Just rattling on…

~ Roy had an interesting post today. That’s all I have to say about that, I commented on it.

~ Friday, in the New York Times, they have a section called “Love Letters” and in that section is “Tiny Love Stories”, reader submissions in 100 words or less. I sent one in today. If they publish it I will let you know (Hoo-boy will I let you know LOL)

While I was ‘filing’ that piece on my computer (Documents → Essays) I found some good stuff I had written. One piece is in my blog archives (‘The Ordinary is Extraordinary’) another is not and should I want to publish it I would have to amend it because I have changed my viewpoint a bit on the subject of photography. Nice to know I am capable of changing my views.

Also this one, which I really like. (Hey, if I don’t like my own stuff who will?)

~ I have in my head to write some poetry but it is not coalescing. I’m still brain dead from this past month and only just barely getting over being so physically tired that I am in more danger of falling over than my husband.

~ There are about 4 people who read this blog and I keep wondering if I should attempt to recruit more readers. If only in the hope they would comment and I could have some conversations – I like conversations. But then I think – why? I need more blogs to read myself – it’s a not too much of an investment of time and can be amusing and informative. Aside from my few regular reads I haven’t stumbled over anything interesting enough to follow or bookmark. I think that says more about me than the blogs available.

~ For lack of anything better I think I’ll go do some laundry..


Say the word ‘sleep’ and my brain automatically responds “Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,” MacBeth, Act 2, Scene 2 – Wm. Shakespeare.

But I’m not writing about sleep, I’m exploring the world of words, particularly words that are misused but which misuse is accepted as correct because it has been a part of the language for so long (such as irregardless. Using the prefix ir does not change the meaning of the word regardless.)

Speakers of the English language seem to think that if you attach the prefix ‘un’ to a word it creates an opposite. But that’s not always true.  There are actually words whose ‘opposite’ means the same.

The other day I happened across a writing that used the words “ravel” and “unravel” in the same sentence. I’m sure the author experienced those two words as opposites in meaning. They are wrong, strictly speaking, but in common usage no one would take them to task.

Except me. And why I would even know that – too much Shakespeare? Too much reading of dictionaries including the OED?

And why, while writing this, could I not remember the word prefix? I did eventually but only minutes later I can’t remember whether the remembering was spontaneous or resulted from research.

On to another inconsequential subject –

When I first took up blogging one of the first little tricks of the trade I learned was to have clickable links open in a new tab.  I do believe you had to add the code yourself but that was easy enough to do. By making clickable links open in a new tab you make it easy for your readers to access the linked site WITHOUT leaving your site.

I don’t know about you but if I am reading anything and a link takes me off the original site and then to go back to the original article I have to use the back arrow and wait for the page to load again – well, hell no. I’m just moving on.

The thing is, nowadays, you don’t have to insert the code yourself, the ‘link’ tool does it for you –

See that box under “Link Text”?  Just click it!

Any clickable link you see in anything I post on-line will always open in a new tab. You’re welcome.

Holy hell, am I grumpy today

After two days, or is that two nights, of minimal sleep, I got in a solid 9 hours last night with just one leg cramp meander around the apartment and one bathroom break.  Consequently I am well rested and annoyed with everything.

After going through email and getting pissed at the fakakta tracking information on something I ordered, oh yes I can download an app that will track my package in real time – screw that I’m not downloading any more apps, just give me the correct tracking number, I began reading blogs.

Usually these blogs that I read first thing (or actually second thing, after email) are interesting or at least amusing and all made me grumpy as hell. I had a negative reaction to everything that was said (written?).

Did I comment? No, of course not. One does not disagree with anything one reads in a personal blog. Even if invited to comment with one’s own experience or thoughts. Those experiences and thoughts must align with those of the blogger. I don’t get the point to that but I guess all anyone is seeking is validation of themselves.

And speaking of self-validation, if anyone knows any blogger is who similar to me in age, attitude or general outlook, could you please direct me to their site?

The only blog where I feel free to be me and comment as such is Rory’s. Bless his heart. I trust I am not disagreeable while disagreeing.

Currently it’s 10am and chilly. Yesterday was just an awful day and I was out in it – chilly and damp and me waiting for busses that took their own sweet time in showing up. The damp chill seeped up from the sidewalk through my shoes, up my legs and settled in my knees and back, I think it may turn out to be an ugly Winter.

