I was a Junior at Shaker Heights High School in Shaker Heights, OH for just a semester. Our family had moved there from Opelika, AL when my Dad went back to work for True Temper. As luck would have it the president of the company decided to move the corporate headquarters from Cleveland to Shiremanstown, PA at the same time. So, I was only at SHHS for that one semester. Yet, years later I am reminded of the AP English teacher I had (Mr Newby) and my classmates because of a single sheet of paper.
One afternoon, we walked into our English classroom to find 18 large sheets of white paper arranged around the room, hanging from the walls. Across the top of each was written in large black letters, "What I like about_______ is:". Each sheet had one of our names across the top. We were instructed to take a colored marker and circle the room, thinking about the person named on each sheet and making a note to them about what we like best about them.
I came across that sheet of paper today while going through boxes of stuff and packing and purging my stuff in preparation to move as we work through this divorce and go our separate ways. It's a simple exercise that can yield profound results. Especially if you were previously having a bad day.
The words on this paper were written almost 30 years ago. I am as blown away by them today as I was then. They don't reveal any huge surprises, just reinforce that my basic personality, my good qualities are the same as they have always been and hopefully always will be.
Here's what my peers wrote when they were asked to write down what they like about Susan Baiman...
**Good pianist
**Talkative
**her truly warm, gutsy personality
**her friendliness
**her conversation and ability to be understanding
**her happy, caring manner
**her desire to be as friendly as possible with many people
**ability to make friends with anyone
**that she has more colored pens than Mr Newby
**her ability to make a person feel at ease
**that she ALWAYS puts warmth out for others
**her outgoing warmth makes me feel very good
**her quickness to laugh
**the speed at which she can put someone at ease
**her friendliness to new people
**her friendliness and her ability to make others laugh
**her incredible sense of my humor. She doesn't even miss the one-liners under the breath.
I'm pretty sure we all rolled our eyes a bit when the exercise was explained to us; but I think we all took it seriously and actually enjoyed doing it. All I can tell you is that from 30 years later when I'm going through the most difficult time in my life so far, these simple words mean a great deal to me. They remind me that in so many ways, I am still that girl. The people saying these kinds of things to me have changed over the years but the fact that some of the words are still the same gives me hope that when this is all over I will still be me; a little worse for the wear, hopefully a bit wiser, but still the same me my classmates wrote about all those years ago.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Fate and Circumstance
Climb with me
to the top of the tallest cliff
where we will leap off
together
and fly away.
I am like you
hopeless
a romantic
terrified
and in love.
Fate
and circumstance
can either
ever
be overcome?
No Greater Gift
There is no greater gift
that you can give another
than the gift of
unconditional
love
that you can give another
than the gift of
unconditional
love
The Planetary Orbs
The planetary orbs
will continue to spin
through time and space
my love for you
is fixed.
The shape of the wave
is a constant
but the variables of life
like you in mine
alter its intensity.
will continue to spin
through time and space
my love for you
is fixed.
The shape of the wave
is a constant
but the variables of life
like you in mine
alter its intensity.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Math, Music, Poetry, and @trreed
I am currently reading "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carrol to Jake, our 7yo. When I got to the part about the Mock Turtle I thought of a friend of mine, Thomas Reed (@trreed on Twitter) because he is a math teacher.
"The different branches of Arithmetic--Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision." ~Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland
On an earlier occasion I had told him that I would one day write a math poem or two for him. After reading the Mock Turtle's descriptions of his lessons, these silly couplets sprang forth:
To double you add twice as much,
Treble is a clef;
Math and music intertwine,
I think I'm going deaf.
You count the measure one to four,
Unless it has a three;
To take the measure of a man,
Is something else you see.
The numbers spiral up and down,
Don't let them catch you sleeping;
The wild ones will nip your toes,
And then you will be weeping.
Tame them all with signs and such,
Make them march around;
They'll do your bidding soon enough,
And then take you to town.
"The different branches of Arithmetic--Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision." ~Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland
On an earlier occasion I had told him that I would one day write a math poem or two for him. After reading the Mock Turtle's descriptions of his lessons, these silly couplets sprang forth:
To double you add twice as much,
Treble is a clef;
Math and music intertwine,
I think I'm going deaf.
You count the measure one to four,
Unless it has a three;
To take the measure of a man,
Is something else you see.
The numbers spiral up and down,
Don't let them catch you sleeping;
The wild ones will nip your toes,
And then you will be weeping.
Tame them all with signs and such,
Make them march around;
They'll do your bidding soon enough,
And then take you to town.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Insights on Art
I just finished listening to my friend, Paul E. Cooley's (of ShadowPublications.com) first con panel from ConJour, "Why Aren't Horror Movies Scary Anymore?" and I had some thoughts, not just on horror or movies but on writing and creating in general. In fact, the lessons I take away from this would probably apply to just about any form of creative endeavor.
1. Get an education in your chosen medium. Learn the history and immerse yourself in what has already been done. Figure out what you like and don't like and most importantly, why.
2. Get an education in art in general. No particular medium exists in a vacuum. Inspiration and points of reference are everywhere.
3. Have something to say. If you don't know what you are trying to express, how will you know if or when you have said it? Once you have figured out what you want to say, don't pussyfoot around; express your point of view and defend it if you have to. Then, be willing to listen to people's opinions and maybe learn from them. Art is a conversation.
4. Keep it simple. And, often, less is more. You may have a lot of things you want to express, a lot of things you want to try. That's fine, but if you try to do too much in one piece you will most likely confuse your audience or lose them entirely. Do one or two things, and do them well. Save the next couple of things for your next piece.
I have never been a huge fan of horror in the past so my personal knowledge of this genre is very limited. I am thankful that my friends have different passions and preferences from mine as interacting with them broadens my horizons. So, thank you, Paul, for the insight you and your fellow pannelists provided. Job well done.
