Life stories 

    How many times have you found yourself thinking about the past? I am guilty of doing it often.  We are all a collection of stories,  some that we do not tell.  The reason why we don’t varies some,  depending upon the story. Some we are ashamed of,  some we think are going to be boring to the world around us. 

         I am finding out that sometimes those stories are more interesting than we realize. I try to be open about my history and tell my stories,  but some of them do not really sit on the mind as something that I need to tell. Yet,  each of them are a part of who I am.  I am a unique individual who has seen some of the darkness that lives in the heart of man.  I am a survivor who has learned to make do with what I have. And I am a woman who has seen both good and bad,  and came through it ready to try to tell my stories. I don’t know if I will ever be able to write all of the stories of a life survived,  or even if I should.  Not all of my mistakes are ones that any one would learn from… Even me.  Still for now,  I will attempt to continue to dribble my story in small gushes to this blog,  and to my poetry.  Perhaps my journey will aid those who stumble across my words. 

The growth and death of dreams 

         Dreams are what we build our lives on.  They are part of who we are,  and eventually of what we become.  Dreams that we do not work towards die off.  

         I am by nature a dreamer. I am doing what I have always wanted to do.  I am writing. Is it exactly as the girl I was at nine imagined?  No,  not really.  I am working on making it into what I need it to be. 

       Over the course of my life I have had other dreams.  I have always been a simple person. The biggest thing I have dreamed about is being stable,  having a home of my own.  Note I said home. For me there is a defined difference between house and home. House is where you live,  it is not yours but instead owned by another.  A home is somewhere that no one can make you leave.  I am nearly able to achieve that dream.  And it has been a long time coming.  I have been dreaming about my own home since I was fifteen. 

       The topic came up from a meme going around Facebook. The meme asked if I hit the lottery what is the first thing that I would buy?  Well I discussed it with Joe… And he said that the question is a wee bit unfair as it depends upon how much and when. Right now… If I hit for real money… My priorities would be different than they might be in a year. Right now… I would buy two vehicles,  pay off my home,  and effect some minor repairs. Then I would pay for the utilities for a year and stock up supplies for to help me through. Then admittedly I would stock up on craft tools.  ..💜

If you could win the lottery,  what dreams would you fill? 

Music soothes the mad poet… 

*image found on Google and only used for inspiration. 

            Recently I read a blog done about music and the effect it had on the life of the blogs writer.  It got me thinking.  So often life for me has revolved around the music.  The sounds of life have always been a rich and full part of who I am. I remember my Dad’s deep baritone singing “Amazing Grace” to me as a child. I remember going to see my great grandfather at his radio station and being enamored by it all.  I loved the poetry in the songs,  how it felt like your soul was understood by the person singing. 

          Grandma Ethel,  my Mom’s mom,  used to sit and listen to stories from her youth and she would share those with me.  Radio shows from another era.  She taught me to enjoy classical music,  how to close my eyes and visualize the music. 

         Music for my mom was such a rigid thing.  If it was not country,  she would not listen to it. And as a child,  in her house I was not supposed to listen to anything else either.  But daddy had records of all manner of song.  Stray cats,  and soft rock like it.  She would eventually learn to bend,  she grew to enjoy some bubble gum rock along with the country.  

                      I still remember the first time I heard real rock. My soon to be step brother had a cassette tape of Dr Feelgood.  I was eleven.  It felt wild and I was hooked.  I still enjoy country,  but I am eclectic in my music tastes. 

                Mind you I am skipping over bits of music and memory. I am trying not to ramble here.  The next influence was my first day of high school.  I was six weeks late because I had a child at fourteen.  I was scared to death of what high school would be. My elder step brother was dating this chick,  and man I looked up to her.  She was confident and sexy and badass. All of the things I knew I would never be.  Well she met me at the cafeteria doors holding a boom box.  It was blasting so loudly that the windows in the building were rattling.  Pink Floyd;  Another Brick in the wall part 3…Aka We Don’t Need No Education.  I can’t tell you how much better I felt about high school.  It was not that school was actually any better.  In truth it was a nightmare.  I just suddenly felt braver,  more secure.  

       Looking back,  every person who was ever a intimate in my life has a song.  My playlist is often a minefield of memories.  Some of which I have not even explained to my boyfriend of over twenty one years. Not because of anything other than the fact that I am done with the one who was once attached to the memory. 

        I may have been a singer and put my love of music to use,  except for the fact that I am unfortunately tone deaf.  I was not gifted with the beautiful singing voice that I would have loved.  It has not stopped me, i sang to my daughter.  I refused to deny her that bond,  both with me and with music. She still will ask for her lullabies when she is feeling bad. 

I sang four main ones to her.  “Hush little baby “,”the greatest love of all “(slightly mangled as i forget one verse), “rockabye baby ” (altered so mama catches as the original bothered me)  and the last is called the puzzle song. 

Lyrics for the puzzle song: *note I learned this is a chorus class in school and have no freaking clue who wrote it. 

I gave my love a cherry that had no stone,  I gave my love a chicken that had no bone,   I gave my love a ring that had no end,   And I gave my love a baby with no cry-in. 

How can there be a cherry with no stone?  How can there be a chicken with no bone?   How can there be a ring with no end?  And how can there be a baby with no cry-in? 

A cherry when it is blooming,  it has no stone,  A chicken when it is peeping it has no bone,  a ring when it is rolling it has no end and a baby when it is sleeping has no cry-in. 

