Memory

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2njHW9ydWs

We give names to fill  the empty void, feeling unsettled with our inability to name that which we don't understand. We create words to describe that vague unsettled feeling, we call it serendipity, coincidence, chance, luck, God, spirits, angels. The names are endless to combat the uncomfortable not-knowing.

We all search, it is our nature it is our destiny, to attempt to name the unknowable. I call it memory.  Before my great-great-great grandparents were born I existed, the wheel of fortune had already begun before my distant ancestors scraped by on their knuckles.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2njHW9ydWsWith each generation when they were no more when even the dust that was once their bones was no more they passed on something to each successive generation, they passed on their memories. Our DNA, RNA, our molecules, the air is heavy with the collective knowledge of all memories.

When I feel love, anger, sadness, the past has woken, passing down learned lessons. The past creates signposts in the confusing landscape mapping out and bringing to light paths and roads.

Stored in my memory banks is the knowledge that those who will come in the future will need. I am just a memory like those before and those after me.

Easter, Sister Mary-Elizabeth, Noah the Ark and raisin bread filled with threats.

I was made to go to Sunday school. As you can imagine I was a bit of trouble maker Sister Mary-Elizabeth did not like the fact that I was always asking why?


Why did he part the sea? Why didn't he just build some boats? Why can we only eat fish on Good Friday? Why is it called Good Friday?

Imagine Sister Mary Elizabeth's delight when she told us the story of Noah and the Ark and I applauded (she did a great job narrating that story)

Her eyes narrowed she was waiting for me to start with the Whys?

I had no why! Noah rocked! He got two of each animal! He was a real cupid? The ultimate matchmaker. Sister Mary Elizabeth informed my mother that as usual I was not grasping Catholic dogma. What is dogma? My mother gave me the look. I zipped my lip.

Back to Noah, I understood Noah, here was a man with a plan, a plan to ensure that even animals not feel alone! Noah was my hero! I wanted more info on Noah how did he tend to the animals, did the animals fall in love with each other, did they make babies? Imagine the look on my poor mother's face as I ask her all these questions while standing at the bakery line for our raisin bread. My mother hissed at me that if I didn't stop with the question no raisin bread for me.

Wow I had crossed a line no raisin bread, that threat had never been issued even when I committed the ultimate faux pas regarding the ash on the forehead by telling my mom that we were going to be murdered because we were marked with a sign.

Come to think of it I wonder how my mom managed to stay looking so young for so long with me as her daughter but I digress.

Back to Noah, I love G+ and social media because it gives me an opportunity to meet and interact with other brilliant individuals and create daily stories.

And lately I have been kicking around the idea of finding a partner in crime to write a story. Now if only Noah could just hook me up with my writing counterpart.

P.S. I am not religious, if you are religious that is AWESOME  but PLEASE KEEP IT TO YOURSELFF

P.P.S if you are also looking for another half to write something funny, witty entertaining drop me a line.

Ciao until next time.

Who owns me?

Sometimes a thought gets a hold of me and it burrows in my brain like the little hermit crabs on the beach.

I don't know when the idea first appeared, or how it became stuck. But I wonder who owns me?

I know I am free to make decisions, I make choices all day long, but when I stop to think of those choices none of them are completely free of external forces and entanglements. Time is my slave master and pimp.

Work is the judge on quality and output.

How is my value determined? If I say enough does that mean I am free to do within (legal) limits as I wish?

How do I know my real: desires, wishes, hopes, dreams independent of society?

Thank goodness my sister can't spell to save her life

Reading an email, text or web post by my sister usually involves a few false starts, squinting, silently sounding out the word  and looking at the entire sentence to understand what message she is trying to convey. I can honestly say that when my sister sends me a text I normally have to call her back just to ask her what the hell she meant.

Here is a perfect example of one of my sisters most repeated and frequent typo: in joy = enjoy. It took me a while to figure she meant enjoy and every time I corrected the typo. Every time I corrected the typo she responded "u know what I meant"

And I always answer back "yeah but it took me a while."

