Friday, April 27, 2012

Fairy Tale Friday: Mad Masterpieces

So many fabulous participants madly adding to the fun. Here's today's Fairy Tale in 10 Mad Masterpiece renditions -- click on the pic to enlarge:

The Enormous Bumblebee
Adapted by Z

The Ball Cutter Fish
Adapted by Shaun

link to original here

The Reddish Eel
Adapted by Shasta

The Sleepy Joe (in a Bad Mood)
Adapted by Sleepy Joe

Adapted by DR

link to original here

The Knock-Knock-Knock
Adapted by Heth (aka Kins)

The Voodoo Doll
Adapted by Chubs and Slim Evans

link to original here


The Joker (as played by Heath Ledger)
Adapted by Caitlyn

The Plaid Barney
Adapted by Hubs (of course I wrangled him into this?)

East of the Sun, West of the Moon
Original by Asbjornsen and Möe, Condensed by dbstevens
This is only a snippet, the story continues here (though I had nothing to do with the SurLaLune abridgment (and definitely check out the annotations on their site -- they make the story so much better)).

link to original here

So many thanks to everyone who participated. If there are any mistakes, blatant or otherwise, I apologize. The fault is on me, not those who did the adaptations.

Happy fairy tales and weekend wonders, everyone!

Moment of Magic today:

I had 10 of them, and they were all so awesome.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

300 Words or Less: Call for Madness

300 Thursday again, where I'm posting bits of original work -- teasers from the novel I'm working on, some of my favorite poetry or prose I've done in the last few years, maybe some flash fiction or short essays, etc. -- all within 300 words or less.

Today's tiny pleasantry is a plea for participation:

Call for Madness  

Are you mad for mad libs like me? Yes or no, friend or foe, please answer my plea -- these are my needs:

1. Number
2. Two things you need to survive
3. Favorite Season
4. Onomatopoeia for something repeating three times (ex: “thwack, thwack, thwack”)
5. Size adverb **Update: me thinks I was tired when I wrote this? I meant to say adjective. Appologies for any confusion.
6. Color adverb **Update: again, I meant adjective. Sorry y'all.
7. Scary person, thing, or animal
8. Common greeting
9. A complete thought, random or otherwise
10. Verb ending in “ed”
11. What would your reply be to someone saying, “You don’t look like you want to do this. Are you afraid?”
12. Place
13. Type of building
14. Flat object
15. Verb

There are multiple ways to reply: in the comments, any of the "contact me" options, or answer on your own blog/FB (or whatever social networking forum you prefer) account and then let me know so I can come take a look. 

Check back tomorrow and you'll have your very own Mad Masterpiece. What better way to start off your weekend?

Thanks y'all, and just one more day til Friday? Righteous.

Moment of Magic today:

This is exactly how I was saying, "Righteous" above. And does anyone else feel like this has been how their week's going?  


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Mission Totally Possible

link to original here
Your mission Reader, should you choose to accept it:

The Quick Version (this will take you all of one minute):

If all you have is one minute, stop reading this now and just go here to give up some comment love. Follow, if you dare, then move on your merry little way. Do a good deed for the day? Check that one off your list. Done.

The Extended Version (reading this? Maybe a minute. Commenting at 's blog? One mere minute more):

Blogging takes the sacrifice of time, effort, blood, and tears. You and I know this. Well, maybe less blood and more time, lots of time, depending on how strict we are with our...oh, you know what I mean. I could go on and on, but that's not the point of an extended version.

There is a Blogess out there who needs some love. She's been uber busy (I'm pretty positive you know how that feels) and has been making lots of big decisions and changes in her life lately. With so many balls up in the air, she wasn't able to get back to the blog for over a month? Time, time, so little time.

But she's back.

The mission, then, is to visit her most recent post and send her positive energy, welcome back encouragement, pieces of sincerity, and/or precious bits of you. Because we all know what it is to have "one of those days" (or weeks? Maybe the feeling stretches out into months?), where it's all too much and you feel like it's hard to even breathe sometimes.

