This is just so wrong...

I'm sitting here in a towel and a tshirt. That's it. My hair is a mess from salt water and wind. The day was beautiful. The place for sailboats fantastic. Yet here I sit crazed.

My phone isn't working.

I put a spell on you you stupid phone.

Please start working again.

Please.

Happy 5th of July.

Happy 4th

Wishing everyone a happy 4th of July.

Hope that you have alot of fun, good food to eat, and good company to celebrate with.

(Don't forget the LLS's Craig Ferguson is hosting the Boston celebration on CBS tonight. Sounds like great fun.)


Author Ann

Discomfort

LoL , yeah I know. I'm supposed to be on holiday but things happen even in this slacker life.

First I'm going to post something here. It's from something I wrote on another blog awhile back. Maybe it could explain a bit. Turn a river. Prevent someone from feeling uncomfortable in their life choices.

It's about the first time I laughed. After my son died.

And some days? Aren’t.

“…One day at a time is the best way to deal with this. And trust me there are going to be good days as well as bad ones. I still remember the first time I really laughed after my family member died. First I laughed out loud and then I stopped in a kind of shocked silence. It felt so good to be happy after being sad for so long. After that I began to look out side of my grief at the world. Still had the bad days but there were good ones too. Now more good than bad…”

I was writing to someone who'd lost a loved one. It's so hard. This week I talked to yet another person who'd lost someone close to them. She had the same experience that I did. So did her mom. There is that moment when enough time has passed that you laugh. Then in some cruel mean thing the second after that laugh you feel this tremendous guilt for being happy. How can you be happy after someone you'd loved so much has experienced such pain. You should always feel that pain too.

You shouldn't but the thing is that a person at that stage of grief is in pain.

As time passes, months for some and years for others, the pain or your reaction to it changes. You do forget but you come to realize that to make yourself feel so sad as a kind of punishment for surviving isn't right. You begin to see that being happy and going on with your life is really a good thing. For me that laughter took a while to change from a blue to a delightful yellow. It just takes time.

I watch Craig Ferguson for a reason. You see for some unknown reason he was the person who got me to laugh. The very first time that I saw his show and he told a joke, I laughed. Since then I've begun a kind of self directed laugh "therapy". It's worked. I've begun to "color". Life that had been black and white became like those old technicolor movies. Oh, it took a while for the unhappy to fade but it did. Then last year when I got to go see water again I felt joy. The old joy came back. Like a seed it grew. Happy. It started with that very first laugh.

(I'm sorry for the sentence fragments but it seems like a good idea to leave them be.)

I used to have a writing buddy. She once was in the process of writing a story when I asked her not to kill off the main characters. It was a beautiful story but I'd read enough of her stories to know that the ending probably would be all kinds of uncomfortable. After I asked she told me not to analyze the story but to feel and enjoy it just where it was and each minute until it's conculsion. She told me that to understand the story I needed to feel it. If I analyzed it I'd have to break it into pieces. That would tear the story and the viseral feeling. Now I think that is how my life is. I don't want to analyze it because it's taken me so long to get where I can feel it again. Happy. Sad. Joy or sorrow are in perspective. Nolonger colored by the pain of losing my son.

LOL

A kids song from my Sunday School days.

"I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. Down in my heart. Down in my heart."

It feels pretty good.



I know that these last couple of posts have seemed odd and out of character. This is truly ironic. My writing and blogs is me being a writer. In order to learn to create believeable characters, the "I" of the writer, the id, must be secondary to the story. True there is the writer's voice but that's just the house of words where the characters live. It is ironic because these "uncharacteristic" blog posts are actually very characteristic of the real me. If I had this "life"? I'd be exhausted.

LOL I'm not broken. It's the opposite. I've been healing. Gently. Trying to laugh every day. The laughter feels very very good. It's made me appreciate the happy. You know like the morning after a storm when it's sunny. Everyone is safe.

Happy.

Hugs,

Ann

PS Now I'll go back to writing this character who I have great affection for.

For a friend..

...

because you're hugs have made me into a pragmatic optimist.

(Even while the world is trying to beat me into a raging cynic.LOL)

Thanks.





"Songs are like dream stories. They're the ideas that are important to us told sometimes in snapshots and (if we are lucky) in long, lovely complete (and complex) sentences."

AuthorAnn 1 July, 2010



Friend, I'm glad to have your kind hugs. They are like rainbows on a rainyday.

Hugs right back and happy holiday to you too. :)

Rainbow connection...

Then there's the version that seems like home.



"Songs are like dream stories. They're the things that are important to us told sometimes in photographs and if we're lucky in long, lovely complete sentences."