I just got lost there for a bit going through my Vimeo account watching Frankie videos – damn I miss her and also living with cats in general.

Got lost again looking for a photo of my first cat, Max, but that was 50 years ago and I don’t have many of him plus the ones I do have all have the ‘red-eye’ that comes with film and flash. Then I was just flipping through a photo album and hot damn but I was really pretty, or perhaps good looking would be a better description, when I was young!


I used to write good…

I had reason to look back through some old blog posts yesterday and I impressed myself with the quality, and more importantly, the content of past essays. I will always love THIS ONE.

And here’s one from 2009 that I think I need to read every day to remind myself – “Still so much to learn, still surprises, still hopes and dreams and plans…still a lot of life to write…I am still evolving, not young but not finished, standing on a solid foundation of experience, yesterdays are stepping stones to tomorrow which is still Unwritten…”

AND THIS …when did I stop being wise? And thoughtful? “Carpe Diem, indeed. I’m not talking about big things, I’m talking about the small pleasures we deny ourselves every day – sometimes the big picture is too big for the modest size of our dreams and our real lives. It’s not just that gift card that comes with an expiration date, so does today.” Also this from the same essay – “If you can’t bring yourself to seize the day, then at least seize the moment.”

Damn but 2009 was a good year for writing – and thinking and being wise – a quote from THIS POST…There are places in the past I like to visit. There are places in the future I like to inhabit in my imagination but when all is said and done NOW is what I have at hand. This day, this hour, this moment. And NOW is where I experience all there is – because now IS all there is.”

Coming up in 10 days, my birthday. I think I need to go back and read what I wrote and believed and still do and take my own advice.

Where did I go? What stopped me in my tracks? I’ve never stopped dreaming and plotting and planning but somehow now it’s not so – urgent? Plausible? Has reality really beaten me down this far?  Have I given up? (Me? Never!)

To quote myself – “Still a lot of life to write

Pinball Brain

First – the weather report. At 11am it is bright and sunshiny, blue cloudless sky and 63º. I have a window open in every room and my husband and I are wearing hoodies.

I compose these posts mentally and then basically “transcribe” them and then edit, add to, research etc. I write everything mentally first then put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. I assume everyone does the same.

Transcription follows.

I get annoyed when people say that they lose socks in the laundry. No you don’t. You’re just careless.

This morning was a laundry day and I was folding the laundry (which I do in the laundry room because there is a big table there). I have a particular way of taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them. This morning the last thing I fetched out of the dryer was a sock but the other sock was nowhere to be seen. I figured it was just stuck in something else and I would go through everything when I got back in the apartment. (And indeed I found it.)

Losing something is usually just carelessness. Whenever I hear a person say that they lost someone, meaning the person died, I think “Careless of you”. In a book I read recently one of the characters mused about that usage. Why are we so precious about saying that someone died? Then again when you say “I lost someone” meaning they died you are talking about yourself not the dead person. Your status, not theirs.

We also say passed on, passed away, even crossed over– and I suppose if you believe that a soul continues after a body dies, that could make some sense, have some validity.

But what about ‘evicted from life’? Some people are, aren’t they? Some people die quietly at peace, and some die kicking and screaming. How did someone die? They were evicted from life. Evicted from life – I like that.

Then I was back to thinking about laundry again and expanding on how you could possibly lose something in the washer. And that had me wondering…

We say a pair of underwear, or panties or pants when we are referring to just one item. Why? Because there are 2 leg holes? Is that the criteria for calling something a pair?  If there are 2 matching items used together, like shoes, then pair works.

An item of clothing that we put our arms into isn’t called a pair but it has two openings/holes for limbs (legs and arms are limbs) but we don’t say a pair of shirts.

(Stopping typing here to do the research. The answer is HERE.)

And that’s it for today.

Miscellaneous Mishegoss

~ A few weeks ago I got a ‘friend request’ on FB from my elder male sibling – a person I have not been in contact with for over 40 years. I deleted it. I had no idea he knew my married name. I have another FB account with my birth name and never got a bite there. I figured out how he made the connection. No biggie but I thought it was interesting.