But today I started to think about it what if she really means in joy? Some how in joy sounds better than enjoy. In joy sounds like all kinds of marvelous wonderful things. All of a sudden I to wanted to "in joy" I was tempted to even ask her how I could go accomplish the in joy task.

Then I realized my sister was already in joy and if I had come to understand in joy I was half way to understanding its vague yet delicious meaning.

Granted I have no right to correct any one's spelling, I have more red underlined words than average. But now I am beginning to wonder when can a misspelled word become something greater?

http://www.thejoyhouse.com/LOGO%20Give%20Joy%20Get%20Joy.JPG

Lose and be happy? Or win and be abused?

The management warning signs were there from the very beginning the inconsistencies. The inability to make decisions. Deciding on one course of action only to decide days later that all the work should be trashed and a new course of action should be put in place.

So now I have been sumoned to the office. Yet again I find that I am still stuck on a carousel ride that speeds up, slows down, jumps up and down but never stops. The feeling of movement is an illusion because the carousel goes around in an endless circle. So I will sit, I will be reminded that I am lucky to be on the carousel ride and that others can easily take my place. I will be asked to read minds and perform magic.

In the past the carousel ride gave me motion sickness and the mind reading request made me nauseous. Now I am weary, I am jumping off, I will probably break something when I jump off, no safety net and it will hurt. But staying on this ride hurts more. I no longer have the energy to muster interest or a desire to understand new directives. I feel spent, but yet I also somehow feel closer to freedom. Unfortunately this freedom does not have a parachute

This freedom is only offering me a respite from stress that has pinched my nerves, a migraine that goes on for weeks, sleep that is disturbed and fractured by thoughts of "what if" meals half consumed because a stray thought will ruin the apetite and a sense of deep pain from mental and verbal diatrabes that are a zero sum win.

I am walking in tomorrow knowing that I am going to lose, but if wining means the same routine then I lost and never knew it.

I don't want the perfect photograpic shot I want one that speaks to me.

I love looking through photo-sharing apps and websites. I only took 6 years of art history. I am not an expert. I tend to like a piece because it touches, catches my eyes or is the beginning (or end)of a story.

Having said that not matter what  photographer does I am always left unimpressed by pictures of pets, flowers, clouds, beaches, mountain tops and please quit with the food and Starbucks pics already.

I love pictures of people going about there day to day existence. I also like pictures of things where they don't belong http://www.flickr.com/photos/lisbethej/8331569904/in/photostream This sculpture is across the street from the Georgia Avenue Petworth Library. Some day I will be less lazy and try to find the beginning of its origins but for now. The picture represents art in the every day. This is also one of my favorite pictures. All the gorgeous colors right in the middle of the street. People rush by it without giving it a second glance. http://www.flickr.com/photos/lisbethej/8330512411/in/photostream

Color me a helpless romantic but I love this picture. I know this couple very well and when you are standing in their presence you can feel their love. I love the fact that the mirror reflects their union in the presence of another dear friend. http://www.flickr.com/photos/lisbethej/8286461410/in/datetaken/

This picture has so many stories that I would rather that you give me your interpretation.

If you see someone randomly whipping out a camera and snapping pictures that is me. I don't look for the perfect shot I look for shots that tell a story.

Live Long and Prosper. Peace and Long Life.

Want to fail?

Failing involves more work than succeeding.

Try to control and manipulate every second of every hour of everyday.  If you are psychic you can skip this. For the rest of us its called life. Life is uncertain unpredictable, things, people, places events will all change. Change is an immutable absolute.  As you sit here reading your screen something in your environment, thought process has changed.  Some change will be good, some change will be bad. We don't get to pick and choose which we want it will happen regardless of how we live our lives. We can be devout  and go through our ritualistic prayers or we can be faithless masters of our own destines to each (wo)man change will visit on a regular occurrence. Change does not check your calendar, does not care about your schedule and is not interested in how you feel.

Sometimes Change is feeling kind and will provide you with a safety net and a parachute. Most times Change will leave you stranded in an unfamiliar road with no reception and zero batter on your phone. Change is so sneaky it will insinuate itself into your daily routines.

