vietnamese Tiếng Việt english English Site-map
Hôm nay:
Tin mới đăng:


Photo Art by RLHall, ArtfulExpress



Fall is in the air, I can feel it. It's been rainy the last couple of days here in New York. But the night air is cooling down and I've seen Canada Geese in v-formation, and smaller song birds are starting to flock up as well. Lately the calls of the Blue Jays seem to be announcing the season's change.



We took a short cut over the hills yesterday, and on the way, climbing up a seasonal dirt road I commented that autumn was just around the corner...the woods are starting to thin out now, you can see the deer through the forest trees as they start moving towards the streams to drink just before dusk. You have a little more warning, as they prepare to cross the roads as you pass by. We stopped for a mother and twin fawns, who had probably just lost their spots recently, to let them cross in front of us safely. And caught sight of many more whitetails both in the more distant fields and nearby at the woods edge. As we finally reached the very top of the hill we saw our first view of Maple Trees whose leaves had begun changing to that almost fluorescent orange color.



Yes, Fall is in the air, I can almost smell it. I don't think I could live anywhere that doesn't experience four distinct seasons. I welcome each one with joy, but tire of it as it's end draws near. Though autumn is my favorite time of year, it always brings a kind of melancholy feeling along with it. I suppose because it brings to mind the harshness of the winter months, and loss of the vibrant life that surrounds us in more hospitable times. It's a time to reflect on our lives as another year's end begins to seem within reach and to regret all the things we had hoped to accomplish while the weather was fine, but never quite got around to because we were too busy with our carefree summertime living.



There is still the fall, with it's more comfortable temperatures and that colorful beauty that inspires us anew every time it comes around. There is still that wish for peacefulness and quiet that the cooler seasons brings, and the hope for spring with it renewal of life and love and another new vivacious beginning.        

Source: http://artfulexpresscreativelife.blogspot.com/2010/08/photo-art-by-rlhall-artfulexpress-fall.html


The title of this blog pretty much says it all. I feel as though my life has left me, I miss what used to be my life. I felt like it had some meaning. Now I'm just going through the motions, trying to fight the good fight and losing terribly. I feel alone and abandoned by the world, disconnected from even the most basic of feelings other than sorrow, despair, hurt, and pain. I am thankful for the couple of friends I have or else I don't know what I would do. It is that little thread that is keeping me tied to this world. As you can tell by this post my depression is winning the war. At some point I am going to lose my ability to do the most basic things because right now I am fighting just to get up out of bed. Of course I'm not sleeping much at all which I'm sure isn't helping right now. 


  Dr. H has talked to me about my guilt, he said the guilt is masking things and I know what it is masking. Hurt, pain, and anger...rage even. This sucks more than anything, I hate these feelings. Before I got better for awhile (a few years ago) I was feeling a lot of anger. I mean every single day I was angry and/or depressed. Then by some miracle I snapped out of it and became a different person for a few years...not enough years because now I am back to that hopeless person again. I hate it so much. I don't want to feel this way but I know I have to stop masking it and deal with it. But it is so very hard. All I want to do is die right now. I am tired both physically and emotionally. I've lost the connection with pretty much everyone I know. Both physically and emotionally. No one knows me anymore. I feel as though I would not be missed by more than a handful of the people I know. Four of those are my kids. I feel useless and I feel like no matter what I say or do it isn't right. 





  Of course it doesn't help that every time I read posts on the internet regarding news stories or even some Facebook postings it makes me feel like the world is made up of hate more than love. Why in the hell would I want to stick around for this? I can't bear this. I know I am not the only person who feels this way, don't get me wrong. It appears to be a pity party and sometimes I want to slap my own face....sometimes I do. This doesn't negate what I am feeling. I am depressed, I am tired, and I feel like I'm already dead inside. It sucks to feel this way. I feel as though I am getting worse instead of better so I have to remind myself that my doctor told me that this would happen. But ya know what, even though I know that it doesn't stop me from feeling totally and utterly alone. Where the hell are the voices in my head??? It's all quiet in there and that may be good...maybe it's the eye of the storm which would mean this is half over, right? Get through the other half and then I'm home free? I sure hope so because if I fall much further I don't know if I will be able to get out.


Here is some song lyrics with the song posted right after that REALLY embody so much of how I'm feeling. Sorry the video isn't really a video but an album cover but the song is good. I like it, even if it is depressing. For anyone who may actually read this, writing helps me even if it is negative like this. I'm sorry for being such a downer but it is part of the journey that I promised you with this blog. You are going to get the bad with the good.


Losing time
counting hours
I'll never see myself again
And even though I'm alone
I can't remember what I'm missing
So I leave it be


Closing down
I expect the hopelessness
And even though I'm alone
I can't remember what I'm missing
and that's all I need


I am lost
I feel I am sinking now
like I was made of rain


Like a wave I roll into the endless night


I am not afraid
as the darkness starts
to make its way
I breathe as hard as you
as I end my day
I sigh and shelter
as I try to sink that deep
as deepas you and make sure
that I won't fall asleep


Losing days
I need no hours
I'll never be myself again
And even though it's killing me
I can't remember what I'm missing
So I leave it be














Source: http://myptsdlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/losing-myself.html

Writing 4 Kids


Gopal and Sham are friends
Who on each other’s support they depend
But there was competition between the two
As each one was smarter then other they believed.


Gopal studied hard for class test
In past for Sham’s marks he couldn’t beat
He studied hard but with little hope
As failures in past he had to cope.


Teacher was announcing ranks of class test
Sham was grinning thinking he was the best,
Sham’s head was raised and Gopal’s bent
But when after rank was announced above Sham’s shoulder was Gopal’s head!.

Source: http://creativewriting4kids-venkatesh9.blogspot.com/2010/08/taste-of-success.html

In this age of character counts and SEO metrics, are keywords now more important than words? Should writers write to captivate people or search engines? But as Copyblogger points out, "It’s people who use search engines--not some other life form." In fact, the latest SEO strategies aren't about keywords, they're about creating content so compelling others want to share it. And it's hard to make content compelling without knowing how to write well.


What's losing relevance is the way you learned how to write in third grade. The grammar that worked for Proust "dznt always matter, unless u r anal," observes Ann Handley of Marketing Profs. (She goes on to make the case for general use of good grammar, however, because "as a business leader, colleague and boss, it’s important for you to communicate clearly.")


Of course, writing for screen has its own rules of grammar which you must abide by or come off sounding stupid or pompous or careless or clueless. Remember Oprah's first tweet in all-caps?


New media is expanding our definition of good writing and putting new value on the mastery of saying it short. Brevity is becoming a key to success not only in the world of commerce. Poems are being created on twitter. Novelists are publishing stories in six words. (Longed for him. Got him. Shit.Margaret Atwood) Literary gatekeepers are finally giving the nod to flash fiction writers like Lydia Davis.


This new emphasis on short-form has implications for writers of all persuasions, in both new and old media. It's a topic that fascinates me, and one I hope to explore in a session I've proposed for the upcoming SXSW conference: Saying It Short: Writing Workshop with @BettyDraper. Check it out here. I'd vastly appreciate your comment and/or thumbs up whether or not you can come to the conference. Tx. I mean Thanks!

Source: http://adbroad.blogspot.com/2010/08/does-writing-still-matter.html










Art by mstrueblue (check DeviantArt)
(No, I don't know the artist)

I find myself in a strange and interesting situation, one that I never could have imagined in a previous age of my life.  It seems that my writing is now better than at any time before, yet it is more difficult to produce than at any other time.  This is progress and failure; it is joyous and frustrating; it is a nightmare of wondrous proportion.


In the past, I seem to remember that writing came to me as easily as playing a game.  I could, and often did, write for hours on end without any real difficulty that I can remember.  The sheer amount of fiction I have developed in my life is, I believe, staggering.  I have kept almost none of it, since that wasn't the point.  I simply enjoyed the process itself, and while I would have been happy to let people read my work that was never my goal and I never felt any loss when I deleted, lost, or otherwise did away with things that I had written.