Step outside your comfort zone. Read, listen to, watch, or experience something you usually wouldn't; make yourself think. Who knows, you just might enjoy it...
1. Get an education in your chosen medium. Learn the history and immerse yourself in what has already been done. Figure out what you like and don't like and most importantly, why.
2. Get an education in art in general. No particular medium exists in a vacuum. Inspiration and points of reference are everywhere.
3. Have something to say. If you don't know what you are trying to express, how will you know if or when you have said it? Once you have figured out what you want to say, don't pussyfoot around; express your point of view and defend it if you have to. Then, be willing to listen to people's opinions and maybe learn from them. Art is a conversation.
4. Keep it simple. And, often, less is more. You may have a lot of things you want to express, a lot of things you want to try. That's fine, but if you try to do too much in one piece you will most likely confuse your audience or lose them entirely. Do one or two things, and do them well. Save the next couple of things for your next piece.
I have never been a huge fan of horror in the past so my personal knowledge of this genre is very limited. I am thankful that my friends have different passions and preferences from mine as interacting with them broadens my horizons. So, thank you, Paul, for the insight you and your fellow pannelists provided. Job well done.
Step outside your comfort zone. Read, listen to, watch, or experience something you usually wouldn't; make yourself think. Who knows, you just might enjoy it...
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Words of Advice to a Writer
Words of advice to a writer
Working on a story
When the story in his head
Seems to want to be bigger than he had planned on:
Don't worry about what it wants to be
Let it do what it wants
You are not the story
You are just the writer
You do what it tells you
For now
Then we beat it into submission
Later
Working on a story
When the story in his head
Seems to want to be bigger than he had planned on:
Don't worry about what it wants to be
Let it do what it wants
You are not the story
You are just the writer
You do what it tells you
For now
Then we beat it into submission
Later
Saturday, March 05, 2011
From Better to Good
Moving from I want better
Through it will be better
And I'm making it better
To finally arrive at
It is good
Through it will be better
And I'm making it better
To finally arrive at
It is good
Just Clouds
Clouds slowly floating by
Cursed where swollen rivers flood
Blessed where arid soil crumbles
Either way
They are just clouds
Cursed where swollen rivers flood
Blessed where arid soil crumbles
Either way
They are just clouds
Thursday, March 03, 2011
I Have Chosen My Own Path
I have chosen
to disconnect
all the buttons
you have become so adept
at pushing
Each day
I take another step
away from you
toward him
and my future
I am still afraid
of what the future holds
but with every day that passes
and every time I hear his voice
my fear diminishes
Now, as I walk through life
I hold my head up high
and even if I stumble or fall
I see amazing things
and chose my own path
to disconnect
all the buttons
you have become so adept
at pushing
Each day
I take another step
away from you
toward him
and my future
I am still afraid
of what the future holds
but with every day that passes
and every time I hear his voice
my fear diminishes
Now, as I walk through life
I hold my head up high
and even if I stumble or fall
I see amazing things
and chose my own path
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thank You
You make me feel
special
I haven't felt
that way
in such a very long time.
That you trust me
with your heart
and soul
makes me want to prove
that I am worthy.
Thank you
for always believing
in the me
that I was almost
too afraid to become.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
More Than Chocolate
I have finally found
the only thing on this earth
that I need
more than chocolate
and that's you.
My Rock
When all around is chaos
falling down around my ears
you alone make sense
and keep me steady
you are my rock.
When I am frantic
and frazzled
you alone
have the ability
to calm me completely.
No matter how stressful the day
how frantic the ratrace
one word from you
and it all
disappears.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Life lessons: What are you?
What are you?
Notice, I'm not asking 'who' you are but rather 'what' you are. We all have a name we call ourselves; usually given to us, sometimes chosen by us or our friends, usually two or three names strung together, but sometimes only one. While we 'know' each other by these names, rarely do they convey anything at all about us meaningful. So, we label ourselves. We package our identity in words and phrases designed to explain our various functions, jobs, talents, and desires to others. We then use those labels to make decisions about ourself and others.
The moment you were born, and with the medical technology now commonly available often long before your physical birth, you received your first in a long line of labels--son or daughter. Your sexual identity was proclaimed and tagged with the simple sentence, "It's a boy". Next came your introduction to your place in a pecking order; you were either the oldest, the second child, the youngest, or a combination of these things. Sometimes it took years to know if you would be the middle child, or the youngest or where your final place would be. Eventually, this was worked out and you were properly labeled.
Your physical circumstances became labels whether you embraced them or not. Some of us are thinner than others, some are fatter. Some have blue eyes, some brown. Your social circumstances play a part as well. Many get married and add labels of 'husband' or 'wife' to their growing resume of identifying descriptors. Some become parents. Some own pets. We move through school and into jobs. We identify ourself by those things as well.
Beyond these labels that have been applied to us in terms of our relative families, our physical attributes, our fields of study, or our job titles, there are the labels we apply to ourselves. These do not necessarily have anything to do with those that someone else would apply to you. You might consider yourself to be a 'musician'. Others hearing you sing or play might disagree with your assessment.
It is those self-applied labels that I am wondering about today. What do you list? What don't you list? Why? And, would the people around you who know you best agree or disagree with them?
Some of the things I call myself, like photographer, are things I am relatively competent at but don't pursue as a profession. Others, like musician, are things from my past that are now dormant and not necessarily still parts of me but are labels I'm not yet ready to discard.
Yesterday, an essay by Scott Roche titled "Aspire?" got me to thinking about the label 'writer'. I have been wrestling with the labels 'writer', 'poet', and 'editor' for a while now. I've had a hard time claiming any of these as parts of me. I have hesitated to own them. In large part, because they are relatively new to me. There is also the idea of competency involved with being able to state that I am a particular something or other.
I do write. Almost every day. In one way or another. I am hard pressed to remember days where I didn't create either a blog post of some sort, a poem, or an article. I edit things for other people almost daily, from large novels down to bits and pieces of miscellaneous things. Even as I recognize that I do these things, I have still been reluctant to claim them as parts of myself. Why?