Does change lead to failure? No. What leads to failure is the belief that we can take change put it in a straight jacket throw it in a padded room and discard the key. The fear you feel about change is the road to failure. Fear is a slow moving toxic poison, fear does not discriminate it attacks the young and old. Fear seeks nourishment in times of peace and chaos. Fear will push you to look for other individuals who are also infected with fear. Together your fear will create a group that can nod knowingly at every negative prophesy that has come to pass.

Fear will tell you to keep your head, hands and eyes down because if not then you will have to confront life. Fear will take you not to bother with risks because you are
a) not special
b) not good enough
c) you don't deserve to change
d) happiness is for other people.
e) change is hard.

You don't have to commit a crime to go to jail, you can skip the unpleasantness of doing something bad and long judicial process. Instead, lock yourself into your mind, listen to know determine you have all the right answers, and even if you don't have the answer finding the answers can be scary so stay where you are. Let fear stroke your hair, caress your cheeks and whispers lies about your future and your potential.

If you don't want to fail

Remember this is life everyone gets it wrong 99.99% of the time. Every opportunity you get choose to show yourself. We all have something positive to contribute, many a days have been saved because early in the morning someone said :good morning good to see you"

Right now there is something you have the power to do that no one else has. Maybe you are the only other person your home but you can get up and make some tea for someone.  Maybe you are reading this on the train, go ahead offer you seat to someone who looks tired. I am a woman but I am always proud to give up  my seat when a construction worker or a nurse boards the train.

If you really to succeed and be happy remember: You and only you are responsible for your happiness. The beauty of being responsible for your own happiness is that even when you fail you can look in the mirror and say "hot damn we did it our own way."

"Live Long and Prosper" "Peace and Long Life" Vulcan greeting. 

Today and Tomorrow are a new day. 

Old people, wallets, treasure and money

I spent some time with my mom this past week and as always a dull moment did not occur.  My dear mama could have had a successful career in the CIA or NSA as she likes to snoop peruse my things. My wallet was lying on the couch next to me its contents about to completely spill out. Side note the last time I cleaned out my wallet was back in the year of Dubya reign presidency.

So my mom nudges the wallet and voila it all spills out, now I am not going to rain on my mom's snooping parade plus I will admit I too was curious to see what was inside. Next thing I know my mother laughs in glee she has hit the mother lode.

Eureka! Money yes foreign currency from all my travels.

Most people collect postcards, shot glasses or t-shirts. Me I collect currency, I like to keep it classy. My mom grabs the stash and fans it around she leans in close to me and says: "you know there is a currency exchange place down the street I think I will stop by tomorrow."

Anyone else and I would have battled over my vacation treasures. I looked at the rest of the spilled contents and sighed. I will clean out the wallet someday or maybe someone else will come along and find more buried treasure within so I don't have to do the dirty work.

Build a word in English

Writing is the act of capturing thoughts, feelings, objects, places, ideas in printed form. English has an extensive history of borrowing heavily from different languages when a suitable word pops up. After all it is much easier to say pass the shampoo than pass the hair care washing product.  Oh the word shampoo we English speaking folks borrowed that from Hindustani language http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shampoo

But let us not digress, from our new mission. I have noticed of late that certain words do not yet exist in our modern vocabulary so I am going to ask you for help.

First up we need a word that describes the act of buying a piece of technology only to discover an hour later that a newer better, faster, cheaper model has been released (buyers remorse is not fitting for this purpose) We need a word that captures feeling like we no longer are holding a piece of  technology that is awe-inspiring and will have people stop us and ask questions. The word needs to convey the sense of embarrassment we feel now carrying that form of technology and the feeling that had we waited one second longer we too, could have been cutting edge.

As you can see, it took a paragraph to describe what it feels like to buy technology today in these turbulent times and yet no words captures its essence. We are looking for a word that like oil from the petals will tell us ahhh yes perfume.

So drop your suggestions below. I encourage lifting words from different languages *see shampoo reference above* I also encourage creativity and above all elegance in brevity.

