There is a seriousness in your bones, deep below your happy exterior. Your laughter flakes off you like dried rose petals; it falls all around, coating everyone with your outermost joy.
Does it matter? No. Not to those who you meet in the street, or those you entertain. They feel blessed to be within your circumference of notice.
But to me you are an enigma. So fragile, and yet so strong.
And unlike those who are lucky enough to feel the warmth radiating from your presence for but a moment, I would die a thousand deaths without you.
I had a dream last night in which I traveled back in time, to the ’70s I believe, to speak to high school girls about what it would be like, in the future, to be able to communicate from anywhere. You’d think I’d have had a cell phone in my hand. But that’s not what I had.
In my dream I was carrying a piece of paper. It was like a receipt and it had words and numbers written on it. Strangely enough I remember having to go to a payphone to use it… but what purpose the paper served is beyond me. It was a dream.
When I woke up, however, it left me wondering about the fragility of communication. The paper was nothing but symbolic. What if I lost it? (The piece of paper or the ability to communicate – you decide.) What if I suddenly couldn’t read it because it got damaged? How much did it cost to obtain it? It was a receipt, after all.
Then I started thinking, what if I had five minutes to tell everyone I loved everything I needed to tell them? Could I be succinct? I think that’s the one positive thing the language of texting has provided us with… a shorthand. And it’s such a personal thing as well. Only if I’m in a hurry will I spell ‘you,’ ‘u,’ and everyone close to me knows this, and so I am communicating two things at once.
But what if we could all speak the way the great authors write? To be able to communicate a feeling – ‘All the world’s a stage…’ What if stuff like that just rolled off our tongues as easily as we wrote it? What if we could put real body language and facial expressions into our emails? Speaking from the perspective of someone who actually CAN communicate in two languages simultaneously (spoken English and American Sign Language), it would be wonderful indeed.
And yet do I feel as though, if I had five minutes left in this world to say everything I wanted to, I’m afraid I’d be at a loss for words.
Okay, so I was sitting on my bed this morning at 6:17 (I know this because I was changing the clock on my old cell phone that I use just for its alarm, only it didn’t go off because I forgot to change it after we went to Daylight Savings) and I was already mumbling miserably to myself because I got up late, when there came a big bang from above.
Now one thing you have to know is that my house started off as a bungalow, once upon a time, but someone decided a two bedroom house wasn’t big enough, so they opened up the attic and put three more bedrooms and a half bath up there. I sleep in one of those three bedrooms. So the bang I heard was pretty close to where my ears were located at 6:17 this morning.
Since there are no windows upstairs on the front of the house to look out of, I came downstairs to look outside, half expecting to see a massive tree branch sitting on my front lawn. And yet nothing has disturbed the pristine condition of the snow. Failing that, and not wanting to put my boots on and trudge outside in my pjs, I texted my friend John, who was on his way over for breakfast to ask if he could look up and see if there was anything still sitting on the roof.
He came in and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Did you see anything?
John: Nope. There’s nothing up there.
Me: I wonder what made that noise then…
John: Could it have been an animal do you think?
Me: Well if it was a squirrel, someone must have flung it pretty hard.
John: And I guess you’d expect to see roadkill out there…
So there you have it. Our best guess at the big bang theory. Unless, of course, leprechauns have reindeer…
It happened again yesterday. I was sitting in a Tim Horton’s with my mother and Alex (my youngest son who is Deaf and doesn’t eat much by mouth – he’s g-tube fed), and my mother and I were eating and drinking coffee. Alex, in his usual sociable way was looking around and smiling and waving at the other customers. Beside us were a pair of elderly ladies. They were enamoured of Alex, which is par for the course.
One of them observed Alex as he took his Timbit (a doughnut hole, for those of you who haven’t been in a Tim Horton’s in the last 20 years) and put it back in the bag. He wasn’t really interested in eating it as I knew he wouldn’t be. He just likes me to buy him something so he doesn’t feel left out… and at 20cents, I can’t complain.
The ensuing conversation went something like this:
Lady#1: Isn’t he going to eat that?
