Word of the Day: Niveous:
Dan pushed the accelerator to full power. His jet responds roaring down the run way until it became lighter than air and lifted off. The ground swoosh by in a blur as the afterburners kicked in. 30,000 pounds of thrust pushed the jet through the cotton-balled sky. Dan’s heart began to relax a bit after breaking through the top layer clouds. Clouds never bothered Dan much, but that was before his jet was struck by lightning during takeoff, causing an engine malfunction, which led to a close call crash. He could never shake the feeling of being covered in cool dampness, a sudden covering of a niveous blanket after he ejected out of the jet that day. Now, with every takeoff, his heart races a bit more than usual, fueled by nervousness and memories of that day. Memories that cause a kind of blackout as he’s flying on mental autopilot until arriving, until toping the last cloud.
“There is a difference between giving up and walking away for your own sanity“
Relationships can de difficult…or is it difficult people want relationships from “YES” people. Yes your the greatest….Yes I will do it right away….Yes you’re right….Yes! You’re right, I’ll do better or your way next time…you get the picture. It doesn’t take long before the difficult person grows tired of having no opposition–it seem as nothing is a challenge anymore. It’s all about verbally playing King of the hill and shoving everyone down to size. The best way to deal with this kind of person. Leave them alone. They either change because no one is around or they start talking to themselves using two different personalities each with their own voice.
The quote speaks volumes. Save yourself or at least your sanity.
All the best.
Okay, humor is often subjective and sublime in its nature. But you know, who cares, if it gets people to laugh…right? Is there limits on humor? Should there be limits? Isn’t humor the art of having an out of body experience–while laughing at just being human? Some times we make too much about nothing–mountains out of mole hills.
So here is my mountain to climb…
The picture begs you all to answer it with your own captions. Mine is—
How do you wash a silver spoon?
Enjoy! All the best.
Some think being happy is crossing that line in the sand just in front of you. Not realizing that happiness is always one step out in front of you drawing new lines to cross.
Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. it means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.
Choosing to be happy instead of looking for someone new to make you happy, is the first step towards happiness, everything else is just making people jump through your hoops / drawing new lines in the sand.
Happiness is simple. It requires being fearless of the unknown, to have courage to try, and when you’re been knocked down–to dust yourself off having learned from the experience to once again move forward towards your dreams. Happiness isn’t the accomplished goals, or even those materialistic possessions that we have, it enjoying the trip along the way as we gather memories that last a life time.
Knowledge is weightless so it’s easy to carry around without a lot of efforts made.
No matter how bad it seem in this moment, and in your life at this time, just remember there is someone out there that is more than happy with less than what you have.
Count your blessings and you will be much happier.
This is a view of life, about the flu, and the way people should be interacting with other people, from a wayfarer’s travel’s.
This was supposed to be “good Friday” and there was nothing good about it. The stack of books sat beside me, unused, and uninterested, I could hardly keep my puffy eyes open. Besides my best efforts in providing my body with fluids, vitamin’s, and flu and cold meds, the valiant battle raged on within me. This was the time of the year where viral intruders seemed to make their rounds as unwelcome guests they fly just under the radar, passing through half manned defenses like a hot knife through room temperature butter. Perhaps if I didn’t push so hard at work, or play so hard after work and on the weekends? But family and kids, deadlines, and the boss’s unrealistic expectations….which is the only real justification for my current condition. I reasoned all this to myself as the only real good excuse that I was willing to except at the time.
Flopping myself unceremoniously in my easy chair I glanced over to my stack of books. Reading wasn’t going to happen as I waited for my body to gain the upper hand in the battle. My eyes were too puffy and my eyesight was to bleary, watery, and itchy, to give any interest net alone concentration to reading. I wanted to sleep this off. But I had just gotten up from an unusual 12 hour sleep fest. I felt powerless to live life as a normal person, just wanting to do my common everyday things. Instead I was transferred, downgraded, and demoted having to live with this miserable viral intrusion. My only comfort was melting back into my easy chair and wait for the next sneeze to come.
