Rule Your Hell

Very recently I have experienced a struggle, with reality I guess you could put it. I am in Alice’s Wonderland of all lands to enter. I mean really, why couldn’t I enter the land of enchantment, to be a queen in a castle? What’s up is really down, and the truth be told, the left side of that mushroom will not make you taller. Just like the right will not make you smaller. While I go through hard times I always try to learn from others, I read anything and everything as fast as I can read it. Just so I can find an inspiration, and tool or a strand of hope to get me through this with some sort of grace. I love and respect all writers, it is a fantastic way to weave in and out of realities, lessons and of course finding treasures in mystical worlds, my favourite. Words in print, just the best.

While having a random anxiety attack, I opened a random book. Seriously just random, picked up what was beside where I was sitting. While taking those deep slow breaths I opened a page deep within the bindings. This is what I read;

“To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven” (Pg. 44 in Confessions of an Advertising Man by David Ogilvy)

This was like a fist to the face. What the hell is this person saying? It was shocking, thought provoking, and made me think I was about to be stricken by God at any point. This was blasphemous! Should I duck? Run for cover? I mean I honestly, felt like I was in serious harms way. Not what someone in the middle of an anxiety attach needs! But this is what writing is all about for me. To shock you, to make you think, to encourage or shake up your reality, only then are you open to a new way of thinking.

I put it down and took a few more deep slow breaths. I’m calming down from the attack now by reminding myself “I am all right”. As you may know, our body does not know the difference between stress of excitement, stress of fear, or stress of shock. To our bodies, stress is stress, and it releases all sorts of chemical reactions to help you fight or flight. So, self talk, (don’t laugh) is a huge help to let your body  know you are all right. After calming down I had to open that book again. I searched for the page and re-read that line. I took it to be speaking to me right now. Ya, I’m special in the way, but anything that can help make sense of or contribute to a better situation; I’ll take it.

It is better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven. What? To me, I think of it meaning when going through Hell you had better rule it while you pass through. Make it worth your while right, why be a slave in Hell? Learn all you need to make it work for you.

That’s my interpretation at this point in life of the first part. However, the better than serving in Heaven part I am not sure.Heaven is supposed to be a place we all want to go, but no I don’t want to be a servant for eternity, be it heaven or hell.

I often think of things that help me get through hard times. such things like:

The light at the end of the tunnel is not at train.

This too shall pass.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Tomorrow is always better than today.

When travelling through hell don’t stop, you are just passing through.

These little self-help pep talks are great when you need them as a quick pick up, but to consider to actually rule your Hell. This is a total shift. Take charge! for a lack of better words “man up.” What a great perspective.

So, next question is… How?

Go to school and get that education that will make you a leader. Focus on your current work to show you are stronger, better, and more passionate. Show you want that raise, be assertive! Go for the next level within the company or a competing company. Don’t hang around for a boyfriend / girlfriend to get their shit together, move it on up, don’t let them drag you down. Don’t let them hold you back either, do not let them follow you like a weight around your ankles. Let the pain of the past be exactly that, all in the past. Don’t carry it with you in your future. If you let the past follow you around then it wins, you must win over anything that happened yesterday. It hurt, yup, now let it go.

Basically find the courage to take a leap of faith, to make a move up, or move forward. You can do it. How do I know this? Because history is filled with stories of people who had nothing that made the world change. Not just the local town shaken up, no, these people who had nothing, changed the WORLD! How? Courage! Be courageous, be assertive, get educated and rule your Hell.

😉

 

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Oh Gravity

As I get older I see gravity is becoming a bit of a bitch. I suppose I should look into a support group. I wonder if there is a nipple dragging group out there?  I don’t want to be a “tripper” when I am in a nursing home, geesh, I could break a hip. A bit dramatic? maybe so. However this is a serious problem among women! 🙂

We all want to look good right? We all want to feel attractive, wanted and desired right? Hell ya. I love being loved, touched, kissed, licked, who doesn’t? But as I get older and hips have widened I see the downside of age. Such cruel reality.

Why bother, no one is looking under my shirt anymore. Why can’t I just let it all hang out? Swinging to and fro, who cares? A strong gust of wind and I have my own flags cheering me on! Other than the people they may slap in the face, oh no, more like slap in the knees! My apologies.

