Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Holding the line: Stream of Consciousness Writing for 10/7/2015

Some sort of Jazz is playing. My phone is on the speaker setting because I have been on hold now for maybe 30 minutes. Not sure though. I know I started at “You are caller number 8.” I am now caller number 2. Each time they update my caller status, they change the music. I think this is to distract me, or maybe to make it seem like time is passing faster. It is not passing faster. It is actually moving slower. You know when you get hyper aware of something? I am starting to get the tinniest bit annoyed. Now Smooth is playing by Santana, and I have always liked this song. I’m swaying a little in my seat. Feeling some groove coming on. I am playfully distracted now. But they haven’t updated my caller status in a while now that I am thinking about it. Maybe I'm number 1 caller and I don’t even know it. I kind of don’t care. So maybe their distraction tactic is working. I sort of feel panicky because any moment I am going to have to stop writing and pick up the phone real quick and engage the government. I kind of don’t want to do that now. I am no longer in the mood. But I have waited for 34 minutes so I should. If they ever pick up. The worst thing that could happen right now is my call gets dropped. I am now the number 1 caller in line. It’s kind of exciting. I am next for something. I am just trying to streamline my entry into the United States and I seem to be roadblocked. Do you sometimes forget passwords to all the things you have to have passwords for? I do. I even wrote it down and everything, which I feel is pretty good for me. Now it’s not right. What? And I am locked out of the government system. That’s why I am holding the line. I am still caller number 1. What in the world have the last 8 callers been talking about for the 39 minutes? I don’t think I want to know. I gotta go. I finally got a human on the line…

Monday, September 28, 2015

It's Monday! What Are You Reading?

Yep! It is Monday. It has been a long time since I have told you, my long lost blog, what I am reading. As you will soon note, I am all over the place. In a good way, but still.

Here goes!

H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald. I have been dabbling with this one for several months. Last night, I (re)picked it up and I am so thrilled I did. It is lush.

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nejisi Coates. This is an important book.

Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby. I am listening to this one, and it is an easy listen. I find Hornby books good for this. Engaging.

Orlando by Virginia Woolf. Been wanting to read this for some time. I have very little experience with Woolf. This, I hear, is a good place to start and I scored this at my favorite used bookstore, Better World Books, this weekend (along with Naked by David Sedaris).

Finished lots of great stuff too, but I need to leave something for my next post!!!

What’s going on in your reading world these days? And did you watch last night's Super Moon?

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

A Poem of Frustration

Each time I fix to write,
my fingers freeze up
and wither.
My mind is so pissed off
it scream,
“Come ON, Dumb-Ass!
spoon fed words
in dreams with popsicle promises,
and you can’t compose
fountain blue on white?
What good are you?”
My mind's lame bitch slap;
She needs to toughen up
'Cause the fighting is

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Let's Start Writing Again, Shall We?

Five minutes of unedited, stream of consciousness writing hosted by All Things Fadra.


Yep, I’ve been missing here for over a month. There are two reasons why, but it is mostly because I have not felt the ache to write. That's not exactly true and I will explain later. I used to write every day when I started this blog. The excitement was palpable. I couldn’t wait. Well, that was three and a half years ago.

I know the urge and the words ebb and flow. I’m patiently waiting for them to return in a documented form. The weird thing is, and maybe you do this too, I create posts, or morsels of them, in my head almost constantly almost daily. It actually feels I am writing. Mentally. And here, in my head, the words flow easily.

Yesterday, I Instagram stalked some blogger friends (I do follow them, so it wasn’t that creepy) who were attending Blogher. I have know idea where it is being held, but it looked like they were having a blast. They had cocktails in their hands! And I saw one of my hands down favorite writers/people. Kirsten from I immediately messaged her and she, of course, immediately got right back.

I told her I am happy because she is having a fabulous time. having fun and being recognized for her work. I also said, “I miss writing.”

She jumped on this comment immediately because she hasn’t been writing as regularly either and she proposed a pact. “Let’s start writing again. At least once a week.” Something like that. I agreed and it made me smile. I don’t know when I will start back but I think it will be after the summer. 

September 1st sounds like a good one, a start date, doesn’t it?

