six-word memoir writing process

purple
people
goodness
variety
ostentatious
vivacious
tenacity/tenacious
travel
vacation
new places
hotels
movies
theatre
singing
dancing
writing
classy
tacky
refined
style
New York City
service
flowers
farming
trampolines
aubergine
magazines
addiction
queen
sovereign
change

Seeking an outlet for my social needs during my divorce and need for exercise resulted in a two-year stint with BYU ballroom classes. Dancing has always been something I've enjoyed. Think 14-years-old and church dances. I went from bronze to silver to gold American Social Dance and bronze international ballroom and bronze Latin Dance.

Reader's Choice Top Ten 2016

It always surprises me what my readership embraces and what is left in the corner. This year has been no different. I am thankful as ever to have readers of my writing and continue to doubt I will ever get used to you people coming back for more on the regular. It truly rocks my world.

What I have done is come to realize that what I have to say is not only valuable but valued. Thank you for teaching me this thing. I believed it but only to a point until I was taught through comments and repeated, regular visits to my writing pages herein. You keep me writing when there "isn't time" and when I can't seem find anything to say because there is just too much. Thank you.

I now give you the Readers' Choice Top Ten for the amazing year of 2016:

1. Cardboard Signs
2. My Inspiration
3. Farmers and Paul Harvey
4. Keep Writing
5. Hope's Wake
6. An Open Letter for Single Moms
7. Friendship
8. Playing in the Background
9. Changing Every Day
10. Defying Negativity


Honorable Mentions:

More Like Water
My Truth

writing

It is difficult to know what to write about first when I have so much to be thankful for. I guess I'll express my deep appreciation for being able to write. I love words and communicating with others, and life would not be the same for me if I could not write. Today I am especially thankful that I'm able to share my gratitude over this coming month with you.

para ti, mi amor

Pensé que se le olvidó
mi corazón y todo
pero tú no lo hizo
tú eres mi amigo
un parte de mi vida que no cambió
siempre y siempre si te quiero

My Legacy

At first when I stop to ponder what will my legacy be, I come up with nothing. I think that my life has been unremarkable; I have contributed nothing of great consequence; and, I feel my insignificance. However, in the very next moment once the negativity subsides, I can see more clearly what my legacy might be and what it certainly will not be.

My legacy will not be defined by the money I had or didn't have, nor will it look like the opportunities I had or didn't have. It will not be defined by my mistakes. My legacy will not be that of a loser who has nothing.

I know these statements to be true because I inherited my parents' legacy. They did not have money, so to speak, but they had enough of the stuff to share and care for others. There was always enough to help someone with gas money to get home and other such things. My father knew what it meant to be truly hungry when he was growing up, so he made sure that anyone who came to our house went away full and/or with food in hand. My mother cooked and baked, giving away so much of it with a heart full of love. I was taught that when you give love, people give love back.

My parents were well loved. They might not have had as many opportunities as some people, but when given the opportunity to help and serve and love, they did it. And it was in no small measure. They made room for long-term house guests in a full house—on multiple occasions.

Conversely, my parents provided a perfect model of mistake making, but they also showed me that it could be overcome. They made many mistakes, some of those being significant, and still, the good outweighs the bad tenfold at the very least. People make mistakes, but mistakes are not our legacy. The ability to change, overcome, and succeed despite the mistakes is part of the legacy I received from them. I was given a legacy of compassion on the hungry, needy, and fatherless. They passed down to me the ability to speak the truth. They taught me gospel living. They passed down love.

Since my life is not over just yet, I can't really say what my legacy will be for certain, but I will guess that I will pass down my heart to the world. My hope is that anyone who I have known will come away from this existence with the firm knowledge that I care about them, that I have faith enough to share that theirs might have seed to grow from, and that I have given all that I have to give. My children will be part of this gift. While they might not ever know money or grand opportunity, they will have been given a legacy of love passed from my parents to me and then continuing on to them: love of fellow man, love of learning, love of family, love of beauty in its several forms, love of God.

