Somebody asked me what I was going to burn today.  Paper is what I burned.  Ha.  Some random junk and a big envelope full of paperwork I was supposed to do at the beginning of the school.  I figured if I hadn’t done it yet and nobody seemed to care that this fell under the “screw it” category.  Woosh. 

In other purge news, I went through a drawer the other day.  I was looking for something I wanted but didn’t find there but instead found something I don’t want.  I stitched this tacky heart thing a long time ago, even bought a frame for it, and it’s been sitting in this drawer for quite a while.  Could be years.  Actually is years.  The question would be how many.  The answer is lots. Fascinating, isn’t it?  Anyhow.  There’s something about it.  I don’t even know what.  I like green and purple and hearts.  But I just don’t like this thing.  And I can’t think of any (sucker) one who would.  I would love to gift it.  I’ve been coming up empty for years on who.  I’m kinda hoping that the answer will come to me just by sticking it here.

Still waiting. Oh well. 

That’s all I got for purge.  Some days are more purposeful than others.

@Thatslifekid suggested a purge challenge which I think started today.  I’m all about purging. And I’m all about fire.  So I did a purge fire.  Evidence here:

What did I burn you ask?  This is probably the dull part at first glance. Probably at second glance too.  But I did lots of thinking while I was attempting to burn my purge.  Magazines don’t burn so well.  I also lost interest, so I have many more to burn.  Burning is therapeutic for me and I’m sure I’ll require more therapy this week. 

Anyhow.  Cooking Light and Southern Living magazines were the purge today.  No point in ever having these subscriptions, I can assure you.  I don’t read magazines. Really not my thing.  I rarely used a single recipe out of either magazine and I am the least southern living person on the planet.  These subscriptions were from a different time in my life, and I’m not going back there.  Don’t need any person or magazine telling me that I’m not good enough or not doing something right.  And that’s that.

The only reason I got these magazines was because a friend started one of those infernal home businesses.  What is it with women in their 30′s and 40′s starting home businesses.  Egads.  I went to her introductory parties, bought some dust collecting stuff that was pretty but never suited my lifestyle and my people in it.  And somehow got these stupid magazines.  I opened them in the beginning.  Looked at photos of pretty gardens and organized kitchens.  Things that definitely went with this friend of mine and her life, but so didn’t go with mine. 

I went to her teas and Christmas cookie exchanges and Friday evenings with chocolate martinis.  I enjoyed her wardrobe of flowered capri pants and twinsets. Then I started going to school and didn’t have time or money for coffee dates and lunches.  Or inferiority, for that matter.  And she removed me from her mailing list, thank you very much.  I was upset for a while. 

But now I’m not.  Because I’ve been hanging with some other friends of mine.  People who don’t care what I wear. Don’t even care that I may disappear for a while. People whose company makes me feel good, with whom laughter is far more important than anything else. 

This is all just another step in my new life of choosing what I do and who I do it with. (or “with whom I do it” for you people who care about the proper fork and grammar and stuff)

 

what seems like a terrible twist of fate
is sometimes the best thing
and sometimes the best thing
turns out to be a miserable lie

#npm  kinda like a poem

Also the bread disaster (and it really seemed like a disaster) looks and smells fantastic. 

don’t take them from me
my wild delusions twirl
about in a maelstrom
inspiring big lifedreams
that fill this silly heart with helium
i talk funny but i’m harmless
i need delusions
or i’m mud under your shoe

#npm pay me no mind. i’m just insane.

 

In other news, I finished my hammock project today.  Is cute, yes?  Need I say that I have never replaced the canvas on a hammock before? LLO was so pleased with me, she picked violets. For jelly.  Which I suppose I could make now.

#npm Rondelle or rondel which appears to maybe be a rondeau too or some such.  Rhyming pattern: ABba abAB abbaAB with A and B as repeated lines. 

