This sort of compliments the subject of my blog from yesterday, I am Magic.
Home » Uncategorized
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Want to Reach Your Dreams? 3 Simple Ways to Ignite Your MOJO!
NEVER FORGET…
Wordless Wednesday
Dance of the Seasons
I don’t recall if I’ve ever posted this on my blog before, but thought it’s a fitting time to share.
DANCE OF THE SEASONS
Seasons change, bringing anew
The turning tides ring of truth
Times come and they go
Return and leave like the life of a rose
In the beginning of a season
Living life without reason
We feel totally robust
Then fall down and bust
Life, full of too much excitement,
Eventually brings tired days well spent
Whether it’s raking leaves
Or shoveling snow; hanging wreaths
Eventually the season ends
And before we know it, tends
To enter another season, yet again
A never-ending cycle upon which we depend
And as we dance in spring showers
And keep watch over growing flowers
The sun in the sky rises higher
As the days grow longer and lighter
The outdoors begs us, come
Time to begin outdoor fun
And next thing we know
Tulips smell fine and gone is the snow
As the roses rise high
Toward the big blue sky
Turning their faces aloft
We look ahead to summers so soft
Full of hot days and warm nights
We’ll lie on our backs; watch the skies for lights
Barbecues will be lit
With charcoal in their pits
And in the last days of summer
We’ll stand outside and act all the dumber
While pretending not to know
That soon enough, there’ll be snow
We’ll toast the long days
As we nod to changing ways
As fall chases summer away
And lessens our time of play
Ushering in things anew
Yet that seem old too
And soon the raking of leaves
Give way to the hanging of wreathes
Again we’ll sit ‘round hearth fires
Discussing days gone by with desire
And we sit with our cookies and coffees
Dreaming of summer and big Slurpees
It’s the dance of the seasons
It happens without reason
Round and round it goes
And where it’ll stop, everyone knows.
Copyright 2014 Wanda S. Paryla
Rain Falling
RAIN FALLING
(From my journal entry of Tuesday, 10/14/14.) Most is from a journal entry, with added passages.
**
Rain falling steady
Warm air fighting Fall’s music
Autumn hums a chilling tune
**
Last week and this week is sure offering up some suspicious-acting weather. Some call it Indian Summer. It usually arrives in October of every year here. It can last 3-7 days. This one seems to be lasting seriously longer.
It did this crap last year, and it was an awful winter. 2013 ended rough, and 2014 began shitty. But, horses run. Fast. And thankfully the tides changed for me in some areas of my life. I’m glad of that even as some things stayed the same – good or bad. A thing or two got worse, a thing or so go better, but there were a few things that did not change at all.
Anyway – my handwriting is as shitty as it’s always been. I’ve been trying to work on my handwriting. Why am even mentioning my handwriting (in the WordPress version of this blog) I have no idea. I’m rambling.
Anyway, I have so many projects on the table – maybe too many – that I cannot accomplish even one. I have no idea what’s gotten into me… Or maybe, out of me. I’m gridlocked. I feel like I’m sitting in my car, stuck in a deep snowdrift, my wheels spinning as I watch the gas tank run dry.
I just paid an editor – who did fine work, by the way – to edit a book. I’ve mentioned it here before, Storm Dwellers. Well, I wanted to make changes to it. Some of these changes will take thinking and time. Therefore, I knew I would not make a near-Halloween release date. And, I was totally okay with that. Then all heck broke loose and I fell ill, and then Mom fell ill, then all sorts of craziness occurred.
Okay, back to Storm Dwellers. I received the edits back from the editor. I was all gung-ho to get this done, so she could take a look at the finished product. Deep down I knew that I would not be making a release for this Halloween. But then, I’d rather have a solid story than a Halloween release date. And if I really want an October date, I have all year to work on this story. It makes no difference to me and I’m sure it makes no difference to the editor. Time is what we have.
So, at first I thought I’d just lost interest in the story, but I knew better. And, believe it or not, I had no interest in writing anything at all! And I’d say out loud, “I don’t care! I hate writing. I don’t have to write.” In truth, I absolutely have to write.
It is not like I was working like made or anything before I got this bug. I don’t feel it is what’s referred to as “writer’s block.” It’s something else. What, I have no clue.
It is probably the reason I started this hand-written journal. To see if I can work out the bugs. I’ve gotten great advice on how to… or well, writers have shared ways they’ve overcome such obstacles in their past; they’ve offered exercises to help.
