EXACTLY like Reverend Kane (Julian Beck) from Poltergeist 2. About 90 years old, thin, and well over six feet tall, he walked with the stoop of a man above average height. He wore a three piece suit and a hat, and had the most God-awful creepy look about him, as though he wanted to tell me how my life is going to end in grisly yet accurate detail.

Had I had my wits about me, I’d have asked Channing if that really happened. In fact, I’d have asked for his number as well – you know, just because he’s my only witness – so I could get another reality check at 2am, after the nightmare I’m sure to have tonight.

I may never go to the mall again.


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Forcing Myself

I’ve been having a hard time for the past few days getting into editing my novel. I’m able to force myself to work, but then I come up with any number of excuses to do something else, every other sentence I fix.
Candy Crush Saga is only the tip of the ice cream cone. (Make that a mint chocolate chip Klondike Bar.) How about those dishes in the sink? Or is that another email? And let’s not even mention WordPress stats. And if all else fails and I’ve done everything else I can do, or eaten everything in the house (damn, I just ate tomorrow night’s pork chops… and why do my teeth hurt? Must be the fact that they were still frozen…) I start to notice that my butt’s starting to hurt because I’ve been sitting on it too long.

It has to be time for a glass of wine.

You can see how it goes. I sit down to edit at times like this and I get SO MUCH ACCOMPLISHED! just not any editing. Is it really worth spending three hours just to slice the hell out of two paragraphs that I end up not happy with anyway because I wasn’t really concentrating?

How does anyone get this job done for goodness sakes?!?


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There’s Pain and then There’s Pain (and then there’s pain in the rain)

This morning while waiting outside for Alex’s school bus with Alex and my best friend John, I lifted my right hand to point at something and felt a shooting pain through my shoulder. I moaned. Not normally being one to complain about aches and pains, I thought about what made me so miserable where this shoulder thing is concerned.

Being that I was diagnosed with arthritis in it, I explained to John that pain has never really bothered me that much. I just live with it. But I realise it’s different this time, because I’m not sure it’ll ever go away: I may very well have to suffer with this one for the rest of my life.

I suppose just saying that made me deserve what was to come. At the house of the second customer on my paper route, I missed a step on the way down and landed on my knee on their brick pathway.

It could have been worse though – I could be out in the torrential downpour I’m watching through the window as I type this.


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Can You Believe It?

Don’t waste time. There is money to be made and advancement is within reach. A space at home to develop your ideas will help you increase your income and stabilize your financial situation. Invest in yourself and your talent.

As tired as I am, I can’t help but feel the motivation from my horoscope today, especially considering the thought I had last week about taking some university courses. And heck, what writer doesn’t need a space in his or her home to work? It’s like this was written for me.

I don’t usually put too much stock in horoscopes, but there are times like these when they really hit the target. My biggest problem now is choosing where to really focus my efforts. If I’m to take the courses, I still have all summer to myself to work on my novel. I’m still trying to decide if I should just self-publish without trying to find an agent/publisher or if I should brush up another project and give the whole self-publishing thing a go to see what is involved. Maybe some good, honest critique of my novel is what I really need before I make my final decision.

In the meantime, I’m psyched. I have a dream. I have a work-in-progress that I truly believe in. And now I have a cheap newspaper horoscope telling me I’m on the right track.

Can you believe it?


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Tongue Talk – Stream of Consciousness Saturday

When I thought of the tongue prompt yesterday I had no idea what I wanted to write. It just seemed like something people could have fun with. That hasn’t changed – I still don’t have any idea what I want to write.

There are so many things we can do with our tongues:

The first of course is taste – it’s one of the first things we do when we enter the world. Our tastes grow as we get older. Sure, there are things we can’t stand to eat, even as kids. Much to the annoyance of parents everywhere, often these foods end up in places they shouldn’t. I still remember picking sticky pieces of spaghetti off the walls when my kids were toddlers.

Shortly after taste comes our mother tongue. Or, in some cases, not. My son Alex will never know his mother tongue because he’s Deaf. Is Sign Language even a tongue? Maybe not, but Alex is certainly vocal enough. That’s something that comes with having hearing parents though. In completely Deaf families, they don’t use their voices.

Shortly after we learn to speak we learn to do other things with our tongues. Stick them out at people, for instance. (Thanks  Lee-Anne for reminding me of that one.) Some of us do tricks like twist them or curl them – which as I understand is something that is inherited. If your parents can’t do it, neither can you. I can lick my nose though…

As we grow up we learn to use them for kissing. I remember my first kiss – however I’d rather not. There was a lot of drool involved and I don’t think most of it was mine. Ick.

From that first kiss we graduate… My mother used to call it “sucking face” though I’m not sure that that was an expression she grew up with. Then there were the hickeys that we tried and usually failed to hide from our parents.  As I write this, I realize how much hell parents go through!

And of course there’s the next step.. but I won’t get into that here. Best left for the bedroom, eh?

That would be everything I can come up with, and I still don’t know that I’ve said anything of importance or worth reading.

Except the next time I go to the doctor and I see the tongue depressors, I’ll probably think of this post.

This post is part of SoCS! https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-714/ Click the link to find out more, and to join in!


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R..r..r.rrandomm.m..m…M

Do you hear me zipping by in the title? Always looking for new ways to say the same damned thing.

