Letting Go

This morning, I got up to the smell of Fall.  And, when I think of Fall, I immediately think of changes.  Both literally to the weather and to each of our lives. 

Think about it, Fall is when the new school year begins, learning new things, reading and listening to new writers and music.  It's football season, ordering or chopping wood for the fireplace, thinking about the holidays that will spiral out of control and be here before you know it, shopping for sweaters and coats all in preparation for the Fall season.

Not only is it an onslaught of "newness," it's also a time for letting go.  Although the give and take of letting go should be done seamlessly throughout our lives, if you're like me, it's a struggle and causes noticeable commotion within our lives.  I bet it wouldn't even take the game of 6 degrees of separation to find people who have lost or gained a relationship, felt the loss of a child and gained the presence of an adult in their place.  Perhaps it is the loss of self without anyone or thing to replace it.  Or, the worst case scenario, the loss of emotion which leaves the soul dry and brittled for the length of life.

On the other side of the coin, I find it interesting that when a brave soul is able to expose their innermost feelings either personally or to an audience, you will undoubtedly find people cringing at this display.  Is it because they have never felt these emotions of letting go and don't know what to make of it?  I'm betting no.  I think it edges too closely to the barriers we all have that protects our vulnerability. 

No one is perfect and it is usually pointed out quite graphically during one's school years.  Whether it's bullies who have their way with those who resemble their insecurities the most, or those who don't measure up to the school's most popular, athletic, best looking etc,  we're all taught to protect our shortcomings with our life.  Enter stage left, Fear of revealing Self. 

It's a shame, really.  Instead of wincing when observing the act of letting go, we should be applauding it.  The smell of Fall is upon us.  It's time for Letting Go. 

Don't wince, embrace it.  Life is awful boring when all of your time is spent protecting yourself.

More Musings Later-

 

Art and Music

When people find out that I have played with symphony orchestras, inevitably, the question is always asked; is a conductor really needed?  It appears that they are simply waving their baton while the orchestra is already doing their job of playing in tempo with each other.  So what is it about the conductor that is so necessary?

While I'm probably not the most qualified person to speak to this question, I think I am able to provide some insight of why someone is needed to jab and slice the air with a baton in order to create order of musical notes.

I remember from my college days that our small southeast Texas music department was now home to a brilliant musician, Dr. Edward Schmider and his wife Laura.  Dr. Schmider and his family lived in Russia and defected to the United States and landed as a violin instructor at Lamar University.  I remember listening to stories as he recounted leaving his world behind in order to live a free life in the U.S.  This included leaving his beloved violin behind.  Leaving an instrument to some may seem insignificant in the big scheme of things, but to an artist, it is the same as leaving a part of your soul behind to fend in your absence.  And, so he did.

One fall semester, Dr. Schmider taught me why a conductor is necessary for an orchestra.  Our orchestra was attempting to learn a piece by Shostakovich.  At the time, my musical awareness was severely stunted.  Most people have heard this composer's name and realize his fame, but there isn't a personal connection between a person and this great composer.  Most budding musicians are guilty of this crime, the names are well-known but the connection is void.  Enter Stage Left, Dr. Schmider.

Our conductor at the time thought it would be interesting to have Dr. Schmider work with our orchestra in learning this piece.  Not simply to sing troublesome parts to those struggling with the technicality of producing the music, but to really learn this piece of music.  I'm grateful to this day that this incredible opportunity presented itself as it did.

Our group expected the usual, explanation of musical terms, learning difficult rhythms and preferred bowing patterns.  Ah, but this is the art of music.  Where technical proficiency is necessary, but heart and soul is needed more.  Dr. Schmider didn't bother to teach this piece of music in the typical way.  He gave us the connection of Shostakovich by recounting his own experiences with the composer.

As a younger man, Schmider was 1st violin under Shostakovich, the conductor.  The words Schmider gave to us were the same that Shostakovich gave to him.  In the silence of listening to his quiet direction, we all knew an incredible moment was happening.  Make no mistake, Schmider wasn't a metronome, his crumpled facial expressions and barely there movement of his baton brought us to the moment of Shostakovich's grief, sadness, anger, joy and a plethora of other emotions.  Those emotions which hung heavy in the air proved to be timeless as the music evolved as it was meant to evolve.   Somehow, a rehearsal hall in a small Music department of a southeast Texas college became connected to a rehearsal hall in St. Petersburg, Russia where a conductor/composer jabbed and sliced the air to release the music.