I am exaggerating of course. But some days it feels like the sex appeal is all gone. The body changes through life I get it. So, how do you feel sexy as you age? How do you make yourself feel like you have a” little dirty secret” that puts a little bounce back in your step? You know, when you used to wear lingerie under your cloths or freshly shaved/waxed vagina, or whatever you did you make you feel good. What can you do now? Exercise!

Yup, I saw an older lady from the back at first, it was a body of a 20 or even 30 year old. Then she turned around, and my mouth dropped! She was not at all a young woman. I had to ask her what she did? Is this plastic surgery? Nope. She does yoga 3 days a week and pole dancing 3 days a week. POLE DANCING! I asked her how old she was. She was 67 years old. I was so impressed. She told me she had only been doing dancing for about a year and she saw changes in her body that she had never had before. She has done yoga for 5 years. So she started at 62 years old to loose 30Lbs but she gained a body she never even dreamed of. How wonderful! She said her breasts have even firmed up. Come on, this is the key ladies. Find a strengthening workout that you love and work it, work it work it!

One of my new year goals is to lift these babies up, up, up. Rise my sweets! Look to the ski! I am doing push-ups, and chest pumping and anything I can to re-develop that muscle area. (And I am signed up for the next pole dance class) I wonder if there is Botox for breast? Hmmm? nah, I don’t like getting a needle in my arm, sure don’t want needles stuck into my tender ladies.

oh no, my mind just wondered to a tire pump, wouldn’t that be nice hey, just pump them up when they get a little flat. hahaha.

Well I’m just saying, gravity, she’s is a bitch. But so am I, I will not let you win!

Happy exercising. 🙂

Frozen Canned Food For Dinner?

As you know we are living in a camper, a 5th wheel to be exact. We were lied to by the seller and we have been experiencing hell with winterizing the crap camper.  Lessons learned are endless. The temperature over the last three days has dropped below -10 Degrees Celsius. Last night was -16 *C and all our food and water  froze – solid. We ourselves were fine in our 10 layers of winter blankets and two people inside for heat, however our food and water were not safe.

This brings up the question. Can you eat food  from a can that has been frozen? The answer I can safely tell you is, no. The reason I say no is because you must monitor the temperature that you thaw it. Never thaw between the temperatures of 4 °C (40 °F) to 60 °C (140 °F), and if the can cracked or was damaged in the freezing  or thawing process, either inside or outside of the can, then the food is now contaminated, and you risk food poisoning. My main concern is botulism. This little bugger is the one that puts the fear deep in my bones. This is the reason I always go by the slogan, “when in doubt, throw it out”.

There is too many documented cases of people over the years who carelessly make things like herbed oils, improper canning and have died or got very sick because of it. So when in doubt, please throw it out.

Why do I care so much about botulism? It is rare these days but deadly. It is heat resistant, so even if you cook at high temperatures you will not cook it out. Symptoms will develop in 12 to 48 hours. The poison attacks the nervous system, causing double vision, droopy eyelids, trouble swallowing, and difficulty breathing. If you are not treated in time you will die of suffocation. Even if you get the antitoxin from the hospital you may still suffer nerve damage. Either way, you will suffer permanent side affects.  Not a bacteria you want to mess with.

Since all our food froze, I had to toss out all our food. We do still have rice, lentils, pasta and quinoa. However no water to cook it in since that too was frozen. Just stop and think about this for a second. We woke up and crawled out of bed to find all our water and food frozen inside our home. Most people complain when the temperature in the home reads below +20 degrees Celsius. Water freezes at 0(zero) degrees Celsius. Large full 20 gal jugs freeze solid at around -10 degrees Celsius in just a few hours. Just a thought to share with you all how cold our camper is right now.

I am grateful for this happening. This is a great lesson for my daughter. I have already lived a time that we ate only what we could from dry foods and the water was by melting snow. Teaching my daughter this extreme survival skills I feel will help her in her future if she should ever fall on hard times again. She will not fear since she will now know of options to stay alive, healthy and safe.

When we were in a homeless shelter in Ontario the counsellor there commented that we were too happy to be homeless. This is a great compliment. Why  not be happy? We are alive, we are still somewhat healthy and we are optimistic that this too shall pass. So learn from the journey and enjoy the trip, hopefully it only happens once. For sure don’t eat frozen canned food, or frozen canned food that was thawed and refroze even. Just stay safe, toss it out. We don’t have much ourselves, but even I am not willing to risk it.

Hope you are all staying safe and warm.