Monday, June 8, 2015

It's Monday, June 8th! What Are You Reading?

I am freaking all over the place! Sometimes I think it’s a good thing, and other times I don’t. Right now? Not so sure but this is what’s been going on in my reading world since last we spoke. Oh my! I just looked back and I haven’t shared books since May 11th! I am a very bad girl.

I finished:

The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain. I did enjoy it. If you like light stories about booksellers, discovered journals, searching and looking for love, this may be for you. Again, it is a bit on the fluffy side.

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. I have spent much time trying to find the proper words to describe how this book made me feel and how I felt about it. Heartwarming, happy, comfy family feelings. Insightful. Nostalgic. These are some of the words I found. It is an exceptional book of free-verse poems of the author's childhood, and growing up between two places she calls home. It's about lifelong friendship, too. I would read it if I were you.

Damage by Josephine Hart. Do you feel like squirming in your sit with discomfort, a book that darkly draws you into a man’s complete obsession and inappropriate relationships abound? If yes, do it! I don’t know what it says about me, but I really liked it. I discovered there was also a movie made with Jeremy Irons and Juliet Binoche. 

The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street by Helene Hanff. You simply must start with 84, Charing Cross Road (which I talked about here before) then follow it up with this. “84” tells of a friendship between a book lover and a book seller through letters from New York City to London. “Duchess” lets us visit London with Helene as she finally meets here friends face-to-face. I did NOT want this to be over!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am in the midst of reading:
The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison (essays)

H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald

Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsberg

Tell me what’s going on in your reading world! I always love reading recommendation!

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Saturday Nights Through the Decades

On Sunday over here, there’s this thing we do. Write for five minutes about whatever you feel like dumping (the good, the bad, or the ugly), but don't edit it before pushing publish. I’d like to give a shout out to my auto-correct today for fixing my misspellings and not replacing them with the usual nonsensical stuff.


Boy have my Saturday nights changed over the last quarter century. 

We first stayed in on Saturday nights because or kids were little and, frankly, we didn’t have the money for either a babysitter or TGI Fridays. We added ground beef to Ragu, poured it over spaghetti, made some toast, and called it dinner. They loved it! Maybe at ten o’clock when the kids were finally down, we’d have a bottle of beer. Some of the best Saturday nights of our marriage were spent like this.

When we couldn’t get our kids to stop growing so fast, so we rode the roller coaster of activities. Saturday night meals were often rotating drive-thru fast food, or whatever snacks I had in the back of the Suburban. We were a family on the run. Some of our best family memories were during this whir.

Then high school hit hard and our Saturday nights were spent organizing driving shifts with other parents. Maybe sneaking in a quick dinner out or a movie then playing “Rock, Paper, Scissors” for who would wait up. Because the curfew sheriff was always awake. Most Saturdays we wished the kids had their driver’s licenses already.

Wow, was ignorance bliss because once they did, Saturday nights meant no chance of rest until the keys were hung back up. And fingers crossed that curfews were made because who feels like playing “Bad Cop” at midnight, though we would if we had to. We were lucky here.

Being an empty nester, Saturday nights feel a little like being a kid in a candy store. Though whhat we secretly longed for was a text to know how you were. (I’m just being nice. We don’t worry about it all that much.) Wanting to know you are safe.

But still, ironically, the very best Saturday night feeling in the world may be having your kid tucked safely under the covers of their own bed and relishing in the chance to walk past their door, again, with the opportunity to peek in. 

That was my Saturday night last night.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Momma Told Me There'd Be Men Like Him

He speaks in perfect, no silky, words. Always patting my ass almost in passing. Biting my bottom lip perfectly. Then there’s the smile. And the perfect timing thing.

My momma warned me about men like “him”. 

They’ll notice your Milky Way eyes and spring in subtly. All narrow hipped and lithe. Magnetic, they are. You can’t look away, be away, stay away. So they'll pull you under. Because they can. By your hair. And there'll be no choice but to hold your breath. Surrender to the pain of pleasure, or the pleasure of pain. Whichever.

People write songs about them.


The 100 word prompt: SMOOTH

I wrote this for Velvet Verbosity. Go check it out!