Not Quite Qwerty*A Wall for Weirdness and the Inexplicable:
A weird thing happened today: A small worst nightmare. I put on a white skirt and went out for dinner. By the time I arrived at the restaurant, the skirt was covered in chocolate! Somehow a piece of chocolate melted and stuck to the bottom of my purse and as the purse slid back and forth across my skirt it wrote with chocolate all over it. I had to go home and change!
A wall for weirdness and the inexplicable (is that a word?) Well, I created this section to accommodate those weird and strange things that happen to all of us at times. I can’t think of a single strange thing now that I ‘ve put myself on the spot, except for, well, today I found myself on a party bus! I’d heard rumors of party busses and I even asked my teenager to promise me never to enter one, because they sounded to me like dens of ill repute. Today, magically, mysteriously, a tour I’d signed up for turned out to include a PARTY BUS, with poles, for gripping I presume, but somehow people started dancing on them…
Update on the books. I’m reading number 3 or 4, maybe 5, I don’t of the Game of Thrones, plus a collection of short stories by Camille Alexa and another by Claude LaLumiere, also one by Mitch Albom, his third I believe, For One More Day (reading this for class, to see if my students will like it) How many do you read at the same time? I’m reading four at the moment. Three are fiction one is none fiction.
Darn it. I just wrote really cool stuff on here about zombies and lost it all. Makes me feel crazy like a zombie when that happens. I think I said something like, “I never liked zombies, at least not until I started watching The Walking Dead. That show made brain sucking, flesh munching undeads sexy, kinda. I’m reading My Life as a White Trash Zombie by Diana Rowland with great cover art by Daniel Dos Santos. I’m a reader and a writer but am alone when I say I love a great cover that I can look at over and over? When I find a picture online I will post it here.
Last night I dreamed I was bitten on my knuckle by a zombie and it hurt like a hundred hells, tore the flesh from the bone. Someone in my dream told me the bite wasn’t big enough to change me into the undead. I remember being disappointed. Go figure. I think this dream is the beginning of another story I will write. I may spell zombie with an x. Xombies.
The Rose has bloomed.
That’s how I started, that’s how I stopped.
By now the original rose has wilted, died and recycled.
This is the recycled phase of, Hello World.
I’ve finally committed to my WordPress. I’ve been building my Smashwords presence and that was so much fun I remembered my promise to this blog. After a long hiatus which involved returning to higher education as an older student, and teaching full-time, getting my son through high school and a bunch of other excuses, I’ve seen the blog light through rose-coloured glasses, (yes, be ready, for rose -puns), and I want to pick up these writing threads.
I want to be a climbing rose, a writing rose, a reading rose, a reflective rose.
I want to step through the looking-glass of social media and join the strange world of random writings. I’ve completed two years of UBC’s Optional Residency Creative Writing, and am presently in the ‘thesis’ phase. I’ve come to my own conclusion, (after many hours of sitting at my computer and responding to my colleagues online and in the moment) that there is an excitement and challenge that comes with the kind of in-the-moment-free-write required when critquing, responding and questioning in an online forum. I miss that, although, I don’t miss having to be tethered to my computer for certain days and times, but I will, in a sense, a one sided sense, recreate that experience of response here.
As I return to this WordPress journey and study the banner theme I selected from two years ago I wonder why I chose it. I try to recall my thinking. I like the tranquility of this image. I love trees. I admire its suggestion of watercolour, the minmalist line and curve, and contemplative nature of nature that this form suggests to me. It appeals to the poet and artist and. I can focus on the light and the cloud and sky, or brood on the silhouette of tree and the sharp thornlike protusion of the land or root. Yet, I know one theme won’t be enough for my likes, there’ s an edgier and darker side to my visual tastes, the thorn to the petal. Expect change. A motto to live by.