Blogging, FTSF, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Memoir and Reflections, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday, The Insightful Wanderer

Winter Waves, #FTSF #JusJoJan #SoCS

On winter waves that make their rushing sound through my tiny phone speaker, sounding still so mighty and just what I need.

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Another January is heading toward February, my birthday and my newest niece’s birthday, her first. I try to hold back fact.

What a week, but the winter soothes my mind. I stand, feet on the register, bringing such pleasant heat up to comfort my lower half.

My upper body faces the closed blinds of my window. This house is old and doesn’t have the best insulation, making the frozen winter night permeate through the glass pane. I like this half and half varied sensory experience.

After a long week, full of sadness and disappointment, I listen to a life feed of waves on the opposite side of North America, the west coast of California, at Monterey Bay. Some social media guy is holding a phone off the deck and into the ocean and its waves below, waiting “to soak the phone” he promises.

I think of winter and the ocean and those winter waves, where they originate from. Miles and miles of open ocean give such large waves the room to blossom and grow, unstoppable often, until they reach the breaking of the land.

I like winter in Canada, though many would choose California’s winter over mine. I like the fresh air here. It heartens me and keeps me alert to the life I am living.

But what would I do, where would I be, without the ocean, somewhere out there?

I meditate on it, on those waves, washing away some of the rawness of this week and I release some of the grief to the power of nature and the unstoppable changing of the seasons in Canada and to all that activity, out in the bay.

Finish the Sentence Friday’s first stream of consciousness.

Along with Linda’s
Just Jot It January/Stream of Consciousness Saturday
to end a long week.

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Blogging, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, IN THE NEWS AND ON MY MIND, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday

To Boycott Or Not To Boycott? #FireandFury #SoCS #JusJoJan

Does boycotting a place work?

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No, seriously…I wanna know.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday/Just Jot It January

Tim Hortons is the place to get your coffee in Canada and I believe the US even has them, possibly along the border of our two countries. I seem to recall, when watching some US television networks through cable, that there was a commercial for the company, but its called Tim Hortons, Coffee and Bake Shop or some such thing.

So, the minimum wage hike that went into effect here at the start of 2018 has everyone in the province of Ontario talking, and now the story spreading across Canada because it isn’t only concerning Ontario, not at all.

Minimum wage, up to $14 or something, and still to rise to $15 in the future. Good for those working certain jobs, but apparently bad for those companies (Tim Hortons) who have to pay more.

The real trouble started when Tim Hortons started cutting back on other benefits their employees did have, supposedly to make up for this change.

There are two sides: the side of those supporting those workers and those workers themselves I guess and the companies and those who have always said rising minimum wage will break us as a province and as a country.

I know very little about the economy and never have. I try to read and listen to the news, but it’s hard enough keeping up with all going on in the world. I don’t have a mind for the study of our economy, (economics). I know it’s good and important knowledge to have, I know that, but I can barely figure out my own affairs, budgeting and bills and the money I’ve started to make, still so new to it all.

Trying to figure out how the province and Canada as a country runs is beyond my capabilities.

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So, though Canadians have seemed obsessed with Tim Hortons coffee for longer than I can remember, some are calling for that to change.

It’s not about a greedy corporation at all, some say, because this wage hike issue is put on each individual franchise.

I don’t run one of those either. I don’t know and hardly feel like I should speak.

I got my coffee from McDonald’s today, but that isn’t anything all that new. I simply prefer it and I don’t like being told I have to follow the crowd and be like all other Canadians who can’t go without my Tim Hortons fix.

I tend to look at the subject of corporate greed as a thing that happens. I see minimum wage as affecting real human beings, people who need understanding, but so do all humans I guess, even those who run the giant corporations and companies.

As a writer and creative, one who wouldn’t be all that good at matters of crunching numbers and running a business, I see things from the human perspective. Not to say all creative people are that way. I only know what side I end up falling on, though I try to see any issue from more than just one side whenever and wherever possible.

I don’t know if boycotting the company in question is the answer here, or ever, but that’s what Canada is talking about this week. Well, like other countries nearby, it’s that and Fire and Fury too. Rumour has it that even demand for the book is growing here in Canada. I can’t say I’ll read it, but I think the whole thing is wildly bizarre, and yet unsurprising to say the least.

Fire and fury is a good way to sum up how hyped everyone seems to be. I do feel all the greed that does exist, more than ever from those who make the most money, but I can’t claim I know what I’m talking about on what Canada’s economy has done in the past or will do in the future.

I bet the woman who runs
these prompts
likely has some thoughts on all this.

Linda is to thank for me not feeling totally lost at the start of a new year, as a writer, and she, as a fellow Canadian, might know more about Canada’s economics than I do.

Either way, I thank her for Stream of Consciousness Saturday, all the weeks of the year, and for Just Jot It January, for the first month of each brand new one.

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Blogging, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Spotlight Saturday, Travel, Writing

It Broadens the (Writer’s) Mind

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

Let me tell you about my book, Señor…

The sticky joys of packing the kids into car seats. The triumph of cramming your daily life into a carry-on, victory dance cut short by a full bottle of contact lens solution. The stoicism of sleeping on the lumpy foldout sofa.

There’s nothing so delightful as travel at the holidays.