In part, I think it has to do with the fact that so many of my friends are writers or editors these days. Most of them grew up writing and knowing they were writers. They have been crafting words for years. This was most definitely not the case for me. I had a difficult time even learning to read and didn't become a voracious reader until I was ten when I was given the first six Nancy Drew mysteries by a friend of the family who had noticed me struggling to read. From then on, I read constantly. While I read everything I could get my hands on, and could tell someone what I liked or didn't, I couldn't tell them why. Nor could I get my own thoughts or ideas out in any kind of coherent fashion. I avoided writing all the way through school. I would wait till the last possible moment, get a random topic from a classmate that fit the particular type of paper I was required to write (compare and contrast for example), and on an adrenaline rush, crank out the minimum requirement. I usually got a B. But it was a torturous endeavor that left me in a cold sweat for the rest of the day. The only reason I think I was able to write even to a B level was the detachment involved with writing about something random that I had no emotional connection to in any way. When I tried to get my own thoughts out, I end up with a disjointed mess of randomness and not quite getting to the point. I'm hoping this essay doesn't become a case-in-point.
My editing is the same way. I know what sounds or looks right to me. But ask me why, and there is a good chance I'm either not going to be able to articulate it, or the answer will not be in terms you would learn in any English class. Having said that, I began to own the label 'editor' long before 'writer' in part because while I have a lot of insecurity over whether I am a 'good' editor or not, I know I am editing. But that is a question of qualifying my abilities as an editor and whether or not anyone else values my work as such. For now, I have decided to own it. It has become a part of who I am and something I enjoy immensely.
Calling myself a poet was also difficult for me. I've always thought of poetry as such a difficult craft, a rare and beautiful art form requiring painstaking delicate precision--ballet in word form. I hesitate to even say I write poems as more often than not, they write me. How can I take credit for something I didn't really do? They seem to be born in front of me. Often, I look back and read through them and don't even remember creating them. But whether I labor over them and rip them from myself, or they appear effortlessly, I am finally acknowledging them as my creations. And so, I am a poet.
While I have come to call myself a 'poet' and an 'editor' I still had a difficult time saying, "I am a writer". I have attempted to write fiction. Not very successfully. Somehow, I had the idea of 'writer' confused with 'writer of fiction'. I have been writing blog entries for almost five years now and recently started writing non-fiction articles on knitting. for whatever reason, it has taken me a very long time to be able to label myself as a writer.
Perhaps my reluctance with all of these is the desire to have qualifiers in front of them. I want to be good at these. And, without some form of acceptance, I wasn't willing to lay claim to them. I enjoy these things. I wouldn't be struggling to write this now if I didn't feel some sort of need to express myself in some way. That said, I don't want to do these things without some sort of validation.
One of the biggest changes I have been slowly going through is learning to give myself validation. Not just in these things, but in all things. And, in learning that lesson, I can now say that in addition to all the other things I am, I am also a poet, a writer, and an editor.
I would never have been able to learn this lesson (or so many others) without the love, support, friendship, and patient teaching of so many friends. I am inspired and instructed by so many people, their words spoken and written, in public and in private, each and every day. So, thank you, Scott, for sharing your thoughts yesterday and in doing so, helping me clarify mine.
Some of the things I call myself, like photographer, are things I am relatively competent at but don't pursue as a profession. Others, like musician, are things from my past that are now dormant and not necessarily still parts of me but are labels I'm not yet ready to discard.
Yesterday, an essay by Scott Roche titled "Aspire?" got me to thinking about the label 'writer'. I have been wrestling with the labels 'writer', 'poet', and 'editor' for a while now. I've had a hard time claiming any of these as parts of me. I have hesitated to own them. In large part, because they are relatively new to me. There is also the idea of competency involved with being able to state that I am a particular something or other.
I do write. Almost every day. In one way or another. I am hard pressed to remember days where I didn't create either a blog post of some sort, a poem, or an article. I edit things for other people almost daily, from large novels down to bits and pieces of miscellaneous things. Even as I recognize that I do these things, I have still been reluctant to claim them as parts of myself. Why?
In part, I think it has to do with the fact that so many of my friends are writers or editors these days. Most of them grew up writing and knowing they were writers. They have been crafting words for years. This was most definitely not the case for me. I had a difficult time even learning to read and didn't become a voracious reader until I was ten when I was given the first six Nancy Drew mysteries by a friend of the family who had noticed me struggling to read. From then on, I read constantly. While I read everything I could get my hands on, and could tell someone what I liked or didn't, I couldn't tell them why. Nor could I get my own thoughts or ideas out in any kind of coherent fashion. I avoided writing all the way through school. I would wait till the last possible moment, get a random topic from a classmate that fit the particular type of paper I was required to write (compare and contrast for example), and on an adrenaline rush, crank out the minimum requirement. I usually got a B. But it was a torturous endeavor that left me in a cold sweat for the rest of the day. The only reason I think I was able to write even to a B level was the detachment involved with writing about something random that I had no emotional connection to in any way. When I tried to get my own thoughts out, I end up with a disjointed mess of randomness and not quite getting to the point. I'm hoping this essay doesn't become a case-in-point.
My editing is the same way. I know what sounds or looks right to me. But ask me why, and there is a good chance I'm either not going to be able to articulate it, or the answer will not be in terms you would learn in any English class. Having said that, I began to own the label 'editor' long before 'writer' in part because while I have a lot of insecurity over whether I am a 'good' editor or not, I know I am editing. But that is a question of qualifying my abilities as an editor and whether or not anyone else values my work as such. For now, I have decided to own it. It has become a part of who I am and something I enjoy immensely.
