Monday, June 8, 2009

The Rock -

He was like bedrock
Firm and compacted
Unmoving and unyielding

I had no desire to weather
This man of long-held views
And entrenched ways

I merely wished to stream
Along his edges
And touch his borders

And to chip away
Some of his solidity
Into my fluidity

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Friday, June 5, 2009

Remember there are always worse things . . . .

Just when I think that my life is bad or my sadness is too great, I read the news and realize I'm just a whiney baby who has no cause to feel so depressed. I was going through a crying spell and decided to do what I do when I get upset: I read the news. The world is such a curious place that I'm usually wrapped up for a block of time reading a story, researching tidbits I learned, or reading further clarifications. It's not that I am specifically looking for stories that make my life seem better, but as all you perusers of the news know, the articles are rife with negativity.

This evening, I read an article about 29 children dying in a fire at a daycare in Sonora, Mexico.

They also confirmed today that the body of the little girl found on the banks of a river in Michigan was the 5-year-old girl, Nevaeh Buchanan, who went missing on May 24, 2009.

I also read the uplifting and heart-wrenching story of Betty Makoni, who is a survivor of rape as a child in Zimbabwe.

So many parents out there lost their beloved children...the Mexican parents, the mother in Michigan, and the children who were robbed of their innocence in Zimbabwe, and here I am sitting, crying, with my two healthy beautiful boys sound asleep in their beds, my relative health, my prosperity. I have no right to be depressed. I have to seize each day with joy, zeal, and gratitude. I will no doubt still feel sad, but I do realize that I have so much to be happy for.

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Thursday, June 4, 2009

Product Going National!


In August 2008, I designed the logo and packaging for a golf tee named the SmarTee. The inventor just called me to let me know that my logo would be used in a national spot television commercial. It is a very satisfying feeling.

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Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Power to the Snail!


Slowly millimetering itself along the walkway to my apartment is the everyday garden snail. The snail is not an attractive creature. It does have an interesting shell, but its earth-toned body is slimy and not particularly endearing, and yet, I have such empathy for the snail. Perhaps my empathy stems from its very slowness. That must be it.

One day, my sons and I made a quick trip to the local grocery store. Since it is close by my apartment, we walked. On the way down the walkway, we saw a snail had just started to cross the walkway. I advised my sons not to squish the creature, though they didn’t know why. My general answer is that it is a living thing and deserves to live and die naturally. When we returned about 40 minutes later, the snail had gone ¾ of the way across the walkway. My sons were shocked! It had taken the snail so very long to cross and it still had a ways to go.

I used the opportunity to convince my boys they shouldn’t kill the snails we see. After all, they had such hard lives. They are now completely convinced that snails should be protected.

I can hear you gardeners out there with your snail-killing solutions grumbling and feeling defensive over your snailicide (made that up). This particular comment is from an article on methods to kill snails:

“I was reading your article about controlling/killing slugs and snails in the garden. The article was very informative and I thank you for providing this information and this wonderful gardening site for our use. One method of slug/snail control that I did not see mentioned but have found very useful is 1 part ammonia to 4 parts water in a spray bottle. I found this information in several different garden forums I belong to. I have read that the ammonia is not harmful to the plants and have found no ill effect in using it on plants. It literally dissolves the slug or snail when sprayed on the critter. There is some satisfaction in this method when you discover a precious plant chewed to pieces and the culprit is dissolving before your eyes. It is very easy to carry a spray bottle with the rest of your garden supplies and I have found it to be effective. Last year I was quite diligent in using this method and this year despite the incredibly damp spring we have had here in Eastern Maine, my snail/slug population seems to be diminished.”


The author of the article takes pleasure in killing the poor snail. Am I a strange one for thinking it wrong to kill a living creature because they happened to eat part of a plant? I suppose gardeners want their gardens to be perfect. They could not deal with a spot or two where a hungry snail had a little bite. So they kill the snails and toss them away like garbage. It's perverse how many cruel and painful ways they have to kill snails and slugs.

The only snailicide I condone is that for you strange people who actually like to eat snails. I find it bizarre and stomach churning, but if the death serves such a purpose, I will accept it.

The slithering snail shall always have an ally in me.

