I haven’t written much about being on the Autism Spectrum. I’ve delegated that “discovered” part of me to the background, contained here and there in hints and asides and tiny blurbs on social media. Few people in my daily life actually know much about me at all. I let very few into my world.
One could say that I have “passed” as an N.T. or Neurotypical; those who are deemed “normal” by society. I have been able to pass under the radar probably due to my generation and that I am female. There are many of us out there. We without an official diagnosis. We that have practiced being just like we thought everyone expected us to be.
It’s not easy and I have fallen short. I have wondered why I have tried so hard to fit in. It is lonely enough being one’s unique and misunderstood self but another degree of lonely trying to be someone you are not.
I have been blogging for a few years and I have preached about loving yourself and being yourself and all the beautiful magic in that. I have dispensed this sugary drink without sipping it myself. I am guilty of being something I hate, which is a hypocrite.
I have hidden to the world, even my own Mother that I am on the Autism Spectrum.
I keep my tiny victories to myself; hoarding them to savor for rainy days. I assume the world at large will not understand me. I hold a demeanor of reserve, a protective coating I have strengthened and shined it and relied upon it most of my life. It keeps the world out. It keeps me safe but in that safety, I have lost so much.
And time goes by and so I really haven’t done all these incredible things with my life. It seems that the basics have been difficult, if not almost impossible enough.
I am starting to see that I may not have all the answers and that I may need help and that often the best way to help oneself is to help others.
Maybe there truly can be a reason why I am the way I am. For the most part it is a gift; this way I experience life, from the smallest of things I experience pure joy and alternatively I can feel a deep sorrow. I hear a delicate song in the wind but the loud noises of the world make me feel pain.
I sometimes feel like a butterfly fluttering about a beautiful field of flowers, subject to the elements that tatters my wings, but yet I keep flying. In that tiny victory I have found I am stronger and more resilient than I thought I could be. Perhaps I am here with my gift for words to tell other butterflies that you too are stronger than you think you are, and yes you can because I am doing it now. Watch me fly and watch us fly together.
…well I used to have one. I mean I used to write one, quite regularly; at least twice a week. I wrote over 200 posts, most of them fairly long. They are on an array of subjects, some of them are okay, some kinda good.
It was a labor of love really. I poured my heart out loud into the universe. I expressed myself. I made friends from all over the world I would chat with. I had fun and I also had lots of time on my hands, much more than I do now.
Time, that awful excuse. I doubt I lack talent, It is in there somewhere. And I do have something to say and a orgasmictorium of stories inside my crazy brain. I can blame the lack of time or place but it is I who makes my own circumstance. Time ticks away, yes that damn time always ticking in the background.
No one lives forever…even childlike creatures such as myself…
I know I must make it a priority.
And thinking,,,pondering. THAT is essential!
One of the problems with this society is that not enough thought is given, we are all much too busy wrapped up in “the drudgery of everyday existence and all that” I like many of you wonder what is the point?
Hard not to. I sit here on a rare silent Saturday. It is early morning. The sun is streaming through the window and I am on floor, sitting with my trusty white laptop. It has seen “better” days, I suppose. The O and L keys are completely worn away along with the I. Half the E is gone and the N is on the verge of disappearing altogether. To add the that the seven is coming off and it is filled with about 5 years of memories, pieces of my life encased in pixels. If anything such as this could hold a part of a person, this computer contains a part of me.
I have changed over the years. I have gone beyond my comfort zone, I have outed and declared myself and have freed myself from much which did not serve me. I have busted out of my shell and I am ready to contribute more. I have learned some lessons as I continue to do. This late bloomer is still blooming
Just one more thing, the writing part..
My ex boyfriend/partner, the man I lived with for 17 years (also known as MM to those who have been around for a while) said that my problem was that I wrote too much about myself. He told me a lot of things, much I believed, much I now know was wrong.
I told him there are a million writers in the world, all with something to say. I am a mere drop in the bucket, a soul pouring myself out into a silent universe…but I am unique. just like everyone of us. There is only one me, whatever that means. The best thing I can write is what comes from my heart, from my soul and that is what I must do. I cannot do any less.
I happen to know more about myself than anything or anyone. But I also know that I am not the only one who feels the way I do. Others can and do relate. We are all connected even we we are apart.
and so…MM is in the old house with the cats. I am here with my new cat and new love. A lot has changed in the past year, but not my desire to write and as always I lament my lack of writing time as I pound these white fading keys…
Let’s see what I can come up with.
Thanks for stopping by. This blog is NOT completely dead.
Totally “unrelated” stuff I put in for the hell of it.
“In the world I am Always a stranger I do not understand its language It does not understand my silence” ― Bei Dao
All I want for Christmas is some peace and quiet. I need a retreat. A retreat from noise, a retreat from interruption. A break from the outside world that interferes with my thinking and writing. I must do both of theses things and if I don’t for a while I become like a caged tiger. I pace the confines of my cell all stored up and ready to pounce, except that I don’t pounce–I suck it all in.