This video reminds me of that moment in time.  Where boredom of repetition and tried and true are replaced with the enlightenment of magic.  The cellist/singer is technically proficient, but most importantly, he has connection to his soul.  Bravo, Travis Booker.

More Musings Later-

Sounds in the Night of Long Ago

The other evening, I was lying in bed watching television.  It must have been around 9pm or so and as I watched a tired Nick at Night rerun, I suddenly heard a familiar reverberating bass line dancing between the chord progression of I, IV and V. 

I muted the sound and listened closely.  A smile crept to my lips as I listened to a garage band honing their craft.  The crash of cymbals and the plinking of keyboards provided a throbbing accompaniment behind a tentative yet wailing lead guitar pulling simplified riffs of Carlos Santana.  It brought it all back to me.  While neighbors were making a beeline to the nearest phone to complain to the cops, I was in my bedroom thinking about when I was a young teenager. 

I was friends with a young man who lead a band similar to the one I was listening to that evening.  I remember he invited me to listen to them rehearse and that I did.  I got to know his Mom, Dad, little brother and sister.  His Dad worked at a refinery by day and played in bands at night.  He knew his son was talented and mentored the young musicians into a polished band.  I've written about them before, and while I should probably set that memory aside, it's nights like these when sounds in the night bring me right back to those wonderful days.

Little did I know that the musical genes continued on to Barry's little brother, David.  I've lost track of Barry Piggott and what he is up to these days.  But, through the powerful medium of the internet, I see that David Piggott is doing quite nicely for himself.  And, Barry and David's dad, Johnny Piggott is still playing in bands.  I've seen photos of Barry's son and it is astounding to me how much he is like his Dad.  From the way he stands to his hairstyle, he is his father's son.  It appears that he is destined for a musical career as well. 

As I listened to the continuing fugue of sound from next door, two things occurred to me; the Piggott musical dynasty will continue on and I hope the neighbors will hang up the phone, turn off their tv's and listen. 

Something special is happening right next door.  In fact, someone may write about it in the future.

More Musings Later~

The Wisdom of an Old Friend

I've had the priviledge of collecting friends throughout my lifetime.  There are those that are dearly departed, some have moved on and some niggle at me to pick up the phone more often than I do.  Then, there are the ones that come to me in the most unusual of ways. 

Consider my friend, Alan Solomon.  I wrote a novel with this man who once lived near the jungles of Chiang Mai, Thailand.  It may seem impossible for people to understand how that happened, but it did.  I've never met Alan, only through emails, instant chats and the like, via internet.  I've never even heard his voice.  That feat alone, makes the accomplishment of "The Mango Tree Cafe, Loi Kroh Road" a memorable one.  I feel very fortunate to meet Mr. Solomon, that's for sure.  As writers, it's as if we were seated next to each other at a pub somewhere mapping out our novel.  Sometimes people just CLICK.

Then, there is another friend that I've had for quite some time now.  She's a writer as well, only her wordsmithing doesn't rest within the confines of a page, the bonus is the delivery of her words within a melodic package sung in her familiar alto.  We've never met, although I did quite literally bump into her at a radio station on Music Row alot of years ago after she completed an interview.  I wanted to say something to her and couldn't.  I was too shy.  Yet, however many years ago that we first bumped into one another, it is her music and thoughtful yarn that I listen to in the wee hours of night.  As a writer, I can see the care she takes in crafting her thoughts and making sense of them during the most difficult of times.  Whether it comes within a melody or resting neatly upon a page.  She "gets it." 

Right now, I'm going through alot as most people on this planet tend to do from time to time.  It's during these times when I am most grateful for my friends...ones that I've met and ones that I haven't met.  Especially to the one that I was too shy to even say hello. 

More Musings Later-

Comment on my Blog

Last evening, I was checking my email and I noticed that I had a notice of a comment on my blog.  My first thought was "Who did I piss off now?"  When I opened it and read on, I was surprised (and pleased) that I was given an award: "The Versatile Blogger" by one of my fabulous followers, Lloyd.  He's located to the right of this scribbling.  MUCH thanks, Lloyd!! 

Apparently, this is a nod from others that read your blog and like it.  The kicker is that once you are awarded, it's your turn to nominate others and reveal 7 quirky things about yourself.  So, without further adieu, I am going to follow suit for this prestigious award.

Quirks

• I have an uncontrollable urge to buy wallets and purses.  The strange thing is that I despise shopping.  I break out into a cold sweat if I have to step foot into a store.  I think I would rather have a good ass kicking instead of going shopping.

