A Quote Which Encourages Me to Write, Even When I Doubt Myself.


Thanks to Martin Flux, whose challenge was for writers to share a quote that encouraged them to write.

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“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.” – Stephen King.

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You might think this an odd quote to choose. It might be strange that a quote that talks about a writer feeling diminished because of what they wrote being too close to their heart, encourages my own writing. But I find when I put myself out there; when I write and I write about the things that have hurt me the most; or made me love the most; and I admit things that make me seem a careless human being, I’m at my best. 

All people guard secrets close to their hearts and so most understand. And for people who read my work and ask, “Why would you ever admit that or say that, where people can read it and see it?” It is because I have to make people understand. I accept some people won’t but it doesn’t make me stop attempting to relate to them in someway. 

I often feel as I have this explosion of words and story demanding to be let out of my heart. So I write, and later I edit and correct. I try to make my emotions understandable through writing, a method people relate to. You may not comprehend what I wrote. But I needed to tell that story and say those words even if I didn’t do it sufficiently.

Writing is like breathing for me. Some people talk a lot and tell stories out loud, I tell them typed on pages. Or I write them by hand in journals.Yet I know, there I things I say that will be misunderstood or taken out of context, or read with an incorrect meaning attached. But then when you write, that’s how it is, the reader often chooses the meaning.

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©Mandibelle16.All Rights Reserved.

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Let The Deer Be


My Dad’s family moved around because Grandpa was a Pastor and at times, Grandpa chose to accept a call to a different congregation in the country. My Grandpa taught his boys to hunt. I can’t say whether or not my Uncle D would have taught his sons to hunt because he died when his boys were still young. 

But my Uncle K has taught his sons. I feel speechless when I see pictures of my barely adult cousins, standing on top of a buck’s corpse, proudly. My Dad never hunted much when his children came along, but my family was the recipient of meat from hunted animals when I was younger.

There are few reasons I see for hunting. I think the only valid reasons are if a predator is a danger to humans or if an animal population is overpopulated and a danger to the ecosystem of an area. But for sport or fun . . .we have grocery stores now, let the wild animals be.

One of the scariest times I can remember was sleeping in my one Uncle D’s basement. My eldest brother and I slept in a room and there were dead animals all around us. There was a giant grizzly bear rug on the floor and deer heads on the wall. There were other deer-like animal heads on the wall too. Their fake eyes stared at me throughout the night and I could not sleep, “You lookin, at me?” I wondered.

I was young, but it makes me think now, what need have we to kill these creatures.Why hunt if not for survival. I know I’m a city girl but it seems to me at times, our inner caveman comes out and forgets it’s modern times — let the deer be.

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http://www.publicdomainarchive.com
 
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Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

It’s A Love Thing…To Some Of The Men In My Blogging World #3


Some more great blogs from Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales

a cooking pot and twisted tales

For the next days till my Valentine Shindig, I will be featuring several blogs a day on one post, as a way of showing some love to fellow awesome and supportive blogger friends of mine. 1454511643782[1]

You can share the fun and the love by sharing the party invitation as much as you can. Bring your Bae, your sweetheart, your neighbourlybloggers, your old lady, your old man, even your dogs and cats are invited.

It’s a way to connect with other bloggers and hey, who knows, you might hit it off with someone 😉

Please share and share alike. Thank you very much.

For today’s features, I am showing some love to the bloggers listed below:

‘Let us not love in word or talk, but in deed and truth.’ 1 John 3:18

Bunkaryudo I started interacting with him sometime late last year and I am totally happy with our connection. His…

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Letting Him Get Away.


It was along time before I had my first ‘real’ relationship. I went on Plenty Of a Fish, because my friend had met her husband on that site. My ex-boyfriend,  was not like the other men I talked to. He didn’t ask me what my job was or about sex. He asked me about my religion. He was Muslim and wanted to date a nice girl with morals, ethics, and who was close to her family. I was reluctant to date him because my ex’s religion is Islam and I grew up with Christianity. But I had never dated anyone longterm before. My ex-boyfriend was attractive and fun so I began dating him. 