 

 

Mom

A bit ago I was missing my father, a lot. And just wanted to say hello to him, ask him some fatherly advice. Since he died I felt like sending it out into the universe how I miss him. So I thought with Thanks Giving coming up and with the whole idea that we are to give thanks on this day, I thought it only fitting to thank my mom.

It’s no secret that we are like fire and ice, we do not see eye to eye at all. As a parent now  I try to understand her. Why she did and said what she did. I think that mom was sad for a long time, since I was adopted I feel like she resented me. She was all done raising children in her mind and now there is another baby in the house. I see that my mom, I think, may have had some mental troubles as well. She did not do well in crowds, she gets flustered and panicked. She is also up and down in moods so perhaps Bipolar. Either way, I know my mother loved me and I love her in our own strange way.

How wonderful it is to have a mother teach you to make cookies and let you lick the spoon, or even better, the bowl. My favourite memory as a kid was when my mom would make jello, she would make a little extra so I could have a 1/2 cup of warm jello before it cooled into the firm wiggly squares. I loved to drink the jello liquid while it was still hot, I still do and so does my daughter.

I was a very active child, a tom boy by all true meaning. I love that mom would get mad at me every time I came home with another cut, another nail through my foot, another gash and needed stitches. The best was when I came home with most of my flesh torn off most of my entire body from a major wipe out. She would get almost sick with worry that it would leave a scar.

“I don’t know if your nails will grow back in, why can’t you act like a girl? Why can’t you play with dolls? Why do you insist on this wild behaviour? You are not a boy and boys don’t date girls that act like boys.” She would say.

Mother would try many things over the years, I know she would stress out about what to bring to the pot luck dinners, and worry about what the other women are wearing. I know my mom never seemed to fit in with the other ladies. I know she felt a little on the outside no matter how hard she tried to fit in, to be a part of the women in the church.  I felt her pain, her tears of not understanding why they all won’t include her or even be nicer to her. Mom tried very hard. When dad couldn’t work anymore, mom went back to school and became a  nurse. She was in her 50’s. She was always doing her best to do what she could for her community, her family, and her neighbours. I respect her very much for all her hard work.

My mom was still in the 1800’s with the idea of a perfect lady. Some of that I agree with, respecting a woman is a big one. But a woman is not needing to be absolutely dependant on anyone else to be considered a lady. And there starts some of our arguments. I want to trust a man, I want to have a husband. I just can’t settle for any man, even if that means I am single my entire life and die alone. I will not settle for just any man just because he’s a “good church member”. Or just because he is “her choice”. But I love her for worrying about me and telling me to “get a man”.

When I was raising my daughter I looked at my parents for “what not to do” and “what to copy”. I believe that once you are of an adult age, you choose what person you want to be and make those changes. I can’t blame parents for everything that is wrong with me, I am to blame as I have freedom to make changes. As a parent, I tried to give my daughter the good things I loved about my upbringing. Like Sunday dinners my dad would cook dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, and mom would set the table and burn the toast. Like learning the value of hard work and the willingness to sacrifice yourself to help another person. Lick the cookie batter bowl. Playing games with my daughter. There are so many I can’t list them all, but as the years go by I learn to value what mom did all those years ago and even still. She is trying her best, to be her best parent she can be, best friend, best person she can be.

I love you for that mom, thank you for all you taught me, and thank you for all your love. It’s not easy to be a great parent, never knowing if the choice you made was right or if you picked the wrong battle.

Happy Thanks Giving to my mom and all you parents out there. Thank you for trying everyday to be a better parent and learning from your mistakes.

 

 

 

Woke up with icicles

Winter came in like a raging lion. It was so windy that icicles were forming faster than you can say icicles. In fear of my solar panel flying away I braved the spears and tucked the panel safely under the camper behind the tires. Yet I still had the thirty feet to brave to safety. I flipped up my hat and ran as fast as my chubby little legs would take me. oh I wish I put boots on, slippers are not a wise choice at this point.

“I’ll only be a few seconds,” famous last words as I am now frozen to the ground, its freezing at a nice and easy pace of .6 seconds. My car can reach 100km/h in a cool 2.5 minutes, yet the wind can stick me to the ground faster than I can blink. This is ridiculous, I am now in my stocking feet pulling my slippers off the ground and putting them back on my feet while being pelted by shards of ice that jack frost decided would be fun to throw at me.

