Bucket List, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, The Insightful Wanderer

In You We Trust

Some excellent advice in this one. It’s all useful for me, as I work on one of my final submission goals for a truly special year in my writing journey. Thanks Allison. Back to work on telling my story through the art of brevity of the written word.

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

Picture of Meryl Streep as a fashion magazine editor in The Devil Wears Prada…maybe just stop talking.

We’re settled into our seats, ready to watch Meryl Streep perform in the new musical adaptation of Gone Girl (“Gone!”). We’re leafing through Playbill, counting up Oscar nominations, when suddenly Ms. Streep steps out in front of the curtain to address the audience.

“Hi everyone, I’m really excited you’re here for this show, based on the book about a woman who fakes her own disappearance and sets her husband up for a murder rap. I hope you’ll especially enjoy the scene where I write all the journal entries at the same time with different pens.”

Wait, what?

Or she says, “In rehearsals for this show, I worked on my high E notes with a noted vocal coach at Julliard, maybe you’ve heard of him?”

Um, no.

We’re already here, Meryl. We’re ready to watch. We trust you to deliver. Just let us watch you–don’t tell us…

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Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, Poetry, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday, The Redefining Disability Awareness Challenge

The Residue of You #SoCS

I miss you every day. I miss your lines and your curves and the mark, the impression you made on me, just by being there. I miss the something you were to me for all those years, ever since I learned to read, read the large printed word I could then still see.

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It’s that magic, the magic when written word is produced and then vanishes into the blank page. That disappearance is my reality, my despair, that which threatens to hold me back, with what was.

I pull out her diaries from their chest on my dresser top. I open the chosen book to a page somewhere within, tracing my fingertips over the indented sheet of paper. I detect the existence of words, of her precious words, those which I cannot, alone, read to myself.

The fact that a pen did once fly across these pages, now leaves a tactile imprint and I know there it is.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

I miss you, INK, as you vanish, like that magical diary in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, book two.

You are the vanishing ink of my visually impaired life, that which I have lost. You remind me of all I have had taken from me, but you are the print words I miss seeing with my own eye.

I saw you once, yes I saw you as I held the pen in my hand and drew broad strokes and short points across a page.

Now, I feel the ink’s residue, left behind, and nothing more. No more written word. No more.

Let me alone with it, let me have this time to wallow in that vanishing ink, gone from my world, left behind – the remnants, the residue of you.

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Feminism, Kerry's Causes, Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, Podcast, Special Occasions, TToT

TToT: Synth Scapes and Ween’s Wit #10Thankful

“A glorious October, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when the valleys were filled with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had poured them in for the sun to drain —amethyst, pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy that the fields glistened like cloth of silver and there were such heaps of rustling leaves in the hollows of many-stemmed woods to run crisply through.”

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Ten Things of Thankful

I am thankful for a parcel of deliciousness from a TToT friend.

Your squares were delicious. It took a little while for the mail to deliver it, but it finally did.

I am thankful for the kind of literature that can be turned, so skillfully, into a television series drama.

I am almost finished watching Margaret Atwood’s story of Alias Grace, turned into a television show.

It is dark and heavy and I feel a lot of things when I watch, being a historical snapshot of the 19th century for women. It was often brutal. I liken it to today, to see just how far we’ve actually come.

A great story, brought to life, should make the viewers feel all the feels when watching.

I can’t wait for the dramatic finale.

I am thankful for one of the more positive and uplifting violin lessons I have ever had.

Again, I missed a week and dreaded my return performance, but it was wonderfully positive and motivating.

I try to imagine the scales and notes visually because my brain still wishes to go there. Who knows…incredibly confusing, or, perhaps a helpful resource left over from what feels like a past life I once lived.

I am thankful for peaceful, soothing music to listen to when I have a bad headache to deal with.

My brother found me a piece on Youtube and it is a performance in Australia’s Sydney Opera House by musician and artist Tony O’Connor.

I am thankful for a place like The Hospital For Sick Children in Toronto for such wonderful care all those years ago.

As I look back, in this 2017 year, I remember the care I received, as a organ transplant recipient, twenty years ago, and then my brother, two years later.