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Friday, May 29, 2009

A quote - Isaac Asimov

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster. - Isaac Asimov

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Swim in My Universe


We all live in parallel dimensions. It is as though there are multiple universes. My universe is different from the universe of the cubicle mate who sits around the corner. His universe is different from the universe of my boss. No one of us has the same perspective as another. The seconds of our lives tick by without ever truly knowing what another is thinking or feeling in that particular second. We can only read or learn about said thought after the fact, and by that time, that particular thought in that unknown second has already been filtered, distilled, or expanded and expounded upon.

Is it the pure thought that is more valuable, or is it the revised thought? This is not a question anyone can truly answer. You can make arguments for both. The pure thought is raw, closer to what you really think, and probably closer to what you feel. The revised thought has been refined, weighed and is closer to what you want to think or want to evoke.

In high school, I took a creative writing class. Every day, we had a few minutes of free writing. We were supposed to write down anything and everything we were thinking until the time had finished. I came up with my best story ideas in those few minutes. In life, our minds are always free writing, but we never jot it down. When I started this blog, I did not know what I was going to write about. All I knew was that I wanted to get something down. I wanted my thoughts to flow and to think of something that was not in the monotonous flow of my daily life. I wanted to write about something that had nothing to do with the regular flow of my universe.

Sometimes I am so dramatic.

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Friday, May 8, 2009

Unrequited Love

I felt I had to document this for my sake. There is no edification in my words nor some new insight into unrequited love. It is merely the recordation of an end.

A few months ago, I fell in love for the second time in my life. I had been seeing him socially for more than a year. It was as though one day, I greeted him as a friend; a friend I viewed affectionately, but a friend nonetheless. Then, almost from one day to the next, overwhelming feelings of anticipation, joy, longing, comfort, desire, and passion consumed me. Every time I saw him, I wanted to be with him; to be near him; to smell him; to feel my hands on his skin; to kiss his lips, his eyes, his ears, his neck, well, his everything; and I wanted to be able to love him openly. I felt like my heart had never been broken because this love was pushing all the pain out.

He’s everything I wanted in a man, except that he does not love me, and I know he never will. Of that, there is not a shred of doubt. So I finally buried my love. My heart bears a fresh wound. He never meant to cause it, so in that I have some comfort.

The end.

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Monday, May 4, 2009

A reflection


My sons just turned 8 and 9 years old, and I feel as though I was changing their diapers a few months ago. I marvel that I am raising two boys with their own personalities, whims, desires, and needs. I feel inadequate to the task and self-centered at times. I have been taking them out more often to birthday parties and family functions so they can socialize more outside of school.

At the same time, I have been spoiling them and buying them things I never had. They both have hand-held game systems, with more than one game. I take them out to eat far more than I ever did as a child. It is no longer a special occasion to them, so I feel I robbed them the feeling of surprise and joy it used to give me as a child. I tell them that they do not realize how lucky they are, but it is solely my fault that they view their possessions as commonplace. I have decided to start taking away their treasured toys for a week every month just so that they can appreciate them more.

They impress me every day with their ideas and they sheer joy in life. I watch their faces as they tell me of their day. One part of me responding with required oohs and awws of conversation, the other cataloging the tones in their skin, a leftover milk mustache from their noon-day meals, and perhaps a new grass stain on their pants. I wish I knew those little stories, but I never will. It is the way of life, just as my mother does not know even 5% of what I do with my days.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Letter to the President

I wrote a letter to the President today in response to an article I read, "Picking Letters, 10 a Day, That Reach Obama." I am not sure if he will get it and I don't really want to post it here, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Too Much



I think too much, my darling
Every second is consumed
With musings and conjecture
Every hour passes a sentence
On my lascivious heart

I feel too much, my darling
The ups and downs of your every smile
Move my emotions as deftly as a puppeteer
Anesthetize my soul with a kiss
Quiet my conscience with sweet whispers

Reach your arms around me, darling
Hold me close for I fear so many things
Only the warmth of your embrace keeps me sane
Only the power of your eyes makes me forget
All the reasons why this shouldn't be

Reach your arms around me, darling
Patch the holes of my psyche
Don't let go, love,
I don't know how long I have
before I crack again

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