There have been and will be times when my children are uncertain as to their purpose and value, so I hope they will look to my words and know that they are my legacy, and my legacy will be great. I am destined to greatness and so, too, are they because we know what love looks like and we embrace it every day of our lives. No matter our mistakes, we are not losers. We are strong, we can change when change is necessary, and we will overcome every obstacle.

My legacy will be a legacy of love.


My Legacy: Introduction

electric lines

There's something divine

About looking at someone

Into their eyes, into their heart

And seeing past the surface 

To who they really are 

And seeing who they could become 

—who you could become— 

If the walls are scaled

If the borders are crossed

If the feelings are allowed to be felt 

When the power lines are electrified

After barriers are broken down

But even before the smoke clears

Before either of you feels safe

You both acknowledge 

There has always been something

Whispering to you to continue peeling

Away the layers that keep truth

And treasure hidden

The truth

That you might just be 

Each other's

Match that lights eternal fire

Bookend that completes the set

Answer to infinite questions

Peace when the storms of life rage on

But until then— 

Look to the sunlit sky

Find me in the clouds

Remember me at dusk

See me in every tower

Electrifying your line of sight

As I see through to 

The inner you

A resplendent soul—magnificent

My Legacy — Introduction

I really don't know how to begin, so I will begin at the very beginning. My son missed the bus. No, maybe that's not the beginning. My son started to grow up and began asking random questions. Yes, that is the beginning. Then, he missed the bus—too many times to count. But, before the missing of the bus too many times to count, he truly asked me many random, apparently unconnected questions.

Whenever I am asked random questions, I wonder about how to answer in the most honest way because the answer is not in any context, and context matters. Sometimes, context is everything. Yet, I answer his questions and never know to what end they will come until the day he missed the bus for the last time in middle school. 

Typical morning. A whole lot of messing around—time wasting to be exact. So, of course, he misses the bus. It had become almost a routine, a rhythm of sorts. Play around, miss the bus, empty the dishwasher, and mom takes him to school. However, this particular morning turned out to be not so typical. He decided to talk back a little more, a little louder, and continue messing around. And I simply got fed up with it. The messed up rhythm laced with a disrespectful overtone pushed a button, and I knew I wasn't doing my son any favors by not speaking up. I told him he was being "lazy and irresponsible" and that he needed to figure things out. Then, he talked back to me one more time, and I was done. I told him that he would need to walk to school because I couldn't give a ride to someone who is being rude. 

Instead of leaving while I got dressed, he decided that putting away the dishes looked like a good deal, but I wasn't going to give in. He still kept on messing around with his siblings and I was done, remember? I told him he better hurry and get to walking, and he refused. Long story a bit shorter, the idea of getting reported as a truant did not appeal to him, and he walked to school. He called me from school to apologize, tell me that he loved me, and ask if I had seen his homework that he left at home by accident in all the commotion. 

And that is where "My Legacy" begins . . .

. . . to be continued next week. 

SOLSC 2014: A Very Short Narrative

A Romantic Tragedy/Reality

The knowing wasn't the hardest part. And it wasn't the acting upon the knowing that hurt. The aftermath of feeling so much love is what was killing part of her, deep down inside. It was having to let go despite the realization that she couldn't breathe without him; rather, she didn't want to breathe without him.

In the end, we carry on as if nothing ever happened. 

SOLSC 2014: Shakespeare and Roses

Writing is my passion and getting published is a fuel for that fire. Right? But whenever I think about the byline on things I write, I step back and almost don't want publishers to look at me until I figure out what I want to do about it all. I'm holding my breath until I can recognize myself again.