*shaking head*
What the hell is wrong? Editor returned Storm Dwellers. Something I worked hard on. I stopped dead. I have other manuscripts in the works. One I have 200+ pages. Stopped. I can make a list, but why bore you with my failures? Okay, I was told to not call them failures. So here goes…
I have newly started novels, some containing only a few chapters, some a few pages, some finished halfway, and still other stuck in limbo riding on their notes:
-The Devil Plays Dice (sequel to Someday Always Comes)
-Angel Maker
-Cop Lover (book 2 in a series after Angel Maker)
-The Adam Conspiracy
-The Gem of Crystal Beach
-Blood’s Immortal
-The Ghosts of Willow Marsh
Of course, the finished Storm Dwellers with a fresh return from the editor. Oh and a book of poetry I have work for.
And this list doesn’t end there – those are just the most notable. I was blessed with a Muse that never sleeps. Until now! My writing drove me crazy, often to the point a thought would cross my mind and the words would come out of my mouth. I had no control.
Here is the fact, and I’d like to share this because many people suffer with physical or psychological afflictions, or will at some point, especially as we age. We writers are not immune. In fact, it’s guaranteed that we will get some malady because we’re tagged. How else can we write? We have to be sad, angry, happy, crazy, or sick with something chronic and annoying but not always fatal. Often we are alcoholics, chain smokers or coffee addicts. Just to name a few things. I am no different. I find that I am not always sane, but in a good way. I think. But I’ve always had digestive issues, since I was about 30. It started innocently with GERD, gastric reflux disease. Then with an esophageal sphincter that doesn’t operate properly. Now it’s escalated to esophageal spasms, diverticulosis, diverticulitis, constipation, IBS, and now they’re going back in, in November, to recheck my stomach. Nice. So, I can’t eat, I vomit, stay nauseous. Check this and that for blood. Oh, yes there’s a whole list of gross stuff I can type here, but I’ll spare you the details. I spend quite a bit of time at the doctor’s office begging for mercy or lying in a hospital emergency department because they are the only ones that can stop the vomiting and pain and rehydrate at a high rate of speed.
My stomach and colon like to wreak havoc on my life, causing irritability and exhaustion. Which in turn causes depression. I cannot always sleep. Up, down, up down, every couple of hours. It gets on my nerves. I have to watch this food and that, and every day I find something else I cannot eat or drink, or something I should eat or drink. I found that too much dairy products are not good for the colon since they coat the colon and keep the good from attacking the bad. These bacteria cannot stay attached to the colon wall. This is the newest news. Guess I should not have eaten all that ice cream this summer. I have to take fiber, yogurt, probiotics, and this, that and the other! But I cannot have this, this and this.
I’m losing weight. Not a bad thing. But it’s due to the illness and my inability to eat larger meals. So anyway, I have to graze all day to avoid a full stomach. I find that doughnuts and light pastries are just what the doctor did not order, but at least they don’t make me sick.
I have been debating asking the doctor for sleeping pills. I hate them though. But I just want to sleep all night. Or maybe for like 5 hours straight for even one night. Just one night, that’s all I ask.
Oh forget it.
I miss Dr. Thomas. My prior doctor. She was so sympathetic and understanding. Seriously, June was a year that she’s been gone. Nothing I can do.
Maybe I need a vacation. Even a 2-3 day retreat. I’d love to hear the sound of the ocean again. The real ocean, not the ones on those CDs. Just for a few hours. Maybe next year.
I miss the Texas sky. Dark blue during the day, purple at night. Maybe I can go to Texas next year and sky worship for a few days. Maybe go to the coast. Maybe not come back to this place. Maybe stay at home.
*Please note, of course, I did find out after this journal entry that it’s this medication I take for esophageal spasms causing so much mind blockage!…A medication that I am (was) on for a physical illness may actually be causing mental fatigue and disinterest in my own writing, like depression. Holy shit! See? You just never know. Anyway, as many of us know about medications, often they are two-faced. Making you feel better in one way, as they are destroying some other part of you. To hell with medicines! This is getting on my nerves.A medication I desperately need and there is only about one other med I can take because the others are some sort of blood pressure meds used in small doses, and they do not want to give me that, because despite I want to kill people often, my blood pressure is the only thing that stays normal, except when I want to set fire to things and throw stuff! 😉 I suspected that the medication was beginning to cause this, though it’s rare for the low dosage to cause any emotional changes, the doctor said. She said if it does, it should not be noticeable. Well, the last time I got sick, I could not take this med for a few days and I saw the difference but thought…”Hey, I need this,” and chalked it up to my imagination. Now I’ve fallen ill again and had to stop taking meds by mouth again…low and behold, the mind fog lifted yet again. So I guess, back to the doctor to find something new. Or I’ll have to seek out something holistic. That is if there is anything.*
Now, as for Storm Dwellers, I will have to work on this slowly to get it where I want it. In the meantime, since this medicine that’s caused me so many issues behind my back, is now leaving my system, I have had another story idea, which I posted about on Facebook as well as a short blurb here on WP a couple days back. It’s tentatively titled, Chicago Down. We’ll see how that works out as my senses come back to me.