I am kind and patient. Seldom do I lose this demeanor but there are times that I feel as though I am a ticking time bomb ready to go off. The pressure builds and builds, I cannot flee–I cannot fight–I hold it all in. This can’t be good for my health.
There is no place where noise does not scream at me. I pretend that it doesn’t effect me like it does. I learned to fake nonchalance a long time ago but there is nothing nonchalant about me. I have prided myself in my outer coolness but I must confess and it feels damn good to confess that at times on the inside I can burn hot like a volcano.
I try to meditate in my own way. I seek out nature and I think good thoughts. I am earnest in my devotion to goodness, truth and beauty and all that. I believe I only lack one simple thing. Something that if granted to me would enable me to take on the world–whatever it takes. Silence, a wee bit of silence would save me. Time to listen to nothing would be utter bliss.
If you have ever listened to silence you know what I mean.
Silence allows the mind to wander freely. It gives us a chance to take a deep breath and relax. The world is a noisy place, most of us experience a great amount of it in our daily lives. These form the soundtrack to our lives. Most of it we cannot control.
I seldom mention this but I am on the Autism spectrum (Asperger’s) and sensitive to sound. I have always been this way. Certain noises are amplified in my head and at times this can be overwhelming. Echoing reverberating noises, kids screaming, crowds of people talking, generally loud and unpredictable noises, these sounds can unhinge me but also small and meaningless ones too can set me on edge. I have learned to control my urges and I can block a lot of it out but this is tiring and doesn’t allow me to ponder like I like to do.
Noise effects me in good ways as well as bad. There are good sounds. Music is exquisite rapture and so are the sounds of nature; songbirds, the breeze in the trees, crickets, the ocean. These sounds speak to my soul. They call to the restlessness and the calmness in me. They soothe, invigorate and inspire.
These sounds are big and open like waves, they do not mind sharing space with all the thoughts my mind. These sounds not only allow me to think, to contemplate, they allow my mind to simply wander freely without intent purely for the sake of wandering.
I feel at one with the universe. I feel at peace.
Sounds can transport one to another place. I have listened to recordings of birdsong and whales and other natures noises. I will close my eyes and imagine myself there; in the forest or by a lake or in a bird sanctuary wherever it be my mind can travel there.
Music is especially magical. Slack Key Guitar music instantly takes me to the Tropics and certain Heavy Metal songs from the 80’s take me back to my rebellious teens. Melodies paint colorful landscapes across the universe of my mind.
Just thinking of all this is good for the spirit. Already I am calmed. It’s through expressing myself I’ll find the peace I seek. I know that I create my own reality and I know that if something is important enough I will make time for it.
Writing and putting this post together has certainly worked it’s magic on me. And I hope it will for you too. Please take a listen to the wonderful sounds by clicking on the following links that will transport you to the mythical land called Youtube where the music of nature will play for you. Enjoy and have a nice day!
Change comes in starts and fits; it ebbs and flows along the river of life–always moving, flowing along…each moment bleeding into the next . The seasons change. Exuberant Spring quickly turns to lush Summer and then is gradually replaced by the deepening beauty of Autumn. I feel every part of it; this cycle of life. It seemed there was a time not very long ago when life was eternally young. I was always in a hurry to get on with things. It was always “what’s next?”. It wasn’t until I grew a bit older and became a mother; when I was able to see life vicariously through a pair of newer but different eyes, that’s when I realized the significance of these small seemingly insignificant moments.
Being a parent changed me like nothing else. The experience has shown me the importance of being there for someone. It has shown me the strength of love and the power of devotion. Motherhood made me strong where once I was weak. It was on a Winters day back in 1994 when I gave birth to my son, that was the day I began to become who I am today.
Where once I was a rebellious teen I become a resilient adult. I have never lost the ideals of youth. Sure, I have tempered my dreams with reality but I’ve never given them up and I never will. To stop dreaming is to stop living. And I plan to go on living for a long time.
I suppose one could call it hibernating; what I’ve been doing. I’ve stayed away from blogging and writing in general. I have been engaged in the “Art of Living”. The day to day. The grind. The moment. I have taken a side job selling men’s clothes in an well-known upscale department store for the upcoming Holiday season. I’ve never done retail before and am finding the change refreshing. It’s nice to get out of a lonely two-person office and out into the world of rampant consumerism.
Gone is the long commute of last year and replaced by a short 15 minute drive. Yay! Time is too valuable to waste on a insane commute of 3 hours a day. My pay is less but I am much happier. For so many reasons I am much happier.
I am finally facing myself; my demons, my weaknesses, whatever you call them. I am finally getting my birdbrain out of the sand and I’m opening my eyes and looking around. I am forcing myself to peek out from my hazy pools of imaginative avoidance, past the fairies and unicorns and the happy talking trees to the playing field below; the hard turf and rugged terrain of reality.
Yikes! But I am seeing the challenge and rising to it.
I gallop along; riding far beyond my enchanted kingdom into the dreaded realm that ‘s called “out of my comfort zone”. I’ve been visiting this place quite regularly and every time I do I grow stronger and stronger. It’s amazing what a little white-knuckled courage will do. I have found through trial and mostly error that life forces one to foray beyond this zone. I would rather choose the circumstance instead of the wilds of fate deciding for me. This is the downfall of the procrastinator–something I know too well.
