It is end of month and end of our fiscal year so things are hopping like a mutha right now. Bridget was busy losing her mind with antics from her boyfriend and mother, the Accounts Payable group and our temp when she was not teasing me with having her boobs wink at me. It sounds more obscene than it is; think flexing chest muscle. She has a very large set of you know whats on her petite body. She does it to jam me up when we are in the middle of stressful moments. She goes for the shock factor which works into sending us into gales of laughter. I think she's getting me back for my own boob shot on Sunday's entry which she thought was hot. Brought her a chicken mixture-filled steamed bun for breakfast as a reward for good behavior yesterday on dealing with others while I was gone.
Tawny was at home sick again for the second day in a row, but this time her husband joined her. Didn't get to IM with her as much as yesterday. Hope she's feeling better soon.
Lunch was mercifully quiet and a small conversation with a good man named John who shared his weekend events with wife and kiddies. I brought a Filipino lunch but I wished for a part of the lunch that Myrna brought me yesterday from one of my favorite restaurants. Am I spoiled or what? Her housewife days are numbered because her new job starts next week. Grateful to have spent a couple of hours with her when I wasn't feeling well. My demented sense of humor comes out when she's around. Laughter is the best medicine they say.
The afternoon was a busy blur. I did get to enjoy rereading a fellow blogger's addition to my poem(?) yesterday in the comment. It was interesting surprise. Writing for me has always been a way to decompress as I am doing now. When I write with purposeful thought as in a poem or short story, it is a time for me to really let my imagination loose and not be so bogged down with factual information. I let it flow and see where it leads. It usually starts with an image in my mind's eye or with a feeling. I do not profess to be a Maya Angelou or Jane Austen, but I feel my role is to express it as vividly as I can so my audience feels or sees exactly what I do. It needn't be a whole story, it can be a brief moment in time.
The best part of the process is getting so lost in the writing that when I reread it later whether it is days, months or years, it is as if it was written by someone other than me. It makes me smile every time. Maybe one day I will write that book my high school creative writing teacher, Mr. Anderson, asked me to send him a copy of when it was published. May I find the words to do so and not let the music die that I know is within me. Staccato, mezzo forte, crescendo, legato, and pianissimo...Can you feel it already?
3 comments:
Well, AGOL, I really feel that you should explore your writing much more than you have done. Or maybe you have, just we do not know it. You wrote a lovely poem, and maybe you have not thought of this, but I could not have written my part of the poem if you had not written yours first. It was you who provided the inspiration. I am sure you must have many pieces of lovely writing in your 'bottom drawer' that you haven't shown to the world. Maybe it is time for the grand unveling!
Love your blog - it is life and poetry, and fun too!
Awww, shucks! Thanks for being fan. ;p
Darn it...gotta move the webcam away from the bottom drawer!
Sorry for the delayed comment...as you know I've been not just under the weather but trampled, and ran over by the weather! I know that when the music burst from you it will be allegro!
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