And then something magic happens -- a complete stranger, out of nowhere and for seemingly no reason, looks you in the eye and smiles. It could be in the grocery store, the bank, waiting in line for the restroom. Regardless of where this magic takes place, it's awesome. When the stranger grins, their eyes crinkle, and that's how you know it's real. And then they look away, move past you, and life moves on. But the heavy load has been lifted, even if just for that moment, and you remember things always get better eventually.

needs your virtual smile, and you could just pass this moment on thinking some other stranger will do it. What difference does your smile make? Or you don't have time yourself? Or this is all just so not interesting to you?

You make a difference. If you make the time, just one minute to pop in and say "Hi," I'm thinking someone will do the same for you somewhere in the near future when you're most needing it. And if this is just not interesting -- well, fair enough. I get it. But. It only takes one minute.

The Ultra-Extended Version (for the die-hards, though honestly if you've gotten this far the rest is all down hill):

More detail and backstory can be found here and here. Enjoy. 

As always, should you or anyone in your IM force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck Reader.

link to original here


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Nebulous Thought and Newish Things

One of my favorite thoughts ever:

link to original here
Muffins? I’m not sure I totally get this question–why muffin when you can cupcake? -- Ally Condie


I love Ally Condie's archives. This may not be the best example (though obviously I think so), but they're full of great writing thoughts, life thoughts, lovely things thoughts. Definitely check them out if you have the time.

With that being said, my newish things are:

1. Many thanks to people's advice here. I've taken your suggestions to heart, created a more sensible schedule I can follow, and on those days I actually do it, things have streamlined a lot better. Therein lies my intrinsic incentive to follow it daily, eh? So far I love it.

2. I've updated my current project page, set a new deadline for August, and a question I was asked this weekend: "Yeah, Deb, but is your deadline realistic?"

My answer, with accompanying shrug: "I think so? I don't really know, I guess. It seems like it, based on my pace for writing the first draft. I'll see, I suppose."

What I do know is that I work better with deadlines, so I've got to have something in place whether it's a working deadline or one that's more fixed. I'll test out these waters. Here's how I've broken it down:

  • Section 1: April 23-May 18 -- 55 pages that need to be revamped.
  • Section 2: May 21-June 20 -- 45 pages to revise.
  • Section 3: June 25-July 23 -- 53 pages.
  • Section 4: July 25-August 25 -- 30 pages, but this one needs the most work and adding-on-to.

This doesn't include blogging. I have a whole different schedule for that, but as for noveling, I've tried to keep in mind and work the dates around our anniversary, movie nights, the 10k in May, summer holidays, Sundays/rest-days, birthdays. I'm sure there are things in there I'm not accounting for? Things that will pop up and surprise me as the days plow by? Still. Testing out the waters.

What works best for you? To deadline, or not to deadline? And do you guys have writing schedules? If so, I'd be very interested to see what that looks like for you. Anyone willing to share?

Moment of Magic today:

Inspiration for revamping -- I'm not sure I loved the original version of this song, but this one? *Sigh* Lots of love. Maybe the next version of my book will be like that too.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Fairy Tale Friday: Modern Lens

As far as I can tell, this thing has been kicking around in some form or another since 2009? The original author is unknown, as most fairy tales go, and I'm wondering what that person is thinking now that their story is being picked up and circulated, yet again, for the umpteenth time. Is she smiling? I hope so.

I'm also interested in the range of reactions I've seen, the type of sites and blogs it's been featured on, the pictures that have accompanied it. There's surely something to be said for the time of year it's resurfacing too, eh?

And now I'm interested in what you think. Here's the story -- have you already read it somewhere else? What were your initial thoughts? Did you have a strong reaction to it, or not really? And more importantly -- why?

Tara Lynn: picture from FB, Huffington Post
Mermaid or Whale

A while back, at the entrance of a gym, there was a picture of a very thin and beautiful woman. The caption was "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?"

The story goes, a woman (of clothing size unknown) answered the following way:

Dear people,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, seals, curious humans), they are sexually active and raise their children with great tenderness.

They entertain like crazy with dolphins and eat lots of prawns. They swim all day and travel to fantastic places like Patagonia, the Barents Sea or the coral reefs of Polynesia.