My ex worked up North, where all the people who worked in the oil field, lived in camps. My ex worked three weeks on and one week off. I saw him once a week when he was home My ex was accepting of my condition. He didn’t mind that I lived with a mental illness which caused me fatigue and limited how long I could be out with him. He was quiet to begin with but later he opened up to me.

Our relationship functioned for awhile. My health improved so we were going out three times a week when he was here. Often, my ex would take an extra week off. My ex was gentle and he listened well. He gave good advice. But there were some issues in our relationship that became apparent.

The biggest issue was my ex staying in contact while working up North. Eventually, we were texting once or twice a day and I would call him every couple of weeks. It took three years to get to this point and a lot of hardwork on my end. When my ex was home we were together a lot. But I had to be diligent about making ‘talking’ and ‘getting to know each other better’ happen. 

My ex would also come back from work and go on a trip without telling me where he was going. Suddenly, there was no way for me to talk to him, sometimes for two-weeks. I learned he was seeing friends or had gone off on a road trip for awhile with his cousin. At first, I worried a great deal when all communication was cut-off. I often thought early on, he had decided not see me anymore. He accused me of seeing other guys in the beginning.

Ramadan was an extremely difficult time for our relationship. For the first couple of years we were together, my ex went to Saskatchewan to do his fasting with friends. Almost the entirety of June and July would pass and I barely was able talk or contact my ex because the cell reception wasn’t good. He was scarcely able to use Internet and he never tried to phone me. Although, I attempted to phone him. 

It was along time before my ex talked to me during Ramadan and an even longer time before he would go out with me in the daytime. Males can’t touch a woman they’re not married to during Ramadan before sunset. Muslims also spend a great deal of time reading the Quran in the day. I had no problem with my ex practising his faith during Ramadan, it was the fact he barely paid attention to me. Later, when my health became worse it was a challenge to see him at night anytime before 11:00 pm. It also took my ex an eternity to meet my family. He was scared of my Dad. He met my Mom a couple of times but not my Dad until the fourth year we were dating. 

The issue that finished us was me. I didn’t find the relationship to be fulfilling, I never felt secure. When I didn’t hear from him for awhile or he wouldn’t listen to me, I would break up with him because I couldn’t handle it. I broke up four more times with my ex because I felt he was ignoring me and he wasn’t giving time to our relationship. I didn’t hear anything from him for a month one time. He wanted to get married but he valued all the activities he wanted to do above his time with me. My family is also special to me and so was my ex becoming apart of my family, which he never attempted.

I went the last nine months without breaking up with him. He wanted to get married. I went to a friend’s wedding at her church. She was walked down the aisle by her Dad and her husband and she made their vows before God. 

At this point, I knew something was wrong with my ex’s and my relationship big time. I wanted to be like my friend and walk down the church aisle when I married. I believed in a Jesus who wasn’t merely a prophet but God’s Son. If I ever had kids, I wanted them brought up with The Bible and Jesus’ promise of salvation.

My ex hadn’t even told his Muslim family back home about me, even though Muslims are allowed to marry Christian girls. I knew his cousin because he lived with him and had been introduced to the odd friend of my ex’s at the bar. But after four years, I had no idea who most of his good friends were. Some of our problems were due to my health. I became worse for awhile and it became too much to date him often because he usually wanted to get together at night. 

Mostly, I needed a fresh start. I needed to develop myself as a person on my own. I needed freedom. It was hard letting go of my ex but the religion issue finally pushed me over the edge. My family is extremely Christian and I couldn’t deal with relatives who didn’t think our relationship was right, when I wasn’t into my ex anymore. I wanted a guy who involved himself in my family, friends, and life — who could relate to my lifestyle.

I’m busy in my single life. My ex was a good boyfriend but he was not the guy for me. In a relationship, when it is the right relationship, you want to be with the other person exceedingly. You want to be with the other person so much because you love them and can work together to build a life sharing similar values. I wanted freedom and a chance to see what the world outside of “us” offered; for this reason my ex is my ex.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Echos of My Neighbourhood: Support Through the Good and The Bad — Family.


