Creative Rivers Flow

I truly believe that everyone has some font of creativity.  Most never see that streak within themselves. For some it comes out in form of fashion, In some it is an eye for color in Decor. Some write, some draw. Every creative act nourishes the soul.  So each person needs some way of expressing that. I personally think that those with an uncertainty and self doubt end up expressing more of a creative nature. Which is why much poetry and art has pain and darkness at it’s base.  All forms of creative expression are the mind’s way of dealing with extra stress and extra doubt.

Mind you, I am not claiming this is a bad thing. I applaud any way that leads the mind to cope with life. I think that creative expression of pain and doubt lead to much of the beauty in our world. It amazes me how much  beauty exists.  I am all over the place when it comes to beauty. Enjoying a well written song, a beautiful poem. Smiling over a gorgeous picture, a well done show. Eclectic in my personal decor and jewelry. There are many enjoyments I have in all forms of beauty and creative expression. What is it that you think of creativity? What is your thoughts on Beauty?

Drawing life

In All the things that my phone did, that I lost because the phone died, I lost  my access to a camera. I have a digital camera, but it eats batteries. I say that because I love doing art, in many forms. I draw, I practice amatuer photography, and I write.  I also do various crafts. Even with out my phone i do all of it but the photos because of the aforementioned camera difficulties. However, I just end up unable to share any of what I do, except the writing.

Perhaps it is a ego issue, but I enjoyed sharing my pictures and drawings. I felt like it was a good way to gather constructive criticisms. I admit it is also a chance for the random compliment fishing session. I don’t know of many creative types who don’t need to hear that what they have done is worthwhile. That is why writers publish what they wrote. Well, it is one of the reasons, anyway.  Many reasons exist why I want to share my art. It isn’t just my ego. I absolutely believe that art is meant be seen. Even if it is not of masterpiece quality. After all art is a piece of the artist’s soul. I believe in the beauty of an artist’s soul.

Teaching Chess to a preteen

Chess is a game of strategy. One that requires one to think their moves through very thoroughly. We are trying to teach our twelve year old the game. In teaching, her dad is making her explain why she makes the moves she does. He does this to make her think about why she is making the moves she does. When I tried to explain why Dad wanted the explanation, I told her in many ways chess was like life. You have to think before you act. Decide if it is worth the consequences of your actions.

I am a big fan of consequences. Every thing in life reacts to the choices we make. In the end of the lesson, it was decided that she wasn’t really ready for the game. She made it through over three quarters of the game. Claiming a headache then.  This is the second time we have tried. Each time it feels like she understands a little more, and each time it feels like we are able to teach her important life lessons. it is amazing how easy it is to squeeze life lessons into anything.

Separation

Such different people

We have become,

When once it seemed,

We would always be

One.

 

Growing, Changing,

I lost track

Of who we used

To be.

So innocent,

Foolhardy, and Unaware,

Growing Up,

Old and Cynical.

Dreams Become chasms,

Divisions of the heart,

Separations become memory

Reminders apart.

 

So in memory I’ll hold

Those times so close,

When you and I

Were inseparable and bold.

Catching a cliche

Well even though my phone was my main way of writing, I found a way. There is an android emulator for windows, Blue Stacks. I have been playing around with it off and on since it first came out a couple of years ago. It doesn’t work as good as my phone did, because the computer is old and slow. But it does work. So I downloaded my Notebooks app. I went to restore…as it has the option from dropbox and google drive.

Wouldn’t you know it, I accidentally backed up on the dropbox and when i tried to restore from Google drive, it couldn’t connect. so I was miserable wondering how i would be able to continue what i had been working on. Then i was looking at Kindle fire tablets. I may try and buy myself one for a birthday gift next week. I was looking in to app compatibility, and got to thinking, So i went to Dropboxes site to see if i could restore an older version of the file. Guess what? I can. So now i am able to write again. I swear i don’t normally do this. Tonight when I was trying to write, I kept  switching every few minutes to scrolling facebook. When I caught myself doing it, I felt like i had caught a cliche…a writer who is surfing more than she writes. Hopefully now that my setup is fixed, I will no longer hunt the cliche.

In the loneliness

here i sit uncertain and alone,
Planning uncertainty
for so little is known.
Hearing the negative,
so loud inside my head,
Tossing and turning.
can’t go to bed.

Those who should praise me
Do naught but to doubt,
Those who should see me,
For them i am not really around.
Invisible and struggling.
Sinking when I should swim,
The ocean of doubt crashes within
The struggle about
Just trying to begin.

