Light Bulb Moment -maybe-

As you have read my last few posts show some struggles, ok, some crap I am pushing through. The first day after the abuse I took from the landlords and roommates, I spent the entire day in bed. I only got up to go the bathroom, that was it. I did not eat, not really slept, and the inside turned and I felt like that little girl waiting for her beating in the coal shed, and I had to get the strap myself. Nothing like delivering the weapon that is about to put you in serious pain. So sitting in my room still trying to find a way out of my once again impending homelessness and still scouring the internet for work I had a thought pop into my head.

“To thine own self be true”. Now I don’t want to get all religious on you, anyone who reads my writings knows my faith right now is as strong as a tight wire made of a single strand of human hair. My hair, so fine it would snap if a spider set upon it. There is NO WAY that will hold up to anything. But as I was sitting there day dreaming, as my mind wonders a lot. I thought “what the hell does that mean?” “why on earth did that pop into my head?” Then I realized my mind, subconscious or perhaps a higher power, who the hell knows, figured out what it means for me.

I have suffered crap since the day I was born, from my birth mother trying to kill me to abuse of any and all natures and then homelessness and now what happened a few days ago. There is one thing that made me get through it all. My father. Now that he is gone, my life seems to have taken even a stronger dive. What is the link. My father was able to change his ways and learn from his mistakes and became a really great man. One that I have not met since. But what I noticed about him is that he knew himself. He knew his weaknesses and he worked on them, but most of all he knew what he wanted to become. He knew the type of person he was, is, and always will be. He knew so well that I could lean on him and he helped carry me through stuff by just sitting in the seat beside me.

What do I know of myself? Who am I? What type of person am I? Am I a good mom, bad mom, or a fantastic mom? Am I charitable? A bully? Selfish? What am I really? If I am brutally honest with myself, no over thinking things, just stand outside myself and see myself for who and what I truly am and write it down. Don’t think about what I am writing down at this point, just think of any time I have been a bitch, bully, slut, and compare it to any time I have been charitable to others, been kind, helpful, caring, etc.

I realize that the world is not at all like it was when I was growing up. I remember people helping each other, strangers helping and friends were real true friends not superficial and what do they get out it. But I don’t want the modern selfish society to change what I know in my heart of hearts to be true, to be right, and to be admirable.

I realized that what if all those people in the world contemplating suicide, being abused, and depressed and struggling emotionally, mentally because they are from a different type of values that seems to no longer be in one with the non Christian world. Believe in religion or not, the fact that the world was ruled by the Christian values for many, many years. It has only been since Christianity is being attacked by non Christians and other beliefs that those core values of society have been altered, squashed and abandoned. Those still in the strong Christian moral value system are being under attack. So, even if you don’t believe in religion, do you still carry those core values? Are you kind at heart? Do you actually want to help others? Do you feel emotions so strongly you are empathic? Are you kind? Would you help a stranger just because they needed help? You don’t find humour in the modern idea of “reality TV” and the stupidity stunts and abuse of others? Do you care about the world and animals around you?

Why does this make any sense to me? If you know who you are, if you know without a doubt the person you are, and the person you are trying to become, that ultimate self that you are trying to be. So long as you are not trying to be someone else, but are trying to be who YOU are to be. Then it does not matter what the poo poo nay sayers are saying, who gives a shit what the judgy judgers are saying, and anything that is said about you, that is NOT WHO YOU KNOW YOURSELF TO BE, than you can disregard it. Toss it over the left shoulder into the abyss, and go on with your life. Doing what you know to be true, right, and worthy of you. Searching for like-minded people and leaving the rest in your dust. In the end, if, just if there is a judgement day, you can stand tall, head held high, and you will be successful over “those other people”. If there is not a judgment day and something else is among us after death, you can still stand tall and face whatever it is with those core values you know yourself to be. And you will make it through that too.

I believe we need to feel the pain, feel that hurt thrown on us. Think about it,and process it, but once we have felt it, processed the thought of it, we then can decide if it will continue, or be dismissed.

How do I learn about myself? Do I need to buy a fancy car or get a boob job or take a vacation to “discover” oneself? No. Nope, and No way. I feel we just need to sit down in a quiet place with a pen or pencil and paper or writing book. Then you start to ask yourself questions. Just like a writer asks their own characters who they are, to know them well, that is how you will know yourself well also.

I will post that in the next post how I am trying to work through this. Trying to reconnect with who I am and who I want to be? I don’t mean the house, cars etc, nothing of the world. I am talking deep in your soul, or perhaps you call it your chi, or maybe you call it your “self”. Either way, learn thy self is my new direction and focus.

Please share you thoughts on this, I would love to hear if anyone else has had an epiphany of how to overcome all of life’s challenges and is it working? have you needed to tweek it a little for situations? Does it keep you strong?

 

 

 

PLEASE HELP OUT, PLEASE.