Me: No, he’s not hungry.
Lady#2: He’s very cute.
Me: And he knows it.
Lady#1: Maybe he’d like something else. A sundae maybe?
Me: (thinking ‘I’m glad he can’t hear you.’) No, he’s okay.
Lady#1: (to Alex) Aren’t you hungry?
Me: (signing to Alex) Are you hungry? (note: I could have signed ‘Are you a chicken?’ to ensure he’d say no, but his laugh would have given me away)
Alex: (shakes his head, no.)
Me: (to Lady#1) Nope, he’s not hungry.
Lady#2: How old is he, six?
Me: No, he’s 13.
Lady#1: Does he know sign language?
Me: (thinking ‘No, we just flail at one another and hope for the best’) Yes, he does.
Lady#1: Isn’t that nice. (She then proceeds to perform the sign for ‘please’.) “Love,” she says to Alex.
Lady#1: (to Lady #2) That means ‘love.’ (she signs ‘please’ again.)
Alex: (smiles and nods even though he’s totally confused)
Having strangers tell you to feed your child, in front of your child, makes me see red on the best of occasions. But I’ve gotta say, this one was amusing enough that I only saw pink.
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” or “Begin with the word ‘The’.”
4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people will come and read your post! The way to ping back, is to just copy and paste the URL of my post somewhere on your post. Then your URL will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. For example, in your post you can copy and past the following: “This post is part of SoCS: (https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/socs-stream-of-consiousness-saturday-the-rules/)” Also, you can come here and link your post in the comments. The most recent comments will be found at the top.
5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.
6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!
Can anyone explain to me how I’ve managed to achieve the feat of gaining five new followers on my fiction blog in the last two days when I haven’t posted in six days, and haven’t had a single view in four days?
Here’s a pretty picture taken from Dover Castle to make up for the fact that this is a one-sentence post
Hi there, and welcome once again to the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt!
Linking to the Friday prompt last week seemed to work well (thanks KG for your suggestion), so after you’ve written your Saturday post tomorrow, please link it here in the comments so others can find it and see your awesome Stream of Consciousness post!
For this week’s prompt, please include a colour, or the word “colour,” somewhere in your post.
I’m looking forward to a record number of participants this week. Let’s get this ball rolling! The more people join in, the more new bloggers we’ll meet!
Here are the rules:
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” or “Begin with the word ‘The’.”
4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people will come and read your post! The way to ping back, is to just copy and paste the URL of my post somewhere on your post. Then your URL will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. For example, in your post you can copy and past the following: “This post is part of SoCS: (https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/socs-stream-of-consiousness-saturday-the-rules/)” Also, you can come here and link your post in the comments. The most recent comments will be found at the top.
5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.
6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!
I need organisation. First, I must state that this post was inspired by our lovely Belinda at Idiot Writing. (You can find the post here: http://idiotwriting.wordpress.com/2014/03/14/organisation/ .) In it, she tells how much more organised she is than I.
When I do finally get a moment to myself to sit and write, I invariably get comfortable with my laptop and, before I begin, I look around the room. It’s a mess. I think to myself, “I need to be more organised,” but do I do anything about it? Of course not! I just got comfortable.
So I write, but in the back of my mind there is the mess I should be cleaning up. I’m unable to fully relax and enjoy myself. Why don’t I just clean it up? Because it will take hours–hours that I could be spending writing. And what’s the use when my darling children will just mess it up again anyway? Doing a little bit at a time is useless. I’ll just end up doing the same little bit again the next day.
It’s a vicious circle of discomfort for me.
I did, actually find something that worked for me once. When I was selling my house back in Gatineau, Quebec, I had to clean up the place to show it to perspective buyers. So I took a picture of the mess, one room at a time. I then worked my ass off, non-stop, until I was ready to take an “after” picture. I was truly amazed at the progress I was able to make, and I had a reward at the end to boot–a picture of my immaculate room.