They sing incredibly well and are sometimes even on CDs. They are impressive and dearly loved animals, which everyone defend and admires.

Mermaids do not exist

But if they existed, they would line up to see a psychologist because of a problem of split personality: woman or fish?

They would have no sex life and could not bear children. Yes, they would be lovely, but lonely and sad. And, who wants a woman that smells like fish by his side?

Without a doubt, I'd rather be a whale

At a time when the media tells us that only thin is beautiful, I prefer to eat ice cream with my kids, to have dinner with my husband, to eat and drink and have fun with my friends.

We women gain weight because we accumulate so much wisdom and knowledge that there isn't enough space in our heads, and it spreads all over our bodies.

We are not fat, we are greatly cultivated.

Every time I see my curves in the mirror, I tell myself: "How amazing am I?! "

Now to tie this back into fairy tales, albeit through a modern lens, Carrie Hughes goes into detail about why fairy tales may be so important to our psychology, though where she says 'children' I would input 'people in general':

"...Fairy tales are an important tool for children learning to navigate reality and survive in a world ruled by adults. The family conflicts and moral education of the protagonists (conveniently often children themselves) could provide models of coping. “Fairy tales are loved by the child…because—despite all the angry, anxious thoughts in his mind to which the fairy tale gives body and specific context—these stories always result in a happy outcome, which the child cannot imagine on his own.”

Does this story create for you a model of coping? Here's one interesting reaction I found, and here's another. But again, I'm really more interested in what you think. What were your reactions?

Moment of Magic today:

I'm pretty sure I've never heard whales singing before? Putting it on my wish list for life...

Thursday, April 19, 2012

300 Words or Less: Variegated Rapture

300 Thursday again, where I'm posting bits of original work -- teasers from the novel I'm working on, some of my favorite poetry or prose I've done in the last few years, maybe some flash fiction or short essays, etc. -- all within 300 words or less.

So for my noveling I'm at research-stage and I'm looking into shapeshifters. This idea has always fascinated me. What about you? Do you love it? Squinch your nose at it? Could really care less?

My current project isn't about shapeshifting as a fully formed thought, but rather an undertone. I don't know if that makes sense? For now, this is kind of how I'm using it (though this short-short isn't at all part of my novel. SoSo is one of my characters, but that's about it):

Variegated Rapture

link to original here
Reminiscing, Fiona thinks, It’s not so much that I'm a shapeshifter, because nothing really changes. It's more like I'm added-on-to. Upgraded, maybe, or accessorized. 

Fi knows her share of shapeshifters, proud people claiming their birthright with the ease and grace of walking. Their mothers teach them shifting before walking, even, which is perhaps why that basic human skill seems so second-nature by the time they get around to learning it.

“What’re you thinking about, my little angel?” Liam rolls to his side, propping his head on his hand and smiling a sleepy grin. 

Fiona looks up and sighs, “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“But I’m not.”

She slides back into silence. He waits.

Without any mother to speak of, or at least none that claimed her, Fiona was left to learn everything from her half-sisters. Though SoSo is doting, she’s busy. The others are interested when it serves them. At best, Fi could say she’s received a variegated education, having to piece things together herself.

At worst, she could say she is screwed. Perhaps that’s why things still seemed so out of order. Unclear.

“I’m thinking about my mum,” Fi finally answers.

Liam has been slowly drawing his finger along the lines of her high cheekbones, her lips, her long neck. His touch is light, teasing, as he continues his unhurried exploration down.

“What about her?”

“I don’t know,” Fi purrs, relaxing and stretching into his hand.

Rumbling deep, he pulls her length onto him, whispering, “Do your thing.”

Fiona hesitates, though, pushing slightly away. She isn’t supposed to; it’s considered a waste. But she loves how he plays, how he laughs. 

She’s caught. 

Eff it, she thinks, her form blurring. She scoops him up and wraps them both in her wings. Angelic love is perfect. Rapturous. But now she’s truly in trouble.

Hmmm. What do you think about the present-tense? I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with it. I feel like I'm taking notes, or something, but thought I'd try it out.

Created in part for the GBE 2: Blog On week #48 challenge

Moment of Magic today:

Because it seems to serendipitously fit?