University Graduation May 2007
 
It’s difficult for me to believe I graduated from university nine-years ago. That it will be a decade in 2017 blows my mind. These are my Dad and my Mom with me in the photograph, and I have to say I would have never made it to graduation, or in the years post graduation without my parents. 

It was a funny thing, when I first became ill and had to go in hospital in 2009, I wasn’t thinking straight, but the only thing which got me through the long days in the hospital was that my parents were going to come visit me at 5:30 pm. The entire three-weeks I was in the hospital, they came every night and stayed until visiting hours were over at 8:00 pm.

 My Dad would come first and he would read to me and play cribbage with me. I have always loved how my Dad’s voice sounded when he read a book outloud. I remember him reading devotions to my brothers and I when we were small kids. The boo my Dad read to me was called A Thousand Splendid Suns. It was an excellent book but at the sametime it terrified me because in my mind, my own situation related to one of the woman characters. All through the first week at the hospital I was still delusional, but my parents never let me down. 

Christmas Family Photography with Grandma, my brothers, and Dad.

I think I would have cried had my parents not come to the hospital one day, even when my thinking became clear and organized in the second week after I started taking a medication which almost immediately stopped my delusions. I learned later, how tiring it was for my parents to work all day and visit me in hospital each night. On weekends I had a pass to come home, and it must have been a relief to them to relax a bit. When I was able to be in my own bed I felt safe again. In the hospital before I was on the correct medication to stop my delusions, I believed I was in a sort of Hell and that you couldn’t have parents in Hell, so eventually I was going to lose my parents. 

Then the medications started working. My delusions went away. I wasn’t scared to be at the hospital anymore. But I still counted down the hours until my parents came. While I healed initially at home, I became much closer with my family. My Godparents, my Great-Grandma Reeder, My Grandma Eifert, and even my brothers, I realized I’d been neglecting. I hugged my brothers when I first came home and saw them. I don’t recall hugging them before that except when I was a child. I think they were both embarrassed but they both patted my back.

Before my episode, I was wrapped up in work and my social life. I had responsibilities at work which would have continued to grow and turn into not only a full work day but networking events at night during the week and weekends. I would have had ” a career,” but I doubt now I would have loved it.

It would have been fun I think but I’m glad life didn’t go that way. I learned to value my family so much more. My parents have let me stay at home while I have been healing for eight-years and they charge me little rent so I can save money and pay off my debts. My Mom drives me to places often. We do things together and Mom takes me to get a blood test every week and to pick-up some necessities at the local drugstore or the mall. I have gone on vacations with both my parents to Las Vegas and Phoenix. I have gone on a couple of trips with only my Mom and one with by brother N. 

 

Christmas Family. Photograph with Grandma, my Brothers, and Mom.
 
I have learned from my experiences in the past, you can depend on your family and that they will love and support you through good and bad times. At some point when I’m a bit more able to be independent, I will move out. I wonder what I will do without my Mom at night and weekends to talk to and make plans with. I wonder who I will talk to about sports with when my Dad and I don’t live in the same house. I wonder, but I know even when I am on my own, I will have the support of my family.

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Thanks to Jacqueline from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting Echos of My Neighbourhood each Thursday.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Wrapped Refrain – “Forbidden.”


What is a wrapped refrain? A poem created by Jan Turner, consisting of 2 or more stanzas of 6 lines each with the rhyme scheme of a,a,b,b,c,c. and syllable counts: 8,8,8,8,12,12, where the first 4 syllables of the first line must repeat as the last 4 syllables of the last line, thus creating a refrain.

Thanks to Moon Skittles for information on this poetry form.

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wew.myselfandela.wordpress.com
 
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Commiserate, here with the sound,

Engrossed by obscure visions found,

Entranced by the consuming,

The glow of esconced words luming,

A treasure of enumerable value locked in kind,

With the resilience of the memories she did find.

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Unawares of surroundings,

Luminescence on the groundlings,

Pronounced prose by her spirit’s intent,

To immerse and beguile, and not present.

How her eyes flash brilliantly, an enchantment hidden,

Commiserating, absorbing, looks forbidden.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserve.