At the end of February 2018, I received a one year anniversary badge from WordPress. I guess it seems a bit late to celebrate, but unfortunately I was not feeling well when the notice arrived. I hope you won’t mind that I recognize the occasion today, belatedly. Continue reading
Those who’ve followed my blog have surely noticed that my posts take on many forms. I write a lot of articles (especially mental health-related), reflections (on many topics), and sometimes prose stories. I also occasionally write my own brand of poetic stories, but only when I’m in a special mood. Most of my written stories are usually based on real people and events, though I’ll admit plenty of fiction has been created in my head over the years in the form of day dreams. My varying writing styles and content do change a bit over time, just as my overall creativity and expression modes, as well. Continue reading
I love him dearly, but he sure can be a constant pest! I let him out of his cage to play on his bird gym, but he won’t let the opportunity pass to make his way to my laptop and either say “Look at me!” or “That little lamp thingy on your lap desk looks more fun than the perches on my play gym!” Continue reading
It’s been 13 days since my last blog post. I’m fully aware of these days passing by. I wonder if my regular followers have forgotten me or figured I fell off the blog writer’s map. Before Christmas, I posted a joke photo that I called “Writer’s Block”, which showed my sleeping parrot blocking my access to my laptop keyboard. Though I have posted about five or six things since then, my productivity has clearly been affected, and I can’t blame my bird boy.
Ending the year with very little to say on my blog.
One day, when I was maybe seven years old, my friend’s father was driving my friend and me to some place. I forget where. I was clearly having a good time talking when her father said to me “Cindy, you certainly are a very gabby girl.” That shut me up momentarily, but then I went about my happy chatter. When I got home and saw my mother, I told her what my friend’s dad said, and asked her what the word “gabby” meant. She told me it meant that I like to talk a lot. I asked her if she thought I was gabby, and she said “Yes”. Continue reading
Dear Senator Booker,
I’m writing to you as both a concerned New Jerseyan and American. I chose to write to you because you have inspired and touched me. When you spoke at this past Democratic Convention I was brought to tears. You seem to have a combination of admirable passion, caring, respectability, and effectiveness. I believe you make a great difference for New Jerseyans and all Americans, and can make an even bigger one in the future. Continue reading
About four years ago, I decided that an online class of some sort would be good for me. I haven’t been able to work for a long time because of my mental illness, and other than chores and errands, which I sometimes struggle(d) with, I’ve only been able to do limited things on the computer. The first online class I took was one on memoir writing. I was happy that added something new and enriching in my life. It also made me toy with the idea of writing a memoir of my own. I am a neophyte when it comes to such ambitious writing projects, but not so new to writing short stories. Continue reading
I have written over 200 blog posts since the end of February 2017. Of those blog posts, 20 (10%) include a reference to my love and history of dancing. This love seemed to be born in me, and nurtured throughout my youth. Even as I get older, if I’m not dancing on the floor to music, my mind is dancing to the music I create with words. That dance performance can be spied through the brisk movements of my hands as they quickly move upon my keyboard. Continue reading
I don’t know how long it’s been exactly, but I’d say at least four years. It was back then that for me the music stopped sounding good, or at least it stopped invigorating my soul. How to really explain it, I do not know.
I was a dancer from the first days that I remember. Music was central in my life. Live jazz played in my grandparents’ music room. Classical music in the dance studio. I liked Rock and Roll the whole time, too. Really any music satisfied me, and I could dance to almost anything, even the buzzing of the street lamp, or the sound of a rope slapping the flag pole in the wind. Continue reading