• My hair sucks.  It has cowlicks and it is straight as a board.  It's thick, yet fine.  I once had a hairdresser tell me, "Your hair gives your head character, kid."

• Speaking of hair, when I asked my hairdresser to perm my hair, she put her hands on her hips and replied; "If I'm rolling that hair that pops out of the curler, I've gotta take a valium."
• I look at life with a strange slant.  For example, when I woke up this morning, I walked over to my chair and noticed something odd.  I stared for a moment and then went to get my camera and take a picture of it.  I downloaded it to my computer.  My chair has an outline of my butt.  Look for yourself.  Strange things like that intrigue me.

• I'm a writer.  You would think that I would be a voracious reader.  I'm not.  I just love writing.
• When I laugh, I snort.  There, I said it.
• Ever since I co-wrote "The Mango Tree Cafe, Loi Kroh Road" with Alan Solomon, I am absolutely obsessed with Asian Culture especially Thailand. 

Well, there it is.  The gritty side of me.  Now, to nominate some worthy blogs!

Award Winning Blogs!

Book or Bust - Linda Della Donna
JMTohline  - JM Tohline
PimpThisBum - Sean and Kevin Dolan
WishYouWereHere - Senor Enrique
Every Problem has a gift for you in its hands - Tanya Touchstone

More Musings Later-

Signature Tag Lines

I was reading an email from a good friend of mine that I've never met last night and she stated that she was going to use my signature tag line quote on her next post on her blog.  I know I've always like that quote and I find it to be very true.  But, I never thought others would take the time to read it and think about it. 

To me, it's one of those mottos that if I was one to get tattoos (and, I have thought about it more than once), that would be the one I would use.  I suppose it wouldn't be your average tattoo verbiage...nothing like "Write or Die!" or something along those lines.  It's just a simple statement. 

When I first started writing, there were times when I was hesitant or shy about writing what I really felt.  For those of you that are movie goers, the scene in "Biloxi Blues" where Matthew Broderick's journal is snatched by a fellow soldier/misfit describes my sentiment perfectly.  In it, he writes of his experiences during boot camp, interesting characters he's met along the way and some rather brutally harsh, yet honest comments regarding a few of his fellow soldiers.  As the misfit reads these passages, his face reflected anger, humiliation, embarrassment and a plethora of other emotions of being so...well, exposed.  When he confronts Broaderick about his comments, Broaderick shouts that he will rip out the pages and throw them away in frustration.

The misfit soldier reaches beyond his humiliation and advises Broaderick that if he is to be a writer, he can't be afraid to write his true feelings.  At the same time, his words should have more substance than to simply be a commentary of unexplored observations.  In other words, if you're going to write it, dig deeper.  You may put yourself in a vulnerable position by doing so, but that is what art is all about .

"It takes talent to be a good writer, it takes courage to be a great one."


More Musings Later-

Let's Get Ready to RUUMMM-BLE!

Ladies and Gentlemen,
In this corner, Vienna Sausage; The bleached blond bimbo from ABC's The Bachelor, weighing in as a empty-headed, petty, money-hungry, always-stirring-the-pot of adolescent drama, grade A, Valley Girl asshole.  (Applause, applause)

"I'd like to thank all the little people for this bad acting award..."

And, in the other corner, Jake, the Crying Bachelor; A middle-aged, dancing crybaby who enjoys dancing in his tighty-whities from ABC's The Bachelor, weighing in as a smug, controlling, sexually confused ex-pilot, trying to make it in Hollywood who has become the voice of reason in this ridiculous fight match with Vienna Sausage aired on this evening's episode of The Bachelorette. 

(I'm still reeling over this one)

Is this what it's come to?  Really?  People enjoy watching this crap??  I purposely watched it tonight to see if there were any valid arguments between them.  I began to dislike Vienna Sausage even more because her atrocious acting, complete with running off the set with her crocodile tears intact were laughable.  Then, not to be outdone, Jake's expert command of smug and pompous retorts made me gag.  I couldn't decide if I should laugh or stare at the tv screen with a bewildered look upon my face. 

More uncontrollable sobbing. Medic?

I think I mostly sat in disbelief that people really watch this shit. 

Amazing.

More Musings Later-

A Smattering of Musings

It's been a long while since I last posted.  Yes, I am guilty of getting caught up in living.  I also noticed that I'm sick of looking at a dark blog.  While some of the things I post about are serious or dark, it makes sense to have a dark color draped over the words to set a mood.