Ciao

What do the Kardashians have in common with Downton Abbey?

Disclaimer I have watched maybe 1 total episode of the Kardashians reality TV show. Downton Abbey on the other hand I have watched every episode some even twice.

The dialogue on Downton Abbey is razor sharp, Julian Fellowes packs a lot into a one hour episode. So much has happened on Downton that it is difficult to pick out a favorite episode, character, line etc. At the end of season 2 *spoiler alert* (do not keep reading if you have not watched the show and want to watch) Sybil is upset not because the war is over, because she will have to go back to her monotonous days. The war gave, Sybil and Edith something to do, Mary as always was busy being Mary.

Sybil and Edith found, purpose, passion and an outlet for days that before war were an endless stream of: finding a suitable marriage match. It is not hard to imagine why Edith and Sybil would have enjoyed the work that  came with the war.

Sybil and Edith are portrayed as bright, intelligent, and educated as was dictated at the time. Both Edith and Sybil realize that there is more to life than a new a dress, or hat. They want to use their minds and find meaning in life. Cora as any good mother wants what is best for her daughters and given the era that meant finding a wealthy husband.

Cora and Kris Jenner have a lot in common, they have daughters with limited talent, appeal, skills but they want their daughters to be financially comfortable and well connected.

This all leads me to question how critical I have been of Kris Jenner, history is full of mom's look to make suitable matches for their daughters. Please do not mistake this as a sign that I am endorsing Kris Jenner's parenting methods. I am only pointing out that she is very shrewd and willing to above and beyond for daughters financial well being.

And the cynic in me says that as usual there is nothing new under the sun that its just history repeating itself h/t http://edwardianpromenade.com/women/the-american-heiress/

Monsters are real

Filled with growing dread I walked down the long hall way slowly. Each time I passed by a set of office doors I cringed. Fractured splinters of conversations sliced through the air "finish it."

The sun was casting long shadows on the creating more gloom. I had taken a bathroom break but I would have to go back inside. I pulled up all my shields.

"Time is running out" the voice slithered across the room heads bobbed up and down in agreement.

A tentative hand went up as I slid into my chair I perched ready to flee at the first sight of blood. "According to the calendar you gave us we still have another month."

Cold dead eyes locked on the he who dared speak. "Do you know who I am?" The voice was cold and vicious, he was brave he was wearing his medal that would protect him from harm.

He picked up a copy of a piece of paper from where I sat I could tell it was a print out of an old email.

The air changed, it had been cloying and heavy since the meeting began but now it was completely leadened.

"It is dated." He didn't finish his statement, he never would, he was about to become a walking dead and he sensed that his death was near. He watched her the way an animal watches a venomous snake before it strikes. He had had been brave, logical, polite, he cared those were all errors and she would squeeze all those thoughts from him.

I knew what was coming, the beast needed to be fed and its victim had served itself up. She would feed off on his feelings. The paper in his hand wavered, he lowered it to the desk, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He sensed danger and he knew it was to late.

"I created the calendar with the deadlines, therefore I am the calendar." He flinched, he mumbled, he shuffled more papers in front of him. "Do you understand?" she asked her voice dripping with malice, he jerked and nodded dumbly.

Around him glazed eyes stared ahead, past victims, they no longer had any of the energy needed to appease the monster. Hope, compassion, kindness they had been drained.

The meeting was over, I had escaped yet again, but I knew that time was running out. I was hiding in plain sight and the beast needed a supply of fresh victims.

The 40 hour work week prison sentence

I sat at my desk, looking over the paperwork that would create my magnum opus my monthly report. And like any great American novel this report would contain the appropriate amount of fiction so that consumers would buy it. I stared out the window, I didn't need a weather report to tell me that it was low 80's with a soft, sweet wind and a sun that that would viciously disappear the second I set one foot out the door.

I looked at the mountain of paperwork and frowned, holy Christ it had doubled in volume in the brief seconds I had looked out the window. I closed my eyes.

My heart started to pick up speed, it was coming, like the distant buzz that would become the deafening rumble of a train as it made its way into the station. My heartbeat normal minutes before started to gradually increase in pace. 