On my dresser sits a 3×5 card. On it I have written a quote by Marcus Aurelius, a Roman emperor and philosopher who opted to write his book “Meditations” entirely in Greek and for his eyes only. It’s funny how at times the words you need to hear most come at exactly the right time you need to hear them., even when they were written two thousand years ago. Knowledge is timeless. But we mortals are not.
“Remember how long you have been putting this off, how many times you have been given a period of grace by the gods and not used it. It is high time now for you to understand the universe of whom you constitute an emanation and that there is a limit circumscribed to your time–if you do not use it to clear away your clouds, it will be gone, and you will be gone and the opportunity will not return.”~Marcus Aurelius
These words and others have changed me bit by bit. My current course has altered and is flowing to what are hopefully greener pastures. This growing up stuff hurts but it’s worth it. Don’t get me wrong; the fanciful Nancy. The whimsical silly person who has fun wherever she goes lives on. The bubbly person that I have allowed to gradually blossom currently still runs the show. I am still cultivating “magic” and throwing it up in the air like all that pixie dust. I, in fact, endeavor to increase the dosage. The world needs it and frankly so do I.
I have taken it as my mission to appreciate not only every moment but every interaction with every soul I meet. This sounds daunting and will require going out of my comfort zone more and more but as I do this comfort area will get larger and larger until it encircles the world…well, in theory anyway. I will try. I will fall down and I will get back up, that’s all any of us can do anyway.
We have a new edition to the family. Spotsy came to us by a quirk of fate, by design or whatever. He needed a home and we needed an extra cat so it all works out. My daughter has taken it upon herself to see to his upbringing and Mario and I still have time for our long and reflective discussions.
I’ve started a new blog! Ta-da! It’s all SBI but newer and edgier and more compact. It’s silly trippy fun. No long-winded dour reality here. It’s all for fun and it can be found here.
Go check it out and sign up for a dose of the lighter side of SBI fresh in your inbox.
I am looking forward to catching up with you so don’t be suprised to see me pop up over at your place. I have missed my blogging friends and I am glad to be back.
42 drafts…well 43 drafts sit here waiting in my to do box like faithful canine friends patiently awaiting my return. They sit in various forms of completion and come in all shapes and sizes; some are tiny puppies of a paragraph or two, others are stately Great Danes of considerable verbiage that lack a certain something, a doneness, something beyond simple edits and rewrites. I cannot truly write anything worthy before it’s time. The moment must be right.
And so as a result…
They are an ever-growing mass, these unfinished ones. They haunt the corners of this blog walking from room to room looking for something. Some whine for attention, others howl, most just sit there. As you have probably guessed, I have a case of chronic procrastination. I have always been this way; I start a multitude of creative projects only to have them linger in some state of incompletion. I am sort of infamous around here, at least at the little red house on 79th street, for having a million and one ideas that I never follow through on.
As time goes on this weighs on me more and more. These unfinished things represent this whole tendency of mine and along with my Asperger’s has served as my excuse for my holding myself back from participating in life. I’ve always been a terrific starter but a horrible finisher.
And there is such a multitude of business…my mind comes on like a radio with a half a dozen stations all competing for my attention. At times it can be hard to pick just one. One idea will give birth to the next. And one draft can easily grow into two or more. Many cousins akin to these drafts are finished posts which haunt the “pages” of this site.
I am a little person with big ideas. Lots of silly ones but others I think may be quite viable. My dream job would be to come up with great ideas for others to implement and charge them for it. I would keep busy in a glorious garden adjacent to a greenhouse with a big lemon tree in the center. Mario, my cat would be my assistant and we would think up great ideas all day while drinking coffee and having fun.
I am over 40, my kids are almost grown. Time is passing. And the time seems right to finish something I suppose. It has been three years since I began this blog; this “great” experiment. My 200 + published posts on this blog have shown me that I can finish something and something I can be proud of. I just have to buy into the hype I been selling: I need to believe and have faith and just do it…
Update: Well..I did it I summoned up the courage and submitted my first piece for publication. I don’t expect to hear anything, it would be a miracle if I did. I had an anxiety attack. I don’t know why.
It is a beginning…
“Human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece”
― Vladimir Nabokov
ASPIRE: To seek to attain or accomplish a particular goal.
Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle Frenchaspirer, from Latin aspirare, literally, to breathe upon, fromad- + spirare to breathe.
To aspire is to dare. To dare to want more.
Aspire is the desire to propel oneself skyward. It is born in the heart like a flame that burns hot with the passion of want. Dreams fuel aspiration. Passion drives it and hard work makes it so. With care and feeding aspirations can grow wings and set flight to all points amazing…
We are what we aspire to. Our dreams define us.
I have a dream; one I never knew I had until fairly recently. I found it huddled under a pile of forgotten hopes that I had neglected to remember I’d left it in the back of my closet. I could exaggerate and press upon you this jive about a noble truth that propels me. I might confess a deficiency I have and this need to make up for what I’ve felt I have lacked in my life. The truth is I did not purposely seek this road. In the beginning all I sought was my own salvation.
