I wish I was a little girl filled with deep emotion
And everywhere I'd choose to go, to be met with pure devotion
The breadth and depth of his closed heart would open at my touch
And he would see the heart in me, and know that I loved much.
He'd place me on a pedastal, and wait for me to call.
Not as a servant, but a Prince, to catch me if I fall.
And I would know, while I stood high, and returned his love's kind gaze
That ever constant he would be, however long the days.
His calming strength would be my own, causing me to stand.
And only he could keep me there--with the strength of just one hand.
Wow. Wasn't that sappy? Careful--I might do it again!
Forward march, and all that jazz, I'm here to win a war.
I've been almost everywhere, but I ain't been here before.
So move on back, give me space, I'm here until I leave.
I'm not quite sure when that might be, so give me room to breathe!
Wait--what's that? What did you say? You aren't so sure of me?
Why, buddy, listen here! you'd just darn better be!
I've got two hands fit to fight, and strong arms to back them up!
Think you can deal with that, young son? Well, boy, you just stand up.
I'll show you what I'm made of, kid--you'll wish you didn't know.
Eh? Believe me now, you say? Cool. Now show me where to go.
There we go. One for the men, and one for the ladies. ...or maybe not...
I'm off to bed now. Goodnight.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Anonymous Persons
I think it's funny how many people find it difficult to sign their names in the comment boxes. I do believe I recall saying I don't like it when people do that. Mostly because I know only people who know me read this blog, and I want to know who is actually taking the time to respond to me and my random ramblings. Come on! Even if you don't want to sign your name, at *least* make up some goofy name like Restless Native did! At least then I would respect you while still wondering who exactly you are....
Okay, that's all.
PS. Actually, I don't recall saying that about remaining anonymous. I recall *thinking* it, but not exactly *saying* it, but I must have because Andrea said I did, and I know Andrea wouldn't lie to me. (Aaw, wasn't that sweet, Ang??) Actually, I don't think Andrea even reads my blog. She told me today she doesn't have time to read everyones blogs, and I think mine was included in that statement, which I don't think was very nice, 'cause it takes like five seconds to read a blog, gosh. Sooo, someone will have to tell her I was talking about her. Say the words "Old and Ugly" to her. That'll get 'er! :::giggles:::
Okay, that's all.
PS. Actually, I don't recall saying that about remaining anonymous. I recall *thinking* it, but not exactly *saying* it, but I must have because Andrea said I did, and I know Andrea wouldn't lie to me. (Aaw, wasn't that sweet, Ang??) Actually, I don't think Andrea even reads my blog. She told me today she doesn't have time to read everyones blogs, and I think mine was included in that statement, which I don't think was very nice, 'cause it takes like five seconds to read a blog, gosh. Sooo, someone will have to tell her I was talking about her. Say the words "Old and Ugly" to her. That'll get 'er! :::giggles:::
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Panera Bread
I was sitting in Panera Bread today trying to think of something to write. As usual, I ended up watching the people who came in and out instead. Have y'all ever done that before? Just sat back and watched people, I mean. You have to be good at it for it to really work. If someone catches you watching them, it's not nearly as much fun. After they see you, it just gets embarrassing.
I was told something very interesting today. I was told that I am one of "those people" who don't have anything to say, but--for some reason--what I do say is interesting. Who said that? :::giggles::: Well, they know who they are! And what they said is true. I don't say much of worth. But that's okay, because that is one of the reasons I have this blog. I'm trying to find the words I need to say things to people they know but haven't yet realized. What? You don't understand what I mean by that? :::laughs::: My point exactly.
Unfortunately, I think the only way to become a really good writer is to live life. And that is unfortunate because I want to be a good writer *now*. I don't want to be like *some people* who don't figure out what to do with their lives until they are 80 years old, and then hope they aren't too late to do what they really wanted all along. I want to do things now. But I guess that's just me being impatient.
Does anyone know anything about the Vandee during the French Revolution? I wouldn't be surprised if y'all don't. Not a lot of people do. But, on the chance that someone does, would you please let me know where I can read up on them? Thanks!
I was told something very interesting today. I was told that I am one of "those people" who don't have anything to say, but--for some reason--what I do say is interesting. Who said that? :::giggles::: Well, they know who they are! And what they said is true. I don't say much of worth. But that's okay, because that is one of the reasons I have this blog. I'm trying to find the words I need to say things to people they know but haven't yet realized. What? You don't understand what I mean by that? :::laughs::: My point exactly.
Unfortunately, I think the only way to become a really good writer is to live life. And that is unfortunate because I want to be a good writer *now*. I don't want to be like *some people* who don't figure out what to do with their lives until they are 80 years old, and then hope they aren't too late to do what they really wanted all along. I want to do things now. But I guess that's just me being impatient.