I said out loud, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.” Tossing another crumpled tissue to the pile. This wasn’t how my weekend was supposed to be at all. I had plans to do things with the kids, and dinner with friends, all of which now had to be shelved. Somehow I had become an involuntary combatant, a carrier of the enemy, who by his design wanted me to find new victims to commiserate with. The only fight I had left in me, or so I thought, was to reduce my importance and volunteer for a self-imposed quarantine–Somewhat like throwing myself upon the hand-grenade, a sacrificial offering to reduce casualties in my unit.
I knew that in a few days this to will pass. That my inconvenience will be all but forgotten like a snowflake caught in the palm of someone’s hand, interesting, beautifully intriguing, and in an instant melted way.
All alone in a quiet room, it’s funny how the mind wonders in thoughts uninfluenced by TV or radio, or sounds of music. I started to think how lucky I really was. I know that feeling like crap somehow doesn’t seem like the same kind of feeling lucky akin to winning the lotto or…. I allowed a few thoughts in for a moment to entertain some differences in luck and what it is to be lucky.
Comparing our misery to someone else’s doesn’t seem fair. I could have just washed my hands a few more times, or given less kisses to my kids when they had the sniffles, and misery avoided? But how is that lucky? It’s lucky, because my short-lived snowflakes worth of discomfort, is so unlike that permafrost in others people’s experience. Like a shell of ice freezing them into a permanent inconvenience, nothing at all like this passing trifle. Their challenging circumstances turn my crumpled mound of tissues into a little insignificant temporary speed bump on life’s highway.
Funny how with religious matters people only are interested by answering the question… what’s in it for me? I can sacrifice a few hours or one day per week (one or two weeks a year, like on Easter, and Christmas) and expect so much more from God in return?
I have had these kinds of arguments with my TV evangelist before. I admit that they were one-sided arguments at that? No real response from the TV or the evangelist on the other side of the glass. Of course when we feel like crap we expect people to come running to our assistance. Give me the answers to make this go away and the sooner the better. Not just in a while down the road a bit. But like yesterday, now, instantaneously; like every street light turning green in our favor, so the straightaway help running at full speed towards us can get here sooner. It couldn’t come fast enough. And that’s just to elevate our temporary condition, our snowflakes discomfort.
My TV evangelist says that God longs to help everyone today, or sooner…. In all my reading of the Bible I never heard of any one of the disciples; have to put on hold a mission for God because they were under the weather? So this TV evangelist is speaking a true message then. The disciples were human working for God—so God answers prayers through humans, and wants to help everyone today or sooner?
Image, people like you or I as being answers to someone else’s prayers.
It seems that Christians today have the flu. But I never read that flu was a problem back then. There is nothing mentioned about the flu in the bible like, “The spirit bade me to make hast to Corinth,” said the apostle Paul, “But the enemy of souls delayed my departure with an insufferable ailment common to man.” Apparently that had been edited out. And God’s word had bigger fish to fry then to include things like the flu.
To all of the people with the symptoms of fibromyalgia who’s days are filled with pain, or those people who never smoked a day in their lives who discovered they have been inexplicably riddled with lung cancer, to the young family who’s child needs bone marrow transplant, to the victim of an auto accident who has a crushed spine or nerve-damage that affords them no pain relief, to the person who is addicted with pain-killers, to the 13-year-old girl who has to go back home to an abusive parent, for a single parent struggling with time and money and resources, to the beggar on the street, to the run-away, to the silence of suffering within a marriage gone bad, to those lonely suffering from a personal loss of someone dear to them. These are frozen shell existences that go far beyond my discomfort. It’s easy to be fired up in doing something right after one of our yearly visits to church and think in terms of being a Christian. “Hay, I believe in God! So that counts for something”, seems to be the common thought. People might even give to charity or that bum on the street as they drive through the intersection after church services. Given a day or two, these professed Christians are ready to step over someone in real need, as they go on their way saying or thinking, “The government has to have some kind of programs to help people like that.” In other words…I pay taxes so can’t be bothered with stopping to helping out. I gave with my taxes already, I gave at the office and this money is mine!