Please click link to view story and an opportunity to help.  Please Help Us Out

In case that link doesn’t work please try this one. https://www.gofundme.com/Homelesstoabetterlifechance

A few years ago I was injured at work. Unable to get financial help while I dealt with my spinal injury I flew through whatever saving we had. I fell into a horrible depression because I was in a wheelchair and my daughter had to wash me, help me put on my clothes and care for me.

During this time,the church members did no visiting,  the friends and family I had did nothing to help. No one brought over a dinner, no one came to visit and let us know they are a support. Accept for one brother. He popped by to say hi, and my sister in-law drove me twice. So that I am grateful for. Even though it was not much, I am glad that they did.  What we needed was a support network to jump in and help out.

I was able to walk again with the help of my amazing daughter and an occupational therapist. Wonderful to have these two by my side.

I was able to find work but is was seasonal, and I was laid off three years in a row.  The last one is what did us in. We gave away everything we owned, even gave away the piano I inherited from my father who passed a few years prior. It has been really hard. I am trying like mad to find work, but because of my injury no one wants to hire me.

I have not much money left, and we are about to be tossed back into the car. The place we live in right now is not great, it is a single small bedroom we share.

Please view the link, see the pictures, and please pass this call for help on to others. If enough people can give a little bit, it will add up to enough to give us the help we need to lift us out of this situation. The economic down turn has now hit Canada, I know people all over are struggling. But please, go read my story on Go Fund Me. Please pass that link to others, businesses, and anyone you know that may be able to help.

Thank you for anything you can do. https://www.gofundme.com/Homelesstoabetterlifechance

Tina

 

 

 

 

 

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?

 

 

Orange

Without colour our world would be so bland, what about those who can not see colour? Once class was done I started to write about each colour I could imagine. How would you describe a colour to someone who has never seen it? Could you instill a feeling of that colour? Could you show them the emotions that the colour could spark? Trying to understand the world around me, I must being able to see the world through someone else’s perspective. I show you the colour orange.

Amber Orange

When it comes to colour intensity, brag I must. My radiance impacts your body and mind beyond your control. Increase your pulse, brain waves spark, and even your hormones want to sing my praises. Stimulate bone growth with my mere presence, what colour can do that I ask you? All your 5 senses awaken; I’ll even vibrate at 473 trillion times per second just for you.

Not even the sun could rise or set without my radiant glow. I am strong, bold, creative and emotional.  I give the candle its glimmering command, to encapsulate your gaze. I am known to set your mind ablaze, creating the artist, writer, and musician. I chase away the shadows of sadness and fill the room with joy, love, and adventure.  I am a gift to November born. I am orange, not just any orange, I am the omnipotent amber orange. The orange of the majestic tiger. When you make a turn in your car, I flash brightly signalling the way.

 

Can you feel the power that orange can have? Have you a strong attachment to any colour and why? I would love to hear from you.

 

Picture by:The Irish Times

Fun Story

I posted a fun little story on my LinkedIn account and wanted to share it here. It’s just a little writing exercise that is fun, for me. I hope fun for you too. Can you guess who the “Bob” character is before the end? I have heard a few different ideas, some got it right, but I love to hear what impression people thought “Bob” was.

Eviction Notice

Mary is fed up with Bob, she knows something must be done. Bob’s constantly knocking over her pictures, erases the answer machine messages before she can listen to them. Bob turns the T.V. on or off whenever he feels like it. He’s always playing practical jokes and hiding things around the house. Marry searches for her slippers, finding one on top the refrigerator and the other under the couch.

“Bob has got to go.” she exclaims.

Mary calls her neighbour Dianna; she has a way with special people. Dianna can’t get Bob to leave. Mary thought if she makes the house smell bad he would leave. So, Mary burns all kinds of incense, candles and grasses and still he will not leave. She doesn’t want to call those guys in the lab coats, but she has no choice. It must be done.

Doorbell rings, Mary opens the door. There stood three very tall, muscular men. One man had more tattoos than she has ever seen. Mary felt a knot in her stomach, am I doing the right thing? She thought.

“Hello, you called us to help with Bob? My name is Jake.” The man said.

“Thank you for coming, I have to admit I am a little nervous. I have never done this before, he’ll be OK, right?” Mary said.

“No worries ma’am, we will take care of everything. You can even go out for coffee, this shouldn’t take long.” Said Jake.

Mary left for coffee and was back in 45 minutes. Not knowing what she will find when she comes home. She slowly enters the apartment, it’s quiet, no one’s there. She waits and listened for Bob. Nothing. She puts her T.V. on, it stays on, so she turns it off. She put her slippers beside her bed and propped up her pictures on the mantle. The next morning, the slippers are still there, the pictures are still safely on the mantle, and the T.V. is still off. Mary takes a deep slow breath and sinks into the couch as she thinks to herself, finally, Bob the ghost is gone.

 

Did you guess who Bob was? Did you think he was a mischievous cat? Or maybe a really bad roommate?