Well, I'm sick of dark moods.  While I have struggled with 2010 thus far, I am ready to take the boxing gloves off.  I'm punch drunk and ready for peacefulness to ensue.  Fighting an invisible foe is exhausting.   So, I am dedicating myself to finding the lighter side of life and doing some much needed reflection. 

Life is different and change is inevitable.  All I know is that I have been preparing for change long before I was conscious of it.  As they say, the only constant in life is "Death, Taxes and Change."  Amen.

So, look for lighter posts in the future.  To coin Maya Angelou's title; "My arms are too short to box with God."

Goodnight Mrs. Callabash, wherever you are.

More Musings Later-

Into the Good Night

It seems that 2010 is holding the one constant firmly in it's grip that most people hate; change.  While I find myself in new surroundings, situations and a bevy of other predictaments that I am still discovering along the way, I am finding that I am not unique to this swirl of dreaded change. 

I was saddened to learn that a local talent, Bianca Paige, The Pantomime Rage passed away on June 4, 2010.  Bianca Paige is the alter ego of Mark Middleton who has wowed audiences in the Nashville, TN area.  Not only was Mark a drag performer, he was a gifted actor.  He gracefully vascilated between high-energy, fun shows to needing only a spotlight and a microphone. 

He performed all over the country and even performed in New York City with an acting troupe as well as auditioning for RuPaul's Drag Race on LogoTV.  While he was a fantastic performer, he clearly "legitimized" his acting chops when he performed, Torch Song Trilogy on the theater stage.  His new audience unfamiliar with his Bianca Paige persona became bowled over with his apparent, raw talent.  To have a drag performer favorably splashed across The Tennessean is no easy feat considering the fact that we are firmly in the Bible Belt.


Bianca Paige - Torch Song Trilogy

Bianca Paige | MySpace Video


Mark Middleton broke the rules and made a few of his own.  The point in a drag show is to lose the perception of reality.  In order to accomplish that, a drag performer goes to great lengths to produce the image of a woman.  In one of Mark's shows, he performed a poignant song in which he slowly removed the veil of female sexuality.   First the false eyelashes, the padding under the dress and then the shoes.  The final unveiling would be to remove his wig until he was standing alone, in a spotlight dressed only in jean shorts.  The look he gave the audience at the end was unforgettable and moved me to tears.  While most people put on their face that they want others to see, Mark Middleton had the courage to remove his.

Goodnight, Bianca.

The Skank Scale

Okay, once again, I've put on my "big girl" panties and ready to move on to other subjects besides affairs of the heart. 

I would like to explore what I term, "The Skank Factor."  You've surely heard the term, haven't you?  Such as, That girl/boy is so skanky!  But what truly constitutes someone being labled "A Skank?"  I didn't invent the word, but I do like to consider myself somewhat an officianado of the term.  How do I know this?  I find myself commenting on people who appear to be, well...Skank-ish.  To me, skank is someone that appears to be unkempt in their appearance, showing too much skin and oblivious to what good taste is all about. 


Let's review some folks who I consider to be skanky, shall we?

Dancing with the Stars
The professional dancer, Edita (sp?) appears to be skanky to me.  If I were to register her skank factor on the trusty Skank Scale, she would rate a 9.  That's getting up there.  I cringe each time I see her dancing as her skankiness is so profound to me.  I'm not the authority of skank, I simply calls'em likes I sees'em.

The Neandrathal man aka, Tony, another professional dancer on this show.  His eyebrows are so prominent, it makes his eyes appear as if they are sunk into his head.  His skank factor is about a 3.  Not bad and nothing a little weed whacking can't correct.

The Bachelor
Jake - Mercy, what can we say here?  I nearly tossed my cookies when I saw him dancing in his underwear on Dancing with the Stars.  Let me elaborate on his skankiness.  He is extremely well groomed and doesn't qualify for skank based on that criteria.  His qualifying event is that he is showing too much skin and oblivious to what good taste entails.  That and he cries at the drop of a hat.  Thus, he is a double-decker:  A Skanky-Cry Baby.  He rates 15 on the 1 through 10 scale. 

Actors (Men)
Men that refuse to shave daily posess a bit of skankiness in my book.  You know the look, the 5 o'clock shadow, the stubble, the look that they haven't had a shower in a week.  Pure unadulterated SKANK.