I had walked in darkness for many years and yearned to find my way back into the light. I knew fulfillment and happiness lives there but in the dark it’s difficult to see. It’s lonely out there, at least it seems so…but I learned something important. I realized I wasn’t alone and there are others out there in the dark reaching for the light just the same as I… and not knowing where to find it. This simple truth eluded me for years. It is my truth but not mine alone….
By helping others we help ourselves.
It is tempting to take credit; to say that my stirrings to inspire are purely unselfish but the truth is; I aspire to inspire because it feels so damn good..besides I really don’t know any other way.
I have found that people who have struggled, who have fought something bigger than themselves…who have had life hurt them have a yearning to light the way for others, to say: “I’ve been where you are now and there is a light at the end of the tunnel…I know because I can see it.”
We all need help from time to time…
I believe greatness abounds. There is greatness in you and there is greatness in me but the greatest greatness lies in we. Our fullest potential is alive and well and it is just within our grasp. Sometimes all we need is a pat on the back, a smile and a reassuring voice. Everybody needs this..no one is above it. It is basic. It is human and it is beautiful.
We are the content creators; the writers, the artists, the dreamers. We are a unique breed who yearn to inspirit and inflame others with that magic spark that burns so bright in our hearts and souls.
This wonderful planet of ours is teeming with inspiration. One just needs to know where to look and one need not look far. I have found much inspiration in the words of many of you in this wonderful creative community of ours. Through your posts and comments I have learned so much! Time and time again I’ve experienced firsthand that no matter how different we may seem on the outside, we are alike on the inside. We all need insight and inspiration from time to time and I have surely gotten this from you. Thank you for sharing your world with me.
Wishing you an inspired day
“Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.”
― Louisa May Alcott
I have been invited by my good blogging buddy Cathy to participate in something called a blog hop. At first I thought it was some sort of dance. I have since learned it involves answering some tough hard-hitting questions about writing in a thoughtful, and meaningful way and then passing on the challenge…I mean “invitation” to the next worthy writer who I assume will hop his or her on way to the next contestant. The topic is “Why I write”
Cathy is one of my most favorite people in the entire blogosphere. I have been following her since the beginning. She writes in such a way that conveys friendliness and warmth. Her site is beautiful. Her photos are lovely and her recipes are yummy. I wished she didn’t live so far away because I would love to visit her. Besides having a great blog she is such a great person.
So hop on by to Words and Herbsand visit Cathy and you will see why I like her so much.
Before I get started with my questions I would like to introduce you to Steven Webb. He writes a wonderful blog called The Moving Road. Steven is a wonderful heartfelt writer who has a powerful message of encouragement all his own. I believe he and I share a concern for others and a yearning to inspire people and say “Yes you can!” You can also find Steven on Twitter and Facebook. Go to his site and check him out and find out just how multi talented he is. Once he answers the five questions and publishes his post I will put a link to it HERE.
I blog and tweet about the good stuff, helping people see things differently and overcome their own adversity. Join me on this journey”– Steven Webb
And the funny thing is…
It just so happens that I had just finished being interviewed by Oprah for her magazine. Funny enough she asked me these very same questions (AMAZING! I know) and so out of the kindness of her heart and she is kind that Oprah. She has allowed me to feature the interview in its entirety for you here today.
The Five Questions
What am I working on? Besides the zillion and one drafts in my inbox? My crazy mind has now engaged itself in the production of a feature length extravaganza in the form of a real life book. (yay!) An escapist fantasy adventure that is now unfolding itself in bits and pieces into my eclectic imagination. The more I think of it the more it becomes real. At this point it’s practically creating itself; I close my eyes and watch it form. I have pretty much erected the framework and now I need to fill in the details–the more I write the more it needs to be written and the more I need to write it.
How does my writing differ from others in it’s genre?
I don’t have a genre at all in that I probably differ from most writers. Of the two hundred plus blog posts I have written no two are quite the same. I flutter and flitter around subjects and genres, styles and moods. Words are my paints in every glorious color of the rainbow, my brush slides and glides across the canvas, and from it springs wide landscapes and broad vistas, from the tiny and seemingly insignificant to the giant elephant in the room. I try to capture that all-elusive truth with honest humor and silliness tinged with an underlying something that sneaks up and causes the reader to think or feel. That is what I aim to do anyway. I believe that any writer who wants to engage the reader must write from the bottom of their heart and the deepest reaches of their soul. Never hold back your truth.
I write what’s in my heart, what I care about. I write whatever is floating around in my silly imagination. Slivers and shards of life maneuver and twist themselves into my writing. I wear my heart on my sleeve and on my blog as well.
How does my writing process work? Most of it is spent thinking and not writing at all. Ideas form in my mind and emotions swirl around them. I take notes in one or more of the very many spiral notebooks I have littered all over. From that I will compose on the computer allowing the words to come out. If I have the luxury of peace and quiet the words usually just flow out like water. It is at times the easiest thing in the world for me to do. I wish life were that easy…(sigh)
From there I edit it and tighten it up, smooth it out. MM helps with the punctuation, which I am lousy at. He encourages me to tighten up my long winded run-on sentences which I sometimes do. Then I publish it and forget all about it…then it’s on to the next one!