What brave adventure would it be if there wasn’t at least one wipe out, oh no, I’ll make it two wipe outs and a bruised tailbone just for extra dramatic affect. I make it up those puny camper steps and threw the hobbit size door to safety. Once inside I discuss at length who’s great idea was it to make such small steps and narrow door, do they not know that people are entering these things?

We fire up the propane stove since we have no electricity, it took an hour to warm up the inside of the camper to 10 degree Celsius. OK, we are warm now. Time for bed, I can’t sleep since our camper is being pelted with spears and the wind is trying very hard to capsize our vessel.

I  managed to get a few hours of sleep under a pile of 10 blankets. I open my frosted eyes and exhale to see a cloud of breath. My daughter and I have breath races, who can make their breath go further. I don’t know who won, a tie I suppose. Time to get dressed and ready for the day. Like taking off a band aid we rip of the pile of blankets and race to get to the compost toilet. After I peeled my frozen but cheeks off the toilet seat I decided that it may be time to get dressed.

OOOOOHHH, I cried as I am now naked and my body is trying grow fur as fast as it can to get warm. I decided I am not shaving this winter, I will grow out what hair I can and help keep my pits and legs warm at least. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

So, this is what its like to winter camp in your camper. Well, the beginning of winter at least. I was told it was a three season camper, he lied!

 

 

Fear of Success

While I wallow in the trenches, this filthy rot smell, fills me with hate, self loathing. Watching endless hopes and dreams drifting down the fast moving sludgy river, never to be recaptured. Oh bitter tasting fear coats my tongue so all I can taste or smell is rot and sludge.

Look up, see the speck of light trying to peer through, sending hope, sparking dreams. Oh what a sweet life if would be to be success. Oh what a sweet life to be my own boss, to set my own wage, to build my own financial freedom. Freedom to travel, to meet interesting intelligent people. The water I think would be blue or maybe green and warm. Imagine what sweet taste that must me.

But what is stopping me? Oh ya, fear. What a vicious circle that has encapsulated me. How to break free? What do the rich know that I don’t? Does it really take a lot of money to  make money? While the wishful saps are stuck to the rotting tree, that speck of light mocks me. Torments me with the unknown. Round and round we go, deeper and deeper in this hole. How do I break free? How to climb the thorny walls to the light above.

Whey! what a dramatic picture of what I feel about success and fear. I feel like every time I get a bit closer, the chair is pulled away and I do not get a thrown in the castle of success. Why is it so scary to try? I mean really, I am afraid to fail, yet if I don’t try I fail.

Anyone else ever have to deal with fear of doing something? Start a business? Try something new? New move? Anything? How did you get over what you feared so that you could do what you know you want to do so?

 

 

 

 

Stay Positive. Venting

I know I must stand tall, I know I must always show strength, never show fear. Be brave and speak true. Speak only when spoken to, not judge, think positive, keep an open mind and always be kind. This past few years I have done my best. But yesterday broke me.

WARNING:
Today I am venting, there is no angle, just letting it loose and saying it. There may be language that is offensive, or something. But if you are not interested in reading my vent, you might as well stop here. For those who read on, please realize that I am hurting right now. I am EXTREMELY hurt, alone, scared and angry. If you like to comment please do, I can use some encouragement. But if you want to add to my misery, don’t comment, I am literally at the end of my point of … well, I’m at my end.

I have lived through rape, beatings, molestation, survived abusive relationships, raised a child alone, and never did I feel like I had any support. My father was my only support, now he has been dead for many years. I did it all alone. Really, I’m not kidding. My family did not help, more so they criticized, ignored, and abused me. So when I got old enough I gave them a choice. Here it was.

1) I want a positive relationship. Start to be positive, supportive, and stop abusing me, stop criticizing me and stop being assholes.
Now I am not completely stupid, I know family goes through hard times, but what I want is for them to stop being selfish, to stop putting me down, to stop everything negative. I know family will have arguments, my family… I am a chew toy for them.

2) Be an active roll. No more neglect, no more “pretending” to be the perfect family in public and behind closed doors its a nightmare. No more neglecting me and only saying hi at weddings or funerals. I want an active role. Every month take 10 minutes out of the 720 hours in a month and write me a hello note with something positive, something they want to share with me so we can know each other better. To respond to my stuff, to be a real family. Seriously, 10 minutes to send an email, or a phone call or something and be positive. Try to be a friend.

If they can not do those two things, I want them to know they are off the hook. They don’t need to be in my life at all. Be kind, or go away.