Author Ann 1 July,2010.

I guess since I'm quoting myself it's okay to change it to:

"Songs are like dream stories. They're the ideas that are important to us told sometimes in snapshots and (if we are lucky) in long, lovely complete (and complex) sentences."

AuthorAnn
1 July, 2010


Yep, that'll do.




Happy holiday.

While we're still able ...

LOL Funny.



I'd tell you about my day but really do you want to hear about it?

How about the tshirt look on Craig Ferguson?

So this morning I woke up from a dream. I was dreaming about Jimmy Fallon and that I lost a tooth. Then I got up. Went to do my business and guess what? I went back to bed. Because it was 5am when I did this and it looked like rain.

This morning I asked someone if they wanted to go to the big BBQ do at the sailclub.

They said yes.

So I guess this 4th I'll celebrate on the 3rd by eating chicken. LOL


Hope you have a great day.


AuthorAnn


PS. The tshirt look on Craig Ferguson? Nice. Take a look.

Uh oh. So I was just minding my own business when..

All I said was that being able to say the word, "no", was an important life skill. Unfortunately they left out the importance of knowing who NOT to say no too on my "Taking Back You" life empowering tape. No one told me that folks might say "no" back. Now there are some folks who are no longer talking to me. I'm sure that information is making them shiver with happy.

I don't care.
:P

NO

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna' dance around my yard in my boxers yellin' the word "no" over and over at the top of my lungs. Only wish that I could do it in slow motion through the water sprinklers. Yeeehaaawww.




Think anyone will notice?


:D

Was looking for Shelby Lynn ...

... and found Alison Moorer.

A Soft Place to Fall



I live out in the country. In the afternoon, when it's hot like this, we've been known to get in the truck, roll down the windows, and just drive. You say you're going to the Dollar General to get a soda but you might end up at some hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere.

It's all just an excuse.

If we're lucky you get good reception on the radio. The one in the truck is on it's last legs. Lots of ducktape involved. Tuner nob is bent. That's a puzzle. If I was younger and a bit more athletic I could blame it on a Saturday night. I don't think I will. Truth is, like much of my life, I just don't know.




At least the music is good. :D

cubical blues

I sit
in this box

9 to 5

writing words

Lunch before 3

If I'm lucky.

Happy hour @ six if I'm not.

I write words like a ghost.

For someone who'll call them their own.


They laugh and preen.

While I write here.

Jason's gossip

The yellow highlighter of the bright spots of this day.

The white out gizmo and alcohol

Cover up the mistakes.

6-29-10

Author Ann




Day after day after day ...


LOL the computer fairy is busy again eating my poetry. I hope it gets a massive case of computer indigestion

ding, ding, di, ding ding

I was just asked if I'd be happy living on the coast.

To which I replied,

"doh"


:D


Now the question is, "Which coast?", "Is there a live aboard sailboat involved?", and "Do I get a writing job that pays actual money?"


Hmm. http://12dotsandablot.blogspot.com/2010/04/dream-lover.html


No it's not related, just something to read while you're waiting.

While I sit on this milk crate and write you a letter...

I got bit by a tick.
The Google didn't help much as I now know that I'll have to wait maybe years to see if I've got some vicious tick disease.

This tent my folks gave me is getting kind of hot.

Not to worry. As long as I've got Twitter, my blog, and Marybelle my prized milk goat?

I'm okay.

:D Being strong.

Goat Herder Boy.


Written on

Doctor's Waiting Room Lit Class...

I'm really enjoying this song. Especially after this weekend.

Sigh, looks like the Unhappy Fairy has made a visit.

I wanted to post the new video but apparently that's a no no too.

LOL No problem.

Here's a link to another posting of this song.

"Who cares if you disagree. You are not me. You can't tell me who to be. Who died and made you king of anything."

I love Sara Bareilles music.



Keep reading?

Or go here? http://12dotsandablot.blogspot.com/2010_03_28_archive.html


Comments?

See Twitter.

Rachel's Luck

"...They could hear folks gasp. The organist muttered, "Well that's one way to look at "till death do you part." It only took a second to put the handcuffs on his wrist and then hers. He was startled and then he was laughing and she was laughing. It was the only sound they heard in the church. She took the key from her glove and undid the lock to his side of the cuffs. As she did, she said the words soft and then loud so everyone could hear, "I release you from the obligations of marriage and instead give you it's joy and freedom to share life with me." Then she handed him the keys. Still no sound from the congregation. At first she thought he'd leave her side of handcuffs locked, but he said the words too and then added, "I love you."


He kissed her before the preacher got the words, "You may kiss-" out of his mouth.