Of course the book will be different. Much more rewrite and polish. And the publishing part will be more involved than simply clicking “publish”. I’m going to take what I do best and work with what I have and that’s all any of us can do.
I’d write anyway. Even if there was no one to read it. That is how nuts I am.
Have a great day and remember to visit my friends Cathy and Steven.
“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”
How can I call myself a writer? I ask myself as I skip past my blog (this one) and head straight on to Facebook for a healthy helping of scrabble, inspirational gobbledygook, silliness and chat. This has become a pattern as of late; a pastime I engage in to distract myself from the reality that I am a writer that is not writing.
I am stuck. Jumbled is the best way I can describe it. A million thoughts vie for my attention; some are glorious, some are grand, some are damn insecure and most are unfinished. Just like my writing–just like me.
Time is a funny thing; when I was younger it seemed to be there was so much of it. I couldn’t wait for it to pass so I could do this or that. There was an abundance of time and I could afford to waste it. So I did….and then life gets in the way…funny again how THAT happens and so here we are and here I am in my mid forties and what have I done? Not a whole hell of a lot…
…for myself anyway…for my dreams and my hopes. There was always someone first. This is not unusual. It is the reality of being a parent; sometimes your dreams have to rest on the back burner for a while. I understand that and I embraced the hell out of it, spending many years as a stay-at-home mom. You never ever get that time back and I am glad I was able to do it but this has set me back career-wise quite a bit.
I always thought in the back of my mind that writing would “save” me someday; from the reality…the drudgery of every day life…writing has always been my salvation.
I have spent countless hours alone; just me with pen and paper. I would pour my heart and soul out and never dare show anyone what I had written. Writing was my only confidant, my only true friend. Every hurt…and every joy and everything in between was recorded in one way or another.
I have grown dependent on this mode of expression to get my feelings out. It is like breathing to me and when I don’t write I slowly suffocate…
Once in a while I get blocked. We all do. Many, I think run out of ideas on what to write, this has never been a problem for me… quite the opposite. I can think of a million things to write. My brain is like a radio receiver and most of the time I can pick up one station at a time and focus. This is the perfect spot for me; I am in “the zone” and at my most happiest.
On rare occasions it’s as if all the stations are on at the same time. I can’t focus on just one. I’ve learned not to worry at this point. I’ve been here before and I have learned just to walk away and do something else.
The words cannot be forced and neither can my passion. I have to be passionate about whatever I write or really what is the point? I am finding out. I must be true to myself and my convictions. I cannot sugarcoat my feelings or concentrate my focus on silly feel-good trite. I must speak my mind and not worry about upsetting someone.
I have been guilty of all of the above…and life is too damn short for this.
It is almost midnight. The back door is open and a cool breeze wafts in ever so slightly, my tea is warm and I am smiling–life is pretty good.
I don’t need all the answers. I don’t need to be perfect and I don’t think anyone expects me to be. So I’m going to focus on being me a little more and not being someone else. This Strawberryindigo thing…I don’t know. I may drop the silly name and be….me; Nancy.
I can’t force this, I think I will take life as it comes for a while and see where that leads me…
Where is that? I don’t know but I do know I must keep on writing. It’s like riding a bike and here I am back on the bike baby pedaling like crazy.
I have missed you all here in the blogosphere. I feel like a kid who has been out of school for an extended absence and now I am back. I am out on the playground and it feels good to be here!
“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.” ~Charles Bukowski
PS: Whoever sent me the Kafka quote. Thanks for the reminder. I needed it. I want you to know that it is one of my favorites and so are you!
This day tends to sneak up on me: this last day of the year. I suppose the twinkling lights of Christmas and the dizzying realities of it’s aftermath will leave me in a bit of a daze. Typically I will retire to my bed for a couple days to repose and reflect. In actuality I will eat Christmas cookies and dark chocolate, watch old movies and sleep. By the time I come to my senses it’s already December 30th. In my younger days before I achieved “mommyhood” I used to get all dolled up and go out to some club or bar on New Year’s Eve. Now I tend to spend the evening trying to distract myself with creative endeavors all the while watching that clock tick, tick, tick towards midnight.
It is a strange phenomenon; the countdown, all the fuss and ado leads up to this one moment. This one moment that is so important we must all together count down the last 10 seconds to make sure we all have it right. And it’s Happy New Year! And then it’s all downhill from there, everyone cheers and then kinda looks around and goes back to whatever they were doing. It’s a climax to nothing like a bridge to nowhere.
These last few moments of the year are no more important than any other moments of the year. If any moment holds significance over the others, it is “Now”. Now is really all we have.