Thanks for visiting my blog. And, be sure to check each day this week, I have blogs planned for each day. Happy reading!
Throwback Thursday
In Someday Always Comes, Tessa Price mentions Stretch Armstrong. Do you remember him? I do. We had one. I sure wish I’d known enough to keep it.
Wordless Wednesday
(a poem) FOR THE DEFENDERS – YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL HEROES
A Re-blog…For Veteran’s Day:
**I began writing this poem way back during Operation Desert Storm. It was finally completed in 2009. I leave the copyright at 2009 because the poem hasn’t been changed much since. I wrote it for the people and animals who’ve died in “wars” for us since our beginning. I always like to share it somewhere on Memorial Day, Independence Day, & Veterans Day.** I hope you enjoy reading it. Someone once called this poem “profound.” I don’t know about that but I consider it the best piece I’ve ever written in my life…and the best piece I’ll ever write. I doubt I can ever top it. Nor do I want to.
FOR THE DEFENDERS – YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL HEROES, by Wanda S. Paryla
This work was written for every hero, past, present and future, of every state and nation: “Strive to forgive me as I seek forgiveness; seek forgiveness as I strive to forgive, for we are all nothing if not humankind.” ~Winter NightTiger
Some had an easy time, maybe even a good time; many had it insane. But, they all went, never knowing for sure what consequences it might bring, and that makes them brave.
FOR THE DEFENDERS– YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL HEROES
I wish only to hold your head in my hands
And tell you I am sorry that you were tortured on foreign lands.
But I am afraid to speak and I dare not touch your face,
For I fear you’ll look upon me with disgrace.
Young and beautiful heroes –
Defenders of a government’s cause –
Without questions,
Without pause.
Pardon me
For my naivety.
For I was not there to see;
Had I been, I’m sure I would have lost it all to insanity.
Hear my plea,
Pity me, forgive me, forgive me!
Europe, Korea, Vietnam, Somalia, Middle East, and in other places, not afar, but right here.
That’s where you’ll find their ghosts.
Ghosts of both the living and the dead,
Young and beautiful heroes,
Many Champions whom we have never seen.
People whom the Ass and the Elephant dare not look in the eye
Lest they display cowardice and for the grandest of excuses vie.
But, not I – I shall write in ode to you, to the freedom defenders, alive and dead
Who walked on many a foreign land,
Crossed many dark and watery seas,
Who, reluctantly or not, killed many a monster that, once dead, was just another man,
Like he, with unheard cries and pleas.
Oh, the things I wish to say; how they spin around in my head.
I dream of looking into your eyes,
Even as my American spirit slowly withers and dies,
For I can never be as you,
An American peoples’ Champion, true.
I recognize the heroes – I’ve seen some here, some there,
With their American spirits lost everywhere.
And then, they return to us,
Dead or living,
In boxes or for life, striving,
And the politicians only pretend to care
Because they know – hell, they’ll never ever have to go there.
So, here I am,
Sad that I cannot give you empathy
For I have not witnessed first hand
The vile acts of political man
Upon my young and beautiful heroes.
I am not even sure if I have a right to offer you sympathy,
So please forgive me,
For I cannot claim to understand
Your suffering and your woes.
I wish only to hold your head in my hands
And tell you I am sorry that you were tortured on foreign lands.
But I am afraid to speak and I dare not touch your face,
For I fear you’ll look upon me with disgrace.
I am humbled before you, Champions –
Young and beautiful heroes –
With biting souls
Wrecked with the poison of political scorpions.
Your pain could never be eased by another.
No, not by your father, mother, sister or brother, and certainly not by any lover.
Your eyes have seen a wild animal darkness,
That no other person’s sleeping mind would dare dream to harness.
Their wars become no good for anyone.
Once it is found that the crusade cannot be won –
They always leave you there then, with praise left undone,
And at just thirty, twenty-one, or as young as eighteen,
They asked you to behold things that, at any age, you should never have seen.
They leave behind the real defenders of the cause – taking with them their congressional bets.
The cowards leave you there, deep in the oceans, in stifling jungle-laden lands,
In strange desert countries strewn about their burning sands.
