In keeping with the last blog post on those bits of prose and poetry coming to you from nowhere, I had that experience again. Only this time, I was just waking up and could hear this song still playing from a dream I had. That has happened before, as well, and usually the song had some deep meaning with what was going on in my life at the time. This time, if that's the case, then it's just darned depressing. :)
Nevertheless, because the experience was still sort of cool (especially the music), I thought I'd share it. This first bit was set to music in my dream and stayed with me most of the morning before another one started on the train ride into work. If you recognize it from a song I may have heard and forgotten, let me know. I always wonder where these things come from.
---------
The dying starts the day we're born
we leave this life tattered and torn
broken down, beaten and shorn
Somewhere along the way you forgot
to strike at the curves life threw you
And as you sing your last refrain
you realize you're the one who remains
of all your friends and all of those who knew you
Round and round you twist and turn
and all the while the fire burns
in your gut and lips with all the truths unspoken
reminders of all the promises you've broken
---------
Then you fell for the demon's kiss
the pride, the pain, the deluded bliss
that shreds the seams and transplants
your skin with his
You threw away the gold in haste
chasing after jewels of paste
Too old now to even try
all you can do is say goodbye
It's all been wasted
--------
Depressing, huh? I hate to think about what that says. The last time I heard a song in my dreams that I didn't recognize, the message was fairly positive. This one, not so much. :)
Nevertheless, it always fascinates me when these things pop up from nowhere and I have a moment to capture them.
Now, in other news, I've got a coupon on Smashwords to read UNMASKED for free if you're interested. Just use coupon code JK69V. I'm also going to be interviewing for another job this week - it's a stretch for me, so I'm not going to get my hopes up too high, but it sure would be nice. All prayers, good wishes, and good lucks welcomed. :)
What's new and exciting in your life right now? Any unexpected muse visitations?
Oh! And in time for Halloween, check out Edie Ramer's ghost stories blogs. Fun stuff - just scroll down a little to start reading them. I have a couple that maybe I could add there...
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Time Out
It has been brought to my attention rather forcefully this year that I only have so much time and energy to go around (who knew?), and so I've decided to go into a self-imposed exile for the next year. I'll be taking down my website and other blogs, and just leaving this one up, because I know that I won't be able to stay completely away. I'd miss you guys too much. :)
However, I've had a few late night/early morning epiphanies that have left me with the decision to take a year off from attempting to write and create art for profit. For the next year, I hope to focus on solely the love of the craft(s), as well as reaching deep to discover the things most important to me. You'd think those things would be self-evident, but they really haven't been for almost two decades now. I'm calling this: "The Year of Living Honestly: Finding Purpose and Courage in Truth."
Lofty, huh? :)
Yet, it's true. I've been prone to depression most of my life and felt it coming back lately. Upon further examination, I discovered that my life has been completely lacking in what I'd call honest purpose since I gave up my religion, husband, and most family and friends 16 years ago. During one of those 3am soul-searching sessions recently, I asked myself how it was that I used to be so sure of myself, so brave in doing many things that did not come naturally to me, and realized that it was because I BELIEVED in what I was doing. I had the courage of conviction. Can't say that I've been convinced of much of anything in a long, long time.
Hence, a desire to find out what, if anything, means so much to me that I'd be willing to face anything to protect it. And to figure that out with as little stress as possible. I can't quit the day job just yet (much as I would love to!) - still have bills and daughter's tuition to pay. Though, who knows... I may yet do so. Her education is important to me, but how it gets achieved and paid for is always up for review. As are those bills... :)
Nevertheless, I can stop stressing about trying to write, paint, etc. and all the promotional work involved in that to make money from it (which I haven't been doing lately anyway because I haven't had the energy to keep up with it all). So... that's it. I'm going to do my best to just create for the sheer joy of it, for the learning that will come from that, and not stress myself out.
I'll be honest with myself and others about how much I can, or cannot, do. I'm resolving to not friendly with people I don't like just because they'd be useful to know in my job. I won't smile at liars, I won't glare at friends, I won't enable the weak to maintain their weaknesses (or my own), and hopefully, I'll find some peace.