Does anyone know anything about the Vandee during the French Revolution? I wouldn't be surprised if y'all don't. Not a lot of people do. But, on the chance that someone does, would you please let me know where I can read up on them? Thanks!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
The Unanswerable Question
It's funny, "Restless Native"--you type just like you talk. I would know your post on any blog on the Internet. That is just weird.
Anyway, that was an interesting question; am I a writer who doesn't write, or am I not a writer who does? Well...as interesting as that question is (and confusing), it doesn't matter, because, regardless of the answer, I want to be a Writer Who Writes. Sooooooo.......
Maybe I'll write about someone who has always encouraged me to write, and who has always made me believe I could:
Hi Mana. : )
Let's see...what can I write about Mana?................
What kind of grandmother do you have? There are so many different kinds. Some stay home quite a bit, spending lots of time in the kitchen baking cookies and putting them in cookie jars to wait for the grandchildren to come over.
Not my grandmother.
Some grandmothers are a lot "cooler". They look like they are a Botoxed 35, they drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes (among other things), and instead of cookies, they like to offer their grandkids joints.
Not my grandmother.
Some grandmothers are in-betweeners. They aren't the old ladies, and they aren't the cool ones, either. They are just kind of...there. The grandkids are never offered cookies, of either variety, they never get taken to the zoo, or to the park, or to McDonald's, or just "into town." Strange as it may seem, these kind are the worst. I'll let you figure out why.
But that's not my grandmother, either.
My grandmother is one of kind, I'm just sure of it. *No* *one* could possibly claim a Mana like mine...unless it's another one of her grandchildren. She locks herself out of her car and her house all of the time. She tapes sparkly objects, meant for more practical uses like writing letters, onto the dashboard of her mini-van. She somehow still manages to lose her glasses, even though she has 50 pairs of them laying around her house. And sometimes, my normally quiet grandmother will yell at people on the television. I like it when she does this because it usually means she'll utter the phrase "That just makes me so darn mad!", which is a total and complete Mana Phrase, and is sometimes followed by, "Jim (my grandfather)! Hand me the remote. This just makes me so darn mad...."
I don't remember ever having a freshly baked cookie at my grandmother's house. But I do remember hot chocolate and marshmellows every December when we decorated her Christmas tree. I remember Crystal Lite, and Gulliver's Travels, and watching myself on the TV as her video-camera was running. I remember piano lessons, voice lessons, and swinging, and skating and pushing a broom on the outside patio.
No, there haven't been many cookies, but we--the Richard Grandchildren--have something that will last a lot longer. Something that took a lot of time, and love, and devotion. Mana has written each of us our own song, and our own story. And with 23 grandchildren, this was no easy feat. I'll never forget the first time I heard "Tracy Takes a Trip", and I can't wait to sing my song to my own children, called simply "Tracy's Song." If you ever see my grandmother, ask her to sing it for you. She'll have to think a while, because she's Mana, but she'll remember.
That's my grandmother--in a nutshell. I could go on. I could tell about getting in trouble at Mana's house, or about giving her near-heart attacks, or the trips we took to Tulsa and Kansas, or a million other things, but no matter what I say, or how long I took to say it, I don't know that it could ever all be said. She's just that unique.
I love you, Mana. Thanks for everything.
Anyway, that was an interesting question; am I a writer who doesn't write, or am I not a writer who does? Well...as interesting as that question is (and confusing), it doesn't matter, because, regardless of the answer, I want to be a Writer Who Writes. Sooooooo.......
Maybe I'll write about someone who has always encouraged me to write, and who has always made me believe I could:
Hi Mana. : )
Let's see...what can I write about Mana?................
What kind of grandmother do you have? There are so many different kinds. Some stay home quite a bit, spending lots of time in the kitchen baking cookies and putting them in cookie jars to wait for the grandchildren to come over.
Not my grandmother.
Some grandmothers are a lot "cooler". They look like they are a Botoxed 35, they drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes (among other things), and instead of cookies, they like to offer their grandkids joints.
Not my grandmother.
Some grandmothers are in-betweeners. They aren't the old ladies, and they aren't the cool ones, either. They are just kind of...there. The grandkids are never offered cookies, of either variety, they never get taken to the zoo, or to the park, or to McDonald's, or just "into town." Strange as it may seem, these kind are the worst. I'll let you figure out why.
But that's not my grandmother, either.