I cannot make a decision
Ideas wiggle around my brain
I hear a familiar refrain
The plan often needs revision

A simple path I envision
Another way has good terrain
I cannot make a decision
Ideas wiggle around my brain

I long to choose with precision
With many viewpoints I will strain
My thoughts wavering I complain
To reach a nothing collision
I cannot make a decision
Ideas wiggle around my brain

 

I’m the poster child for Freewill (get your Rush fix here) “if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.” I can debate all 26 sides.  The grass is greener on both sides of the fence.  I tell you it is exhausting to be in my brain.  I’ve been debating a plan for next year, trying to decide which option is the best in the long run and the short run and any other run there might be.  A couple times I almost made it my Final Answer.  Well, this afternoon I heard from someone else who is more proactive than me that it’s too freaking late for me to decide to get my heiney in gear.  So. That’s that.  And truly, my heart made it clear that I was ok with that.  I wasn’t disappointed.  Often enough I discover what I think after it’s too late to do anything about it.  Hallelujah! Decision made! Except I later thought that there are other options too.  To be debated ad nauseum.

 

In other news, I’m making the cutest hammock in the history of hammocks.  It may not actually be functional, but darn it’s cute.

 

 

 

It’s been a paint-y day.  This is good, because any time I wasn’t painting I was a little disgusted with the world.  And now that I finished a painting project, I’m in love with the world again.  So, clearly, I need acrylic paint in my life in order to be happy.  Whatever.

So the lovely teacher I work with is preggers with twins. Holy sh.  Anyhow, so the class and I decided that we needed to make quilts for the babies.  Today was step #1 of the secret project.  I have to say, I think it’s going to be pretty darn cute.  Here’s what we did today.  (I’ll try not to bore you with each step, because I really don’t do stuff the easy way. ha ha.) In case it isn’t obvious, we did fingerprint painting.  We’re doing a wetland unit, so there are lots of trees, butterflies, ducks, a couple alligators, birds.  You gotta kind of use your imagination.  But pretty darn cute, huh?

eager little hands
full of love and energy
create for teacher

And the other side of my zen door.  Happiness.

Unless I get back to work on the bench I started last spring, I’m out of paint projects.  Sigh.  I guess I could always put up a door frame and paint that. Naw. Too much like work.

dip the brush in small plastic bottles
long brush strokes on rough wood
lines, curves, swirls peel away ugliness
bright colors soothe an aching within
each line brings release from the
dissatisfaction that isn’t earned
and a smile wraps itself around
the release that goes on and on
every time my eyes touch my creation

#npm (who the heck knows what number perhaps it’s time to stop pretending i can manage 30 poems this month.)

You cannot imagine how much difference a door makes.  I’m not making this up.  Here’s the thing.  I’ve had a sewing room since we moved into this house.  It’s a cubicle in the basement and a mess, but worse than that it was a room without a door.  In a basement.  In a house full of cats.  Who are furry and lay down wherever they feel like.  And other stuff that cats do.  This is a problem.  Because I have a sewing room because I have done a lot of sewing.  Cat fur and other stuff is not good. 

Sure. I asked for a door. Once or twice.  And then I stopped asking.  Not because I no longer wanted the door.  You know.  I gave up figuring it was a big deal to get and my time was spent on other things.  Until I got miffed and did a little research.  To discover that Home Depot was practically giving away cheap doors.  So I fetched myself one.  Even took it into the basement.  And asked nicely.  So now I have a door.

I have a space that is completely mine.  Mine.  Nobody else has any business in there.  I am a valued part of this little household because someone was willing to use power tools to meet my needs.  When I’m in my space, I’m not in a basement any more, I’m in a room with four walls and a door.  Not just any door either.  Here’s one side of my zen door.

I started the other side tonight. 

#npm 6 (maybe) a haiku.

four walls and a door
private space and solitude
door opens inward

song
sung
daily
brings a joy
uncounted in life
the secret of a melody
enhances gratitude,  intelligence, harmony

Today’s random poetry style #npm 5 is Fibonacci poetry is a 6-line (or more) poem that follows the Fibonacci sequence for syllable count per line.  In this case, syllables per line are 1,1, 3, 5, 8, 13

Music makes you smarter.  It seems that the scheduling drama for band and choir for next year are over.  LLO didn’t even try to get out of band.  She had the paper filled out and ready for me to sign.  Spawn has decided to do band again next year because the boy she’s crushing on is in band.  Whatever, I’ll take it.  Also, Spawn wants to take piano lessons again.  Hallelujah. 