Before
After
I swore I would do that again when I moved. I made a New Year’s resolution, four years ago, to make and keep this place clean. I did it again three years ago, two, one, and this year as well. HA! The difference? First, I’m not selling, and second, back then I wasn’t writing.
One of these days…
How do you deal with organisation? Or do you? I’d love some suggestions.
There are worse things in the world than getting motivation from a fortune cookie, I suppose. But then, I think I can win the lottery. Will I? I guess I can if I buy a ticket.
While the statement on this tiny slip of paper is true, to a certain extent, it’s vague at best. Where is the trying? What do we get out of life if we just sit and imagine we can, without making an attempt? We get nothing, most of the time.
Case in point: I think I can make something out of this post. Am I giving it a half-hearted effort? Yes. Was I motivated by the piece of paper I found in a fortune cookie? Yes.
All this to say that, just because you think you can, doesn’t mean you’re going to be good at it. And there’s my de-motivational post for the day.
Chew on it.
Okay, but seriously. To be creative–to create something out of my own mind that is brand new–I have to be in the right frame of mind. No amount of external motivation is going to change that. It may help, but in the end nothing is going to inspire me quite like, well, me. When that spark fires in my brain that tells me I have something to write about, or I fall on something I’m passionate about, it’s like I’m a ball of energy, rolling down a hill, unable to stop. I can zing through a paragraph as though I was propelled by an elastic band, my fingers flying around the keyboard, unable to keep up with my brain. That’s when I would say to myself, “Yes I can!” except that I’m too busy creating to think such a thing.
So is the fortune cookie wrong? Personally, I think it’s possible to think too much.
It all started on Sunday when I had a sore tooth. Actually, scratch that. It really started in 1996 when I went on Zoloft for six months, to help me get over post-partum depression. I don’t know for sure whether it’s a side effect of that particular antidepressant, but while I was taking it, I began to clench my teeth. It was like I constantly had tension in my jaw, and the condition exists even now.
So back to Sunday. My tooth hurt, and I’m pretty sure it was due to the clenching. Though the pain went away, I was thinking about going to the dentist.
Then last night, I had a dream. I was sitting in a dentist’s chair, totally doped up on nitrous oxide. I remember the dentist and her assistant talking while filling one of my teeth. I could feel it, a little, but I didn’t care.
When the dentist asked me if I wanted Novocaine for my second filling, I said yes. She told me that was probably a good idea, since the cavity was deep. Here’s where the freaky part begins.
As she put the needle in (which I didn’t feel at all because in my dream I was doped up) I realized I was going to sleep. At that point, I realized I WAS asleep and that I was dreaming… so with that in my head, I allowed myself to go to sleep in my dream.
It was the best experience I’ve ever had at the dentist. I highly recommend the nitrous… not that I’ve tried it in real life… at least I don’t think I have.
I sometimes wonder why I push myself so hard. My determination to write a post every day here on WordPress; my aspiration to finish my novel; my involvement in The Community Storyboard, HarsH ReaLiTy, and A Good Blog is Hard to Find; my ambition to read more, and write book reviews; my wish to help out friends by critiquing their unpublished works… the list itself is overwhelming. Most days I barely notice the work piling up. I love being busy with writing and the pursuits that involve it.
But, Spring Break. Yes, it’s that time of year again. While I’ve had much of today to do the things I needed to get done, I know it’s only a matter of time before Alex gets bored keeping himself busy. And just because the kids are home doesn’t mean the shopping doesn’t still need to be done – a task which requires me to leave my Autistic son by himself – and my paper route, and then there’s my mother’s appointments because I’m the only one who can take her… again, overwhelming.
I think everyone gets to this point occasionally. It’s the stage where we just have to start saying no, and not give in. While it’s exciting, and best of all not boring, there’s a limit at which one shuts down and curls up in a little ball with a straw and a bottle of one’s favourite Merlot.
So if I up and disappear at some point this week you’ll know why. And if I do manage to keep it all together AND keep my blog going without consuming a bottle of wine per day, well, give me a cape and call me supermom.
Just don’t push me off the side of a building to see if I’ll fly. I push myself too hard already.
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