Who am I anyway? All of this identity crisis garbage points me toward Shakespeare when he spoke wisdom through the voice of fair Juliet:

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

Not that I'm a rose, but I need to figure out how to get past this role reductionist mentality I have been living with and take ownership of this existence. I am of worth with so much to offer the world—regardless of what name I go by. It probably just takes time to iron out stuff like an identity crisis, but I have some things going out to press soon, so I really need to figure it out sooner than later!

caught in the breeze

a whispering floated across the hills
with the wind and was pinned to the blue sky
captured in the sun's darting rays
at the brink of the start of this new day

it said to take hold of
the moments as they come
to listen, love, and learn something more
take time to breathe deeply
and without hesitation
look into the eternities
with affection and anticipation embrace
the adventure which presses against the glass

waiting to be let out into
the rain to dance and sing
to let go of fear completely
remembering to live deliberately

to survive

I spent the day wasting away
Wishing for nothing
Hoping for everything
The mind is wild with anticipation
The heart yearns for something new
How to make it happen
Is as elusive as the love 
That once resided in this house
Yet did it ever really exist?
Or was it a blinding façade?
I don't even care anymore
Whether it was real or not
Here and now is reality enough
To tell me that burned bridges
Change the world
And everyone in it
The smoke hasn't cleared
And I can't find my way out
Alone but I must 

not holding my breath

Holding one's breath is exhausting
Time flits past me as I watch it flee
Past me with all the wishes it once held
Like a thief, I steal my own goals from me
By sitting back, overwhelmed, left wanting
Always waiting for another corner to be turned
What will it take for the past to be laid to rest
Upon the future's back, it rides and collides
With the new dreams I would like to dream
Running away from everything and nothing
Nothing more to be said but that I wish
I wish for an everlasting love to find me
And never leave—lasting through eternity

Night Whispers

Words come to her through the softness of his whispers
A million emotions fly to and through their breaths
Gliding through stories, written and untold, only to hide
Behind the tears that rise and spill over
Salt in unbeknownst wounds, wet on wet, uncomfortable
Sliding quietly onto her care worn, war torn cheeks

Perceived these, he did
Enough to send them gushing
Reached out the best he could.

Briskly wiping them away
Whisking away her feelings
As promptly as they arrived.

Tell me your stories that I may find mine, she says.
Share with me my broken heart that's been long forgotten
Yet beckons, even begs, to be reclaimed. 
Give me back the part of my heart I gave to you
That I might have it to lose again another day.

Memories breed, forging new ones in their moment.
The night whispers of love and friendship tried and true.
Every breath spent recounting this broken heart's start—it's end.

52 gems of reflection

This jar might not look like much, but, believe it or not, it's reclaimed treasure. It was my mother's. Typed onto each tiny slip of paper is a journaling prompt. When I heard that it was found, I about started to cry, but then my wheels got turning when my sister-in-law thought it would be great for blogging. We brainstormed for a long while; she took photos; I edited photos; and, this is what we came up with: 52 Gems of Reflection.

For 2013, Mondays on here will be centered around a random prompt from one of those slips of paper. I hope you might join in by commenting or using the prompt for your own blog. If you use the prompt, you can get the challenge photograph (as shown above) and weekly photograph prompts via a Pinterest pin that I will post each Monday under Blogs and Other Writing Adventures. Please put a link to your blog in the comments so everyone can enjoy your perspective on it throughout the week.

So without further ado, I give you Week 1 of 52 Gems of Reflection:

Thinking back, was there a teacher(s) or class that had a great influence on you?

The teachers who had the most impact on me just happened to be friends with my mom. I didn't quite realize what a benefit it was to be taught by educators who cared all that much more because they cared about my mom, too. But now, as I reflect on it, I see what a blessing these two women were in my adolescent life, key players in the village that raised me.

My inspiration for becoming an English teacher comes from Mrs. Martin. She was my teacher for the Honors British and American Literature classes that I took the last two years of high school. Mrs. Martin had this way of expecting what she knew you had in you. I won't ever forget the time I wrote a mess of a paper the night before with no thought whatsoever, turning it in late by three days already and expecting a decent grade. She marked off the points for each day late, then knocked off another ten because, as she put it, You know you can do better than this. I was in personal turmoil at that time, and so it didn't change my attitude toward the class. However, it taught me a life-long lesson about knowing what my best is and doing it.

Dr. Jensen, the choir director at my high school, influenced me to recognize my love for music in new and lasting ways. There is just something about singing The Hallelujah Chorus in a 1000-voice choir at the Candlelight Ceremony at Disneyland that pretty much takes your breath away and lights a unique fire, and that's just one example. She worked tirelessly to provide us with opportunities to showcase the talent and dedication of the students with whom she had influence. I am not technically trained whatsoever in directing choirs, but her enthusiasm for music, coupled with the example set in my home by my mom, rubbed off on me and I am enchanted by music in all its forms.