I know better than to hear
The darkness within
I know i am better than I ever
possibly have been.
Yet in the loneliness,
Deep in the night,
That is when the voice within
is hardest to fight,
when no one is there
to help fight it off.
no one is there to remind you
of the cost

How has the times changed…

I remember as a Preteen hating to wear my hair short. I have always been bulky and slightly tomboyish. So I was picked on because apparently I looked like a boy…even though I had breasts. So I always wore my hair long back then. I fought for the ability to wear it long. Tonight I had a talk with my preteen daughter. She fights to wear her hair short (because it requires less care). I asked her if she gets picked on because of her hair. Her response was that she doesn’t get picked on, apparently she is invisible.
I guess in these times of gender neutrality it makes sense. I was her age in 1988…so many things have changed in that time. There are other differences as well. In my daughter’s time there is so many more hazards that were either not there or not obvious when I was her age. I remember the struggles and try to use that when dealing with her, but even with that memory it is so different for her than it was for me, so there are times when the generation gap feels like a chasm.

Technology is both blessing and bane

        Last night i had the most horrific thing happen….my Phone died. Now understand….My cell phone was basically a tablet…i used it for everything. It was my calendar,  my communication, my camera, my kindle, texting,  my writing tool, and my gaming device. Everything except a phone. I may loose progress on some of my writing because of this. I have a laptop that i borrow from my boyfriend. It is a older model, windows xp laptop. It is missing the backspace, the tab and the m keys. It so doesn’t have the CPU or the hard drive space to do much more than simple programs…however until i can replace my tablet…i have no choice. I am not out on the streets broke, but there is no extra money. I am scraping to try and get a vehicle, and of course my microwave broke as well. So yes, i cannot afford the extra expense of a tablet. Which for me means suffering to write on this crappy laptop. It means dealing with the extra headache of accessing WordPress through an android emulator because the browsers on this laptop seem to have issues with most pages. It means in order to blog or even try and update my author page on Facebook I will have to sit down and actually fight this beast. So though i am enjoying the blogging and enjoying the spurt of writing i have been doing lately, it means life will likely interfere a wee bit more. Please bear with me. I will update, but it may not be daily. I am going to get me  another tablet, it just may take me some time.   thank you for understanding, or i am sorry if you don’t. This is just how my life goes.

Elizabeth. Chapter two

            Suzanne stared blankly at the yellowing paper. Surprise too mild to describe the thoughts she was having, she quickly sat and reread the framed  handwritten note. Looking around at the artifacts in the attic, she decided she had to know what happened to this poor girl. She left the rest of the artifacts for later.
               Having inherited gram’s old house was going to be more interesting than she thought. Running her fingers through her red hair, she smiled and hurried to the phone. Quickly finding the number she needed, she felt impatience as all she reached was a voice mail. “Joe, this is Suzanne. Remember the joke about the museum inheriting when I did? Well, I doubt it is a joke. I need you to find someone. A girl from 1498 England. Elizabeth, last name unknown. Noble, probably accused of witchcraft. Red Hair and noted for healing the ill. Need I say asap?”  Frustrated she looked at the mirror above the phone. What else could she do to find this girl? Research was never her specialty. That was why she employed Joe. She looked over the image in the mirror and wondered what the connection was. Could she be finding family history? The tempestuous storm of emotions raged in her green eyes. 
               Shaking her head, she glared at the phone as if it could make Joe call sooner. Well she thought, nothing to be solved by staring at the phone all day. Grabbing her cell and the cordless, she went back to the attic in hopes of finding more documents or other info to go on.
                   “Gram sure left me a mess” she grumbled to herself. Feeling uneasy about where this was going, she tried to put the hesitation about the attic out of her mind. Taking the stairs to the attic in twos, her long legs quickly covered the space back to where she was. Glancing around for something of interest, her eyes landed on a half-covered painting in the rear of the attic. Curiosity poked her until she walked to it and took the paper off. The eyes that looked back at her were as green as her own. Flaming hair and soft features, beauty indeed. Yet the eyes held a sadness, as though the owner had seen hell and lived through it. The portrait frame had a small plaque. Baroness Elizabeth West 1500 AD. Suzanne was captivated by the possibilities as the phone began it’s jangle. Three times it rang before she clicked the button to answer. “Go” she barked distractedly. “Well Sue, found her. Easier than your usual requests. She was a baroness on a isle east of Ireland. She was apparently the daughter of a minor lord before the trial. Seems there was a scandal about her escape from prison. The official paperwork actually listed her as not only a witch but as being wanted by the british police for sentencing.” Joe recapped. “If ya want I can fax it all to ya. I guess the Irish nobility didn’t look too closely at who they married. Huh?” Sighing Sue replied “Sure send it. Thanks Joe.”  Joe was quicker than usual Suzanne thought. She made a mental note to thank him for the research more financially later. There was so many questions. Her writer’s mind was already trying to piece the puzzle of this obvious ancestor together. The similarity in appearance was stunning. Trying to sit, she accidentally bumped a box. The box toppled over revealing several large books.
She knelt down and started looking the books over. “Hmm, Journals? I wonder. I think I will move this box and any like it downstairs. This is a form of research which even I can enjoy.”