Of those two aspects, ease and joy, the latter has not abated in the slightest.  I still feel a great love for my work (even as much as I complain that I hate it; the process is still a great pleasure for me), yet the production if any writing has become a difficult exercise.  To produce anything on a page has become now, instead of the easy flow of thoughts to words that I once experienced, an oft-frustrating battle to make anything happen well enough to even function on a page.  Yet, for all the difficulty, I fully believe that anything I write now is far beyond everything I ever produced when it was easy.


So I cannot help but wonder about the chicken and the egg.  Is my writing better now because I am trying harder and, from my perspective, making it more difficult on myself?  Was my writing in the past easier because it was of a lower caliber and therefore easier to spew?  To be honest, is my writing even genuinely better than it once was?  The dragon's hoard of my work has never been read by anyone other than me and, given that it no longer exists, it honestly never will be.  Yet now that I produce less work that I believe is a bit better, I wonder if perhaps I am simply so in love with the writing itself that I am overfond of what I end up producing.


Ever met a parent who loved an ugly child beyond measure?  Fuck I hate that.


Not to say I am complaining, or that I believe my work is dirt (which, of course, I occasionally do).  This is simply an observation that has given me cause to pause and ponder.  It used to be easy and low in quality, now writing is difficult but ends up better.  So I cannot help but wonder...which part determines which?

Source: http://pariahsilver.blogspot.com/2010/08/rambling-writing-difficult-purple.html

I couldn't think of anything to blog about all day, but I was determined to blog about something because I no longer have any (legitimate) excuses not to follow through with my AugBlogWriMo. Opera is finished, work is (slightly) less crazy, and school hasn't started yet. So, that means technically I have all the time in the world to write a blog post every day.


Yeah, right.


I spent most of my free time today reading other people's blogs (and listening to the awesome new music my sister home shared with me...), and wondering how it is that so many of them manage to blog on a regular, if not daily, basis. Granted, there is the occasional blog that is withering like a dehydrated cactus in the desert of writer's block (or perfectionism, or whatever).


Occasionally, you even find a dead blog. Maybe I'm morbid, but I find those dead blogs kind of funny. I mean, it's so ironic when you read the last posts on those poor deceased blogs, before they wandered into the expansive deserts of inactivity, and finally collapsed and expired in the sweltering heat of Real Life. Nine times out of ten, those last posts are a final cry of 'I promise to blog here more often if...'


Ah ha! And there's the culprit!


IF...


It's the IF that does them in, I'm sure! As soon as you let IF in- that tiny little word of indecision- you are doomed! IF is the first step on the road into that lonely wilderness filled with dead blogs. IF is the beginning of the end of all will-power and fortitude.  IF has been known to reduce mighty fortresses to rubble, to turn a brilliant plan into a ridiculously stupid idea, to...


Well, you get the idea.


I almost wish someone would post a sign outside of the place where IF dwells. It should say something foreboding, almost Vader-like in it's terrifying-ness. It should be painted in bold red letters, and put where you can't miss it...


"WARNING! Do NOT enter here! Turn back now IF you value your Blog!"


Okay, okay... I know I used the Word-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I couldn't help it! It fit so perfectly!


But I promise not to become one of those dried-out, abandoned skeletons of a Blog-That-Was. I will continue to be a Blog-That-Is. Come hell or high water.


Now, IF only I could find something to write about...


EDIT: Because I couldn't spell desert properly... I blame the ice cream I was eating...

Source: http://catholicsongbird.blogspot.com/2010/08/small-word-of-great-consequence.html

let your soul breath. four simple words. one simple truth.


we are all so busy trying to figure life out, to figure out our purpose, to figure out how to survive in a world that is constantly depleting our lust for life, that we forget what it's actually all about. we are endlessly turning over rocks instead of standing on them to get a better view. we are always trying to get more when we don't even spend the time to appreciate what we have. we are driven...but in the wrong direction. we are always looking outward for the answers when every answer we ever need is in ourselves. in our heart. and in our soul. but we are so busy caging up those answers because we are afraid of them and we don't believe they exist in our cockfight reality.


but they do.


when is the last time you stood alone with nature and listened to peace resting in the breeze? when is the last time you took a second to stare at the intricacies of a flower as it bloomed in the sunshine? when is the last time you just spent a moment with yourself without worrying about anyone or anything else?


your soul is that flower yearning to bask in the suns gentle rays. it is that peace pining to rest its weary self in the wind. it is the part of you that exists beyond this world. you just have to trust it. trust yourself. and let. your soul. breath.