There must have been people like that, that existed in the bible? Sickness does funny things to people though. It changes everything about a person; we become different people when sick. Did the followers of Christ like Paul in the story that was edited out, (you remember the one; where Paul was on his way to Corinth but, “The enemy of souls delayed my departure with an insufferable ailment”?) Did they have the strange mindsets like we have today? Was everyone confused with the thoughts of different religious practices, and therefore spiritual responsibilities? Is that the modern sickness that ails our life experiences, compared to those of the past?
Being sick with flu I know that my discomfort is temporary, my good times will certainly come sooner than later. Yet we as humans are still at risk with greatest disease of all–being rich with things of insignificance and not truly of eternal value. When Jesus cautioned us about the difficulty of a rich man entering heaven, He seemed to be speaking to all of us in this time, and in this country (The United States of America. Because we claim to be the richest on earth, in God we trust, and consumed totally with greed, even with personal greed of heaven?) Those who are spiritual or go to church to act churchy, to gain heaven for them-selves (the cure for the religious flu) but fail to bring heaven to those that are less fortunate in life than we are. Excusing ourselves from action, people want benefits, privileges, and gifts—but refuse to freely give.
Jesus healed all kinds of sickness and physical malady, healing their bodies so he could also heal their minds and hearts. This is where being a Christian, also believing in being spiritual must also see that the scriptures aren’t just stories, but the promise of the scripture lies—not on physical healing, but promise of abundant life and changed mindsets.
It’s funny how flawed and transitory our believes are, believing this nation is a Christian nation? Believing in, and wanting “separation of church and state” when it suits us and our beliefs best; all the while expecting our government to have a mothers concern more than we as citizens have for our neighbors and those in need.
If we are spiritual people and believe in going to heaven? Why would we spend more time in preparation to take a trip to an exotic beach, packing the appropriate attire, clothes, swim wear…etc.? Yet with the trip of going to heaven we expect it all–no real need to change ourselves, our attitudes, or our life’s mission, and therefore no real effort in making a positive impact or a spiritual one either as we interact with each other in preparation for heaven. To many times we slip into that mindset like having the flu, “Give me the cure and give it to me now! I’ll do anything…” But when the symptom subsides and goes away….
We forget the promise of scripture lies—not on physical healing, but of abundant life now and forever through mental healing. Religion is the everyday battle for the mind, not some short-term cure when we should get a religious viral infection from the enemy of the soul.
If you ever thought, “what’s happening to our society…why do people act like they do…why are we so violent these days?
It’s attitude: as you think, so you become.
Each day I start it with saying, “I’m going to have the best day of my life.” I end my day Knowing all the while I have had my day made completely or so it seems of half made efforts. Not intentionally but humans tend to do what is easiest or with the least energy expenditure.
Of course according to Zig Ziglar… “The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what you want most, for what you want now.”
In the animal world it is all about being different and making it known to all that you’re different. Bright colored feathers displayed, whooping antics that catch the eye and attention, funny to humans in their own way but serious stuff for animals. So what is it with humans; who only want to be different compared to each other, but work so hard in being the same? Working so hard at times without any notice even to us that non conformity is conforming to something isn’t it?
Have you ever seen a slow motion movie of a chameleon catching a meal? Incredible! Something simple like a bug comes within range of their lightning fast tongue? POW! Bam! Quick as lighting, truly incredible how long and fast these funny animals’ tongues are and accrete at that with the placement of the end of the tongue in order to catch that bug. On one such show I was watching, the tongue shot out, and hit the bug knocking it off some branch and kept right on going for what looked like a full extension. On the retraction the tongue got caught on that same branch, the chameleon had to struggle to get it back with his bug prize still attached. I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes. Just the look of surprised on the chameleon’s face struggling with his tangled tongue sent me over the edge.
Last night was one such moment in my life when I received a chameleons worth of a tongue lashing. POW, what a surprise! It knocked me back a bit. It caused me to sit up and take notice, to adjust some accountability, self-awareness, through self-reexamination. A question that hit me right between the ears, could I have been a human chameleon for most of my life, without ever taking notice of it before or even admitting it to self within my mind?
