THE DAILY (W) RITE
WK1
Thursday, August o1, 2o13
Having a difficult time deciding what to write about on this blog. not sure if the too personal is the right way to go. I mean, do people really want to read about the "daily" routine of one old guy? Maybe, maybe not. I'm not sure if being "personal" is wrong. Maybe the problem is that the ramblings aren't personal enough or artistic enough. I've got to treat this blog (or blob) with more care.
I 'm up really early today. 7 am. Yeah, for working folk that me be considered the middle of the day. When I was teaching up in NM, I was in the office by 7 or 8 am getting ready for classes by 9. Now a days I'm lucky if I get up by 10 am. Probably not a good thing. Not sure WHY it's not a good thing. I suppose it's because we are trained from childhood to "get up! You're wasting the day! Lots to do." It's true. I am NOT doing as much as I should. I should be getting up early in the morning to write! And maybe I'll start doing that. BUT what to wrote about? What do people want to hear? What do I want to say? Always the dilemma. But since it IS a new day in a brand new, sparkly month I'll try to be more... writer like.
There's a poetry reading (open mike) tonight at a local coffee house. David has been urging me to go and read. I've been putting it off using the same old excuses: 1. I don't have anything memorized, 2. My poetry's not good enough, 3. I got stage fright... Well, there are plenty of good excuses for not doing something. "I'm not feeling well" is one I use often enough. Can't use it a lot, though. When you use it TOO much, it just becomes an excuse. AND when folks know you are just using reasons as excuses, they stop asking you to go places. And we all know that going somewhere with friends is not as important as being asked to go. It's the asking that counts, and it's the saying "no" that makes you feel in control of your life. But I should go tonight just to see what's going on. Who knows? I might like it. I might meet some people. Make some new friends.
Friday, August o2, 2o13
The new picture above I posted as a response to all my Facebook friends who are overcome with the need to bash President Obama. To be honest, I'm not against saying things against the POTUS. If that's what you really feel. My problem is that a LOT of my "friends" believe things because... well, because someone who they admire told them to believe it. Or maybe it's somebody who just has the same mind set: "President Obama is evil." Whichever way it is, they don't take the time to think about what they say. Here's a post I got from a friend:
Yeah, it's real clever. Obama says something you don't like and you dig up a quote from some famous dead guy to prove a point... And what's the point? That's the thing with most of the Right-Winger stuff... there's no point. BF's quote has nothing to do with the POTUS talking about national security. But that doesn't matter. Whatever, this president does the Right -Winger nuts are going to say something. This pic is actually clever... thought out... and well put together. I guess what bothers me... my friend on Facebook didn't come up with it. They just posted something that they got off another sight because it was anti-Obama. Hell, if you're going to make a political statement, make it YOUR statement, create something unique, THINK something that YOU thought up and quite stealing ideas from other people to try and prove a point that's not true.
Tuesday, August o6, 2o13
I haven't talked to my mother in almost 20 years. Yes, I know. I'm horrible. I'm suppose to love and honor and respect my mother. People tell me that all the time. I suppose I do in a way, from a distance. There's a lot of reasons that I'm estranged from my mother, from my entire family... Perhaps it's mostly my fault. I never felt like I fit in well with the rest of the "Woods Tribe." Over the years my sister has "forced" me into a relationship with her. I fought against it but she is persistent. "Family." Very important to me sister. Last week my mother turned ninety years old. My sister asked me to call her. For some reason, I'm not sure why, I decided I should. Maybe it was because our brother Dennis had killed himself a few years back. I hadn't talk to him either in a very long time, and the last conversation we had had ended in a big verbal fight. maybe I was feeling guilty. Anyway, I called mom and the conversation went something like:
"Hi, Mom."
"Who is this?"
"It's your son."
"My son? Which one?"
"The one that's still alive."
I realize now that the joke was in bad taste, but I really thought she was joking me. She didn't know who I was? Yeah, she really didn't know who I was. During the whole conversation... well, it really wasn't a conversation because mom, it seems, can't hold a conversation anymore. I wish my sister had told me that before I called our mother. She just kept repeating the same things over and over: " I gotta walker." "I fall down sometimes." "The kids have to go to work." "They leave me alone all the time." "I'm too old to come see you guys." No matter how I tried to steer the conversation to other topics her response was always one of these phrase and not necessarily in any cohesive or meaningful order. I felt sad and guilty for not keeping in touch with my mother more. I should have been a better son. I should have been a better son when my mother recognized me as her son.
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