After an amazing 20 (yes! Twenty!) views yesterday, I’m looking for something to write about today. I was actually busy yesterday trying out the free trial of Scrivener, and I have to say I’m in love with it. I went through the tutorial in just over the two hours they promised it would take, and I started plugging my manuscript into it right away. Many people have told me this is probably not a good idea, but with the synopsis feature, where I can write a few words about what each chapter is about, I can so easily see now where I’m being redundant. I have a feeling Scrivener is going to be the best thing to happen to my novel yet.

In other news, I received my paperback copy of The Mirror: Book One in the mail and I can’t wait to read it again! If you’re reading this, Mr. McConaughey, I’ll be wanting it signed. I hope you’re working on your pseudonym’s autograph.

Mirror

As soon as I’ve finished reading–once it is again fresh in my mind–I’ll be writing a review.

What else is new?

I have an exciting new addition to my job as a newspaper carrier. Starting Monday, I’ll be delivering magazines! I’m guessing Rogers Communications–one of the, if not THE biggest media companies in Canada–who distributes a certain number of mags, has contracted the job out to Sun Media because of the cutbacks that are coming up in the post office. Soon, apparently, delivery of the mail to our front doors will be a thing of the past. But hey, with the decline of the printed newspaper, if it keeps me in a job, I’ll take it.

I had an amazing inspiration for the sequel to The Great Dagmaru yesterday. When Chris woke up, he came down the stairs and asked me, “Did you hear the man screaming outside in the distance last night?” I didn’t. He failed to tell me whether the man sounded angry, in pain or frightened… my imagination being what it is, I can see this being a strong sub-plot. I love it when things like this are just dropped in my lap. It’s exciting!

Speaking of inspiration, I’m working on today’s SoCS prompt – will give that some more thought on my way around the block.

‘Til then, have a great morning/afternoon/evening, depending where you are in this wonderful world of ours.


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Traces Prompt – Stop Raining on my Parade

On Traces Of The Soul, Oliana wrote: This week the topic will be about negativity and how you react to pessimism. Perhaps you are thinking how you recently managed to get away from the throngs of a negative person in your life, i.e. relationship, friendship, family, work…OR, how you succeeded in turning your own self-destructive side…that inner critic to someone more positive and accepting.

Write a poem, story (real or fiction) about this topic…negative thinking and how it can impact on your life.

The prompt got me thinking about negative people and how I grew up, and most importantly what I’ve learned in the intervening years. First, a little background:

I was a quiet child with no siblings and few friends. My world consisted of my parents and the couple that were their best friends. When I wasn’t quiet – when I got into trouble – my parents spanked me. It was the ‘thing to do’ back then. When I yelled, they yelled back. The point was, they always reacted. Unless I was being good. Then they left me alone.

Fast forward to when I had children of my own. I believed in my parent’s method of raising a child, though not with the hitting part. I admit, I had my moments, but most of the time I refrained from smacking if not from the yelling. There was plenty of yelling – I, like my parents, reacted in kind to my children’s tantrums.

Then, about three years ago I learned something that would change not only my life, but those of my children and the people around me: Applied Behavioural Analysis, or ABA. ABA is widely used to help with negative behaviours in Autistic individuals. But it didn’t take me long to figure out that it can be applied to anyone – even myself.

One of the most important lessons I learned was that everything we do and say when communicating for attention can be considered a ‘behaviour.’ For instance, we smile and say hello to a stranger which is a positive behaviour. The attention we receive back is our reward – it is a reward because we elicited our behaviour for the purpose of getting attention. In the case of my children, I found that when I rewarded their good behaviour with attention and ignored the bad, they quickly came to the realization that if they wanted my attention (or for me to react to them in any way at all) they had to be calm. Yelling and screaming to get a reaction out of me became a thing of the past – and it changed my reaction also. No longer was I screaming at them, because they began to come to me with a reasonable tone of voice in the first place.

As I said, this doesn’t only apply to childish behaviour (though many adults display it on a regular basis). Take internet trolls for instance. They display negative behaviour for what? A reward. Their reward is whatever attention we give them. The whiners of the world? I’ll try once to put a positive light on a comment such as, ‘when will this rain end?’ by saying something like, ‘the grass needs it.’ But when they keep on complaining, I change the subject to something more positive, or walk away. Many of us do this without really thinking about it. But it’s different when you’re talking to someone in a casual setting rather than someone you’re with day in and day out. Politeness goes by the wayside after a while, and you either react to it or give in to it and become, basically, the same negative person you’re with.

Unless, you stop rewarding it.

For more information on ABA, go here: http://www.autismspeaks.org/what-autism/treatment/applied-behavior-analysis-aba where you can find a quick overview of what it’s about.

I’ve always been a ‘cup half full’ sort of person. There have been times in my life when I’ve lost sight of that, I’ll admit. But learning not to react at all to unnecessary negative behaviour (which is not to say that I don’t empathize with people who are genuinely struggling) has made me a more patient, calm and positive person.

Thanks very much, Oliana, for this prompt!


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Hero

You are the hero of your own story.

There is a pearl inside of you that is unique.

It is made up of the wisdom of your combined experiences.

It carries your DNA – your genetic fingerprint, inherited from every soul who existed to cause you to exist.

It bears the potential in you to change lives.

Do you see the hero in you?

I do.

alex valentine