Humans are king of the world! Aren’t we? But I never saw a human chameleon before. At least until I took notice of my strange ability’s to be a chameleon. I learned or should I have said, what I saw within me was how I was living my life as a chameleon. Ever since I was very young I would lie or make up stuff. If people asked about me or what my true opinions are about stuff I would be quick to react… I thought I was just embarrassed, but didn’t really know why I chose to act this way. I hadn’t learned the multiple question test hints for idiots yet—go with your first impressions because they are usually are right. I along with everyone else in the world through assumption thought we all were taught not to lie? But assumptions made usually leaves an ass dismayed. If we weren’t taught to lie how did we come up with doing it and get so good at doing it? Certainly if I were taught to lie I should then be able to cast some blame onto that one person away from myself and onto someone else, right? Not that lying is a problem for me. But total honest presentations of “self ” maybe, as it is for most people?
It wasn’t till later that I learned that I had a fear of rejection. You hear about “fear of rejection” haven’t you? It is often these days presented as some over used psychobabble term thrown about to look smart in a calm way, while frantically looking for a better excuse for lying. But I didn’t identify with it until last night, as a way for people to become chameleons. Hiding in plain sight just melting into your surroundings like butter on hot toast, a David Copperfield magic trick with our true identities fantastically played for our egos. By living this way we become better than Mr. Copperfield all in the same to say the least, like nothing short of making the statue of liberty disappears, but somewhat different. One well-placed lie and presto, we have become the greatest magician! Hiding, yet in plain sight. Better than Mr. Copperfield? We have just blended, molded, or massaged ourselves into what everyone around us expected us to be. Welcome to the wild world of being a human chameleon, because I know you and I have done just that as well. At least I’ll admit to it, so have you I’m sure….???
So, many times over this last year I learned that I did things, when I was young and even now being so much older. I acted against my values, morals, and beliefs, all to “belong” to people or some group….? In finding a friend, to be a companion, a more complete stranger to a stranger, who was just looking for some kind help? So the newest animal in the world is… (Head hung low) me….. The human chameleon.
Reexamination time sucks doesn’t it?
My reaction to life’s troubles was becoming a better chameleon, hide, distort if necessary, as my tools of the trade being human, building “Better”? But a better what? At times doing whatever, and then having to explain it later to my conscience, as it wasn’t totally untrue… so it doesn’t qualify as a total lie? Just a slight bend in the road. A small distortion! Should I just admit it, my distortions accomplish nothing but a better built camouflage for the porpoises of deceit, to hide my true self-identity, or some insecurity? Hiding what everyone else sees “the perfect flawed me”? To be less different, to be more like everyone else? Why should I strive to be perfect, when everyone else isn’t so perfect themselves?
But admitting to one self we could do better, that required some honesty. Humans have hidden honesty while erasing it to a lost art form, it seems well hidden behind what has become a white or black lie, as the definition to being dishonest or not. But let’s face it; white or black, a lie isn’t anything but a different degree of that same short coming. Why are there any degrees at all? No one likes to be lied to, so never except one over the other.
As humans, we make improvements to our soundings all the time. We paint our homes, inside or out, just for change, for those small yet uplifting improvements. Even these small things make a difference to our behaviors, our attitudes. So why not make them with ourselves?
Well this time, it was about what I didn’t do because of the fear of rejection. It’s a beautiful thing to learn something intimate about yourself and wanting to be stronger as a result of some self-education. Courage comes into the mix of things; I must be stronger now so to be able to stick to my values and voice my opinions when appropriate. It doesn’t mean I’m looking to change my acquaintances, friends, or complete strangers, or even my significant other, to share in my values or even judging them by them. Being able to exercise my new-found ability, my true power to say no guilt free, is my choice in feeling unashamed, without the preconceived assumptions of self, as being ridged, stubborn, strange, confrontational or unlikable.
