I couldn’t have said it better myself. And yet, I often suffer from what I call “comparison-itis.) Check this out.
Wordless Wednesday
She Is A Truck Driver
I have a CDL. I went through truck diving school to drive an 18-wheeler. I spent very little time on the road, however, unlike some women who do this for a living.
Driving is hard enough on men, so can sometime prove even more difficult for women who are often smaller in frame and height. Too often we forget that women do this for a living. Yes, they choose it, and are quite often wonderful at it.
Truck driving gives one a sense of freedom to some extent. Just drive the truck, get where you’re going, and no one heckles you (or so you hope!). You don’t have to stay in the same area as your boss either which is great. But, there are downsides too. Bad weather, for one. It’s not safe often for ladies to be on the road alone. Traffic…because car driver DO NOT know how to drive around trucks. And I mean, none of you. You think trucks are like cars, SUVs or pickup trucks, but that’s absolutely not true. I once wrote a MySpace blog about how to…or not to…drive around trucks. I think I shall write a WordPress blog about that too so I can education my wonderful readers on driving around trucks. I’m sure you’ll go…”I had no idea”…at least once.
But in the meantime, I’d like to leave you with this. And I hope you’ll think about it a bit. Maybe, it might even encourage some of the ladies to look at driving a rig as a career. The author of this is unknown so far.
SHE IS A TRUCK DRIVER
She’s a big girl, she’s a small girl.
She comes in all sizes and shapes: short, tall, skinny and fat.
Laughing and serious, happy and sad.
She’s transportation with a grin on her face; distribution with a cocked left eyebrow.
She’s progress with diesel fumes in her hair. She makes her living holding 10 tons of steel in her hands. She has highways in her eyes. She’s a truck driver.
She hauls milk for the nation’s babies, dresses for the nation’s ladies.
Steel for our country’s defense, and bread for the nation’s breakfast tables.
She likes straight highways, slot machines that payoff, friendly cops and bonus checks.
The road’s her home. She drives today so the world can live tomorrow.
Laughing, she’s tough enough to hold her cargo against a hurricane, and gentle enough to stop 10 tons of wheeled steel to let a 12 ounce kitten cross the road.
She can tell you where to get the best piece of apple pie on the highway, and where the radar traps are, and which road to take to make the fastest time.
She hates, in the order named, phonies, road-hogs, tough traffic cops, highway weigh stations, small town justices of the peace, steep hills, cackling cargo, and a weak coffee.
She’s America on wheels. She’s big business with a road map in her pocket. She’s a truck driver.
Without her, there would be no gasoline to run the nation’s automobiles, no steel to make the machines, no concrete to build the highways, no merchandise to spin the wheels of trade.
She has eyes that look over mountains; she likes to see the other side of hills.
She eats better than bankers, dresses like a Texas rancher, is more independent than a newly elected senator. She’s an authority on politics, highway construction, baseball, and the best way to run a trucking company.
She likes the feel of the night wind on her face and the sound of a purring motor.
She lives by the code of the road and passes no man by who needs a helping hand.
She’s got problems and is not bashful in airing complaints about the state of the world at large.
Every trip she threatens to get off the road and live like other women, but she never does. The highway is a flirting Lorelei who hums a haunting tune for the women who chase the horizon on spinning wheels. And when the tires sing, the road is straight, and the moon is bright on a ribbon of cross country highway, she’s the happiest, most useful woman in America. She’s a truck driver.
-Author unknown
Writers and Their Rejections
Interesting… Take a look.
Most of the writers I’ve known over the decades had one goal in mind – publication. They reached for the gold standard of traditional publishing. Most of them never got there. It usually had little to do with their talent.
Many of these writers deserved better. They should have been published. Their work was excellent, polished and moving. But, somewhere along the line, they gave up. They reached an impenetrable bulwark that sidetracked their work and talent. It was the wall of rejection and, for some very talented writers, it was too much to overcome.
Rejection is a tough issue for anyone. In the world of writing, it’s inevitable. For those writers who set the gold standard of publication for themselves, it sometimes became the breaking point. Understandable, right?. However, for those writers who eventually made it through the desert of rejection, there was a potent reward waiting.
The question…
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Wordless Wednesday
Wordless Wednesday
Waiter With a Fake Dick Prank
OMG!
Weekly Prompt – Childhood Memories
Hmmm…I think I’ll work on this one.