Wish me luck. :)
However, I've had a few late night/early morning epiphanies that have left me with the decision to take a year off from attempting to write and create art for profit. For the next year, I hope to focus on solely the love of the craft(s), as well as reaching deep to discover the things most important to me. You'd think those things would be self-evident, but they really haven't been for almost two decades now. I'm calling this: "The Year of Living Honestly: Finding Purpose and Courage in Truth."
Lofty, huh? :)
Yet, it's true. I've been prone to depression most of my life and felt it coming back lately. Upon further examination, I discovered that my life has been completely lacking in what I'd call honest purpose since I gave up my religion, husband, and most family and friends 16 years ago. During one of those 3am soul-searching sessions recently, I asked myself how it was that I used to be so sure of myself, so brave in doing many things that did not come naturally to me, and realized that it was because I BELIEVED in what I was doing. I had the courage of conviction. Can't say that I've been convinced of much of anything in a long, long time.
Hence, a desire to find out what, if anything, means so much to me that I'd be willing to face anything to protect it. And to figure that out with as little stress as possible. I can't quit the day job just yet (much as I would love to!) - still have bills and daughter's tuition to pay. Though, who knows... I may yet do so. Her education is important to me, but how it gets achieved and paid for is always up for review. As are those bills... :)
Nevertheless, I can stop stressing about trying to write, paint, etc. and all the promotional work involved in that to make money from it (which I haven't been doing lately anyway because I haven't had the energy to keep up with it all). So... that's it. I'm going to do my best to just create for the sheer joy of it, for the learning that will come from that, and not stress myself out.
I'll be honest with myself and others about how much I can, or cannot, do. I'm resolving to not friendly with people I don't like just because they'd be useful to know in my job. I won't smile at liars, I won't glare at friends, I won't enable the weak to maintain their weaknesses (or my own), and hopefully, I'll find some peace.
Wish me luck. :)
Monday, July 19, 2010
Magical Mondays: Songs from the Subconscious
(Or, alternately titled, "Whereat Kate Gets Her @ss Kicked Again, But in a Good Way")
Magical Mondays started as a way to share some of the unusual and sometimes sublime moments of intuition and unexplained phenomena people experience on occasion. Sometimes the events are striking, sometimes subtle. The past two weeks have been the latter for me.
A week ago, I took a few minutes a day to ask my subconscious to tell me what I really wanted. After a few days, it suddenly showed me a clear picture.
However, over the past two weeks, I've also been experiencing a great deal of stress at work and have had several "aha" moments where I've realized that I've let other people walk all over me my entire life. Then, during the past couple of days of peak stress and aggravation, I started asking myself: Have I done something to contribute to these people thinking they can be such jerks to me? Am I enabling their condescension? Is there some part of me that really believes I deserve it?
But then I kept thinking that, no, I truly didn't believe that they were better than I am, so what was the deal? Were they simply buttheads and I was innocent of any fault? But if that was the case, why did they bother me so much?
So, once more I put out a call to my subconscious/higher self/universe/guardian angel/collective unconscious/god/higher power/whomever (as Wayne Dyer says, you can call it "Louise" if you like), and asked, what am I missing here?
After asking again before I went to bed last night, I had the following dream...
I had gone into a cellar to get some rope then saw that it wasn't a cellar, but it was my grave. Even though I was still alive, I knew the future me was dead and buried in there just behind a door to my right. There was mold all around and it was pretty creepy. I was both fascinated and scared by my own grave, but realized I shouldn't be in there just yet. As I walked out of it and shut the door firmly behind me, a song started playing very loudly, and these were the words:
It doesn't matter how young or old you are.
It doesn't matter what you do.
It doesn't matter what they think,
If you matter to you.
Do you?
Do you matter?
Do you matter to you?
I woke up suddenly from the dream with the song still playing in my head, and knew it really doesn't matter what those supercilious sh*ts think. I DO matter to me, and they're about to find out just how much. I'm not ready to lie down and die just yet. :)
How about you? Anything feel particularly empowering lately?