My grandmother is one of kind, I'm just sure of it. *No* *one* could possibly claim a Mana like mine...unless it's another one of her grandchildren. She locks herself out of her car and her house all of the time. She tapes sparkly objects, meant for more practical uses like writing letters, onto the dashboard of her mini-van. She somehow still manages to lose her glasses, even though she has 50 pairs of them laying around her house. And sometimes, my normally quiet grandmother will yell at people on the television. I like it when she does this because it usually means she'll utter the phrase "That just makes me so darn mad!", which is a total and complete Mana Phrase, and is sometimes followed by, "Jim (my grandfather)! Hand me the remote. This just makes me so darn mad...."
I don't remember ever having a freshly baked cookie at my grandmother's house. But I do remember hot chocolate and marshmellows every December when we decorated her Christmas tree. I remember Crystal Lite, and Gulliver's Travels, and watching myself on the TV as her video-camera was running. I remember piano lessons, voice lessons, and swinging, and skating and pushing a broom on the outside patio.
No, there haven't been many cookies, but we--the Richard Grandchildren--have something that will last a lot longer. Something that took a lot of time, and love, and devotion. Mana has written each of us our own song, and our own story. And with 23 grandchildren, this was no easy feat. I'll never forget the first time I heard "Tracy Takes a Trip", and I can't wait to sing my song to my own children, called simply "Tracy's Song." If you ever see my grandmother, ask her to sing it for you. She'll have to think a while, because she's Mana, but she'll remember.
That's my grandmother--in a nutshell. I could go on. I could tell about getting in trouble at Mana's house, or about giving her near-heart attacks, or the trips we took to Tulsa and Kansas, or a million other things, but no matter what I say, or how long I took to say it, I don't know that it could ever all be said. She's just that unique.
I love you, Mana. Thanks for everything.
To Heather, Because I Think It's Funny
My sister--HI HEATHER--thinks I am weird for setting up this blog. What she seemed to fail to understand was that I set it up partly in honor of *her*. (Thanks a lot for the support, Heather, darling.) I told her that I would give her a shout-out, and she told me not to, so I decided I would. ha ha. (You know I love you, Heather.)
hm...I wonder what all of these buttons do? Oh. Whoops. hm. I wonder how to fix that... Oh. There we go.
Well, that's all for this post.
hm...I wonder what all of these buttons do? Oh. Whoops. hm. I wonder how to fix that... Oh. There we go.
Well, that's all for this post.
The Purpose of My Very Own Blog
Back when life was a little less insane for me, I was a writer. Well, that was what I liked to think of myself as. Now I think of myself as a writer with writer's block. But! if you are a writer that doesn't write, are you a writer still? Somebody please answer that question for me.
So, anyway, the purpose of this blog for me to have a place where I can write anything I want. Whenever I want. ...Yeah, because I don't already do that in the hundred million zillion notebooks that I have stored in my bedroom. Well, okay, this is different because I'm forced to let people read what I write on this blog. Everyone that knows me knows that you die if you dare to look inside of my notebook. So, I am trying to overcome a fear of people reading what I write. *That* is the purpose of this oh so very pink blog called The Art of M&Ming.
So, anyway, the purpose of this blog for me to have a place where I can write anything I want. Whenever I want. ...Yeah, because I don't already do that in the hundred million zillion notebooks that I have stored in my bedroom. Well, okay, this is different because I'm forced to let people read what I write on this blog. Everyone that knows me knows that you die if you dare to look inside of my notebook. So, I am trying to overcome a fear of people reading what I write. *That* is the purpose of this oh so very pink blog called The Art of M&Ming.
Monday, September 26, 2005
testing...
Okay, for some reason I can't get my blog to work correctly. I have got to figure this out. Man. I wanted to get to bed early tonight, and it's already 11:30. Good grief. This stupid Internet is way too addictive. Okay...let's see if this works...
testing...testing...testing...
testing...testing...testing...
My First Official Post
The first post on my very own blog, The Art of M&Ming. Does anyone out there know what M&Ming is? If you answered yes, you might want to take it back, because I can guarantee you don't. You see, I made it up. I made it up, and my sister and our M&M's benefited greatly from it, so I have kept it going.
Perhaps later on, several posts down the road, I will explain what M&Ming is. Just not now. Number one, it's too late. It's past midnight, and I'm tired, and I've stayed up way to late just setting this thing up, and then trying to think of something witty to say for my first post. I am failing miserably, and possibly my wit will be improved will a few hours of good sleep, so I am off to bed now.
Goodnight Red!
Perhaps later on, several posts down the road, I will explain what M&Ming is. Just not now. Number one, it's too late. It's past midnight, and I'm tired, and I've stayed up way to late just setting this thing up, and then trying to think of something witty to say for my first post. I am failing miserably, and possibly my wit will be improved will a few hours of good sleep, so I am off to bed now.
Goodnight Red!
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