Source: http://enigmaticnotion.blogspot.com/2010/08/breath-from-within.html

It's taken me a long time, but I'm finally, finally getting into the habit of writing every day. This summer I wanted to write an easy thousand words every day. It totally didn't happen. During my internet hiatus I wrote like a champ, but I'd missed so many days before that (and have missed a few after) that it still didn't stick.


Somethings been different in the past week or two, though. Even though I missed two days last week because I was sick, I really feel like I'm now getting into the groove of writing every day. Even when I'm tired. Even when I put it off until 10:00 at night.


There have been so many benefits of finally getting into this habit. For one thing, I'm actually seeing myself getting closer to the end! I've been writing about 2,000 words a day trying to meet my end-of-August goal, which used to feel like so much work, but now doesn't feel so bad. I think that I'm actually one of those writers that needs to write more words every day, simply because it helps me stay in the story a little more, and my mind usually opens up a lot in the last half of the writing session.


Another good thing about this is I actually feel like a writer! I've felt like a total faker all summer. "So, you're writing a book?" "Yeah... but it's been going kind of slow..." *mumbles*. Not super great for feeling like a writer when I haven't worked on my book for two weeks. Now, though, it's nice to feel like, even when I totally resent my writing sessions, I'm at least moving forward.


The most amazing thing that has happened, though, has taken place in just the last few days. I'm starting to think about my story outside of writing! I've been getting ideas about how to make it better, I've been thinking about my characters and my plot, and I've been interested and even -gasp- excited about writing some days. I haven't been this interested in my story since I first started it, and I'm definitely seeing improvements in my writing as my attitude has changed.


My best tip if you're struggling with writing every day (which is so often a problem for me) is to just not make it optional. You must write before you can do such and such thing. For me, it's sleep. And I love my sleep, so there's definitely some motivation there. What helps you to write?

Source: http://debbiebarr.blogspot.com/2010/08/writing-daily.html

I keep waiting for the time to be right.
I work and I work and I work.
I hope and I hope and I hope.
That I won't always have to fill my life up like this.
That there will be other reasons.
Other places. Better times. Different times.
I want to be right. So I won't have worked and hoped for
no reason at all.
But nothing ever turns out the way I planned.


Welcome to this post! In it you will find all sorts of fascinating tidbits, because I want to fascinate and delight you, my beloved reader.


You might have been expecting a new chapter of Servant of the King, and your expectation is well-founded. It is indeed on Mondays that a new chapter is posted. In fact, a new chapter is also posted on Thursdays. Thus, you can expect a new chapter posted later tonight.


So to what, you are probably asking, do you owe this bonus post?


To the desire to discuss writing in my life right now. If you are a writer, like me, who desires to be a successful and publishing author, your experience might be very similar to mine. So let's commiserate, shall we?


I'd like to pose some questions and have you answer them in the comments of this post. For my part, I'll answer them here in this post.


Q1. Why do I desire to be a writer, work as a writer, or in other words, be a teller of stories? Not lies, because they contain truth; but stories.


A1. That's a freaking good question. There is no doubt that if I didn't have this burning desire in me, I would be a far more settled fellow.


In any case, I think my love of stories began with The Poky Little Puppy. I remember that was the book I loved best when I was six. I don't remember anyone ever reading it to me; but I read it plenty. I also read The Little Engine that Could. Even at that young age, I had an inkling of the solid quality of the first book and the inherent problem with the second. To this day, The Little Engine that Could bugs me and The Poky Little Puppy makes me grin.


Did I digress? Yes, I think so.


I love stories. Fantasy series like The Forgotten Realms, particularly R.A. Salvatore's and Ed Greenwood's work, really got me excited. I loved what I read of Dragonlance. There was also Walter Farley's The Black Stallion. I loved that book and devoured every book in the series. They changed my life in that I learned to love horses and I actually, I kid you not, learned to ride horses by reading them. The first time I got on a horse it felt like home.


