Being a chatty cathy is apparently good for you ... who knew?

Uh oh, I may have writer's block.  Oh wait, I guess that should say I may have blogger's block.  Actually, I don't have either, I have simply been trying to curb my daily computer use, which is no easy task, because I bore easily during the day.  I am trying to reform my daily ways by reading and writing during the evening hours.  I'm not saying that you ever miss me, or that I have something scintillating to write about every day in blog world, but I did promise myself that I would strive to write something, anything really, and that I would do so fairly consistently.  I actually started this blog as a daily journal of nothingness, and have been fairly true to my lack of real vision.  I simply felt slightly compelled to write, but I never had a real clue what I would write about with the exception of writing away my frustrations, and as you know, those prove themselves plentiful.  

I never kept journals as a kid.  No sir-ree, I was far too busy reading and playing my childhood away to write, but I noticed that as an adult, I have been consistently drawn to journals, buying them mostly, but never filling them with writing.  I would write sporadically about the events happening in my life or those around me, but it was so sporadic, that it really never counted as true journaling.  I never kept a gratitude journal and I never had enough imagination to write a novel.  Poetry draws me, because of its succinct form, and I allow myself the delusion that I'm not half bad at writing it.  However, it's a form of expression, which I use as a gift to my friends , family and lovers, not something which I feel compelled to write every day.  I'm really just rambling aren't I?  

Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.  I will let you in on the fact that I have in my brain a little snippet of a podcast on fate, which I listened to earlier today.  A segment of the podcast suggested that our mental longevity is tied to how many details we are prone to talk of or write about, and I realized that my future mental status may be in deep do do.  The more animated the conversation or writing, supposedly the greater the mental longevity.  I don't think I go into great detail during conversations or when writing.  In fact, I think I'm a minimilist when it comes to description.  In a verbal conversation, I often neglect to complete a thought.  After listening to that podcast about fate, I now realize that the hand writing is on my future wall, and that my mental faculties are nothing to waste.  Based purely on my lack of extraneous detail, it may be that my mental faculties AREN'T poised to be with me for the long haul, so I need to use them while I have them, even if it means writing about nothingness.  Maybe you too can forgive me for the lack of a real topic.  I can and did.


House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting. xxx pookie

Maam, step away from the tree and put down the knife.

So, this man ...

http://pukkapurl.blogspot.com/2010/03/plucking-daisy-petals-is-little-like.html ... 

who is the same man mentioned here

http://pukkapurl.blogspot.com/2010/06/you-can-check-all-boxes-but-you-cant.html 

informed me that he is coming very soon to perform at a venue fairly near where I live.  I'm thinking of meeting him.  I probably shouldn't, but I am ready to get outside of my personalized box.  My box which has been monogrammed to isolated perfection.  I swear I could become a hermit, if I didn't have family, friends and a certain someone ... all who really like me and desire my real life company.  I often happily nuzzle into my little cocoon of a world until I hit the far side of reality.  Once reality bites me in the dark, I remember that I also love activities located beyond the realm of my brain.  When that happens, as it did yesterday, I turn around and go the other way.  I want to dance, I want to hike, I want to feel a sea breeze, I want to build a sand castle, I want to be silly and take pictures with someone that likes being silly with me, I want to sit beneath trees and whine that it's hot outside (all the while being joyful that I'm OUTSIDE).  That man mentioned above is high energy, professionally silly and always up for whatever I have in mind.  So, its house cleaning time .... maybe I will find my sand bucket, my compass, my whistle and my backpack beneath the rubble ... oh I can't forget my little red Swiss Army knife ... you just never know when a girl will need to carve a heart around some initials.  Would it be totally wicked if the initials didn't belong to my companion?  I save those only for true love and my heart refuses to acknowledge that Pookie and I don't belong together.   


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It's a slow day in the life of me.

I'm back from the beach and I've had a Monday sort of Tuesday all day.  I can't get a straight answer from my "people" ... about whether or not it rained while I was gone to the beach.  Some say it poured, some say it didn't rain, but that there was an afternoon thunderstorm, some say it didn't pour, but that it did rain.  I guess it's possible that they are all telling the truth as it happened at their house.  My new shrubberies can't tell me if it poured rain, lightly rained or if there was a thunderstorm with no rain, at my house, but they look perky and green, so I'm guessing it either rained, or they invited lots of people over for a wet T-shirt contest.  This may not seem like a dilemma to anyone but me, but I need to know if and when it rained, so that I can know when to next water my green investment.  I have been diligent about that watering task ever since the landscaper busted me out for under watering.  That mild scolding reformed me and turned me into a calendar checking, hose weilding, watering fend, about as fast as getting two seat belt violations in the same day turned me into an avid seat belt wearer.  I thank the Universe and its servants for both of those behavior changing lessons!  Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go practice my rain dance.

House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.