Magical Mondays started as a way to share some of the unusual and sometimes sublime moments of intuition and unexplained phenomena people experience on occasion. Sometimes the events are striking, sometimes subtle. The past two weeks have been the latter for me.
A week ago, I took a few minutes a day to ask my subconscious to tell me what I really wanted. After a few days, it suddenly showed me a clear picture.
However, over the past two weeks, I've also been experiencing a great deal of stress at work and have had several "aha" moments where I've realized that I've let other people walk all over me my entire life. Then, during the past couple of days of peak stress and aggravation, I started asking myself: Have I done something to contribute to these people thinking they can be such jerks to me? Am I enabling their condescension? Is there some part of me that really believes I deserve it?
But then I kept thinking that, no, I truly didn't believe that they were better than I am, so what was the deal? Were they simply buttheads and I was innocent of any fault? But if that was the case, why did they bother me so much?
So, once more I put out a call to my subconscious/higher self/universe/guardian angel/collective unconscious/god/higher power/whomever (as Wayne Dyer says, you can call it "Louise" if you like), and asked, what am I missing here?
After asking again before I went to bed last night, I had the following dream...
I had gone into a cellar to get some rope then saw that it wasn't a cellar, but it was my grave. Even though I was still alive, I knew the future me was dead and buried in there just behind a door to my right. There was mold all around and it was pretty creepy. I was both fascinated and scared by my own grave, but realized I shouldn't be in there just yet. As I walked out of it and shut the door firmly behind me, a song started playing very loudly, and these were the words:
It doesn't matter how young or old you are.
It doesn't matter what you do.
It doesn't matter what they think,
If you matter to you.
Do you?
Do you matter?
Do you matter to you?
I woke up suddenly from the dream with the song still playing in my head, and knew it really doesn't matter what those supercilious sh*ts think. I DO matter to me, and they're about to find out just how much. I'm not ready to lie down and die just yet. :)
How about you? Anything feel particularly empowering lately?
Friday, February 09, 2007
The Sweet Smell of ... Sweat?
Hmmm.... then why do the deodorant do such big business?
(From Reuters)
For women, apparently there's nothing like the smell of a man's sweat.
Researchers at the University of California at Berkeley said women who sniffed a chemical found in male sweat experienced elevated levels of an important hormone, along with higher sexual arousal, faster heart rate and other effects.
Apparently, it also elevates mood and contributes to an overall sense of well-being.
Can't say that sour oniony smell ever did it for me quite like that. Give me a man fresh out of the shower, still smelling of shampoo and his own sweet (clean) self. That will get my heart rate going, among other things. :)
Hmmm.... then why do the deodorant do such big business?
(From Reuters)
For women, apparently there's nothing like the smell of a man's sweat.
Researchers at the University of California at Berkeley said women who sniffed a chemical found in male sweat experienced elevated levels of an important hormone, along with higher sexual arousal, faster heart rate and other effects.
Apparently, it also elevates mood and contributes to an overall sense of well-being.
Can't say that sour oniony smell ever did it for me quite like that. Give me a man fresh out of the shower, still smelling of shampoo and his own sweet (clean) self. That will get my heart rate going, among other things. :)
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Romance
I was blog hopping this morning through some of my favorites, still a little crabby from a long, hard week, still questioning whether I should even attempt to write romance being the cynic I am, and came across this.
Love Letter
I'm going to go find some more Kleenex now.
I was blog hopping this morning through some of my favorites, still a little crabby from a long, hard week, still questioning whether I should even attempt to write romance being the cynic I am, and came across this.
Love Letter
I'm going to go find some more Kleenex now.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Writing Wednesdays
OK, yeah. I designated Wednesdays for writing topics, but things have been happening lately that are demanding my attention, causing me to question what I’ve been doing with my time, my skills, and my life and I can't seem to focus on much else. I suppose it’s timely--starting a new year defining ones values is not a bad thing, and I feel like I’ve not been making the best use of my time on earth lately.