At that time, they did not do kidney transplants on children at any hospital, any closer to where I lived.

It is a special place and one day I will write more about my first time, walking through those doors.

I am thankful for my brother’s perfect pitch.

A gift he was born with. It helps me when practicing my scales. He keeps me on the right note.

I am thankful for the self reflection I experience, come Halloween, now that I am an adult.

I hated putting on costumes and having my face painted or having to wear a mask. I wanted the treats. I couldn’t have one without doing the other.

There was still a frantic bustle in the house on those Halloween nights growing up that I miss. I see it all now, through the eyes of my nieces and nephews.

I am thankful for food shared by neighbours and friends, just stopping by.

I am thankful for the completion of the very first Halloween themed episode of Ketchup On Pancakes podcast.

Tales of Eating Ketchup on Pancakes and Other Scary Stories

Happy Halloween.

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1000 Voices Speak For Compassion, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, SoCS, Special Occasions

Mothers Are Saviours, #SoCS

Safe to say: Happy Birthday Mom!

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The idea came from a cousin when I couldn’t think of anything good enough on my own.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

How perfectly coincidental that the big 60 falls on a stream of consciousness day.

So many people care and wanted to be included in my present to my mom, and I am not done yet.

Whether birthday card greeting or nostalgia and memory, it isn’t hard to find positive things to say about her. The things flow from her, through her, if you’ve even just barely met her. I didn’t think the challenge I was putting out there was so hard.

Some people doubt their ability to use their words for self expression and toward another. They feel my expectation, perhaps, but I only wanted them to feel safe enough in saying whatever came to mind when they thought of my mom and the woman they all know and love.

Even those closest to her might have struggled, but that is just because the feelings are a little too close for comfort and, in having to put into words just what she means to them, it may have felt uncomfortable in the moment. I thought it, thought her, worth the immediate feelings of uncertainty as one sat down to write.

I wanted her to know how safe she made me feel, as her daughter, and how she has saved me, dozens and hundreds of times, from my biggest fears and from myself and the world at large.

Anyone can and soon does feel safe in talking to her, in opening up to her. That’s her gift to the rest of us who have the privilege of her in our world.

All the times I felt so sick, so much pain, and like nobody believed it, she saved me and made me feel safe again..

She was surprised by her gift and more is being added, even just today in fact.

A mother should want to do it, protect their children/grandchildren, and she does. My mother for the save.

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Kerry's Causes, Piece of Cake, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, #ChronicPainAwareness #SoCS

Do what is best for you, what works to help with the pain, I tell myself. You have that right.

Do something, everyday, that makes you happy, I tell myself, to distract from the pain.

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I do this, so I can find relief and discover, at least, some quality of life.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

Do something that will challenge you, I prod myself.

I pitch. I am accepted. I panic that I can’t do this and they couldn’t possibly know what they are getting when they have agreed to share my words with their readers.

Then I feel silly and stupid for my lack of confidence…because, though I have a lot to learn, I know I can write.

Those due dates from back in my school days are now out of a binder and my braille list of assignments I had in the eighth grade and into the organization I don’t quite have figured out yet for my freelance/writing work.

All over Facebook are people, those I went to school with and are now becoming mothers’ and posting their happy news.

The baby is due on this date or that.

I will likely never have this moment of joy, many moments of anticipation, with a baby growing inside of me.

So, I focus on the life I am living, the pain I do live with included, and the joy that my writing gives.

My due dates are for Catapult or SiriusXM or Hippocampus or Panorama. I am lucky.

The grass on an early morning: a robin hops across the ground and my feet are wet from the dew.

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Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday

My Saturday Story and I’m Sticking To It, #SoCS

When Saturday was much less lonely.

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Sometimes, I crave solitude. Last night I craved it, after silly worry that amounted to nothing, but caring is exhausting, though oh so worth it.

Then when I wake and only want to keep on sleeping, I let my mind wander in the silence of loneliness and memories of past Saturday’s come flooding back.

I could write an essay or I could write it into a memoir. Or I could write it as
stream of consciousness
because another Saturday is upon me.