Because there is no graceful way to back out of something we excuse ourselves and act without thought; leading us down that spiral staircase to the bottom of a bottle feeling poorly about self.
Solution: Being a chameleon is all about being one with your soundings, hidden in plain sight. But being a human is all about the subdual “POW factor” the individual but a noticed one. Allowing other people to see you for who you are. Imperfect as we all are, different in every way while being structurally the same. Making us all interesting, and worth the efforts in getting to know each other on a personal level. It is about the simple things within our caricatures, not the hair, the tattoos, piercing’s, clothing, cars, the jobs or even the income we make. It isn’t about what we believe in, or what funny religion we have or don’t have. It shouldn’t be, about having to be a clone of what has been presented in print, as the perfect human; but celebrating the imperfect differences within our identical structures of being human. While taking the extra time to realize, and enjoy the moment shared without expectations of getting something in return.
Each day I start with saying I’m going to have the best day of my life. I end my day with saying I had the best day of my life. During the day as I drive to appointments, I say to myself “I’m having the best day of my life.” Frowning on that kind of attitude is hard to do. I have tried! The best thing about all this is, with a positive altitude it is hard to hide in plain sight. Why would you? We’re humans are top mammal and supposed to strut our stuff. After all what kind of impression could we make in presenting ourselves, devious of coerce as king of the jungle with a mouse like roar presentation?
A chameleon slapped me on either side of my face one day. Telling me that all mammals are not the same, stop trying to be the same, stop living life to someone’s else’s expectations all for fear of rejection. Life isn’t fair! The two mammals, the dolphin and the camel want to be friends, but it isn’t going to happen no matter how well placed the lie. Even David Copperfield isn’t that good.
Despite of the fact that I’m a slow learner, and I maybe the last human chameleon on earth. (I doubt that anyone else has had this problem?) I am taking evolution into my own hands, as I’m going to try to kill, (send to extinction) what I believe to be then the last human chameleon of its kind. All for a better life for myself. Because life isn’t all ways fair! So the human chameleon must go!
When you think of humans as imperfect as they truly are, what we should fear the most is barely notice as dangerous. Despite displays of magnificence and beauty, art, architecture, and the technical advancements, humans also possess an extreme negative side. From mass murders to world wars, from extreme abuses of children, to the modern enslavement of the sex trade; how is this possible for humans who seemingly start out innocent?
With every innocent victim of crime there is an equally innocents, allowing themselves to be schooled by evil in order to develop evil impulses in the mind to a point of taking action. Perhaps these extreme acts are barely noticed by the individual that evil is courting, when at first they build using small acts until their house of horrors is finished.
Maybe each of us have a dark corner in our minds where evil resides yet kept in check, exiled to its own solitary confinement deep in our own privet thoughts? Do you then recognize it with each nonchalant glance in the mirror? Do you recognize it as it fights its way to be freed when you talk about that person that you openly claim to hate, that one you can’t stand yet are forced to work with. An extreme dislike because of some silly clash of personalities is not the person you should fear or even worry about; left unchecked it’s you!
Crazy law makers are proposing more craziness. Take for instance Diane Feinstein (D) from California, who has in her past legislative efforts made an attempt to normalize crazy with outrageous, insane, crazy redefined rhetoric. Gun control isn’t enough to insure public safety for her. Now we must control magazine capacity of pressure cooker from the 1.5 gallon size to ½ half gallon sizes. It is all about the crock pots complaint of the pressure cooker being favored by terrorists everywhere. Call it a redistribution of fairness standards, among crooks and cook ware everywhere.
In addition to some new capacity sizes, she is proposing purchase restrictions. All new purchases to be made through federally licensed broker dealers. She is also calling for re examining QVC and HSN licensing to see if they can remain the cook ware dealers of choice by cooks and novices everywhere with regards to their pressure cooker sales. She expressed, “Perhaps even a new license and regulatory category for pressurized cooking devices is needed.”
Among other regulations she is supporting, background checks of everyone who wants a pressure cooker, and before they could take position of it they must prove they have under gone extensive training on “How to Properly Use Your Pressure Cooker”.