Two more things happened today (that’s two in a long list of things) that pressed home the point yet again. One was a long, dreary staff meeting where I had to listen to other people being given sole credit for projects that I not only initiated, but also planned, developed and implemented through many hours of hard work. The other was a phone call from one of my daughter’s teachers about how she’s been cutting class and is close to failing. That’s been going on for a while now, and Emily is a very bright girl so there’s no academic excuse for her bad grades.
Obviously, something is wrong and I’m asking myself, I’ve been working long hours to provide a certain level of income for what? I know this is a common occurrence; if it weren’t, there wouldn’t be such sayings as “No one ever said on their deathbed, ‘I wish I’d spent more time at the office.’” And while from time to time I have made breaks away from it, attempting to put first things first, it seems like I repeatedly allowed myself to be sucked back into the money-work-stress cycle.
I remember thinking some years ago that if I just had more money, everything would be okay. Well, now I’m making forty thousand more per year than I was then. (Not that I’m well off by any means; the fact that I’m up 40K simply speaks to how poor I was.) However, I’m no happier now than I was then. I’m just as stressed worrying about my kid, just as unhappy that I don’t have the time or energy to pursue the things I enjoy. So I asked myself, since money didn’t make a difference, what would? What am I missing? The answer was clear: time and purpose. I’ve been lacking both--then and now.
Actually, I’ve changed jobs on a couple of occasions to give myself more time, but I realize now that I still lacked purpose; or else, didn’t commit fully to whatever purpose I’d used as an excuse for quitting. I think those times I switched jobs was simply because I was burnt out, but told myself I was doing it for better reasons; yet once the fear of poverty set in, I went back to the grind.
I just took some time off from writing this blog to have a long talk with my daughter. After our discussion about her grades, I also told her that I’m going to ask my boss if I can go to part-time. Her first words were (in a panicky voice), “But won’t that mean you’ll be paid less?” I said yes, but the money wasn’t worth giving up my life. She said it would be for her. That led to a long discussion about values, reminders of how we lived before vs. how we live now and if we truly were any happier, and how short and unpredictable life really is: my younger brother died suddenly a couple of years ago from heart failure; he was only 31. I don’t expect her to change her way of thinking overnight, but I believe the seed was planted that one thing we can’t buy is the most valuable thing we can have: time for our loved ones, time for ourselves.
Now, I’ll try to bring this back around to writing. :) Going part-time will only just cover the bills. But the freedom to spend time with her, to give her the attention she needs, to do the things that make me happy such as writing and painting--that’s priceless. I believe I can only become a better writer, painter and most importantly, mother, because of it.
OK, yeah. I designated Wednesdays for writing topics, but things have been happening lately that are demanding my attention, causing me to question what I’ve been doing with my time, my skills, and my life and I can't seem to focus on much else. I suppose it’s timely--starting a new year defining ones values is not a bad thing, and I feel like I’ve not been making the best use of my time on earth lately.
Two more things happened today (that’s two in a long list of things) that pressed home the point yet again. One was a long, dreary staff meeting where I had to listen to other people being given sole credit for projects that I not only initiated, but also planned, developed and implemented through many hours of hard work. The other was a phone call from one of my daughter’s teachers about how she’s been cutting class and is close to failing. That’s been going on for a while now, and Emily is a very bright girl so there’s no academic excuse for her bad grades.
Obviously, something is wrong and I’m asking myself, I’ve been working long hours to provide a certain level of income for what? I know this is a common occurrence; if it weren’t, there wouldn’t be such sayings as “No one ever said on their deathbed, ‘I wish I’d spent more time at the office.’” And while from time to time I have made breaks away from it, attempting to put first things first, it seems like I repeatedly allowed myself to be sucked back into the money-work-stress cycle.
I remember thinking some years ago that if I just had more money, everything would be okay. Well, now I’m making forty thousand more per year than I was then. (Not that I’m well off by any means; the fact that I’m up 40K simply speaks to how poor I was.) However, I’m no happier now than I was then. I’m just as stressed worrying about my kid, just as unhappy that I don’t have the time or energy to pursue the things I enjoy. So I asked myself, since money didn’t make a difference, what would? What am I missing? The answer was clear: time and purpose. I’ve been lacking both--then and now.