Later, alot later, she'd tell her brother that marriage had liberated her. For the first time, she trusted someone not to leave. She trusted him to be honest even if they were miles apart ..."

Next: http://12dotsandablot.blogspot.com/2010/06/apart.html

(Note: before ANYONE jumps to conclusion. I don't write fan fic. I do, however, write fiction.)

...apart

They were fighting.
Again.



"You know if you didn't love me why in hell did you marry me in the first place." He was really sick of the way this dragged on and on and on - he was about to tune her out when he heard the words, "...fairly good orgasm."

"What did you say?"

"I said, I thought that I loved you but it was sex. Just sex and a fairly good orgasm."

That startled him enough to get his attention.



He let go of her hand. "Good." she said it out loud but soft. It was enough. At least she had his attention. If she could get him to listen maybe they could sort things out.

"Once upon a time..." she started the story and then he interrupted her. If she told it they'd never get to sleep. Maybe if he did it right she'd fall asleep or get in the mood. That wasn't a bad thing either.

"I'll tell it. You leave things out."

He looked at her. She was asleep.

"Good." he thought, " Anything to get her off the subject ...."

Next

http://12dotsandablot.blogspot.com/2010/06/subject.html

...the subject...

He watched her sleep. Jiggled her to make sure. She wasn't a sound sleeper so moving her was a risk but he tried and she didn't wake up. It was safe. That was the moment he decided to call Rachel and all the trouble began. There were moments in all this that were clear now. The times when he messed up. For the life of him he couldn't guess why he did this kind of thing but he did. This time it'd turned into a real mess.


from Rachel's Luck

6/18/10

by Author Ann
all rights reserved by the author.


-----------------Okay if you read the ebay 12 dogs and a blog blog you remember how the interactive short stories work. You might be able to read these post by post but the real story is in the blue links.

All together now,

The Slacker Chronicles aka 12dots and a blot (12dogs and a blog/blogspot) is a a writer's journal. Fact and fiction co exist here. If you don't know what's real and what isn't? Please. Don't ASSume. Ask.

Hugs.AA



story above is from the short story Rachel's Luck that I'm working on. It's a work in progress. I'm going to use the Interactive Short story format to work out plot. Might as well put it here for your entertainment.

Rachel's Luck

6/18/10



All rights reserved by the author

Sigh . Now this is funny.

Livin' the dream...

As many of you know by now, I've been kind of disinherited by my folks. They've kind of informed me that perhaps I might need to suppliment my income with -- a job.


Their suggestions?

Doing yard work. Working in the restaurant. Pool person.

Pool person?
"snert"

I'm unfortunately over qualified for these jobs.

I'm a writer. I've got a friggin' college degree.

I was worried.

Then? I talked to my friend that sells mild mannered milk goats.

I can follow this dream of being a "couch anchor", goat herder. But still there was so much self doubt.

So I talked to my friend the musician..



She's not afraid to follow her dream...

Be strong, Goat Herder Boy. Be strong and follow your dream of writing a successful blog about raising organic happy goats and making artisanal goat cheese for you parent's yuppy foodie friends..."

"The morning sun is shining like..." --




Written @

Diary of Goatherder Boy...

Day one:


Contemplated belly button lint.

Found new species of mold.


Thus sayeth The Goat Herder Boy.

This day 25 April, 2010



Sayeth his long suffering parents?

"It's gonna be a long summer."



Our son.

The one who has his college paid for.

The one who has a plot of land all paid for that will someday be his.

The one who is at this second practicing being a "couch anchor".

Is going to be a goat herder.

No scratch that.

He wants to be a fish wrangler.

That's his diary up there.

I want him to keep a diary of this year.

That's day one.


His father and I are going to be supportive. We're gonna buy hims a 39 dollar tent and put him out on his parcel of land. We're also giving him a sleeping bag, bottled water, ice chest, and a flash light.

Don't worry. He'll also get 20 dollars a week allowance and he's right next door to us.

If he's lucky he'll get to look at the car and can come eat supper with us.

I'm secretly hoping that this really is a phase.

My stomach hurts.

I woke up craving this song...

Uh not exactly.

This morning I woke up from a dream about having sex with someone I'm currently NOT talking to. We've never (incase you're wondering). Could have but didn't. Probably a good idea. Then I laid in bed paralyzed because of this question, "What if I can't anymore? What if the sum total of my sexual experiences were already over?"


Then I craved the song.

"..Bernadette..."

LOL "Rosebud. Rosebud."


Written @

Ooolala...oops?

White jeans before Memorial Day?????

Ooolala yeah.

Now if we can only we get "casual Fridays on the LLShow"



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Written @