~ Just realized as I was typing that today is my father’s birthday – were he alive he would be 107 years old. He died in 1973 – 57 1/2 years old.

~ I often say I have no imagination. I can’t invent a story. I could never write a fiction book. So even if it’s a colossally bad book, badly written, plotted – the whole nine yards of bad – I still have admiration for anyone who can do that. It is NOT easy. So props to people who write fiction.

~ I write about books but I can’t write a decent book review to save my life. I wonder what kind of book reports I wrote when I was in school. I do admire a well written book review, lord knows I read enough of them.

~ While I can’t write fiction I am one hell of a good editor. A blog I read, the person is posting little vignettes – small bits of fiction. Someone decided to comment with a ‘critique’ of one tiny aspect – given the other aspects that could most definitely be adjusted – so to speak – I thought it was funny. My reaction was – “THAT’S what you decided needed work?” Since the blogger didn’t ask for editing advice I found the comment unnecessary. Don’t know why that bothered me and is still on my mind. The blogger was gracious in his response. (No, I didn’t comment at all.)

~ I kid a lot about the whole pumpkin spice thing – come on – it’s funny. I read an article the other day, can’t remember if it was the Post or the Times, that basically said pumpkin spice is now part of the culture so get over yourself. But I just can’t let it go – it does make me laugh.

So I’ll leave you with this –

I don't know how to tell a story

 – which is why I don’t write prose. I can’t. My friend who I referenced in a previous post, not only writes brilliant prose but it is usually in the genre of ‘memoir’. She is reading a lot of memoirs right now, both “well written and not” (to quote her) as part of her craft honing.

Over the years I’ve written bits and pieces about my life and several of my dear friends have said “Oh you should write about your life”. Nope, no can do. I don’t know how. 

I ended my previous post with, what I considered a throw-away line, “Did I ever tell you the story about my half-assed attempt to move to Europe was I was 19? Then everyone said “No, tell the story.”  

It can be told in one sentence. Just a fact. But – that fact is rooted in what happened when I was 5, and 8 and in my early teens – just about everything that happened in my life prior to age 19.

How do you tell that one story, and have it mean something, without telling all the rest of the story?

Fact: I applied to colleges/universities in Great Britain. How I did that I can’t recall, it was 1965 after all – no internet! So I guess I spent a lot of time at the library, and lots of money on postage and application fees (where there any back in those days? Can’t recall.) Good thing I was working full time and going to college part-time (Queensborough Community College), I could afford it.  

I wonder now how I thought I was going to pay for this grand adventure 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

I do know that, in the back of my mind, if I got to go I was never going to come back. That much I know for certain.

Not only did I want to get away from my family but I wanted to get away from this country. I don’t belong here. Never felt I did, never will. 

I WANTED TO GET AWAY. I still do.  

Oh, and what was I going to major in? Theater. Not acting because back in my youth people who looked like me DID NOT get lead roles in anything – perhaps as extras, maybe. Second, third place roles, never the lead, never the star. 

I planned on studying to be a director. 

Fun Fact: When I was 20 or so I was an extra in one of Brian DePalma’s films, shot at the Cafe Figaro, one of my hangouts,  down in the Village. Don’t know what became of the film, probably went nowhere or was never finished.

Fun Fact #2: In my late 30’s not only did I take tap dancing lessons (a lifelong dream, see above, age 5) I took acting lessons. I guess I was good because my acting teacher took me aside and said “You’re not thinking of trying to break into the profession at this point in your life, are you?”  She also said “You’d make a good director” Bingo – Back to age 19. 

I was thinking of trying to document my life – I have an empty WordPress site – but how does one start? And why would anyone be interested. Except for me. It’s all too depressing in some instances; a bit out of synch with what y’all think of me – there are things about my life, and how I’ve lived it, that I don’t care to share. I think, many of my values are not the same as some of yours (Dear Reader). 

Regrets, I have a few, mostly that I didn’t just up-sticks when I was young (and stupid and innocent and not tied into reality) and I just went for it. 

When did I get careful? And cautious? And perhaps more than a little afraid? 

And then again, where the hell did I get all that self-confidence, and fearlessness, that I thought I could actually pop off to Europe, go to school, make a life somewhere else?

And seriously believe that I could make my dreams a reality.