Actually, I’ve changed jobs on a couple of occasions to give myself more time, but I realize now that I still lacked purpose; or else, didn’t commit fully to whatever purpose I’d used as an excuse for quitting. I think those times I switched jobs was simply because I was burnt out, but told myself I was doing it for better reasons; yet once the fear of poverty set in, I went back to the grind.
I just took some time off from writing this blog to have a long talk with my daughter. After our discussion about her grades, I also told her that I’m going to ask my boss if I can go to part-time. Her first words were (in a panicky voice), “But won’t that mean you’ll be paid less?” I said yes, but the money wasn’t worth giving up my life. She said it would be for her. That led to a long discussion about values, reminders of how we lived before vs. how we live now and if we truly were any happier, and how short and unpredictable life really is: my younger brother died suddenly a couple of years ago from heart failure; he was only 31. I don’t expect her to change her way of thinking overnight, but I believe the seed was planted that one thing we can’t buy is the most valuable thing we can have: time for our loved ones, time for ourselves.
Now, I’ll try to bring this back around to writing. :) Going part-time will only just cover the bills. But the freedom to spend time with her, to give her the attention she needs, to do the things that make me happy such as writing and painting--that’s priceless. I believe I can only become a better writer, painter and most importantly, mother, because of it.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Book Reviews (well, sort of)
I just finished reading Tess Gerritson's blog on the reading preferences of men & women, and it reminded me of the past week I spent with my brother. He recommended S.M. Stirling's "Dies the Fire" trilogy to me, and I read those while I was there. (With a name like Stirling, he had to be good, right?)
I also found A. Lee Martinez' book, "In the Company of Ogres" lying about and read it too. After reading that one, I immediately went searching for more by the same author, and found "Gil's All Fright Diner" at Barnes & Noble which I finished on the plane ride home.
Now, here's where the tie-in with Gerritson's blog comes in. I enjoyed all of those books, (Ogres most of all) but my brother and I enjoyed them for entirely different reasons. When we discussed them, his emphasis was more on the technical/logical aspects of things, whereas my focus was on the relationships and the humor.
While reading the "Dies the Fire" trilogy, I tended to skim over the war strategies and the technical details - the very things my brother wanted to discuss - but I was riveted by the relationships, the things which made him roll his eyes and skip to the next page. However, each of us would recommend the books to others.
Something similar happened with the Martinez books. When we talked about how much we enjoyed them, and the parts we found most amusing, I mentioned some of the funny things the females in the book did and he didn't recall those right away; he mentioned the name of one of the minor male characters, and it took me a second to remember which one he was. I suppose the good news for both of those authors is that they wrote books that appeal to male & female readers. I'd like to do that someday.
I just finished reading Tess Gerritson's blog on the reading preferences of men & women, and it reminded me of the past week I spent with my brother. He recommended S.M. Stirling's "Dies the Fire" trilogy to me, and I read those while I was there. (With a name like Stirling, he had to be good, right?)
I also found A. Lee Martinez' book, "In the Company of Ogres" lying about and read it too. After reading that one, I immediately went searching for more by the same author, and found "Gil's All Fright Diner" at Barnes & Noble which I finished on the plane ride home.
Now, here's where the tie-in with Gerritson's blog comes in. I enjoyed all of those books, (Ogres most of all) but my brother and I enjoyed them for entirely different reasons. When we discussed them, his emphasis was more on the technical/logical aspects of things, whereas my focus was on the relationships and the humor.
While reading the "Dies the Fire" trilogy, I tended to skim over the war strategies and the technical details - the very things my brother wanted to discuss - but I was riveted by the relationships, the things which made him roll his eyes and skip to the next page. However, each of us would recommend the books to others.
Something similar happened with the Martinez books. When we talked about how much we enjoyed them, and the parts we found most amusing, I mentioned some of the funny things the females in the book did and he didn't recall those right away; he mentioned the name of one of the minor male characters, and it took me a second to remember which one he was. I suppose the good news for both of those authors is that they wrote books that appeal to male & female readers. I'd like to do that someday.
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