I celebrated the last day of 2012 with a group that suggested we write down on a piece of paper all the worries and problems that were weighing us down and keeping us a prisoner of our own fears. 2012 was horrid to me and I had no problem filling the page. We then got up and one by one silently put each piece of paper into the fire. This simple act was so cleansing. I really didn’t give it much thought over the year but I do think as “interesting” as 2o13 was, I handled myself pretty well, considering. (haha)
I am excited by the new year. I am eager to take it on. Life is changing so fast around us. I am looking forward to being a positive part of that change.
I have no resolutions except to eat healthier, exercise more, laugh as much as I can, try as hard as I can and love as much as I can. I grow restless and seek to spread a little peace, love and understanding in my little part of the universe.
I want to thank you my friends for making this whole blogging thing worthwhile. I appreciate your intelligent and thoughtful comments. I am enriched by your visits as a writer and as a person. I look forward to what we will learn from each other in the coming year.
Happy New Year! May 2014 bring you whatever you seek.
“Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’…”
― Alfred Tennyson
It is now that I sit here tapping away. It is way past midnight. I am snuggled up in my fuzzy purple blanket, drinking strong hot coffee and living in the moment like a breeze. For me this is one of the bestest and funnest things to do; in words I dance in this moment. At times not knowing exactly which word will be…next…it is a journey of sorts and I tend to end up in places I never expect.
My mind is like a hungry octopus, its tentacles awry, making a wild grab for this and that. Storms form. Clouds rush in only to be ushered out by shards of brilliant sunshine. I am here amid swirling thoughts and ideas that play themselves out atop a blank page… it is here floating on this stream of consciousness where I feel fulfilled and engaged…so alive…huddled over a keyboard like a maniac, tapping away into the night…
“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”
There are many reasons why I write; the most obvious being that I generally go crazy if I don’t. It is an essential outlet to me. If I were the only person on this planet I would still write it…even if there was no one to read it. There are feelings I have that would never see the light of day if I didn’t get them out in a such a way. In a way, writing is my friend….and at times in my life, my only one. It is a big part of me. I have allowed it become a big part of my identity.
Writing has become an open window to the world
I started this blog over two years ago with an idea. Simply put; I planned to be myself and write whatever I felt passionate about and see what happened. Now 190 posts later I am a different person than when I started. I feel as if I have gone on a long journey and I’ve seen and learned much. I’ve met some amazing people along the way; others who share this wanderlust of the mind and spirit.
I am happy when I am writing and I enjoy the results. What blows me away is how others enjoy the results as well. I am the happiest when I hear that something I wrote brought a smile to someone’s face. There are worse things. And as dreams go; being a writer isn’t all that impractical, is it?
I feel fulfilled and enlightened and I feel my journey has only just begun…
There are so many more reasons not to do something than to do it. All action brings risk but then so does inaction. Much of the time it is this inaction and the result of such that can be the most damaging and corrosive. Fear can cause one to freeze like a deer in the headlines and do nothing. I have been guilty of having this response for most of my life.
I can’t say that I’m not conflicted. There is the artist part of me that feels and yearns and all that. It is that side of me I have chosen to let dominate, at least for now. Then there’s the other side. The one that doubts, the one that looks over my shoulder at the cold cruel world , the one that sees the bottom line. The part of me that pays attention and knows how difficult it can be to make a living being a writer. It reminds me that in no uncertain terms; if one wants a job writing, one must make writing a job and go to work.
I admit it. I am hesitant to want to make something I love so much into work….and really…to be honest, I’m scared.
I suppose a lot of it is the fear of rejection. Do I have what it takes to be rejected over and over? Writing is very personal for me. I put my heart and soul into everything. It is much more than just a simple act to me. It is something akin to extraction. The possibility of a million rejections and then subsequent “failures” truly hits home here. In writing that’s where my safety lies. This is my safe spot that I protect. My soft underbelly. Much of my new-found self-worth is found here in this freedom of expression. Perhaps it is here I will find my answer as well.
I am reaching a point to where my fear of inaction is greater than my fear of action…
There is this voice inside me. It started as a whisper that’s grown to an insistent tap on the shoulder, it borders on the desperate, begging and teetering on the edge of a scream…
“You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.”
Life is full of risks. without risk there can be no reward. Without jumping off cliffs, how are we ever to learn to fly?
I made a promise to myself that I would start submitting writing pieces in 2013, I have yet to do this. Now I’ll have to. Keep you posted. Wish me luck.
“Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it. Putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. No matter how diamond-bright your ideas are dancing in your brain, on paper they are earthbound.”
― William Goldman
This may come as a surprise to some of you by what I write here but in real life I am a quiet and reserved person. For much of my life I have been accused of being shy. I do prefer to stay in the background, carefully observing my surroundings. I am not much of a talker, definitely not a speaker of any sort. I am however a writer and at times writers need to be loudmouths to ever be heard. Networking and making connections is essential. This has been bothering me. I would prefer to stay in the background writing away, visiting with my blog and Facebook friends, never venturing outside my comfort zone, but venture I must and so here it is.
I have been invited to write as a guest on another blog called Share Your Articles. It is managed by a new friend of mine. We seem to see eye to eye on such things as self promotion and I have taken him up on his offer. I will be contributing a new and unique article from time to time depending on how much time I have. My priority remains with you; in this blog, My Life in Color. I will continue to pour my heart out here…haha lucky you!