Pretty harsh some may think, but by putting yourself in my shoes, all that abuse I listed, and more not listed, most was from family! Right now I am all but homeless. And still family doesn’t help. I have 6 siblings, and not one of them have offered to help. NOT ONE.

I was adopted, and that seems to have made a problem with some of them. I am not their sibling they feel. Yup, said it they did. So, how is that supposed to make a person feel. They grew up in a family and even though it was a not so good relationship, you find out you are not wanted? Not welcomed? Not a part of something you thought you were? I have read a lot of other adopted posts and notice a pattern. They too get siblings claiming they are not. These siblings are grown adults acting like selfish children. Bad enough to be born and not wanted, but raised in a place you are not wanted, and they let you know it.

Here is a good one, when I did something as a child that may have been bad or maybe it was not bad but needed some addressing, sometimes I would not get beat. Sometimes my dad would talk with me and explain what I did and work through with me. Sometimes. My siblings did not like this. they said, that they got hit, and so will I, so they would beat me. Like wow! My father was trying to change his ways, to learn, to be a better person, and my siblings wanted, desired and craved for me to suffer what they thought I should suffer. Just because they wanted it.

So, back to what I was saying, yesterday about broke me. This past 7 years my daughter and I have had an extremely hard time. Now we have been sleeping in our car. I managed to find a room for us to sleep in, but that is about to be gone. Last month I asked the landlord to verify the rent amount, she flipped out. You see she is renting this place without a contract, so there is nothing written down. So she said that she can’t have a renter who is going to question her. And she texted me to leave in 30 days.

Now in Alberta this is not legal of her to do. So I served my refusal letter and there was nothing more said about it. Yesterday she served me a letter to leave in 60 days because her sister is moving into my room. When I talked to her, I told her that that is not legal again. You must give 90 days notice and the family moving in you must evict the entire home. Plus she already has one bedroom dedicated to her sisters. Plus, there are three bedrooms that are empty, not rented. I told her I would talk to the landlord and tenant act and get back to her.

Then she arranged to have the other tenants in the house to start treating me badly. If they don’t they are gone. So yesterday I had 4 people and the landlords attack me, insult me, mock me, and on top of that speak with racist criticisms. They are all Filipino except one and one highly manipulative Russian who just paced in the other room happily. One of the tenants refused to join in, she sat in the other room and refused to be a part of it. She later told me that they are wrong and she wants to support me. But with 6 people attacking me and my daughter, it was just too much.

I lost my family that I tried to get to be a family, no church, lost my father who was my only support, lost our home, our cat died, lost my job. My church actually told me that they would let me sleep in their parking lot, that was their support. And now in the winter, I am dealing with this. My daughter is numb now, she feels nothing she said. My daughter closed out the world because of all the hurt. I injured my spine and am in constant pain and because I can stand, the disability funds are refused, so we have no money, just what is last left from being laid off. There is nothing in me left to fight.

Holy fuck! What am I supposed to do? I have looked every single day for work, I try to just let it all run off my shoulders but right now, a fucking pistol is looking fucking better than standing out in that freezing snow. I can’t sleep, I have electric pain piercing my body all the time, I can’t eat, I try to eat something and there is no taste. So why bother eating it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRTRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG FFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK.

What am I supposed to do? I just wanted to get it off my chest. Just, yell it out that I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m tired, really tired. It takes all I have to get out of bed, sometimes I if I managed to get a couple winks, it feels like it is all dream, none of this is really happening. I mean if you went into more detail you could make a movie on it, because it all doesn’t seem like it would really happen, but oh no, it IS happening to us.

 

 

Why Write?

 

I saw a post in the LinkedIn group “Before the Ink Dries” by Don Gewywolf ford .This made me curious why writers write.

I’m a curious individual, so much so that I’ve been called a cat. I’m wondering why other writers write? Being new to this industry I have only met a couple of writers. What made you pick up that pencil, pen, or keyboard? What makes you tick, as a writer? What keeps you going?

I mean, it’s a cruel business to be in. Rejection is a guarantee. How many people would go to work everyday for a boss that tells them “We don’t like your work” or “You just don’t have what it takes to advance”? Everyone I know wouldn’t want to, they would find a different job, one that appreciates them.

Self-doubt, fear, that little voice inside always undermining every word you think or write. That thought “I’m not smart enough” and “No one reads my stuff anyway?” or “Is this post worthy?” The self-doubt is heavy, then add the naysayers telling you the same things you are thinking.