What you see is not what’s there
Your eyes to you are blind
To the world what you share
What you see is not what’s there
And to others you show more care
And to others you are more kind
What you see is not what’s there
Your eyes to you are blind

This is a Triolet:  8 lines with the following pattern where capital letters represent repeated lines ABaAabAB for #npm 4

 

Saw this thing, I’m sure you did too, but if you didn’t here it is.  We’re so critical of ourselves. 

Song of Hearts

 

Paint a story

Paint a song

Song of despair

Song of jubilance

Jubilance from nothing

Jubilance from everything

Everything is nothing

Everything is all

All for me

All for you

You are sunshine

You are rain

Rain brings sadness

Rain brings growth

Growth is green

Growth is uncertainty

Uncertainty makes questions

Uncertainty makes answers

Answers from within

Answers from without

Without you

Without love

Love ever present

Love ever wonder

Wonder at connections

Wonder at distance

Distance meaningless

Distance immeasurable

Immeasurable as sunbeam

Immeasurable as eternity

Eternity is forever

Eternity is a blink

Blink away tears

Blink away change

Change your heart

Change your mind

Mind your manners with lies

Mind your feelings as truth

Truth is uncertain

Truth is known

Known in the heart convinces

Known in the soul connects

Connects me to you

Connects me to those

Those who think with open eyes

Those who think with open hearts

Hearts that story

Hearts that song

Song

Story

 

This monstrous thing is a Blitz poem. I googled for something different.  I proceeded to make such a silly thing. But there it is.  My 3rd entry for #npm.  Here’s the rules:

• Line 1 should be one short phrase or image (like “build a boat”)
• Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1 (something like “build a house”)
• Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words (so Line 3 might be “house for sale” and Line 4 might be “house for rent”)
• Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines
• Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48
• Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47
• The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3) (preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47)
• There should be no punctuation

You may roll your eyes or hurl.  I got no problem with that. 

 

Just my opinion here, of no consequence to anyone but me.

I’m surprised by choices that parents make for their children.  Myself included.  A friend of mine got tickets for herself and her 2 younger daughters to see Hair and it turns out that only the youngest was available to go.  So she asked me to do her the “favor” of taking her daughter and my youngest to see it.  I knew just enough about it to debate it.  For about 10 minutes.  My friend is reserved and responsible and pretty much nothing like me and if she thought this show was appropriate for her 11 year old daughter then it seemed appropriate for my 12 year old daughter.  The show was fabulous and I would see it again in a heartbeat.  Probably wouldn’t take the kids with me (and I’m certain LLO wouldn’t go again anyhow ).  The “brief” nudity was about 3 days long.  And no, they were not wearing flesh colored underwear.  The song “Sodomy” came up early on.  I was hoping they would skip that one. LLO looked at me and I quickly said “Don’t ask.”  I am so not going there.  Ever.  Anyhow a co-worker came up to me today joking about the kinds of shows I take the kids to.  I was embarrassed thinking that she was judging me.  But it was a very well done show and I’m not sure that I’d make a different choice.

I was talking to another coworker about the kinds of games the 2nd graders in her class play.  Shoot ‘em up games.  Games they are really good at.  Kids who have trouble sitting still and can’t work out disagreements with their classmates who are experienced in pretend killing.  Scares the bejeebers out of me.

I was chatting with some other 2nd graders yesterday and one of them was all excited that he’d seen Hunger Games for the 7th time.  That scares me too.  Because LLO declined reading those books and seeing that movie because she thinks it’s scary.  I agree.  It is a scary movie.  Scary concept.  I loved the books and the movie, but I was more than glad to leave her at home when I took Spawn and her friend (who waited a month and a half to see it with us because she didn’t want to see it with anyone else.)  Spawn and her friend were about 16 or 15 since I now can’t remember when this movie came out.

I think we’re taking the innocence away from our children too early.  And when we, as adults who know the difference between reality and fantasy, expose children to violence and mature content we blur the line between acceptable and unacceptable.  It scares me.

enjoy a preachy nonet poem for #npm 2

it may seem like a game or a movie
pretend, unreal, fantasy, fun
but what is it to a child
whose parents give consent
intentionally
or without care
right and wrong
the line
blurs