Gifting a pressure cooker or acquiring one through an inheritance will require a broker dealer’s license to transfer ownership only to those who have the appropriate training and handler’s permits or licenses, and have under gone an extensive back ground check or have attained a collectors licenses for antique cookers. Selling pressure cookers at garage sales or swap meets is prohibited.
Under certain circumstances some states will also require a CCPCP (Conceal Carry Pressure Cooker Permit) for those traveling with their pressure cookers to social events. Approved stickers must be placed on the auto / truck that haul such cookers, they must also have proper warning sticker displayed– content under extreme pressure, may be explosive if the pressure exceeds manufactures preconditions, or is packed with unapproved iron fortified substances. Leaving a vehicle unattended with a cooker in it, could result in a forfeiture of said vehicle or fine and loss of license or all of the above.
Storing a pressure cooker in the home where a child may also live or have access to it. Will require a handle lock and an approved storage locker where the cooker is placed, locked-up in between uses. With any noncompliance in safety handling and storage of such cookers may result in actions taken against violators— such as reckless child endangerment charges.
The crock pot supporters, have thrown their support behind Diane Feinstein’s regulations, but couldn’t be reached for comment, they didn’t respond to our e-mail, or phone calls.
The pressure cooker coalition did respond to our requests and said. “We feel the crazy pressure, and will appeal any and all laws and regulations regarding pressure cookers, on the grounds of discrimination of cooking devices or food preparation containers. So far there isn’t anything to get steamed about, but the encroachment of regulations will cause a loss of efficiency, and worker productivity, hampering good eats everywhere. So such laws are just over kill to the food industry, and food lovers alike.”
When the coalition was asked about the cookers being used as bombs, or if they can explode with excessive pressure builds. They responded saying. “So can bottles of champagne.. can also explode as well, that is if not attended properly? The bottle can also be filed with gas, and a fuse can be added, in creation, or manufacture of a fire bomb? Yet we aren’t looking to out-law bottles, or are demanding people to drink boxed wine. We do condone misuse or abuse of our product or any other for any reason. But evil does exist? We don’t believe the legal use of our product needs to be restricted because there are a few people ready and able to misuse them at will. Restrictions only restrict the lawful, as for the lawless– they don’t care what rules, laws, or restrictions are in play! They aren’t following them to start with!”
So you see, these volatile issues will cause some pressures to build as citizens attempt to control the size of government, and as law-makers attempt to control evil passions within its citizenry, while supposing to control their own evil intent, motives, and passions to grab power, or accumulated it to a point of absolute power over all.
Feel free to weigh in on the subject matter with your opinions.
Ps. this posting does not imply support of cooking (legal or illegally) with pressure cookers. We don’t support any modifications of such cookers, or iron fortified anything! Food or otherwise! We do not also support more craziness from our government. But do support a smaller leaner, balanced, government. We do not believe that Diane Feinstein (D) from California is crazy or insane…. But a socialist, who has made her career in doing the same failed policies from the past over and over, expecting new results and success. So by that definition she is. We do not trust any governmental laws or regulations that originated from any politicians who in part have invested in the ACME co. of good political ideas. The ACME co. never came up with any good ideas for the coyote in the road runner movies, so why try them now? We stand firmly against cartoon politics or politicians! No crazy politicians were hurt in the efforts of writing this post. But we do acknowledge, the post may keep some pressure on crazy despite its best effort in avoiding it.
All the best.
Is writing as self-destructive for you all out there, as my criticism of what I have written seems to be? Not that criticism is bad, in fact, it can be quite good. But what happens when the criticism is all bad, piled onto more bad thoughts of not being good enough? At these times writing seems a bit over done–like, like when your new writing ideas resemble to closely to siting in a hot-tub holding a toaster just above the water, wondering in your mind whether this is a great idea or a great shoulder workout?
Second guessing shouldn’t be the game at all? In fact just write what ever, then close it up, and review later on; day’s, weeks, or even months later you may find out that you now have a better idea on how to finish it up, polish it, or just a new perspective, new insight, and then a humble reworking of the orignal ends up as being an improvement. Isn’t that the goal? To improve.