Saturday markets. Early mornings and still so dark. Getting an early start. Meat counters. Fresh juice. Outdoor fruit and veggie stands in the cool light of dawn.

Off to the mall, shopping and then lunch buffets.

Or, once, ppancakes and then McDonald’s to see how long the longest fry might be.

As I spend a quiet Saturday with my own thoughts, after a busy week in 2017, I miss the old relationships that evolve, change, and vanish into thin air.

Night lights made with delicate glass and wire. Bright lights shining on pennies in shopping mall fountains.

Christmas lights, bright lights of the midway, now dimmed and dimness and loneliness…I knew it all when.

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Memoir and Reflections, Piece of Cake, RIP, Special Occasions, TToT

TToT: Oh, To Be Like Those Tenacious Weeds – Windows and Mirrors, #10Thankful

The eyes are the window to the soul…mirrors to the soul. So what about when one is no longer real?

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It’s about that time. Soon it will be time to have a new artificial eye made. It’s made me think more about the whole thing again.

August is here and if I make it through the next month I’ll be a happy camper. So much pressure not to mess up and let myself and others down.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful for the first day of August and a very special birthday.

My nephew turned four and will be starting school next month. Time flies by.

He had a dinosaur themed birthday with his mom, dad, big sister, and grandma.

We will celebrate next weekend. He is always so excited to show us any new toys he’s gotten since we last saw him when we first arrive. His spirit is one of contagious joyfulness.

I’m thankful for a more successful violin lesson where I could stretch my fingers, develop more strength and flexibility in learning a new part.

I’m thankful for a delicious and satisfying late lunch out.

A veggie omelet, Greek salad, and a cold Coke. Mmm. Strange combination maybe, but it hit the spot on such a hot day and after my lesson.

I’m thankful for the reception I got when I brought my old artificial eye into writing group.

I thought it might make for an interesting mystery object for people to try and write about.

Most people were fascinated to see one up close. One was horrified. I understand the reactions because I’ve seen them all before and have had them all myself.

People wrote humorous stories, horror stories, and to-be-continued stories.

I ended up writing a story that I didn’t expect. It seemed to reflect back at me, all the feelings I’ve had about having lost my left eye and had, what most times is this secret thing, until I reveal it to people. Or, unless they are able to notice it first. I don’t know how often.

I’m thankful for the chance to get more comfortable and challenge my old fear of used clothes.

My hair cut at my cousin’s salon ended with my sister helping me pick out some items from the small boutique as part of the facilities offered.

My cousin believes in recycling because she loves fashion and style, but she’s seen how much clothing waste takes place and she searches out the finds to be had in secondhand stores and sells them for low prices to her already loyal customers.

These are nice looking things and they’re often hardly even worn. I have a long standing phobia of secondhand things and I am challenging that still. I did find some great stuff, including a hoodie, tights, and a few tops and tanks to go with them.

I’m thankful for the happy sounds my niece is starting to make more and more as she approaches six months.

She’s growing far too fast for any of us, but with that comes more exciting milestones.

Sitting in my lap this week she was making a lot more sounds while reaching and looking, interacting and reacting.

She has rolled over and I swear she is eager to get moving.

I’m thankful for a successful second radio show where my brother did a lovely thing for a friend.

He dedicated a song to a poor, departed cat who changed my brother’s opinion of cats as a species.

RIP to a friendly cat.

I’m thankful for bowls and towels.

It’s been raining a lot lately and it’s a good thing we’re set to get a new roof put on this house any day now.

There are several leaks at this point, which have been happening for years, but now when it rains I listen for the drip drip sound inside, while listening to the pounding of the heavy rain out my window.

It’s not supposed to rain indoors. I am still lucky to have a roof over my head that keeps me dry, except for when I stand under those few leaks to lay down the towels and bowls and the drips land in my hair, along with a soggy layer of my ceiling.

I’m thankful for my cat stepping on my sore legs and purring that provides pain relief.

I’m thankful for a cool Friday night amongst humid days.

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Getting my TToT in early this week, for a change, doesn’t happen often. I think I just need to work on accepting a lot of life for what and how it is.

“The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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