Not now, I pleaded with myself, the begging only made the pain worse. The sweat started to form on my back and forehead, I wore layers in the overly air-conditioned room, soon I would be peeling the clothing off. 
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As if on cue to signal the arrival of a full blown panic attack my breathing became irregular.  Like a gazelle in the jungle sensing a lion my uncontrolled brain took over. 

Sweat started to run down my face and back., my heart jack-hammered so hard in my chest that my body shook.  

I was trapped, I had maneuvered myself into my own trap. The stack of papers on my desk doubled in size. I closed my eyes and tried to regain some control.

"You know what you have to do, you have to cut it off" the voice whispered in my head. The back of my chair was now drenched with the sweat with its own personal aroma of fear, despair and desperation. "Cut it off do it now" I shook my head terrified.

If I cut it off, how would I explain to my friends and family. If I cut it off the world would be a witness to my shame. 

"If you cut it off it will feel good" the voice spoke louder in my head. 

My hand was shaking so hard that my first two attempts were utter failure, I pressed the button and the laptop turned off. 

My heart increased until I was sure it would slam out of my chest. "Now take a deep breath" the voice spoke again, I hiccuped as I inhaled clean fresh air. 

I lost track of how long I sat in the chair, when my breathing was normal I straightened my spine in an act of defiance. I looked at the laptop loathing it with my entire being. 

"Now get up and walk out" the voice said the excitement was palpable, I sat frozen. It was one thing to cut the machine off, but to get up and walk out that way anarchy. If I walked out I could not come back from that. 

"Get up and walk out". I cant I whined what will people think. "Get up and walk out. 

The maniac that was renting space in my brain did not even try to pretend it heard my logical explanations as to why walking out in the middle of the work day was a no-no.

I turned my head but before I could look out the window, my eyes fell on the calendar where I faithfully ticked off each day as it came to a close.

I marked the passage of time on that calendar, in that moment the sun flooded the office warming me despite the arctic air conditioning. 

My hand inched closer until I grabbed my phone, I threw it into my purse.

I walked out, everyone says I should have given two weeks notice. But the voice in my head responds: "we gave notice and quit the second we started to count each lost day."

I overhead someone saying this was the coldest winter in recorded history, and yet the sun continues to warm me each day when I wake.

2012 in review: the end to a new beginning.

2012 like a candle with only the last bit of a wick is slowly about to be extinguished. I will always remember 2012 because this was the year that I let go of fear and started to put pen to paper words on screen.

Over the years I have lost track of the number of friends, acquaintances and random people who have asked me if I was an author and if so the title of my book.

I remember that I used to chuckle internally and think to myself "silly people authors are great people with amazing imagination not someone like plain old me"

Funny how we lie to ourselves and say "I am not good enough" or "Maybe someday" or "I will try." It takes courage to embraces ourselves warts and all especially when we are surrounded by critics.

Mentally I've been spinning and weaving my stories for so long I always assumed that most people entertained themselves the same way. 

So the next steps are the hardest proofing, editing, and editing. Yes I know I said editing twice it was intentional, I want my stories read good stories need a lot of editing if they are going to be read and appreciated.


I want to entertain others the way I can entertain myself, my goal is to publish in mid-2013 and if I am very lucky I will have entertained a few folks with a good yarn.

To all have a healthy, safe, prosperous New Year.

See you on the other side.

10 occupational hazards of writing

Occupational hazards of being a writer:

1. Neighbors and friends think you are a recluse.
2. People question your sanity.
3. People ask if they can be in your book.
4. Same people ask that they not be in your book.
5. People want to read it before it is finished.
6. People question your honesty at every turn as if fiction can over come the reality and truth.
7. People complain bitterly that you wont entertain them.
8. People complain bitterly that you entertain them and its not fair that they can't "compete."
9. People claim that it is "easy" for you to be creative.
10. Secretly sometimes you do prefer your characters to the people around you.

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I would also like to pose a question:

When was the first time you fell in love? Did it last?