Some of the worst offenders:  Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Alec Baldwin.  The funny thing is, when they make a movie as a romantic lead, they shed their skankiness as a snake sheds it's skin.  Therefore, I rate them as Skank on a sliding scale.  Alec Baldwin rates differently:  I would rate him a Belly Buster-Crappy Daddy-Skank master.  He qualifies on all levels.

Women
Some women qualify on different levels.  For example, Pamela Anderson; she is well-groomed, but I think she presents the wrong idea about herself.  Her animal rights contributions are often overlooked because of this.  Her skankiness is about a 2.  Button up your blouse, Pamela and show the world your humanitarian efforts.

Me:  While I am well groomed, I consider myself to be somewhat skanky.  Why?  I need to shave my legs.  I'm glad I'm not on Dancing with the Stars.  Between my hairy legs and Neandrathal Man's eyebrows, we would tip the Skanky scale at a Follicle Phenomenon Skank Twins. 

More Musings Later-

The Power of an Internet Connection

The old adage, "Breaking up is Hard to Do," has given new meaning in the last several weeks to me.  While I feel myself getting stronger little by little each day, I also find that licking those wounds is an important part of the process of moving on. 

I hadn't heard from a friend of mine in quite some time and decided to send an email giving the news of my breakup.  The next day, lo and behold, she responds and states that she is in the same predictament.  So, amid packing, boxes and broken dreams, she emailed me the sorrow she was going through and I knew all too well what she was feeling.  Somehow, seeing an email from me stating my bad news to her allowed her to share her bad news with me.  And, so it goes...we've been emailing each other with renewed commitment to stay in touch. 

Distance is a funny thing.  My friend lives a fair distance away from me, yet the miles don't seem so numerous as we communicate via email.  Then again, when I was hanging on to a relationship that was dead, that distance between me and my ex seemed to be far and wide, despite our close proximity.

It made me think of an old Ray Steven's tune that no one should have to relate to; "Isn't it lonely together?"

More Musings Later-

When You've Done All You Can Do...STAND.

That's a bit of advice based on a Biblical scripture that my mother used to tell my sister and I when we were growing up.  And, I'm finding that I'm doing alot of standing right now. 

Change is never easy and having to leave the familiar for the unfamiliar is intimidating to say the least.  I'm finding out alot about myself these days too.  At the very time in my life that I am feeling the most pain I've ever experienced, I'm also experiencing gratefulness at the same time.  Parting with the one I love has left me with a gaping hole in the middle of my soul.  Yet, I'm grateful that I got to experience what being head over heels in love was like to begin with.  Such a dichotomy of emotions, yet it's how I feel.

While it grieves me to realize that separating is best, I've learned that sometimes a lover makes a better friend.  And, recognizing that fact and doing something about it is the part that is difficult.  As I drove away from that situation, the wails of grief that escaped from my lips sounded completely foreign; as if an animal was suffering caught between living and dying.  My mood bounces from feeling okay to despair without forewarning. 

They say that time heals all wounds.  I guess that it will, but I won't soon forget this pain.  There's one thing I know for sure:  I've done all I can do.

And, I'm standing.

More Musings Later-

Thou Shalt NOT!!!!

I heard that beginner phrase alot when I was growing up in southeast Texas.  I mean ALOT. 

Yes, I grew up in the stereotypical Bible-thumping south frought with sinners, humid weather and tele-evangelist personalities.  As a result, I learned some lessons very early in life while others who grew up in a more urban existence most likely struggle with determining who is a geniune spirit and those who are not. 

I was one of those teenagers who for the most part, really didn't rebel against being grounded, my parents, not being able to do things at a certain age etc.  My big resentment was growing up in a small town with seemingly judgemental neighbors.  As a rebel with a cause, my appearance became associated with the look of someone who was just a bit rough around the edges.  And, this town hadn't seen much of that since Janis Joplin left.  Make no mistake, I'm not comparing myself to Janis, however, the chip we had on our shoulders were amazingly similar.

As I watched tv the other evening, it caused me to think about my self-inflicted war with my old neighborhood.  The harsh judgements and assuming guilt instead of innocense.  The conversation that sparked this reflection jolted me into the past some 30 years ago.

 "In Leviticus it says: 'If man lies with mankind as he would lie with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death and their blood shall be upon them.'

Dear God, if I heard that once I heard it a million times.  On school trips which included overnight stays, extracirricular activities and so on.  After spouting the "truth" my visible response is pretty much the same today as it was then.  Pure puzzlement. 

