I found this word in my word of the day email and loved it. There have been different haunts that I’ve sought for comfort, refuge and quiet time. In my childhood one such place was a canopy of trees that I’d sit under by my house in Chicago especially in the summer and read. I’d read there for hours just absorbing the words on the page and occasionally glancing at the open sky. My sister would stop by to tell me lunch was ready or dinner or she would join me with her sketch book and doodle away.
In college my favorite haunt was the library where I worked part time. I would relish filing the books away and get lost in the fiction aisles. The library was a place of solitude and silence and sociability. I worked there all four years of college back in the late 1980s minimum wage was more paltry than now but the library afforded me time to chill out and slow down which I could use now.
These days pre Covid my favorite haunt is by far the theatre. I’m an avid ballet fan and musicals come in a close second. The theatre 🎭 has its own sounds, smells, aura and architecture that each is unique and elegant in its own way. I miss the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington DC, Broadway in NYC and the West End in London. The costumes, set design, story line, lighting, direction and of course actors all compose a production that awaits a hungry audience. Theatre feeds my soul and my imagination and brings me calm. I haven’t been in almost two years. To be honest I haven’t found a new purlieu to close that gap.
This mini series from 2018 was initially recommended to me by my dad but I don’t subscribe to the cable channel ShowTime so I passed on it until he brought it up in a conversation last week “ did ya ever see that show with Sherlock guy what’s his name Cumberlink” ? So I found Patrick Melrose on Amazon Prime.
The five part series left me with chills. A tour de force master class in real acting. Benedict Cumberbatch plays Patrick Melrose a drug addict alcoholic barrister who had a lousy childhood. The scars of that abusive childhood of course followed him into adulthood as a self destructing sycophant of sorts using women and sex to feel loved. Hugo Weaving plays Patrick’s abusive father David and Jennifer Jason Leigh plays his lost soul mother Eleanor. Both are rotten parents bent on destroying each other and taking Patrick down with them.
The series explores child abuse in such insidious details bouncing back from Patrick’s childhood memories in Provence at the family’s summer chateau to the early 2000s with Patrick struggling with his own addictions and demons to not repeat with his children what his parents did to him. The series doesn’t mince words doesn’t glamorize addiction doesn’t even make you empathize with Patrick because he had choices as an adult that he could have broken free of his past. He married a loving woman Mary ( Anna Madeley), became a barrister and a father. Yet abuse stays with the mind like a hungry parasite. His mother enabled the father. All the family circle enabled the father. When people enable a bully either by praise or ignoring their acts against others, they are just as guilty of the acts because they could have said stop it made the bully accountable. For me this was the real lesson learned from this series. No one did anything to stop the abuse. They all just looked the other way or said “ well he was nice to me.” The damage is done. Honestly kindness goes a long way. So does karma I hope.
That quote is from my friend Squirrel who sent me a picture that was inspirational.
So in acollaboration this time Squirrel ( aka Radaghast) and I will contribute each an article on imagination. Her article she has published on her blog https://radaghast.fr/.
For me I find creativity through many outlets. One such is poetry. I adore words because they are powerful and magical, dichotomous and diligent, freeing and ethereal . In the time of COVID 19 imagination may be the only outlet to save ourselves from madness and mayhem. I chose two poems that speak to imagination.
Both poems speak to appreciation and adulation for life for living for freedom in many respects and that is what will save us from destruction. To look beyond ourselves to nurture others to care for others to open our hearts to others. It may seem banal but imagination is the core of our spirit our soul.
Imagination in music also speaks to the soul to our inner core. These two songs about eight years apart from my graduation of high school to my life as a twenty something really made me pause to reflect and re ignite my imagination.
So I was lamenting to Rachel that I don’t feel inspired writing blog posts this week. I’ve got so many projects I need to sort through I don’t even know where to start. She suggested writing about procrastinating and boom clap 👏 a post was inspired.
I am generally a go getter take action person but when it comes to my house I’m lazy. Maybe because I live alone and have only the pups to answer to that I allow things and tasks to pile up. Maybe I’m bored and not in the mood to sort. So to jump start my motivation and hold myself accountable here are the primary tasks need to accomplish:
Take pictures of the three Christmas auction items I am donating/entering in Guylty s 2021 auction. ( I will write more specifics on each item in future blog posts) and send with auction description to her
Reorganize bathrooms with new rugs, shower curtains, clean up clutter on the floors
Sort through clothes to donate vs possibly sell on EBay ( how much work does that involve?)