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

This is Me

(thanks to Lazy W for round-about getting me to this) link to original here

This is me. Minus the facial hair, that is, but the crazied look? Me to a T.

I'm that way about Nutella, about my kiddos and Hubs, about coffee, about Chaco sandals and Tribal Style earrings. And about blogging.


I've been putting more of my energy into blogging, lately, than I have into my noveling, and I don't like it. Not one bit. It's causing me a huge amount of anxiety, honestly, which isn't great since I have such a fondness for Nutella. Stress? Input Nutella. More stress due to the amount of Nutella input?


My usual mode of operation is to do away with something if it's causing me stress or too much grief. This is not the healthiest of reactions, I know, but a viable option for survival.

Do away with my blog, though?

Uh. Not likely.

Do away with my novel, then?

Uh. No way, man.

Do away with the children, then. Family, obligations of keeping up the house, etc.

Ha! Really? Not even an option.

How do people out there seriously balance everything they want to do? Thoughts? Suggestions? Crazy-but-hear-me-out comments?

**Update: So many awesome answers. Deeply and sincerely, thank you! Also, here's a link from Terri Windling who suggests a bit of time to allow yourself to do the things you want to do, not just the things people expect you to do. She calls it, "living unplugged." An excellent post.

Moment of Magic today:

Checking in with some of my favorite bloggers today, found this bit from Amanda Hocking and I'm outright stealing the video idea/research from her, but you should definitely go read what she says. It makes me happy in all sorts of it's-okay-to-be-human ways. It'll explain the video better than I can, if nothing else. Much thanks to her :) 

Friday, April 13, 2012

Fairy Tale Friday: Fairy Ointment

It starts out like this:

First of all (and I apologize that this may be a tiny bit off topic?), I'm not sure who May is, but I do know that if Hubs started anything with the dedication of, "To my Dear Little Deb," I'm positive I would just melt in the most delicious way. For whatever that's worth.

So have we all heard of Joseph Jacobs? I hadn't until recently, and if you're like me in this you can find some basics here and here.

His English Fairy Tales begins with the above introduction, and continues on to retell a bunch of old favorites. He classifies them as: "Of the eighty-seven tales contained in my two volumes, thirty-eight are Märchen proper, ten sagas or legends, nineteen drolls, four cumulative stories, six beast tales, and ten nonsense stories."

You can find the book in its entirety in many places online. For an amazing archival experience I suggest going to Project Gutenberg. If you just want the book with easy links to each story, Philipp Lenssen has put together a great page here where you can do that.

All this is to say that it's from Jacobs' book that I bring you today's Fairy Tale, which actually includes fairies this time. Fabulous? Yes. It includes the word "squinny." Even more fabulous? Most definitely yes.


Fairy Ointment

Dame Goody was a nurse that looked after sick people, and minded babies. One night she was woke up at midnight, and when she went downstairs, she saw a strange squinny-eyed, little ugly old fellow, who asked her to come to his wife who was too ill to mind her baby. Dame Goody didn’t like the look of the old fellow, but business is business; so she popped on her things, and went down to him. And when she got down to him, he whisked her up on to a large coal-black horse with fiery eyes, that stood at the door; and soon they were going at a rare pace, Dame Goody holding on to the old fellow like grim death.

link to original here
They rode, and they rode, till at last they stopped before a cottage door. So they got down and went in and found the good woman abed with the children playing about; and the babe, a fine bouncing boy, beside her.
Dame Goody took the babe, which was as fine a baby boy as you’d wish to see. The mother, when she handed the baby to Dame Goody to mind, gave her a box of ointment, and told her to stroke the baby’s eyes with it as soon as it opened them. After a while it began to open its eyes. Dame Goody saw that it had squinny eyes just like its father. So she took the box of ointment and stroked its two eyelids with it. But she couldn’t help wondering what it was for, as she had never seen such a thing done before. So she looked to see if the others were looking, and, when they were not noticing she stroked her own right eyelid with the ointment.

