Allow me to re-introduce myself. I'm Susan. Wife/Mom/Lala, vegan, fanatical reader, music lover, eternal optimist. I not only retired from my office job in June 2019, but also the booking/presenting of a 14-year folk and acoustic concert series. I said to someone the other day that I've been scraping so many things off my proverbial plate lately that I almost don't even need a plate anymore... :-)
At midnight on New Year's Eve, I deactivated my Facebook account, and I was a bit nervous. Trying more to *Be Here, Now* (thanks, Ram Dass!). It's actually been very liberating and exciting, catching up on reading and sleeping, and accomplishing much on my shorter-every-day To Do List, without the need to check the little blue f icon.
Still not sure if it's temporary (at least until the end of this month) or permanent, but I don't have to decide that yet. However, I *really* missed writing on a regular basis, hence my move back to blogging. I've always fancied myself to be a good writer, as well as a worshipper of words in most forms and fashion. My goal is #9 of 40 Resolutions for 2020 by Ellis Paul (musician):
"Write. Then write again. Write songs and letters, quotes and notes, scribbles and doodles, to do’s and don’ts, lines with rhymes, lyrics and scripts, limericks and puns and one liner quips, zingers and ringers that spin round a phrase, and grocery list stories that run off the page. Write novels that grovel, unstable fables, a treatise of words that could break an oak table, a haiku, a sonnet, a speech, a play, a love song that takes the world’s tears all away. Write graffiti that makes a beating heart rush, write something so dirty Bukowski would blush, write comedies, jokes, and twenty act plays, tragedies with maladies only Shakespeare would say. Write like you’re bailing a boat with a cup, write like your pencil will never give up."
Sooooo much to catch you all up on. Happy 2020 (what a f*cking great metaphor, right?), and Welcome (back)!
P.S. I don't have Photobucket anymore to host my pictures, so I am leaving the ones on my past posts with their watermark, not having time to go back and fix them all. Moving forward... :-)
SONG: Reelin' in the Years by Steely Dan
BOOK: Becoming by Michelle Obama
POEM: Good Bones by Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
QUOTE: "In my later years, I have looked in the mirror each day and found a happy person staring back. Occasionally I wonder why I can be so happy. The answer is that every day of my life I've worked only for myself and for the joy that comes from writing and creating. The image in my mirror is not optimistic, but the result of optimal behavior." ~ Ray Bradbury
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