Declutter utility room and hall closet
Convince a certain someone musicals are not a waste of time!
Finish mulching backyard and find a spot for my dragon friend
Sort through my books to see what I could sell second hand ( where more likely) and display my new bookends ( separate post coming on that )
Set up tv project after a year 😉
Pay more attention to Richard Armitage shrine ( bad fan girl I am!)
Last week a coworker shared with myself and another co worker pictures of her aunt’s house which she is in the process of packing up. Her aunt has Altzheimers and will be moving to a long term care facility. The coworker is very close to her aunt and revealed the aunt is a hoarder. Now here’s where I stop mid sentence and begs the question define hoarding.
My mum was a pack rat. She had a hard time throwing anything away. She said leftovers are meant to be eaten ( something my dad absolutely refuses to eat). She had mountains of containers in the refrigerator that became science projects because she forgot they were there. When she passed away last December my dad immediately gave away her clothes, linen ( dating back to 1972), wigs and hand bags. The garage where she stored Christmas paraphernalia and packing he tossed. He is a minimalist likes everything organized and labeled like my sister does. I’m more like my mum. I know where everything is and eventually I’ll get round to organizing it.
When my dad lamented how cluttered his house used to be I reminded him that once upon a time he had a clothes fetish and would buy ties in every color and Nike shoes the minute they rolled out the next prototype. It gave him joy to be able to buy something with his money. My mum was a saver. She saved everything thinking she will use it one day. Maybe going through World War 2 made her value what she had and how fortunate she was to have survived. I don’t know really.
What I appreciated that my coworker showed me the cluttered house with her comment that she felt relieved that her house wasn’t that bad, I felt a connection with the aunt. Things become a bit overwhelming and we get to a point where we think where do I start? I know for some like my sister this feeling is incomprehensible but not everything and everyone are built as neat and tidy. Life certainly isn’t like that. Obstacles happen life takes a detour and clutter appears. To me the worst thing anyone can do is judge someone else. Offering advice and tools to help de clutter are great antidotes. In the end we are only human.
Friday I’m in Love, Freitag, Vrijdag,Perjantai, Vendredi, Venerdi, Viernes, dydd Gwener … it’s F R I D A Y a day I have come to really love at my workplace. So I decided today to open up the blog with a question and hopefully contributions from you all including whatever your thoughts are on the subject.
What is your favorite type of food and favoritememory or place where you ate it?
My favorite food is Italian and although I loved Rome when I went in 2014. My favorite place I ate was in Santa Margherita Ligure north of Rome near Cinne Terra. The food was salivating even just bread and cheese for dinner one night was a meal I came to treasure and the best pizza in the world ( pepperoni and prosciutto) with a white wine spritzer ( red is better I know) I’ll never replicate.
This picture showed up on our work computer last week. It reminds me of Game of Thrones in many ways from the connecting bridge to the ships at dock to the distant mountainous sky. As a travel buff I always love discovering new cities hidden treasures to venture and veer off the beaten path.
I miss Game of Thrones. It’s been off the air two years now. It was so clever and cunning and comical and circuitous that even characters that were despicable were loved. House of the Dragon the prequel to GoT will be arriving on HBO early next year. I’m curious if there will be a new Winter is Coming. Until then any thoughts where this place lies?
This song by Pink and her ten year old daughter Willow Sage Hart uplifts me. Gosh when I was ten I was lip syncing of course to Abba but also Shaun Cassidy and Olivia Newton John and The Carpenters standing in front of a mirror hairbrush in hand like I was in Star Search. I think Pinks voice and her songwriting have matured since 2000. She writes and sings what she cares about in this case staying positive uplifting in times of darkness and despair like this past year and a half. Her daughter Willow looks like her mini me and seems very confident and carefree. So kudos to both of them for a dynamic song:
Song is written by Amy Rose Allen and Maureen Anne McDonald
It’s Friday, my week has been long and mentally draining as battles continue to plague me at work. I live with my choices good and bad and take ownership of my actions. This poem reminds me a lot how I wish I felt right now.
If I stuck to the path I should have taken would I be happier now? Putting money outside would my life be more balanced ? More spiritually satisfying ? This poem always reminds me that actions affect everything and life isn’t black and white. The greys sometimes make all the difference.