I have checked it out and there are many other competent writers there and I recommend them highly. You can find a link to the site here. I hope to see you there. Please come out and support your friendly neighborhood blogger; namely me. I would truly appreciate it.
My first article is called New Eyes. It is a hopeful one and I am on my best behavior, at least I will be for now… (wink-wink)
While I am on the subject of self-promotion; I would like to tell you about my 100% All Organic Strawberryindigo page on Facebook. I know many of you are not on Facebook but give it a try. We could chat there. I write some odds and ends, little bits, quotes and I post interesting articles and links to subjects pertaining to the environment, gardening, social issues and fun stuff too. I am still me being myself over there and my heart is definitely on my sleeve. It is a bit more relaxed and I certainly let my hair down. Please stop by and pay me a visit if you are so inclined. Feel free to post something of your own. I am pretty much on my own over there, it is sort of cavernous and a tad lonely. I would love to hear what you think of it.
Before I sign off take a gander at my new revved up About the Author page. It was about time. It had remained unchanged since the beginning and needed updating. As you might have noticed I have also updated my Gravatar. It is me, older, more wrinkled but happier.
Well enough about me…how are you? How is everything going? Please let me know. I also wanted to add that I have a new email and if you want to contact me privately for whatever reason; drop me a line at Strawberryindigo@gmail.com.
Thanks for listening,
“As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I’m not sure that I’m going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says ‘you are nothing’, I will be a writer.” ― Hunter S. Thompson
UPDATE: I will no longer be writing for that other site. The person who runs the site became very intrusive in my online life (sort of a creepy internet stalker) and so I thought it best to erase my presence there. I am a trusting sort I suppose, but I will not allow this experience to change that.
What follows is NEW EYES
It was one of those bright mornings that come after a night of hard rain. Drops of moisture decorate the scarlet-colored Maple leaves on the tree outside my window, shining like diamonds in the first few rays of the new day’s sun. I have always loved mornings such as these. The streets have been washed clean by the rain; everything is so fresh and new. The chickadees outside my window sing an expectant song tinged with sweet exuberance.
It is just another morning just like many others. The newspaper arrives just as it always does with a dull thud at the front door. My morning coffee is the same brand I’ve been drinking for months but somehow it tastes better on this day.
“Today will be a most wondrous day” I tell myself out loud. I am surprised at hearing my voice speaking to myself this way. My voice sounds hopeful, younger somehow, sweeter.
I gaze into the mirror; the very same reflection returns my gaze. The same rounded face with the same sleepy half-lidded stare stares right back, but somehow my too- brown brown eyes look unusually brighter, almost optimistic. I smile and am rewarded with another smile that appears almost beaming.
It is as if I am seeing the world with new eyes. New eyes flecked with glimmering green; new eyes that see promise in a seemingly just typical day.
Perhaps this day is not so typical in a string of so many so typical days. Perhaps something special will happen today. Perhaps it is more than just the sunshine or the birds that are making me feel this way. Perhaps it is my new eyes.
Could it be these new eyes are seeing the endless possibilities that lie open before me? Could it be it is these new eyes that see that the long road of life’s difficulties could be opportunities in disguise?…or maybe it’s the way I’ve been looking at things without ever truly seeing, perhaps my new-found hope came from my inside and these new eyes are just the old ones peering at life from a different angle; from a new direction. Perhaps this wondrous day that lies before me is just like the string of others that came before it?
Perhaps it isn’t new eyes I have, just a new way of seeing.
Peace and Love to You,
***Links and Stuff***
New Eyes (The first post by me on Share Your Articles)
Today I was swimming in the creative juices of my fellow bloggers (please don’t picture this) in the deep end of my reader pool when I ran across the daily post’s daily prompt. I usually skip this as I am usually full of ideas, but this one called to me. It suggested I write down ten words off the top of my head, pick three, make that my title and write about it.
“What an excellent and intriguing exercise.” I said out loud to myself. ( I talk to myself a lot, think of THAT what you will) but anyway, to go back to what I was saying: I thought what a great, um… I mean… ‘What an excellent andintriguing exercise.” And do I ever need exercise. I admit that my writing muscles have grown somewhat flabby lately, perhaps it’s the heat. I don’t know but this idea by the fantastic people over there at the Daily Post got me going. I immediately made out my list of ten words off the top of my head.
As you can see I have a lot on my mind. Oh what a wealth of interesting subjects to write on I said to myself. (See how deep I am.) I was set to write all kinds of deep stuff. Fantastic thoughts and wonderful ideas swirled in my mind. So many that I became dizzy just thinking about them. “This is exciting!” I said to myself ( I told you I talk to myself a lot.) This is a chance to show everyone how really hip and happening I am. How I’m so smart and oh so deep. I gazed fondly at my ten words….
Which three to pick? I knew right away random would be one of them…I mean random is so well…random.