Fortunately for writers, it turns out travel broadens the mind regardless of destination. It’s not where you go, or even for how long–the process of moving to and within a new location is stimulating, even if it’s Aunt Hildy’s instead of Buenos Aires. As Jonah Lehrer writes in the Guardian,

…problems that feel “close” – and the closeness can be physical, temporal or even emotional – get contemplated in a more concrete manner. As a result, when we think about things that are nearby, our thoughts are constricted, bound by a…

View original post 675 more words

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1000 Voices Speak For Compassion, Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, IN THE NEWS AND ON MY MIND, Memoir and Reflections, Poetry, Shows and Events, SoCS, Spotlight Saturday, The Blind Reviewer

Oddly Shaped Pearl, #BaroqueMusic #SoCS

I hear the flock of Canada geese out my open bedroom window. They fly along, a gathering in the air, and it sounds to me like they are all having delightful conversation with each other as they fly along. It’s a honking that I hear as a chattering of all the geese gossip that’s relevant in any goose’s world.

I know I shouldn’t technically have my window open in December, but I need to feel the chilly air and to hear those gossiping geese, gathering gliding along through the sky.

I need to find those things that bring me peace, or else I’d have no choice but to turn to liquor to distract myself from so many things that gouge out my gut.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

Wildfires springing up, madly in California, is just the latest place where the fire burns. Those poor horses, caught up in the inferno. Global warming…does it play a part?

Middle East peace…is it forever ellusive?

Fake news is all around us, many believe. I’m starting to greatly dislike religion and what the religious do in its name. Fake news there too?

At this time of year, a time of holiday cheer, I fear…I fear so many things for this world.

Old wooden floors creak and soft carpet underfoot. I have been in a church only twice this year, in the giant one in Mexico and now on the outskirts of the university. Will I go for three, a Christmas Eve church service?

Will I find peace there again?

And then I sit and listen, in those hard church pews I’d forgotten were so hard, to strings, strings, and more strings: violins, violas, cellos, bass, and harpsichord.

I am tense and the first half feels as hard to take in, as hard as bench under me. Then, intermission over with, they begin again and I am at peace, hard bench fading away and I rise to this occasion of experiencing some most eloquent baroque period music.

I have nothing against the horns section or woodwinds. I used to play the clarinet. Strings are where my heart lies though.

I am at attention, as violins speak to violas, back and forth is the chatter, like the geese and their horn section. Like a musical debate of things going on.

Fast or slow. Intense. Dark. Light and airy. I float along or grab on for the ride. I slide along those strings that whisk me away somewhere, somewhere where liquor is not the answer to fixing that gouge in my gut.

Music is. Music is eloquence. Music is my liquor.

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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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1000 Voices Speak For Compassion, History, IN THE NEWS AND ON MY MIND, Kerry's Causes, National Novel Writing Month, RIP, SoCS, Special Occasions, Spotlight Saturday, Writing

Lay Down Your Weapons #RemembranceDay #SoCS

I am trying to write about war.

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On this November 11th, I try to put myself in the place of, say, my grandmother. She lived through World War II and yet I feel like I never even scratched the surface with her. She spoke of that time in her life, more than most, but yet not nearly enough.

I am trying to get down the words, at least a beginning to what could become a novel some day. November is not only Remembrance Day, but it is also National Novel Writing Month and, at this rate, I am not likely to make the fifty thousand words that is the ultimate goal.

I have a near stroke when I think of the setting I want my story to have. I worried that this piece of writing required too much research. NaNoWriMo isn’t supposed to be about doing research. That comes later. Just write.

In a way though, I feel I’ve kind of being doing my own form of research, for many years. I’ve been fascinated by history for as long as I can remember, most especially World War I and II and the 20th century. I’ve watched documentaries and read up on lived accounts of those years. Still, as much of an empath as I feel I am, it is hard to put myself in that place.

How would it feel to be living during World War I or World War II anyway?

I listen to true and up close accounts of soldiers, in the trenches, between 1914 and 1918 and the rats and the mud and the stench of death all around you.

I’ve listened hard to personal accounts in interviews, Jews and other victims of the carnage. I am writing a story about a woman, her mother, and trying to raise three young children/grandchildren during such days. I am trying to put myself in their shoes. That seems, though I am a human too, to be a difficult task, a goal, one I am fighting hard to reach.

I love my country, am happy to be Canadian, but I am no patriot. I wish political parties and affiliations didn’t exist. On a day like November 11th, I don’t glorify war, just like I don’t glorify it any other day of the year. My goal, in learning about it and writing about it, is to try and make it not repeat itself, like I have that power.

All the talk of bravery gets to me. Of course, it would be scary to be caught in a war, but to make the decision to go and fight in one is different altogether.

I feel like I am being disrespectful. I know it’s a sacrifice to risk losing a leg, an arm, or one’s life to war. I speak the truth of it, but what it is is ugly and awful and, I believe, unnecessary.

I heard a song on the radio earlier today, one that very nearly brought me to tears, about how we’re all one, all family, every one of us. We are from different countries, continents, cultures, and races certainly. Some say this makes us different in ways that cannot be altered. Others sing those songs of coming together as one, in humanity.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS (Remembrance Day Edition)

I wish walls were never built and lines never crossed in anger. I am not in control of most of this. Losing limbs seems, to some, to be a possible price to pay for freedom and democracy. I just want to write about war. I don’t want to see any more. People say, when it comes to us imperfect and often boastful humans, that will never be the case.

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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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