They leave you to die, young and beautiful heroes, without any damned regrets.
And, lest they be called failures,
They dare not turn to you a saving hand.
They leave you to your lunacy and wounds, without allowing any cares or cures.
They leave you there, burning, dreaming of easier days and helping hands.
I lived not through any wars,
But, I have shared in our government’s alleged reaped rewards.
They don’t feel to owe you a damned thing,
Even as in your head, sickening night terrors ring.
But, as – when just a child – my father fought,
I owe you everything.
However, I can offer you naught,
Save with my pen, your praises can I sing,
Through mediocre poetry –
writing being my single grace –
I attempt to offer you dignity,
As I dare imagine my hands touching your beautiful face.
You who will never be the same,
I am full of disdain
For the harbinger of your undeserved fate,
And I cry out for a cure to your pain.
It’s the only thing that might ease my hate
Lest I go guiltily insane
And end up myself at hell’s iron gate.
To the freedom defenders of now or then,
Those who risk their lives so people worldwide may live dictator free –
As our government has always claimed to us it should be –
Wherever you are, wherever you roam, wherever you die – I pray you’re not alone,
And for you, to the gods of warriors I beg for a safe return to your memories of home.
No matter how much time has passed us
Since your terrible war left you restless,
On my heart, you’ll forever be –
Young and beautiful heroes –
As I know that your night terrors
Will never see you free.
Do not be ashamed.
Keep your heads high.
Don’t take any blame,
For you have no reasons to deny
Your magnificent valor.
The one forgiveness sought here –
Outside of that between warriors –
Is the mercy that I seek from you
For the crimes of my country’s leaders.
The Ass and the Elephant owe you a debt –
One, shamefully –
They can never repay.
Forgive me, though, for the courage they lack.
And alas, to me you must make yet another promise,
Please come back,
And this time, say that you’ll stay.
I wish only to hold your head in my hands
And tell you I am sorry that you were tortured on foreign lands.
But I am afraid to speak and I dare not touch your face,
For I fear you’ll look upon me with disgrace.
Pardon me
For my naivety.
For I was not there to see;
Had I been, I’m sure I would have lost it all to insanity.
Hear my plea,
Pity me, forgive me, forgive me!
The way I remember and the way I know,
Is through television and history books.
This is how I seek young and beautiful heroes,
Of both today and yesteryear –
The freedom defenders who seemed to not fear,
And never knew what it took
Until they had already become history,
By another man’s quest of glory.
Defenders of the cause, I must share –
Courage is not the absence of fear,
It is but the conquest of it.
You are true glory,
Armed with many a mighty story –
Young and beautiful heroes
Of today, of yesterday,
Of every day
And I would never deny it.
Whether you are dead,
Or still yet cursed with nightmares in your head,
Whether you trudged across frozen Europe,
Or you met with torture in Korea,
Whether you sat in silent madness in the land of the Vietnamese,
Or crawled through the desert sands of Iraq –
You are beautiful heroes.
No matter what they say,
You are the Champions of our way.
Your childhood will forever remain
Somewhere far away – left behind –
Carrying on somewhere out there without you, left lame.
Your youth and beauty, and maybe even your mind,
Is where you abandoned the child
To become a person of class, rank and file.
And while there will always be some in denial,
There are those of us who shall never put you on trial.
There is no need for you to tell me –
Lest it helps to ease your pain and dread –
But only you can help me to see
What it is that lies deep in your head.
I wish I could ease your heart,
But I don’t know where to start.
I know that no words I could ever say,
Could hold your beast at bay.
Pardon me
For my naivety.
For I was not there to see;
Had I been, I’m sure I would have lost it all to insanity.
Hear my plea,
Pity me, forgive me, forgive me!
Young and beautiful heroes –
Defenders of a government’s cause –
Without questions,
Without pause.
I wish only to hold your head in my hands
And tell you I am sorry you were tortured on foreign lands.
But I dare not touch your face,
For I fear you’ll look upon me with disgrace.
Europe, Korea, Vietnam, Somalia, Middle East, and in other places, not afar, but right here.
That’s where you will find your ghosts…
Young and beautiful.
Copyright 2009 Wanda S. Paryla
Join Me on Facebook & Goodreads
Greetings WordPress neighbors, readers, and friends…
If you haven’t yet, please visit my Facebook author page and give it a “like”. I reciprocate from my author page and my personal page.
https://www.facebook.com/WandaSParylaAuthorPage
Or join me on Goodreads!
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6914975.Wanda_S_Paryla
Thanks!!
WANDA S. PARYLA 
You must be logged in to post a comment.