Calling myself a poet was also difficult for me. I've always thought of poetry as such a difficult craft, a rare and beautiful art form requiring painstaking delicate precision--ballet in word form. I hesitate to even say I write poems as more often than not, they write me. How can I take credit for something I didn't really do? They seem to be born in front of me. Often, I look back and read through them and don't even remember creating them. But whether I labor over them and rip them from myself, or they appear effortlessly, I am finally acknowledging them as my creations. And so, I am a poet.
While I have come to call myself a 'poet' and an 'editor' I still had a difficult time saying, "I am a writer". I have attempted to write fiction. Not very successfully. Somehow, I had the idea of 'writer' confused with 'writer of fiction'. I have been writing blog entries for almost five years now and recently started writing non-fiction articles on knitting. for whatever reason, it has taken me a very long time to be able to label myself as a writer.
Perhaps my reluctance with all of these is the desire to have qualifiers in front of them. I want to be good at these. And, without some form of acceptance, I wasn't willing to lay claim to them. I enjoy these things. I wouldn't be struggling to write this now if I didn't feel some sort of need to express myself in some way. That said, I don't want to do these things without some sort of validation.
One of the biggest changes I have been slowly going through is learning to give myself validation. Not just in these things, but in all things. And, in learning that lesson, I can now say that in addition to all the other things I am, I am also a poet, a writer, and an editor.
I would never have been able to learn this lesson (or so many others) without the love, support, friendship, and patient teaching of so many friends. I am inspired and instructed by so many people, their words spoken and written, in public and in private, each and every day. So, thank you, Scott, for sharing your thoughts yesterday and in doing so, helping me clarify mine.
Monday, February 07, 2011
Life Lessons: Opinions of Me
As I go through my days, there are moments, either through conversations with friends, personal observation, or perhaps even divine intervention, when I make realisations of who I am, how I function, or suddenly understand some great truth of myself and/or my world. I call these things life lessons. I can't know how valuable these thoughts will be to anyone besides myself. I do know that they are very meaningful to me.
Many seem so simple. That is often the beauty of these. Many are things I already knew subconsciously. Finally recognising them with my conscious self seems to be as beneficial as learning things that seem completely new and surprising.
From time to time I will share some of these life lessons in the hope that you might find them beneficial in some way.
Today's life lesson came about when a dear friend expressed an opinion about me that was very kind and at the same time completely contradictory to the opinion of someone else in my life.
And so, my life lesson concerning opinions of me...
Every opinion of me is valid. Each is a piece of the puzzle that is me. That some are in conflict speaks to the individual relationships I have formed. The whole of those opinions matters more to me than any individual one when considering my character and behavior. I have the power to change some people's opinion of me, but not all. That I can't change someone's opinion does not make it any less valid. It does not mean, however, that it defines me. Only I can define who I am for myself.
Many seem so simple. That is often the beauty of these. Many are things I already knew subconsciously. Finally recognising them with my conscious self seems to be as beneficial as learning things that seem completely new and surprising.
From time to time I will share some of these life lessons in the hope that you might find them beneficial in some way.
Today's life lesson came about when a dear friend expressed an opinion about me that was very kind and at the same time completely contradictory to the opinion of someone else in my life.
And so, my life lesson concerning opinions of me...
Every opinion of me is valid. Each is a piece of the puzzle that is me. That some are in conflict speaks to the individual relationships I have formed. The whole of those opinions matters more to me than any individual one when considering my character and behavior. I have the power to change some people's opinion of me, but not all. That I can't change someone's opinion does not make it any less valid. It does not mean, however, that it defines me. Only I can define who I am for myself.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Sand
Nondescript sand falls
Into the heat of your flame
Transformed forever
That crystaline glass
Forged from the fire of your soul
Was once just old sand
No sharp edges there
She was worn down from friction
Scattered to the wind
Unable to stand
She was ground down by the tide
Inconsequential
And then the tide turned
Left her lying on the shore
Empty and alone
She had potential
If she were made whole again
She'd sparkle and shine
The flames burned so hot
Melting all her little bits
Tiny shards of glass
Cleansed by this trial
She walked through the fires of Hell
And was whole again
I see in your eyes
The flame that burns inside you
The fire that heals me
In your warm embrace
My thoughts sharp and crystal clear
Your love has changed me
Into the heat of your flame
Transformed forever
That crystaline glass
Forged from the fire of your soul
Was once just old sand
No sharp edges there
She was worn down from friction
Scattered to the wind
Unable to stand
She was ground down by the tide
Inconsequential
And then the tide turned
Left her lying on the shore
Empty and alone
She had potential
If she were made whole again
She'd sparkle and shine
The flames burned so hot
Melting all her little bits
Tiny shards of glass
Cleansed by this trial
She walked through the fires of Hell
And was whole again
I see in your eyes
The flame that burns inside you
The fire that heals me
In your warm embrace
My thoughts sharp and crystal clear
Your love has changed me
Friday, February 04, 2011
A Super Dessert for the Super Bowl
Here is a super quick recipe for a yummy dessert for your Super Bowl party (or for anything really). It takes less than 5 minutes to put together, has only 4 ingredients, and needs no measuring.
Granny Annie's Cherry Stuff
(make up a fancier name if you want but "Cherry Stuff" works for me)
1 large can (15 oz?) Crushed pineapple
1 can Cherry pie filling
1 box Yellow cake mix
1 stick of Butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350* F
Spray a 13 x 9 baking dish with Pam or similar vegetable cooking oil spray
Spread crushed pineapple evenly in bottom of pan
Spread cherry pie filling evenly on top of the pineapple
Pour cake mix evenly over fruit, leave lumpy, DO NOT smooth it out
Drizzle melted butter over the cake mix.
Bake at 350*F for 30 minutes.