Halloween Party
HALLOWEEN PARTY
Goblins, ghouls, ghosts and vampires
All dressed up in their party attire
Daring mortals to come out and play
Taunting us onward ‘til the break of day
They hide in the shadows of Halloween night
And slip in and out of the glow of Halloween lights
They follow us then, trying to frighten mortals
And when we dare a peek, they vanish into portals
It was Halloween night and a little chilly
I was dressed in a costume and felt so silly
Going to a party dressed like a mouse
Assured to be laughed at by all in the house
I went to the address listed on the invitation
Scared out of my wits, afraid for my preservation
The yard was scary and full of mummies
And gigantic black spiders looking for yummies
I saw a zombie peeking out from behind a tree
And another bound in chains, moaning to be free
I saw a vampire with a glowing white face
Woe is me, I was becoming a basket case
Scurrying along the path to the front door
I witnessed all sorts of blood and gore
There were crying crows and screeching witches
And a couple of hands sticking up from ditches
And from somewhere in the distance
I heard a girl screaming with resistance
Walk I did as briskly as able
My feet moving, yet I felt unstable
I spotted a graveyard far off to the right
I felt my throat dry up and get tight
As I tried to swallow down my fright
I kept the dimly lit porch in my sight
I hurried along this scary path to the door
And finally came upon steps adorned by gargoyles galore
I climbed the stairs, stepping ‘round florescent-green slime
Unlike anything I’d ever seen before this time
When I climbed to the top of the stairs
To my left was a skeleton with absolutely no hair
He was holding a bowl of eyeballs of brown and blue
And from where he got them, I had no clue
On my right there was a witch dressed in black
With eyes glowing green that took me aback
I held my breath as she said to me,
“Welcome to my Halloween party”
I rushed to the big black front door
Which was adorned with even more
Frightening things for my sight
Such as a pumpkin with eyes burning bright
As I stood in front of the daunting entrance
I took a deep breath to fight my resistance
To knock on the door with the lion-headed knocker
But knock I did, and that was a shocker
After a few moments Frankenstein opened
The big creaky door to invite me
Into the creepy old mansion
And I could feel my body tighten with more tension
“Good evening,” he said
I could feel pain building in my head
I nodded to him and fear took hold
As I walked across the door’s threshold
I sauntered inside but in just a few moments
My worry eased as I saw a house full pumpkins
With smiling faces as my friends did greet me
And offer me cake and a glass of iced tea
I saw them at the party, they were all there
My friend Sally was dressed as Cher
And my old boyfriend Stan wore hair
Of green and held in his hand a cold beer
I saw vampires cavorting at a snack table
But these guys weren’t from any fable
They were my friends, Doug, Sam and Rig
And I knew this party would be a great gig
Then I saw Andy and Nancy
They were dressed in costumes fancy
Like Samson and Delilah
Or was it Antony and Cleopatra?
I took in the sights and sounds
Oh my, there were goodies all around
And flashing orange lights hung in windows
Causing cheer and casting shadows
There were even a couple bales of hay
Where upon sat food trays
From a ceiling fan hung a ghost
And dressed in black, there was our host
On the staircase was sitting a scarecrow
That looked pretty creepy but mellow
Then I realized it was my friend, Daisy
Who was tipsy and feeling a lil’ lazy
I reached into a bowl of candy
And got a fright dandy
When a gross hand tried to grab me
Before I could get a treat to eat
As I walked about I saw
A dragon with big claws
Talking to a mermaid
Holding a glass of red Kool-aid
The tables were adorned in holiday
Table cloths in a nice array
Of orange and black
With ghosts and big-eyed cats
A crystal pumpkin dish
Held candy corns delish
And atop a case of books
Sat a real tabby cat named Nooks
Who seemed not to mind strangers in his house
Or the fact that I was dressed as a mouse
The party was just getting started
And around the rooms my eyes still darted
An ice sculpture of a vampire bat
In the middle of a big round table sat
With champagne-punch flowing
Surrounded by candles all glowing
There were sticky spider webs
Hung from walls, rafters and even people’s heads
But yet, no one was filled with dread
All were happy and so laughter spread
Loud and clear jazz music played
And amusement was merrily displayed
So I decided to heck with the ghouls
I’ll stay awhile shoot some pool
As I listened to the not-so spooky jazz
Across the room I saw a devil named Taz
And he laughed as Ken and Barbie
Bobbed for apples hardily
I had a great conversation ‘bout gore and ick
With a fairy who stirred her cider with a cinnamon stick
Then I hung out with a guy named, Dolph
Who was clearly dressed as a big bad wolf
My fears had all diminished
As I mingled with many of the delightfully devilish
And so I became quite curious
There was just no reason to be serious
As the night wore thin and the sun
Threatened our joy and fun
Ghosts, witches, and vampires alike
Along with a biker dude named Spike
Ran off into what was left of the night
Taking with them a guy and his kite,
Casper, Freddie, Attila the Hun
And then there was that very small nun
They went back to their favorite haunts
To climb under covers and get some sleep
And dream of next year’s spooky jaunts
Of course, I’ll be there despite the creeps
‘Cause nothing’s better than a happy Halloween
Full of fun, food, friends, and a few screams
Dressed as a black cat I’ll go next year
And I swear, next time, I’ll show no fear.
Copyright 2010 Wanda S. Paryla
Wordless Wednesday
WANDA PARYLA 
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