On a side note: I didn't realize what a friend my mom had in Dr. Jensen until she volunteered to play the organ at my mom's funeral. It touched me deeply to know that my teacher, her friend, remembered me and wanted to add more to the gift of music she already gave me many years before.

These two teachers' influence changed me for the better, and I feel their positive influence on my life even still. My heart is full of gratitude for them and every teacher who has helped me along my way.

Hot Off the Presses: Textistory

Preface

Have you ever heard of Found Poetry? If not, it is when you take a completely random text such as a short story, pages in a magazine or novel, text messages in your cell phone, etc. and create a poem using only the words and phrases found within that text with small changes for connective tissue, thus creating a completely separate and new piece of writing--a poem.

I want to take this idea and run with it. I want to create Found Stories, which I will label as Textistory. The term is a blended word from texts and history that describes a short story created entirely from text messages we send through our phones. While my first ever textistory will be solely from phone texts, the genre may include any instant/direct messaging.

Now, without any further ado, I give you

Six Weeks

Alexandria just listened to I Think We're Alone Now. No worries. She had a good night's sleep, but not in a calm, controlled type of mood. What were we expecting, really? Still, don't take things so seriously. She is in control of her state of mind and will figure it out; however, they could use a talk. She and Robert.

While together with a friend at dinner, Robert whispers I love it when you talk to me that way...I'm glad you did because life is short, Gorgeous...Do you remember you used to call me that? It makes Alexandria smile and the greenness of her eyes distracts him. That night, unadulterated by electronic devices, their voices become all tangled up, beautiful, and oh so romantic. After a few hours, both have to go but she offers a rain check for another time. So many ways to take that...

On another lovely evening, he realizes how he didn't mind being drawn in to her by lovely compliments. He thinks Be brave. So, like a shamelessly adorable door to door salesperson, he calls in the rain check. She feels fortunate even though it looks like daytime is coming.

Who knows what she told her parents so she could be awake? It takes so little to make Alexandria smile that he knows he should be crossing his fingers he doesn't fall asleep as she laughs and talks softly-- then, she only hears him breathe so she says she is proud of him, loves his writing, and a few goodbyes in sweet tones as not to wake him. Now it's her turn for falling asleep radiant with happiness.

Some time later...

He, proud as a frightened peacock, announces that he is not the marrying kind, but only dates women. History and wishing leverage against her favor. Don't wait around. She realizes the real problem has been all the ambiguity flying about. Rendered speechless, her heart crawls inside itself. Pandora's box. Her first thought is What's wrong with you? Stop. She is enough knowing genuine love can never be madness, except for when we deny or feign it. Remember, it's all about you--a wandering, divine, glimmer girl. You are it.

Exquisite. Pain. Love. Together. On the train to celebrating nothing.

So there won't be any misunderstandings, even if you are sleeping emotionally at the moment, take care and don't underestimate guys.

Epilogue:

As far as I'm concerned, texting is such a brutish way of communication. Smoke signals would be much more witty and ravishing...and nerdy.

cake rant

crappy snapshot by me ~ cake by My Artistic Ventures

I think I have a cake problem . . .

I was once told by someone who thought they knew me really well that I want to have my cake and eat it too. The English idiomatic proverb You can't have your cake and eat it too is where this train of thought came from and it seems to make sense, right? You can't continue to possess something and be eating it all up at the same time. At some point you have less than what you've consumed.

However, this accusation was meant to be biting. I was supposed to feel guilty for being such a selfish little jerk of a consumer. Somehow I needed to see that having a cake life is not something I deserve, and if by some unrealized miracle I did in fact have this elusive undeserved cake life abstraction (someone please show me what that looks like), I certainly would be a total narcissistic hag for wanting to taste any of its pleasures from time to time.