Let cool for at least 10 minutes
Can be served warm or cool. Goes great with ice cream.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
It's Just Words
It's just words
shaping all our thoughts
just words
over which wars are fought
It's just words
when I cry out in the night
just words
describing dark and light
It's just words
tumbling around and through
just words
that make me think of you
It's your words
when you open your imagination
your words
that are my fascination
Sunday, January 23, 2011
I am Stronger Today
I am stronger today
then I was yesterday
and I will be stronger tomorrow
and every tomorrow
that follows.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Cold Air and Sunshine
Cold air and sunshine
blue skies banish loneliness
peace and strength are mine.
blue skies banish loneliness
peace and strength are mine.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sparks
What is it about creativity? The spark of an idea? The thrill of something new coming from you? Growing in you? Much like a pregnancy of an idea. Birthing a project. Your Baby. The NEED to share some part of yourself, your soul, with the rest of the world. Maybe a need for acknowledgement or appreciation as well.
Most of our lives seem to be spent learning about the world around us. Naming things. Discovering how things work. Exploring the vast unknown. Then finally, hopefully, finding our place in that world. That we can "see" something that doesn't yet exist in the physical world in our imagination and then turn it into a reality astounds me.
To create with words is no less amazing to me. Writers and poets create characters, other people, out of nothing more than thin air and ideas. People we end up caring about; loving and hating. People with complex lives; families, histories, stories of their own to tell.
I have found recently that as thrilling as it is to have the spark of a creative idea burning brightly in your brain, it is almost equally as fantastic to be able to help that spark exist in someone else. To get an idea that relates to another artist's work and pass it off to them; watching it take root is wondrous. To see that flame in their eyes and know you helped put it there is a special gift.
I am fortunate in so many ways. I create things physically in the form of color and yarn. I dye yarn and allow the colors to speak for me. They convey emotions, attitudes, stories of people and places. I also knit and transform that yarn once again into a thing of beauty and purpose. I am also gifted--and I mean this literally as in having been given a gift that I am fortunate to possess--with the ability to create little poems. Taking an idea and expressing it in such a way as to have other people feel something or understand something they might not have otherwise.
Beyond my personal abilities to create I have found another joy. That ability to help a fellow artist create. To see someone else's work clearly enough; to understand the characters they have created, to see the next step for their work and be able to share this vision of their work with them in a coherent manner is a new experience for me. Watching that spark that first spontaneously combusted somewhere in my mind's eye flash and burn even more brightly in their eyes is truly magical.
Now, I get to fan the flames and encourage them along in their progress, happy to have been a part of the magic they create.
Most of our lives seem to be spent learning about the world around us. Naming things. Discovering how things work. Exploring the vast unknown. Then finally, hopefully, finding our place in that world. That we can "see" something that doesn't yet exist in the physical world in our imagination and then turn it into a reality astounds me.
To create with words is no less amazing to me. Writers and poets create characters, other people, out of nothing more than thin air and ideas. People we end up caring about; loving and hating. People with complex lives; families, histories, stories of their own to tell.
I have found recently that as thrilling as it is to have the spark of a creative idea burning brightly in your brain, it is almost equally as fantastic to be able to help that spark exist in someone else. To get an idea that relates to another artist's work and pass it off to them; watching it take root is wondrous. To see that flame in their eyes and know you helped put it there is a special gift.
I am fortunate in so many ways. I create things physically in the form of color and yarn. I dye yarn and allow the colors to speak for me. They convey emotions, attitudes, stories of people and places. I also knit and transform that yarn once again into a thing of beauty and purpose. I am also gifted--and I mean this literally as in having been given a gift that I am fortunate to possess--with the ability to create little poems. Taking an idea and expressing it in such a way as to have other people feel something or understand something they might not have otherwise.
Beyond my personal abilities to create I have found another joy. That ability to help a fellow artist create. To see someone else's work clearly enough; to understand the characters they have created, to see the next step for their work and be able to share this vision of their work with them in a coherent manner is a new experience for me. Watching that spark that first spontaneously combusted somewhere in my mind's eye flash and burn even more brightly in their eyes is truly magical.
Now, I get to fan the flames and encourage them along in their progress, happy to have been a part of the magic they create.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
The Quest to Find Happiness and Other Things
I'm on a quest. A holy grail sort of thing. I'm searching for happiness. But not a simple little moment of happiness. That I can find--on a regular basis. But, for me, those moments of happiness are punctuated by a number of decidedly un-happy moments and emotions. And, as if that wasn't enough to be looking for, along with never-ending happiness, I want to discover those habits, tendencies, rituals of folks who seem to be perpetually well-rested, productive, effective (in addition to happy) members of society.
I am by nature an optimist. I am also a procrastinator who is prone to laziness and depression. I am an idea person who sucks on the follow-through. I lack focus and commitment. At home. In my personal life. The funny thing is that when I was working I was the complete opposite at work. Highly organized. Tightly focused. Able to multi-task easily. All the while, I was much happier at work than I was at home.
I guess I need to figure out what I did (and probably even more important) why I did what I did when I was at work. Hmmm....
So, while I ponder work life versus home life, if you have any thing in particular that you do that helps you achieve happiness or be more productive or effective in your life, I'd love to hear about it.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Knitting a Community
Patiently I knit
one stitch
at a time
together they form
the fabric of my life.
Friends
Friends
like stitches
are added
one at a time
knitting a community.
So Many People
So many people
strangers this time last year
opened their arms and hearts to me
took me in and became my friends
I am truly blessed.
strangers this time last year
opened their arms and hearts to me
took me in and became my friends
I am truly blessed.
Simple Shrimp and Broccoli Curry
Happy New Year.
I'm not sure when I became Martha freakin' Whatshername but I'm about to put another recipe up on my blog.
I made this tonight for the second time and it was just as easy and yummy as the first time. I cheat all the way through. So, if you are a real chef (or fancy yourself to be one) you probably don't want to read any further. This takes about 20 minutes (maybe a little bit less) to make so is great in a pinch or while also trying to wrangle kids, do the laundry, and/or all the other things we all have to do at exactly the same time we need to prepare food.
I am listing the ingredients as I find them. Substitute any and all with what you can find at your local store.