I offer scripture to prove MY point:

 Some religious liberals believe that David and Jonathan had a consensual homosexual relationship - in many ways, a prototype of many of today's gay partnerships. 7 Some important verses which describe their relationship are: 1 Samuel 18:1


"...Jonathan became one in spirit with David and he loved him as himself." (NIV)

"...the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul" (KJV)

Most translations use the term "soul" rather than "spirit" to describe the bond. They speak of an "immediate bond of love", their souls being "in unison," their souls being "knit" etc. Genesis 2:7, as written in the original Hebrew, describes how God blew the spirit into the body of Adam that God had formed from earth, so that Adam became a living soul. This means that "soul", in the ancient Israelite times, represents a combination of body and spirit. Thus the two men appear to have loved each other both physically and emotionally." http://www.religioustolerance.org/hom_bmar.htm

When you love someone completely and commit to be their spouse in good times and bad; that sounds like a union blessed, not a sin.  But, that's just me.  Oh, got one more scripture for you:

For why should my freedom be judged by another's conscience?"


--- 1 Corinthians 10:29

More Musings Later-

Okay, I've put my "Big Girl Panties" on

That's code for I'm going to try to push forward and behave like an adult.  Although, grief happens at any age and for a variety of reasons.  Moving on.

"The Crying Weenie Player", Jake

Did anyone watch "The Bachelor" last night?  Every year, I swear I won't watch it because it galls me so much and I break it every time.  This year, almost made it.  We were at a friend's house last night and she wanted to see the final show and we all needed to see who Derek Hough would be dancing with this season, am I right, Ladies????

Well, it didn't take long to learn what had transpired.  There's this really handsome pilot named Jake that is 31 years old and still a bachelor.  It was down to 2 girls he was choosing between.  I say "girl" on purpose because they acted as if they had just gotten out of high school.  Their chirpy little voices were Valley Girl-ish and they smiled constantly.  That bugs me. 

"Tin Foil"

One girl's name was Tinsley.  Strange name, and yes, I should talk.  I just refer to her as "Tinfoil".  She was the more mature girl of the two.  Jake liked this girl but told her TO HER FACE, "I'm just not physically attracted to you as I am the other bimbo."  Really?  seems to me that you were knocking the boots the entire season with this one and you were enjoying it.  NOW you decide you're just not that into her?  Okay, I see why you've been a bachelor for so long.  You're a weenie or a player.  You get what you want and then cry about it afterwards. 

"Vicks Vapor Rub"

Then his wife to be is named Viseral, Vision, no, wait...Vicks Vapor Rub, uh...I can't remember.  Blond hair, Valley girl, weird voice, immature as Jake, doesn't get along with anyone.  She is a pitiful one.  Nobody likes her (code for "I'm a bee-otch"), she NEEDS Jake (code for: she has issues and lots of em if she needs a player that crys about it) and she is in love with him.  If I hear that one more time from these girls I will smack them into next week.  They are not in love, but IN LUST.  All they have been doing is humping this guy.  That's it. 

So there ya have it.  Tin Foil lost and Vicks Vapor Rub won.  And, I still don't know which star Derek Hough is dancing with. 

More Musings Later-

Picking up the Pieces

Anyone that has lost a pet knows what I am going through.  I thought I was through the worst of it and like the sea ebbs, so are my emotions.  My partner and I have been giving each other alot of hugs and trying to show more attention to our other animals (cats) so that they can get on with some simblance of normalcy.  What is that, by the way?

During the day, I manage to get through the hours but at night, although I am surrounded by my partner and other pets, I find I am still picking up the pieces of a shattered soul.  At night, I've been trying to finish my next book, a collection of essays and short stories and I've accomplished it.  Not easily, as I was picking the brain of a wiser, more experienced scribe for insight along the way.  The feedback was just beyond my grasp each time.  So, it eventually revealed itself that I would need to rely on myself as always.  No amount of opposition from me would change that. 
The comfortableness of "known" are at bay for me right now.  The unknown is never easy and it seems much larger in the still of night.  There's a learning opportunity here if I bother to shuffle the stack of life lessons around and contemplate.  But, I'm weary from my travels and the dust of grief is difficult to shake.

I'm currently asking others to review the book and have even designed my own cover.  Normally, this is a joyous time in a writer's life.  But, with financial times being uncertain and my little soulmate gone;

 now that this book is done, I can still work on my other one in progress.  Perhaps that is what I should do.  But it seems that all I can do is pick up the slivers of my soul from the ground.

More Musings Later-