No sooner had she done so, than everything seemed changed about her. The cottage became elegantly furnished. The mother in the bed was a beautiful lady, dressed up in white silk. The little baby was still more beautiful than before, and its clothes were made of a sort of silvery gauze. Its little brothers and sisters around the bed were flat-nosed imps with pointed ears, who made faces at one another, and scratched their polls. Sometimes they would pull the sick lady’s ears with their long and hairy paws. In fact, they were up to all kinds of mischief; and Dame Goody knew that she had got into a house of pixies. But she said nothing to nobody, and as soon as the lady was well enough to mind the baby, she asked the old fellow to take her back home. So he came round to the door with the coal-black horse with eyes of fire, and off they went as fast as before, or perhaps a little faster, till they came to Dame Goody’s cottage, where the squinny-eyed old fellow lifted her down and left her, thanking her civilly enough, and paying her more than she had ever been paid before for such service.

Now next day happened to be market-day, and as Dame Goody had been away from home, she wanted many things in the house, and trudged off to get them at the market. As she was buying the things she wanted, who should she see but the squinny-eyed old fellow who had taken her on the coal-black horse. And what do you think he was doing? Why he went about from stall to stall taking up things from each, here some fruit, and there some eggs, and so on; and no one seemed to take any notice.

Now Dame Goody did not think it her business to interfere, but she thought she ought not to let so good a customer pass without speaking. So she ups to him and bobs a curtsey and said: “Gooden, sir, I hopes as how your good lady and the little one are as well as––”

But she couldn’t finish what she was a-saying, for the funny old fellow started back in surprise, and he says to her, says he: “What! do you see me today?”

“See you,” says she, “why, of course I do, as plain as the sun in the skies, and what’s more,” says she, “I see you are busy too, into the bargain.”

“Ah, you see too much,” said he; “now, pray, with which eye do you see all this?”

“With the right eye to be sure,” said she, as proud as can be to find him out.

“The ointment! The ointment!” cried the old pixy thief. “Take that for meddling with what don’t concern you: you shall see me no more.” And with that he struck her on her right eye, and she couldn’t see him any more; and, what was worse, she was blind on the right side from that hour till the day of her death.

Moment of Magic today:

Time for you to share...what was your magic moment today? This weekend? 


Thursday, April 12, 2012

300 Words or Less: Home is a Guild Hall

300 Thursday again, where I'm posting bits of original work -- teasers from the novel I'm working on, some of my favorite poetry or prose I've done over the last few years, maybe some flash fiction or short essays, etc. -- all within 300 words or less. 

So shall we try a little poetry again? Here's a little something about home:

link to original here
Our Guild Hall

Written on,
I'm spitten on.
By me,
by you,
by them.
On I spit,
on you I spit,
turning you on
the spit of my fire.
you're fawning,
I'd sing to you with my lyre.


We're all liars.
We burn on our own funeral pyres.
And eat each others'
funeral potatoes.
The day is grey --
perfect for a lot of cheese.
That's the way I smile:
For you, especially.
Because you are special.
A blue-light special,
that only I can buy.
If anyone else tries?
I will sever their heads:
an out-of-body experience.

You and I, we will love,
armor and all.
We'll build a guild hall.
Our cape will be beautiful and proud --
like you are beautiful and proud.
And I am beautiful and proud.
I am sitting,
waiting for you.
I know you.
I will wait for you through forever.

And if that wasn't your favorite image of home, here's an alternative:

And if that still doesn't hit home for you, feel free to share your version in the comments. What is home to you? A certain fish tank? Perhaps a certain pair of shoes/sandals? Maybe it's your dog, or your partner, or your child who makes you feel at home. What are your thoughts?

Moment of Magic today:

Giving advice to a friend this morning, I paused mid-sentence to realize I was talking to myself. Not in any literal sense, because she was obviously listening (though not very happily so), but rather in a, "Oh, I suppose this would be good advice for me to apply in my own life as well," sense. Huh. So I suppose the magic was in the friendship, the pause, the advice, the recognition.


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Tip Jar: The Red Dress

link to original here
Many thanks to The M Half at The M Half of the M-n-J Show who introduced me to the Red Dress Club, aka the insightful people over at Write on Edge. Apparently she inadvertently introduced me to Jenny of The Bloggess too, who is making my sassy-side smile deviously, so double my "many" thanks to M for being that awesome. 