2--12 oz boxes of Seapak frozen shrimp scampi (or other frozen shrimp)
1--12 oz jar Seeds of Change Madras simmer sauce (or other curry sauce)
1--12 oz steamer bag frozen broccoli florets
cooked rice (again, I cheated and used Minute Rice ready to serve cups)
1 or 2 packages fresh Naan bread
In large skillet cook frozen shrimp scampi according to package directions. At the same time, cook the bag of broccoli according to package directions (5 min on high). Pre-heat the oven to 400 if you want to warm the bread. Once the butter sauce that was coating the shrimp has all melted, pour off most of it (about 3/4). Dump the whole jar of curry sauce in with the shrimp. Stir. If you are heating the bread, place on a baking sheet and sprinkle with a little water. Watch the shrimp curl up into little circles of white goodness. Stir occasionally or in whatever manner makes you happy. Being mindful of the steam and it's ability to burn the crap out of you, open and pour the bag of broccoli in with the shrimp and sauce. Stir. Microwave the rice according to package directions (1 min ea on high). Turn everything off. Take the bread out of the oven. Serve. Particularly good with a cold beer.
It really is that simple.
Hope you enjoy.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Recipe for the B.E.S.T. Salad
This is from memory and amounts are approximate. I rarely measure when cooking. Baking is a different story. Anyway, go with your gut (literally) and use more or less depending on your preferences. Add something else, switch something out, make it your own. Cooking, like life, is an ongoing experiment...
B. E. S. T. Salad (Bacon or Beer or Both Essential Spicy Taters)
This makes a huge serving bowl full, enough for 16-20 people. Modify to suit the size of your crowd.
1 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2-4 Tablespoons Cayenne Pepper
1 Tablespoon Garlic Powder
1/4 Cup Dried Minced Onion (or use a few onions coarsely chopped and cook with either green beans or potatoes)
1 Tablespoon Chili Powder
1 Tablespoon Black Pepper
1 teaspoon Paprika
1 teaspoon White Pepper
1/4 Cup Salt
5 lbs Potatoes, washed, peeled, cut into 1" cubes
2 lbs Green Beans, washed and trimmed
1 lb Bacon
1/2 Cup Oil and Vinegar Salad dressing (whatever you prefer)
Additional Salt to taste
1. Preheat oven to 350 F
2. In a large mixing bowl combine olive oil and spices
3. Spoon half of the oil and spice mix into a second large mixing bowl
4. Add the green beans to one bowl and the potatoes to the other
5. Using large baking sheets with sides (jelly roll pan) spread the potatoes and green beans in even layers and bake each for 40 min to an hour, scraping off the bottom of the baking pan and turning every 20 minutes until tender.
6. Allow to cool in pans
7. While veggies are cooling, cook bacon until crisp
8. Crumble bacon and toss the bacon, potatoes, green beans and salad dressing together in a large serving bowl.
9. Salt to taste.
You might want to have a beer or other cold beverage handy when you start nibbling on this...it packs a KICK!
ENJOY!!!!
Taking Flight
I used to be shy
You offered me safe haven
Underneath your wing
I settled in there
Under your wing protected
Watching you take flight
You encouraged me
To stretch my own wings and try
Under watchful gaze
Cautiously I tried
I flew out into the world
Brave for an instant
Each time I ventured
Pushing a little higher
You were there for me
I am conquering
My fear of the great big world
One flight at a time
I am strong enough
To not need your protection
All of the time now
I am smart enough
To know you will be there if
I need you again
I am growing strong
But still occasionally
Need encouragement
I seek your council
My mentor, my friend, my love
From under your wing
Each little setback
A moment for reflection
Then I soar again
You taught me to fly
I am forever grateful
You are in my life
You offered me safe haven
Underneath your wing
I settled in there
Under your wing protected
Watching you take flight
You encouraged me
To stretch my own wings and try
Under watchful gaze
Cautiously I tried
I flew out into the world
Brave for an instant
Each time I ventured
Pushing a little higher
You were there for me
I am conquering
My fear of the great big world
One flight at a time
I am strong enough
To not need your protection
All of the time now
I am smart enough
To know you will be there if
I need you again
I am growing strong
But still occasionally
Need encouragement
I seek your council
My mentor, my friend, my love
From under your wing
Each little setback
A moment for reflection
Then I soar again
You taught me to fly
I am forever grateful
You are in my life
Friday, December 10, 2010
Knitting Pattern for Cat or Baby Toy
Here's a pattern for a ball shape. Great for cats (with the catnip in the middle) and babies (probably better without the catnip in those circumstances)
To make a larger ball just do an extra round or two of increases, an extra couple of rows in the middle, and the corresponding extra rows of decreases.
Materials needed:
Lamb's Pride worsted weight yarn
85% wool, 15% mohair
Size 13 circular needle
Tapestry needle
Polyfill stuffing
Catnip
Holding 2 strands together throughout, Co 3 stitches
Push to other end of needles
*Kfb* (6) knit in the round from here on
*Kfb* (12)
*Kfb, K1* (18)
Knit 1 row
*Kfb, k2* (24)
Knit 1 row
*Kfb, k3* (30)
Knit 3 rows
*K2tog, k3* (24)
Knit 1 row
*K2tog, K2* (18)
*K2tog, k1* (12)
Stuff with polyfill half way, make a little depression in the middle of the polyfill and put a tablespoon of dried catnip in the space. Cover with more polyfill.
K2tog (6)
Top off the stuffing.
K2tog (3)
Pull tail through the remaining 3 stitches. .
Tighten the ends and close any gaps with the tails then pull the tails to the center.
To make a larger ball just do an extra round or two of increases, an extra couple of rows in the middle, and the corresponding extra rows of decreases.