Often ideas come to me, but putting them down onto paper seems where the story falls flat. Kind of like that pick me up music, that seems to always be playing on a certain radio station, until you turn it on? Just for that feeling of being picked up. Turning a good mood into a supper good mood through music, that’s the idea at least? Music influences people kind of like that, it is indeed spiritual, therefore influential. Instead, now, the radio is playing getaway from me break up music. Country music is a lot like that for me. They always sing about losing their wife, truck, dogs, and jobs….ect. But damn that’s depressing! If your feeling down and need a pick up, mood wise? Isn’t it time to play those songs backwards–getting all of your stuff and writing mojo back too?
Or how about, while stroking those inner voices in your head to slow down a bit with their presentation of those great story your writing, or blogging about, but then, you hit that proverbial brick wall! You know? Stories are coming at you at the speed of thought, and your fingers are moving across the key board as if they are set in concrete. Suddenly you realize writers block sounds like screaming seagulls fighting over a hot dog bun! Distraction over load! Distracted by everything?
Is that why I in vision most writers sitting in their underwear, on the couch, writing at will? Just seems that these kind of people have less distraction, and fewer people in their lives to impress. Not having to make any dissections like what kind of clothes to wear, I suppose has some feelings of freedom, less distracted, but leaves one’s nature totally reclusive. They don’t have writers block. What they have is a mental block and a closed off front door. They may fear the outside world, hiding behind closed off doors, rewriting reality into an imaginary one. Choosing not to be social, so they can blog the hell out of a post, write great stories, and the likes they….. Not comparing here, just observing mentally?
Out of the thousand ideas that I have written, then after a while rereading them, then picking that one that moves me or rekindles my creative juices, sparking that subject matter within my mind, and freeing my fingers to once again kiss those key’s on the keyboard with just a tad bit more passion. Always, seems to surprise me in the end. Besides reading older posts, ideas, and stories that you have written, will give you that full view reflection of how much your writing skill, or talents have improved over time? That may just end that screaming seagulls worth of writers block?
All the best.
“So do you think this will serve as was expected, with the agency?” Abby inquisitively asked. Not quite sure if her solution was any good. She paused, allowing time for a reaction.
Paul stood silent studying her for a moment. Is this a test of his skill, or just a genuine–I’m not sure of myself kind of question? He didn’t quite know how to break it to her. Tired of dragging her along behind him in his career, he didn’t need her to fray his coat tails. He had seen what happens to fag’s when he was in the navy. Those tattered ends of ropes were cut off and thrown overboard. His career wasn’t going down the tubes for some young good-looking thing, flashing your baby blues and men twice his age jumped quicker than a teenager with a hormone problem. Paul knew that she had gamed an advance out of this special project, so free advice in making her look better than how she physically looked was out of the question. But how to tell her that also didn’t also make him look totally like an ass, he needed some back-handed tact, but what?
“Have some confidence women!” He uses just a bit of forceful tone. “You deliver great work. Stop being so….” Wanting to use a different word, he paused, for his timing was impeccable with these kind of conversations, and a pause was just a tool for increased intrigue.
“Take what you have. You worked hard on it and your better than you see yourself. So off you go. Take it to the editor and chief, get your much deserved imprest—don’t imagine you can squander money on this trip, though!”
Abby was happy sort-a-kind of, with the response. But how did he know she had taken an advance payment for the job? Did the self-appointed king, the editor and chief, happen to say something—“taking the kings shilling”—so now she had to serve? Before she could muster a response, glancing up, Paul disappeared into the conference room with a client. Leaving her there, pondering it farther, whether her work was up to what was expected, or was this just a way to cut dead wood, average talent?
The word of the day “Imprest” somewhat old but fun indeed, don’t be confused with the term of “fag”, it truly was a term used in the navy to describe the frayed end of rope. Words are indeed fun to learn about and in trying to use them, as a part of woven work is where the talent of the writer comes to play, just for some verbal fun.
All the best.