I’ve started a (not-so) technical blog, and will be posting any relevant (not-so) technical articles over there. (For the times I have no poetry. Or petals). If any readers are into coding, please hop on over and give me a follow!
Sort and Stream
Thanks, and happy week ahead 🙂
There is something about languages that fascinate me. How the mother tongue is easily learnt, and is a useful and essential tool to communicate. And how a foreign language is completely mystifying to an untrained ear.
I often visit other blogs, and sometimes dismayed if they are written in a different language. But not anymore! Because there is a handy ‘translate’ button, that translates the page at the click of a button. Now I can read all that foreign poetry that before was hidden from me. It is amazing! Like the light has suddenly been switched on, illuminating all that was dark before.
I am not always waxing lyrical about technology, but this sure is a nifty feature, up there with google maps!
I will be away for the rest of week, limited reception so will not reading blogs or commenting, back next week.
Take care! xo
Two years ago I was posting to Facebook, being all excited about writing and being really weird. Facebook sends me notifications everyday of ‘this day in the past’. This morning I was horrified to see my weird posts from two years ago. Omigosh, all I can say is thank you to WordPress readers who have been reading me for two years. Some of my early WordPress posts have been just as weird. I’m feeling somewhat embarrassed about my over-the-top, clumsy and strange Facebook and blogging posts. That’s the thing about writing and blogging. We start at a certain point, and then we begin to grow. Evolve. It’s interesting and sometimes a bit scary to look back and see how we were then, and how we are now. I started blogging as a challenge. Because I wanted to write. I discovered I love writing. And poetry! Poetry is awesome.
Thank you to all the friends I’ve made, and support and encouragement this past year 💝
Annual Report 2015
A Star is Born Round VIII: Imitation of Life
A couple of months into the foray of public blogging, I made a friend with an amazing poet Oscar Plascencia from In So Many Words. Oscar has been a wonderful friend, willing to listen privately while I’ve gone through a couple of emotional meltdowns, and even sketched a beautiful piece of artwork and posted it to me. A couple of days ago Oscar requested that I do a 15-second video on his work and himself, to form part of a 2 minute video for his entry in the “Best Performance of the Year” online competition hosted at thepublicblogger.com. Instead of saying no, I decided to move out my comfort zone and try and do this for him. Well, it took me about a hundred takes and eventually gave up, sending the last one I took. If you’d like to support Oscar, head over to the link above and vote now! You might be able to make out who I am in the accompanying video! (I am not an actor by any means lol, but I tried!)
a star is born round viii
Sometimes I think nothing shocks me anymore. But I have just been shocked over something that is perhaps quite common. I’ve spent two weeks alternating between technical problems (which one do we choose today?) This has kept me at work until just before 7pm, a few minutes ago. And as I exited the building and passed the coffee shop at the entrance, there were signs stating a private party is being held. There were men standing around with drinks in their hand, and topless. half-dressed-as-Santa, ladies mingling amongst them. In my local coffee shop! My eyes nearly shot out my head. What! A well known waiter was at the entrance of the building, and I couldn’t help but express my reaction. How can these ladies do that? Entertain drinking men whilst wearing nothing? Making themselves an object? And he just shrugged his shoulders, men do it as well. I’m sure they do! Except I’ve never been across it, myself.
And as I walked towards the bus pondering this situation, I was reminded of all the problems I’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks, a situation which often defines my life. And an unwelcome thought popped into my head, surely prancing around naked would be an easier way to make money? I have to go home and think about issues I don’t know how to solve. One week before Christmas. And not only that, study for and re-sit an exam I failed by two questions last week. Yes, I’m totally the last person who should be judging others for their decisions.
It was commented to me by a friend today that practicing gratitude on one level is being defeatist, and that I am it. Instead of being more assertive in what I would want, and not want, I rather accept any crumbs thrown my way. I thought about a conversation I have had recently with someone else, and I had started off with a fiery opinion. After a few choice words from the recipient, I lost all my fire and traction I had in the beginning. So I admitted to my friend, yes I guess I am defeatist. Yeah, look at you, I was told, even being defeatist about being defeatist.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”
You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
I’m locked in a room with my greatest fear. Well, that in itself would be one of my greatest fears. Being locked in a room alone. Or stuck in an elevator. Or in a bathroom with a door handle that’s failed, and windows with bars over them. Or locked in a room with the dead body of your partner.
A few weeks back I read a heartwrenching article on the genocide happening to South African farmers. On one farm an elderly couple and their visitor were attacked. They were ordered to open their walk-in safe. The wife was shot dead in the back of the head, and all three were locked in the safe, including the body of the murdered wife. The visitor and husband were rescued the following morning when someone stopped by and heard their cries.
Imagine being locked in a dark safe, no windows or water, and with your partner’s dead body? Someone you’ve spent your life with, and created children and memories together. Is there anything on earth that could be worse than that?