Materials needed:
Lamb's Pride worsted weight yarn
85% wool, 15% mohair
Size 13 circular needle
Tapestry needle
Polyfill stuffing
Catnip
Holding 2 strands together throughout, Co 3 stitches
Push to other end of needles
*Kfb* (6) knit in the round from here on
*Kfb* (12)
*Kfb, K1* (18)
Knit 1 row
*Kfb, k2* (24)
Knit 1 row
*Kfb, k3* (30)
Knit 3 rows
*K2tog, k3* (24)
Knit 1 row
*K2tog, K2* (18)
*K2tog, k1* (12)
Stuff with polyfill half way, make a little depression in the middle of the polyfill and put a tablespoon of dried catnip in the space. Cover with more polyfill.
K2tog (6)
Top off the stuffing.
K2tog (3)
Pull tail through the remaining 3 stitches. .
Tighten the ends and close any gaps with the tails then pull the tails to the center.
Saturday, December 04, 2010
The Boss
I used to work in a large warehouse until Corporate America in it's infinite wisdom closed the doors on the facility. The last five years of my existence there were spent in the receiving department.
Receiving was done at night from midnight to nine. The available appointment slots were from one to six and for the size of the warehouse, our docks were pretty small. This meant that any truck driver worth his salt would be waiting on my doorstep when I arrive at work at 23:30, hat in hand.
Receiving was done at night from midnight to nine. The available appointment slots were from one to six and for the size of the warehouse, our docks were pretty small. This meant that any truck driver worth his salt would be waiting on my doorstep when I arrive at work at 23:30, hat in hand.
As the receiving clerk I ran the show. I assigned the doors to the drivers when they arrived. Some were much easier to hit then others. Some offered more room to work on the dock. Some just sucked anyway you looked at them.
When I arrived at my office the drivers would start lining up in the hopes that I would assign doors early so that they could get themselves and their rig situated and have time to either off-load early and make good time to their next stop or grab a quick nap. During the check-in process occasionally drivers would try to get the door they were assigned changed. We would discuss it. I would explain why they were assigned the door they were assigned, they would explain how inept they were as a professional driver in the hope that I would pity them. Sometimes I couldn't change my mind without screwing up everything for everyone and they were shit-outta-luck. But other times I had plenty of room to be nice.
They must have been able to see it on my face either way. When I was stuck between the proverbial rock and retaining wall they hung their heads and went about the business of dealing with it. But somehow they always seemed to know when I was able to let them have their way, if I so chose. They whined, begged, flattered, exaggerated, and outright lied--anything to get their way. We could waste half an hour in this silly dance when what it came down to was they were professional drivers who for the most part could get their trucks into any of our doors with minimal difficulty. They were just bored and needing attention.
Enter the Magic 8-Ball. One of my best friends (a long-haul driver whom I met at that job) thought this up and was shocked and delighted when I was silly enough to not just laugh at the possibility but put it into practice.
If you have ever worked in Corporate America you know the truth of these next words. As an employee at the bottom end of the decision chain any time you need a supervisor or manager to make a decision for you (not because you aren't smart enough to figure it out for yourself but because you're not ALLOWED to think for yourself) you might as well use a Magic 8-Ball. The end result is the same. And the logic is often better with the plastic toy anyway.
So, my buddy and I hatched this plan and waited for the first opportunity to use it. The next night when a driver started whining about getting a new door (and I had flexibility to grant or deny his whiny-ass pleading) I simply said, "well, I don't know. Let's ask the Boss." and picked up the black plastic orb that was perched on the end of the shelf above my monitor. A hush fell over the drivers qued up through my office. A couple started giggling. I looked the driver in the eyes as I shook the ball while saying out loud, "Magic 8-Ball, can this driver have a different door?"
I looked down at the toy, turned it over, and read aloud the response floating in the little window, "Not now". The driver hung his head, his whole body seemed to sag a bit, and he dejectedly left the office. A few drivers later another man, who was a regular and could easily park in any door, grinned at me as he started whining about his assignment too. I grinned back as I reached for the "Boss" again. This time it replied, "Ask again".
So I shook it again asking loudly, "Magic 8-Ball can this sorry-assed excuse of a driver PLEASE have a different door?" I turned it over and read aloud, "YES". They cheered. The smile on his face lit up the room and he bounced out of the office.
I didn't use it often but it sat above my monitor and every once in a while I would take it down. Just the act of taking it off the shelf lightened the mood in the office. But the best part was that regardless of the answer it gave, no one ever argued with the "Boss".