What songs have made a difference in your life?  I would love to hear about them. 

Struggles, Beginnings and the peace gained 

     
           This is the garage door that started the journey for me.  I took this picture yesterday.  Six days from now I will have been with my boyfriend for twenty one years.  Some days that feels like a century… But I digress.  When we first got together,  his “grandma” (who was actually his adopted mother)  let us live in her garage.  She had a bathroom put in on the back porch of her house (and had him pay her back for it to teach the twenty one year old us about bills) but she never charged us for the utilities. At the time I was to headstrong to see the gift that she was giving us… She was stern and slightly scary to me.  I have learned that she really was an amazing woman since. 

          I can say that it was a struggle to make the garage into a home.  We ran gas lines for a stove.  We acquired a refrigerator from a local mission.  He and I slept on a large sofa we were given. I failed to appreciate the struggle then,  because at twenty one I was ignorant of the way of the world.  I had seen the darkness in man,  but I had really never had to do the housing thing.  When my family didn’t have a home I lived with my grandma.  So I always had a roof over my head.  The garage wasn’t even the worst place I have ever lived. I have lived ten people in a two bedroom trailer with no running water.  That is another story though. 

      Now Joe is working on getting the house.  He inherited a fourth of it and his adopted sister is giving him her share.  So we have only two halves to buy before it is ours.  This is a convoluted and stressful time for me.  I want to keep the memories of this house.  I want the stability for my family that the house will provide. But the house also has baggage.  Baggage in the form from of people who are currently in the house.  People who we are trying to get settled.  There is a lot involved with this. Add the fact that we are not able to settle in and you have the chaos of my life. 

      Then I looked at the garage door and felt like it had come full circle. Which is why I took the picture.  The feeling of peace came through in the picture. 

Define Art

According to Wikipedia… An artist is : An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art, practicing the arts or demonstrating an art. The common usage in both everyday speech and academic discourse is a practitioner in the visual arts only.

I find myself so often considering whether or not I should use the title of artist.  I know that I am an artist… But I feel like what I do doesn’t seem as good. Yes this is my anxiety talking. But part of the issue is art is truly subjective. I can look at a picture and feel like it is genius,  and then you can look and see it as garbage. The same thing goes for any kind of art…. Paintings,  poetry,  yarnwork, music.  With no baseline to measure the art against,  is it really any wonder how many artists fail to have strong self esteem?  Add the fact that you then are expected to,  if you want to make a living from the art,  find the way to sell these small expressions of your soul. It takes a huge amount of courage to even show another soul what you have done. Then deciding what you are worth?  Bah I see it as nearly crippling.

Peace

Peace

Those who don’t know me may not understand this. I am a pacifist. I really and honestly believe that violence does not solve anything. To my mind, violence only exacerbates any situation and makes it worse. That being said, I am deeply worried about the state of affairs in the United States. I feel like we went from the melting pot to the boiling pot overnight. I worry that the suicide rates will go up with this revelation of the new president and of the hardships we as a nation will be facing for the next four years. Don’t get me wrong. I am scared. But allowing fear to overtake me solves nothing.

We have to recover from the shock, and start to put our brains to use. This country is still the same, even if it feels different. There is laws to prevent the abuse I am seeing reports of on social media. There are places still to assist you if you are in danger. No one has the right to harm another person, no matter what the people who follow the hate believe.  Practice Kindness. It is needed now more than ever. Do art! Please put more beauty into this ugly world. Speak and write truth, even if it is disguised as fiction. We have so much ugly in the world, that many believe that is how things have to be…show them that it is only one way. Violence is NEVER the answer, and we as a species need to find out what is.  Please be good to each other. ❤

Broken concept

Ok… Let’s stop right now.  The use of the word bored. I had someone who I dearly love use this word recently and it stuck in my craw.  Boredom is a flawed concept.  There is always something that you can do to engage the mind.  As the parent of a very active pre-teen,  this is a lesson I have tried repeatedly to ingraine.  Money doesn’t have to be a block either.  Oh you are broke?  Is there a library or a park near you?  Well those are usually free. Nature walks allow time for contemplation. Also one could gather supplies to do simple crafts (easily found via the Internet…)  I am not saying crafting is for everyone. I did a I’m bored jar for my girl… Slips of paper to give her ideas.  If she said that she was bored then we would draw out a slip and do what was on it.  Not all were fun…

Here is some examples..

1. Sweep all of the floors in one room.

2. Play half an hour of a video game.

3. Read for thirty minutes.

4. Color one page in a coloring book.

5. Draw a picture…

6. Write a story /poem

7. Walk at least fifteen minutes,  take notice of all of your surroundings.

8. Do a craft… Any craft.

9. Listen to music and dance…

10. Write a letter to someone.

These are merely some possible ideas.  We play d&d,  so another option is to find a group of players and start an adventure.  Most libraries offer free Wi-Fi for card holders. There is many places to get free books for the Kindle app(which is available from the play store for Android,  not sure on Apple)…. Bookbub,  bookgorilla,  and a few others.  So even if you can’t do borrowing from the library there is a way for free books.  If you message a writer on Twitter or Facebook,  and offer to review for the chance to read it… Well some will be willing to do it.  Check your community for free events.  Home depot and lowes both have a craft each month that is free for kids.  I think that they also have ones for adults.   Saying that you are bored is in my opinion denoting a bit of a lack of imagination.  Let’s not have that!