The fact that publishers will not even look at you if you are not published, yet you can’t get published unless someone publishes you. Yikes, that’s maddening. The pay is peanuts. Actually, it’s peanut dust. Some don’t pay you at all. You spend hours pouring out your soul, sharing pieces of yourself in your prose, then sell it for $25. Let’s dump some vinegar on that paper cut, that prose is kidnaped for months before you even see that money, since you don’t get paid until it’s printed. Worse, “they” change their minds and not print it, now there’s no money after waiting so long. When or if, you get a book published, you are the one who does all the work. You use your own money, (from that temporary job you do) you put in all your spare time to promote and sell your book. Then, how well you market your own book, and continue to market your book over the years; you may make some money. How’s your marketing skills and networking contacts?

So far, I have not painted the life of a writer in very good light. Painting it in the black of night I think is more accurate. When you consider all that is a “writer” it may not sound like a great career choice. The number of people who make a wealthy living on just writing is a small percentage. Is this maddening, crazy making career choice worth it? Are we just floating down that inevitable shit stream, with a ginormous hole in the bottom of a wobbly old wooden raft without a paddle? The answer I wish I could say is an absolute yes it’s worth it, but I can’t. The answer is very personal.

How much rejection can you take? How much do you want to invest of your time, finances, and emotionally? Why are you doing it in the first place? Have you forgotten why you are writing in the first place? Maybe you are unsure at this point.

I know for me I have those lows, but I write about it. Sometimes my most haunting stories come from those lows. Sometimes its just dripple on tear-stained paper. I say, write about it and keep writing. I do wish that it was a more welcoming industry choice. I wish all writers the courage to continue, only if it is what makes them happy.

So why do I do this? Originally, I wrote to escape reality; my imagination was a better place than what I lived. Over time I learned that through my stories they helped people. I love to influence people either a smile, anger, laughter or maybe even a tear. For whatever emotion sparked, I love influencing it. I want to live my dreams. Now that I am older, I must act on those dreams before I lose time, no more regrets. Perhaps this is selfish, but so be it. I’m too old to give a damn what you think of me type of thing. I write because I will not be told I can’t. I write because I want to be the best writer in the world. This will take some time, maybe 2 weeks. (I joke about the 2 weeks) I write because I want to, and I can. As I learn and grow, I want to write even more. Every rejection letter makes me want it even harder. Therefore, I write.

We can not blame the publishers for this writing game. Publishers are not bad people. It may feel like it as you have all this happening to you. But they are not these creatures with horns and a long pointy tail, smoking cigars in an expensively designed office, laughing at your work. They’re not gathering other creatures with horns and pointy tails to come laugh at your work. They are not laughing as they write that horrible rejection letter.

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“We thank you for your effort, but really you suck, though we had a great laugh at your writing. Better luck next time.” -Fictitious rejection letter #1001

 

 

 

Publishers have thousands of papers fall on their desk. (I’m not talking about the creatures with horns and pointy tails, I’m now talking about actual human beings.) When the work day is done, they take a pile of those papers home and read while in bed, in front of the TV, or maybe while taking a bath. That’s my image of someone who is a publisher. Just a hard-working individual who obviously loves to read, a lot. They’re on the hunt for the next big league writer. Publishers, I believe genuinely want to find someone to publish. So, I am sorry, we can’t hate on the publishers.

So, what makes you write? Such a personal question I’m sure. For some it’s personal and private, others it’s a hobby. Some for delusions of grandeur. I really want to know.

Each time a writer creates, they’re sharing a piece of themselves. They exposed themselves to you the reader. You are given the opportunity to peek into the mind and spirit of that writer. Why do you expose yourself writing?

 

 

Last Days of Art Class

 

Well, this is the end, I have completed my 6 weeks of beginners art class. I am sad to see it go. I really enjoyed the challenges, the feedback, and the practice.

I’ve joined all of the last three classes into one. A big goodbye.  I would highly recommend anyone take this course, it was fun, informative and the teacher was very encouraging.

First was an attempt at a futuristic drawing. I have so much practice needed.

Second was the drawing of an animal, I drew my cat.

Third is a creation of our own, I did some imaginary flowers with a hummingbird.

 

Today I am posting the results of my layout and design. This lesson has two drawings that will show the use of negative space and the golden points. I used the illusion for the use of the negative and positive space and then the central focal point for the golden points. I used the Koi fish for this drawing. Here is my attempt at this assignment, hope you enjoy.