The question of all questions is where does one find a cake life? I seriously cannot name one person I would feel comfortable on whom to place such a loaded label. Don't we all have challenges, struggles, and good times all rolled up in one? There are those who appear to have everything, but we can't always see what might be lacking in someone else's life. It's their life—their heart, mind, physical, spiritual self. No one can know all of another person's needs.

I'd like to look at life as more of a jelly roll sort of cake, except every so often between the cake layers you don't find that lovely cream or jelly filling—you get raspberry seeds stuck in your teeth or even worse. Someone might have dumped a load of baking soda into the batch that day or week or year, and you just have to keep on rolling with it. (Let's not even get me started on if there's too much salt because the imagery doesn't match what all that salt adding savor to life stuff tries to portray. Deal?)

Life can also be experienced as an infinite-layered cake with each day, week, and year adding an array of flavors to the whole lovely lot. Some years, we might get German chocolate with that divine coconut pecan concoction lathered in between. And then every once in awhile, you might not even get cake but this nasty garbage disposal-flavored cream sauce that soaks into any cranny it can find, inevitably spoiling a few layers in the process. The fabulous thing about this cake is how it continues to be added upon day after day, even moment by moment. A few unsavory layers can not take away the delectable ones, yet we can scrape off a layer or two by choosing to spend our time delighting in the good parts such as sprinkles and icing.

Friends are our icing on the cake. They add sweetness to even the driest of the dry layers. Friends connect the layers into something worth indulging in. And every once in awhile you have a friend who sticks with you even when garbage disposal cream sauce is doing its damage.

This leads me to the conclusion that the person was partially right in their assumption: I do want to have my cake and eat it, too; however, I pretty much demand that there be a mixing bowl of icing on the side at all times to get me through the bad patches.

Top Ten –licious Words Every Geek Should Know

1. Purplicious: because purple is simply the best color ever and that’s just how the world works right now. I’m writing this article, not you. And no, I won’t apologize. ;)

2. Divalicious: The ultimate of all other (besides purplicious) –licious words because the diva said so, that’s why. Now just sit down and mind your business if you don’t agree. 

3. Fabulicious: Fabulous on steroids.

4. Yumalicious: Using this word to describe food makes it taste all that much more yummy and delicious when combined in such a fabulicious manner.

5. Glittalicious: Glitter sounds too proper. Glitta gets it right. And labeling anything glittalicious morphs it into the hottest sparkly thing yet viewed by the naked eye.

6. Dorklicious: An attempt to make acting like a dork cool. Using this word is effective in 5 out of 10 trials. Use with caution. 

7. Uberlicious: Larger than life and totally in your face good stuff. 

8. Dramalicious: This word is in direct reference to anyone who can pull off drama in the most dramatic way possible that does NOT bug the garbage out of people.

9. Freelicious: Getting something for free that is so fantastic it makes you feel like a rock star.

10. [your name] licious: a fun yet slightly overdone way of communicating to others you feel (or think you are) sexy.

 

11. Geeklicious: a word that does not make any sense whatsoever except for the fact that only a geek would put 11 words in a Top Ten list.

purple highlights

I went through my blog posts and pulled out a sampling from the first three months in order to expose some of my favorites that have yet to be widely discovered or have been somewhat popular but I love them so much I hope more people will read them and love them, too.

Enjoy and please share ones you like with your friends and family!
 

all things purple: Ageism: What to do about it?

all things purple: Breakfast at Tiffany's: Romance Addiction at Its Best

all things purple: The Brighter Side of Things

 all things purple: Frankenstein! Friday!

all things purple: I will survive!

all things purple: Jane's Silence

 all things purple: Kissing, the Movies, and Permissible Infidelity

all things purple: Monkey Bars

all things purple: The Politics of Princesses and Hair

all things purple: Whimsical Wednesday

the wonderful world of blogs

When I decided to start blogging, I did not know into what abyss I would be falling into. Whew!  There is so much to learn and just know and if you don't just know it you kinda flounder...I think I am floundering a bit. not too much. just a bit. 

The one thing I hope is occurring while the world takes notice of my insane learning curve is that you are enjoying this adventure with me.