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Tendrils of Time
The tendrils of time
Wrap themselves
Around us
Through the ages
Memories
Of places
And faces
Flood our consciousness
But they are blurred
Indistinct
Impossible to know
Who they are
Until I hear your voice
And my soul leaps
Recognising you
Knowing us
I have known you before
Loved you completely
Our lives are twined together
For eternity
Wrap themselves
Around us
Through the ages
Memories
Of places
And faces
Flood our consciousness
But they are blurred
Indistinct
Impossible to know
Who they are
Until I hear your voice
And my soul leaps
Recognising you
Knowing us
I have known you before
Loved you completely
Our lives are twined together
For eternity
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
A Truthful Thanksgiving
Soon we will sit down
'round a table, with family and or friends,
Laden with favorite foods
Bow our heads in thought or prayer
And say what we are thankful for
We will mention health
Or caring physicians
When we
Or someone we love
Is lacking in this regard
We will mention family
But what we'll
Really mean
Is the ones we can stand
Or that don't drive us nuts
We will mention jobs
Because we're thankful
For the money they put in our pocket
Not for the idiots and assholes
Who also work there
If, when we sit down
We are truly honest with ourselves
Some people might be shocked
To know what we are
Really thankful for
Face it
We're thankful we made it
Through another year
Without killing some asshole
Who truly is deserving
We are thankful
for mindless distractions
Like video games, books, and movies
That let us escape from hell
For just a short while
We are thankful for the alcohol
Or the drugs
Or the sex
That deadens the pain
Or makes life tolerable
I, personally, am thankful
That my husband and I
Are finding a way to work through divorce
As gently as possible
For us and our children
I am thankful for the friends
Who love and support me
Who challenge me to be
Everything that I can
Even when I don't know what or who that is
I am thankful for my children
Who amaze me every day
With their unique brilliance
The wonderful people they are now
And the people they are becoming
I am thankful for the words
That flow from somewhere inside
Helping me make sense of my world
And from friends near and far
Sharing themselves with us
I am thankful for art
Colors, objects, and images
Made, found, observed
Keeping the darkness at bay
Lighting my world, my soul
Mostly I am thankful
For those I love
Who for some reason
Unfathomable to me
Chose to love me in return
'round a table, with family and or friends,
Laden with favorite foods
Bow our heads in thought or prayer
And say what we are thankful for
We will mention health
Or caring physicians
When we
Or someone we love
Is lacking in this regard
We will mention family
But what we'll
Really mean
Is the ones we can stand
Or that don't drive us nuts
We will mention jobs
Because we're thankful
For the money they put in our pocket
Not for the idiots and assholes
Who also work there
If, when we sit down
We are truly honest with ourselves
Some people might be shocked
To know what we are
Really thankful for
Face it
We're thankful we made it
Through another year
Without killing some asshole
Who truly is deserving
We are thankful
for mindless distractions
Like video games, books, and movies
That let us escape from hell
For just a short while
We are thankful for the alcohol
Or the drugs
Or the sex
That deadens the pain
Or makes life tolerable
I, personally, am thankful
That my husband and I
Are finding a way to work through divorce
As gently as possible
For us and our children
I am thankful for the friends
Who love and support me
Who challenge me to be
Everything that I can
Even when I don't know what or who that is
I am thankful for my children
Who amaze me every day
With their unique brilliance
The wonderful people they are now
And the people they are becoming
I am thankful for the words
That flow from somewhere inside
Helping me make sense of my world
And from friends near and far
Sharing themselves with us
I am thankful for art
Colors, objects, and images
Made, found, observed
Keeping the darkness at bay
Lighting my world, my soul
Mostly I am thankful
For those I love
Who for some reason
Unfathomable to me
Chose to love me in return
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I Don't Need Words
I don't need words
To know the truth
Of how you feel
In your heart
I can see it in your eyes.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Loneliness Eviscerates
The pain cuts
but I don't bleed
it burns so
but I show no scars
loneliness eviscerates.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
To Know Another
How can you know me
without ever hearing me
over your own words?
To know another
you have to listen to them
with a quiet mind.
without ever hearing me
over your own words?
To know another
you have to listen to them
with a quiet mind.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Moon has Risen
The moon has risen
pregnant in the cold, cold sky
delivering us.
The warmth of the earth
blanketed by the snow fall
waits to bloom again.
pregnant in the cold, cold sky
delivering us.
The warmth of the earth
blanketed by the snow fall
waits to bloom again.
A Tree Full of Butterflies
The brisk Autumn winds
rustle the leaves taking death
leaving the dying.
Sunlight filtered gold
a tree full of butterflies
fluttering nowhere.
rustle the leaves taking death
leaving the dying.
Sunlight filtered gold
a tree full of butterflies
fluttering nowhere.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Gettysburg Battlefield in Autumn: Part 7-Misc
Part 1 "Fog" is here.
Part 2 "Nature" is here.
Part 3 "Roads & Paths and Self Portraits" is here.
Part 4 "Monuments and Graphic Design" is here.
Part 5 "The Power of the Monuments" is here.
Part 6 "Fences" is here.
Well, I think I've dragged this out as much as humanly possible. These are some miscellaneous images that really didn't fit into any of the previous themes as well as the best images from my trusty little Blackberry. I realize from doing these posts that I need to further work on my editing skills...
I Don't Write Poems
I don't write poems
I gently hold a thought
and wait for the words to come
and the poem
to write me.
I gently hold a thought
and wait for the words to come
and the poem
to write me.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Gettysburg Battlefield in Autumn: Part 6-Fences
Part 1 "Fog" is here.
Part 2 "Nature" is here.
Part 3 "Roads & Paths and Self Portraits" is here.
Part 4 "Monuments and Graphic Design" is here.
Part 5 "The Power of the Monuments" is here.
This is the last of the themed posts. After this, all that is left is the best of the photos taken with my trusty blackberry and some miscellaneous images. I don't usually have many themes in mind when I set out to create images. This shoot was a little different in that I intended to try to capture the fog. Beyond that, I simply look for things that catch my eye. I enjoy looking back through the images and seeing what I didn't necessarily see at the time, themes that I might have been working on unawares.
Most of the Gettysburg Battlefield is a patchwork of fences. The notable exception would be Little Roundtop. Otherwise, this land was family farms. Many of the fences were simply to mark boundaries between one farm and the next. Some, to keep livestock from wandering. Those, would primarily be the straight picket fences. Some of the stone walls were created when farmers cleared the land, piling the stones turned over by the plows along the edges of the fields. Some of the stone walls and the zig-zagging sharp picket fences were hastily built by the armies to use as cover. All of them, wood and stone alike, give the landscape a geometry. Individually, they have the ability to create a frame for the somber beauty and draw your eye in to the scene. I wonder as I look at them, touch them, steady myself on them, and photograph them, Did a soldier steady his weapon on the same plank that I now use to steady my camera? How many men died where I stand today?
I find them to be simple, yet elegant; functional and beautiful at the same time. Like the trees and the rocks that have been here since before the battle began, they were witnesses. If only they could talk...
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Gettysburg Battlefield in Autumn: Part 5-The Power of the Monuments
Part 1 "Fog" is here.
Part 2 "Nature" is here.
Part 3 "Roads & Paths" and "Self Portraits" is here.
Part 4 "Monuments & Graphic Design" is here.
I've waited to do this post till now because it was by far the hardest to edit. I've looked at these images every day since I took them, letting them sink into my subconscious in the hopes that choosing the ones that have the highest impact would be easier. It helped a little. Without further stalling...
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