I get a little emotional when I see how much my oldest boy loves that book. I see him identifying with Alec and... man... the power of story!


Stories have moved me for as long as I can remember. I love the worlds, the people, the magic, the action, the love stories, the fantastic elements. I think there was a stretch of nearly ten years in which I didn't read these books; those were my dark ages.


So I love these stories to the point that I decided I wanted to tell them. I wanted to move people. I still do. I want to transport people into the life and world of characters and take them along on an exciting, breathless, emotional ride. I want to shock, hurt and change my readers. I love it.


Q2. Is there a spot of vanity in my motivation to be a successful writer?


A2. Why yes, funny you should ask. I have seen the vanity in myself and recognize the motivation it gives me. I want attention, I want validation, I even want some near-worship.


But when I feel like the goal of success and validation is driving my writing, I have seen that my writing becomes a chore, not a joy. So I push back when it comes a'calling and I immerse myself in story again.


I won't deny I like to get a compliment now and again. One of my fondest dreams is to meet someone like Bob Salvatore or Stephen King and hear them tell me I'm a good writer. Actually, Dave Farland said that once, so that was mighty cool.


Q3. What about writing means the most to you?
A3. There are those moments when I've pushed through malaise, laziness, doubt and distraction and have gotten into the story. Those moments when I feel like I've been in my characters' heads and hearts and have told a story that means something because it speaks of and to the soul.


Recently though, I've had a new experience that has meant even more to me as a writer, particularly regarding my journey into the craft. As I work on Servant of the King, I have found myself hitting some points that I was not expecting. I have found the character and the world he inhabits simply lead him into these moments that are beyond what I had planned. So when I've hit some of these moments where I really don't know what happens next, I take a few minutes to write about the characters involved. I write about their motivations, their goals, their individual world, and their relationships. As I do that, man, it's exhilarating! What happens next become clear because it is simply what that person would do in that situation.


And as I follow these threads, things grow more complicated and the world becomes richer and the people become more real.


So these moments where I feel like I'm really delving into the craft-- they're tops right now. They're intrinsic validation.


Have you had any of these moments where you've felt yourself learning and mastering the craft?


Q4. Is writing a solitary activity?
A4. Yes. And no.
I do my best work when I am writing in a quiet place, with my headphones playing scene-appropriate music and also keeping any ambient noise away. I must be alone and completely undistracted when I want to really get work done.


Also, writing is solitary in that the people around me, and maybe other writers too, don't truly understand what it means to try to craft an excellent story-- especially a long one. It takes lots of time and work and is completely absorbing. It's mentally and emotionally taxing. I sometimes want to share the emotions I go through when I write, and I do that, but it's clear that those I talk to don't get it really.


But writing is also not solitary at all. I mean, I'm writing for an audience after all. And I am surrounded by people who love and support me. (And it's bloody about time I recognized that.) They want the best for me and many of them are actually reading my stuff!!! I apologize for the overuse of exclamation points.


Please forgive.


And there is no doubt that a good writing group that is regularly attended is beyond value.


Q5. What about your faith? Does it play a part in your work?
A5. Very much, especially today. For a lot of years, I tried to segment my life. I kept things in their world and didn't let things spill over. For example, I want to be successful as a writer-- meaning I want to be publishing regularly and have people love my work, because I will be writing good stuff. But I never allowed my Father in Heaven into that dream.


I've changed that tune significantly. When I sit down to write, I actually watch the video I have embedded on the right of this blog first. Every time. Then I say a prayer. Every time.


My writing has been much improved of late. I know it's because I am praying over my flocks and fields and that I have recognized that my dream is good-- and my writing is a good work. God wants me to be happy. This is one of the major sources of happiness for me.


As a final note, my life is not on hold until I start reaching goals of success as a writer. Not even close. I have a phenomenal family (Oh don't practice your alliteration on me...) and a good job. I love life. I love most every moment of life. I and my family are blessed. Writing is a part of life and I expect it to become a larger part of our life as I keep moving toward goals.


And that's it for now. What about your thoughts, feelings and experience regarding these questions? I find that I stay firm in my goals and progress as I see better that I am not alone. Care to share