The writer in me is loving the Write on Edge site and urges all y'all other writers out there to trundle over in that direction when you have the time to put your feet up and peruse. I don't think you'll be disappointed. And it is from their "About Page," where they quote the aforementioned Bloggess, that I bring you today's tip:

link to original here

"I want, just once, to wear a bright red, strapless ball gown with no apologies. I want to be shocking, and vivid and wear a dress as intensely amazing as the person I so want to be. And the more I thought about it the more I realized how often we deny ourselves that red dress and all the other capricious, ridiculous, overindulgent and silly things that we desperately want but never let ourselves have because they are simply “not sensible”. Things like flying lessons, and ballet shoes, and breaking into spontaneous song, and building a train set, and crawling onto the roof just to see the stars better. Things like cartwheels and learning how to box and painting encouraging words on your body to remind yourself that you’re worth it.”

For many of us, our Red Dress is our dream to become a published writer. Maybe we just need a little extra motivation.

Maybe we just have to try to Write on Edge."

So writing on edge? An interesting visual, interesting idea. I have my own thoughts on this, but I'm wondering what it brings up for you. I dare you to share?

Total pages logged as of today:

183. This doesn't really show my progress on my noveling project, though, since that's my first rough draft and now I'm working on back story, character sheets, editing and research, so I'm trying to think of another way to show what I'm doing and how it's coming along. Suggestions? Is this even interesting to people reading?

Moment of Magic today:

Hubs once said my difficulty with getting up pre-8 am was so bad it could be regarded as a disability. Heh. Maybe so. But today I got up at 6:30? Yes that's right. To run, even. No, there was no emergency I was running to or from. It was the Eye of the Tiger, baby. I'm running a 10K with the Fam in May. *cough* That's not very far away.

So 6 am training sessions? I'm definitely going to need some magic here. Eye of the Tiger revamped, even:

Friday, April 6, 2012

Fairy Tale Friday: Happily Ever After & the Easter Bunny

My calendar shows me that today is many things: a full moon, Good Friday, and Passover starts at sundown. It’s the beginning of Easter weekend, with all sorts of yummy candy and baskets and brightly painted eggs. 

I woke up this morning to a yard full of snow. Blech.

link to original here
But this afternoon the sky is blue, the sun warm and powerful. Now it’s the frozen water that's clinging desperately to branches, rather than the delicate green leaves. Score one for the blossoms. 

The seasons have officially turned, rogue winter storm or no (Heh. Did two X-Men characters just inadvertently pop into your head like they did mine?).

So today’s Fairy Tale Friday brings us two things: “Happily Ever After,” and the Easter Bunny. Interesting mix? Let’s see where we can go with this…

The phrase “Happily Ever After” is so intrinsically tied to the fairy tale that one would not really exist without the other. Even original fairy tales, with their darker outlook on life, had endings wherein the main characters are rewarded as their conduct deserves. The wolf may have eaten Little Red Riding Hood in the end, but duh, she shouldn’t have talked to a stranger.

Granted, that’s not how our current version of Little Red ends, which very much makes me wonder…bah. I’m losing focus.

Happy endings. Yes. Our favorite characters may have ghastly trials along the way, but as One Thousand and One Nights says,“they lived happily until there came to them the One who Destroys all Happiness (i.e. Death)).”

link to original here
Ah yes, Death, there is that. Yet so many people I know think true happiness doesn’t come until after they die. Heaven? Nirvana? Elysian Fields? Olympia? The Happy Hunting Grounds…I can go on, but I think we get the point. 

The last couple of weeks have been thoughtful for me, even painful at times. An unusual string of events led me to searching, pulling out old books, asking friends and mentors for tips and bits of strength, ideas that could give me courage and hope. 

One phrase especially stuck out, and leads me to believe the idea behind “Happily Ever After” isn’t so much an ending, but rather a continuation of things in a new light of understanding:

“Follow your bliss.”

Uh. What? 

Live Happily Ever After starting this moment.

Right. Meaning what, exactly?

Do what makes you happy. Think about, believe in, fixate on, whatever makes you happy; rather than on what makes you uncomfortable, hateful, confused, full of grief. You can only think one conscious thought at a time, so why not chose to make it a good one?

This isn’t so much “thinking positively,” as it is believing, feeling, and doing positively. Knowing that life right now is just as valuable and wonderful – regardless of whatever pain and deprivation we’ve survived thus far – as it will be after Death takes us to whatever paradise we believe in (even if that paradise is simply Nothing). 

I get stuck in my head, a lot, thinking about Winter. For some reason I think that if I can just figure it out, I won’t have to experience it any more. No more hard times, no more frustration, no more tears. 

But then what’s really happening is that I’m stuck in Winter when it’s Spring blooming around me, and then it’s lovely Summer, and isn’t Fall magnificent? Yet I haven’t been experiencing anything but snow this whole time.

link to original here
Spring is here, my friends (including you). It may be Winter in your world still, but know that underneath the snow and ice are millions of powerful little seeds just waiting to come up. Chose to shine some light on them, rather than focusing on the cold around you. 

Make your “Happily Ever After” your continuum of life right now.

The bliss phrase was my Easter Bunny, my little messenger of Spring, but maybe yours is something else. And if it is, maybe you can share in the comments? Or blog about it, and we’ll link some stories up so there’ll be many rays of sunshine from all over the world in one place at one time.  Hope and love magnified.

Meanwhile, I wish you happy celebrations for this weekend, whatever that looks like for you. Don’t have anything planned? Well today’s Fairy Tale Friday is your first seed. Grow from it what you will.

Total pages logged as of today: 183 but visit my Deadline Updates page for more info

Moment of Magic today:
As of right now, I'm putting in my request to be Jackie Chan in my next life, yo. Here's why...

Thursday, April 5, 2012

300 Words or Less: Answer in the Question

Today’s 300 Thursday is a long-overdue response to TangledLou’s question posed here. Though to clarify, where she asks about “Loss,” for some reason I input “Pain.” I don’t know why? Perhaps the answer is in the question. 

So for the last week I’ve been ruminating on variations of this thought: “What do I have to write about pain?” Here’s my 249-word reply:

link to original here
Open Wounds

The bloody wound in my leg was a crater, just below my knee, a large piece of playground gravel the meteor.

“If you’d changed into pants without holes, like I’d told you to, it wouldn’t be as bad.” 

I knew she was right. That was a different kind of hurt. 

But the real pain didn’t begin until, sitting with my pants rolled up in the empty bathtub, Mother started dribbling a half-water/half-hydrogen peroxide solution into the raw hole. Twice a day, doctor’s orders.

If it’d been a quick thing – “Close your eyes. There. Done.” – that’d be one thing. No, this was a drawn out deal. One cup? Two? How does one measure out the pain of liquid fire, a searing that keeps burning long after the plastic pitcher is empty?

“Open your scriptures,” she told me. “Where were we?” My tiny finger traced the words as I read staccato, hardly able to breathe.

But now my leg is fine. Hair won’t grow where the skin grew over, lumpy and purplish-white. Almost silver in some spots. But it’s fine.

And I’ve since been stuck at a “5” for eight hours, water broken and body leaking. All pain’s relative to that now. Even labor, though, I have a hard time talking about in detail. Too recent.

This other thing that happened nine years ago? The first time I found out about…well, that’s too recent too. The pain too big.

Let’s talk about the crater from my childhood. I can do that.

Uh. Ahem. Apparently I’m still working through a few things. Anyone else out there dealing with grief? Loss of body, mind, loved ones, dreams? Here’s one of the links I’ve recently been checking out for some advice on that. Do you have some good links and/or thoughts on fingering out the knots of loss?

Total pages logged as of today: 183 but visit my Deadline Updates page for more info

Moment of Magic today:

When I first heard this drifting up from Pandora, I was in a painful place, drawing my diary desperately on the back of a huge bookshelf with black Sharpies. I couldn't find the words to write out what was going on. I tried journaling, but words didn't fit. I couldn't find a canvas big enough. This song helped me feel less desperate, if only for a few minutes, and I love that even now it still makes me breathe a little easier. What songs help you?
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