I have been reading this book on innovation; “Where Good Ideas Come From.” The author brings up the valid point that many good ideas come not from one individual mind dreaming up them up, sitting alone in a room and thinking-thinking-thinking…many if not most good ideas come from a collective of minds. A community. This brings to mind the community of bloggers here at WordPress and beyond.
This is an enriching place, this blogoverse. I will read some posts and get instantly inspired. I have had the luck, foresight or both to have run into some pretty smart bloggers out there with much to say and I have learned much from you. Today was no exception….and so as I was saying ( sorry, if I am rambling) I was immersed in this fun “problem” of picking just three words to write a mind-blowing and oh so deep post about.
What’s next? Random, mind and spirit popped up and instantly got me thinking…..hmmmm…sounds like Astral traveling; which could be an inexpensive way for a poor wannabe writer such as myself to see the world and bring along some of my favorite blogging buddies. Oh what a time we’d have! Skimming across The Atlantic..shooting to the Milky Way and beyond. I couldn’t wait to pack my bags when it hit me—no chocolate! I forgot to include chocolate on my list—how stupid and so not like me.
So this chocolate thing got me distracted I must admit. I was forced, I say forced to focus my mind with a largish bowl of creamy and no doubt, fatty chocolate ice cream… this seemed to calm me and my mind was then free to stumble about to places it should not go when I put together another triad of words: body, money and choice. Since this blog is PG rated I knew this would not do. I immediately put together three other words: truth, time and destination. This made of think of writing an action packed story about time travel! Whoo-ho! This is it! This is how I can show off my creative talents! I sharpened the imaginary pencil that writes in my mind and got to work only to realize that all the Science Fiction I’ve read in my life had come back to haunt me. I didn’t want anyone to accuse me of subconscious plagiarism as I discovered I was writing out the plot of H.G. Wells‘ “The Time Machine.” So another three words would have to do.
I started to wonder about myself and my sanity at this point. The good people at The Daily Post need me to come up with something great and witty and deep..did I mention deep before? Did I mention how wonderful and smart the people are over there at the Daily Post? (this is me sucking up by the way) Did I mention that in the almost two years that I have been putting out this blog that I have yet to be Freshly Pressed? (hint-hint)
And so back to the wondering…I am wondering what to do and then it hits me; the three words; random, seven and truth—The Seven Truths of Random,. How exciting and intriguing and…oh so deep. What a perfect title!
Instantly I remembered a quote:
“Life is random and fucked-up and arbitrary, until you find someone who can make sense of it all for you— if only temporarily.”
and then I remembered that I’m PG rated, and I have chosen not to use words like “fucked-up” oops. sorry….but the meaning is meaningful; many of us are looking for meaning. I know I am. For someone to tell us the truth and not just seven random ones but all of them. I thought I alone cannot but perhaps together we can. Sorry, this is where I admit that I don’t have seven truths for you, not even random ones but I do have something…a fantastic array of creative friends (that’s you guys by the way) that will never cease to inspire. THAT is the truth and nothing but…and by the way, thanks for that!
There have been some rumors going around about my strange and sudden disappearance from the blogoverse at large. Wild theories and stories have been bandied about the reason(s) for my abrupt departure. I need to quell the rumors and set the record straight. No, I have NOT been sunning myself on the beaches of the French Riviera with George Clooney. I know this has been written up as fact by some disreputable newspapers but this is not true.
Nor are the rumors true about me visiting The International Space Station, despite their desperate pleas, I don’t plan on making a visit anytime soon.
I have been vacationing however…an inevitable sort of vacation that seeps in when someone, such as myself, saturates themselves too thoroughly into something, even if this something is something they love….which for me is writing and thinking, neither of which I’ve been doing too much of lately.
It’s a mood and a plan of inaction; partially encouraged by little free time but mostly by a need to take it all in for a while and not think too much about it.
It’s good to get away from oneself at times, at least for me….or at least from my mind, which is usually running like mad with this and that. It is a natural part of my personality which most of the time I enjoy but it can lead to burnout which leads to a case of the nothings; this has rendered me temporality dull and dimwitted.
…and I’m temporarily enjoying it.
It could be the heat. My town of Portland has been sweltering in the summer sun, it is July after all. I have been enjoying some time outdoors when I’ve been able. My time has been limited for gardening and my garden has grown wild with my abandon. Nature is damn amazing. It never lets up. The grass keeps growing and the weeds keep popping up but my half-neglected tomato plants are thriving; one has the fun and fitting name of “Old German” and its the biggest tomato plant I’ve ever had. I picked up the old German when it was just a wee German at the farmers market a while back. It is an Amish favorite and I am looking forward to partaking in some tomaty goodness later in the summer. Everything in its own time….right!
and so…as the little voice in my head that tells what to write has been silent so have I…
I started this blog almost two years ago. During that time, this has jabbered on and on, a narrative that speaks to me in my own voice. It is smooth and articulate and it is a fast talker, nothing like me in real life. It has clamored on and on, never running out of things to say and then well, it became sort of preachy, edging on the bitchy and then just kinda petered out to dead silence.
…as strange as it sounds that is what’s going on, but hey, I’m getting a lot of reading done; tackling such