Monday, March 28, 2011

Alas my tome, I knew you well!

What is society’s obsession with ruining their eyes? Technology has leapt and bounded itself into an inch wide screen to which we must squint at to see, and then we bewail the fact that our vision must be weakening since we cannot make out the letters. Why do we not just accept that which is factual and clamor for our technology savvy friends to expand our screens once again?

To be more specific, let us examine the electronic novel age. The written word has come a long way in its evolution. From being painstakingly penned by a chosen and knowledgeable scribe, to the early printing press that created widespread literature to all classes and races; the inked quill to the graphite pencil to the plastic keyboard; from individual thought to the right of being plagued by computer viruses. And now our beloved tomes are being attacked by a mindless evil: ebook.

Without naming outright the name of this little handheld wonder that allows you to port your novels from one place to the other without having to bother with the task of turning a page with your poor, callused, overused fingers, let me describe it to you: small, rectangular, soulless, industrialized, cold, flat, and did I mention small? Where is the papyrus which loves to slice into my stubby fingers? What happened to the sensation of filling my hands with a beloved story as I filled my mind with its images?


Now it has been replaced with yet another small screen that allows us to peer at it each day so we may receive numerous headaches and keep our yearly vision appointments. More cost effective per story? Yes. More compact and easier to port around no matter what the destination? Yes. If you spill on it, will you exclaim in horror and utter words you are not supposed to know? Yes.

Hm, it is good to know that at least some things have not changed!

** Let me further add that it has taken over three days for this to post! Almost as if it knew I were condemning technology in some sort of fashion, my blog refused to let me post anything and instead gave me the loading circle of death! A dear friend found a suggestion to change to the old editor, and viola!! Here I am again! Take that, stupid technology that wished to censure my rant on ebooks, for I have been able to post after all!!

Sunday, March 27, 2011

I am a Poet and Did not know it, What?

When I just cannot get the right words to come, they always come to me in prose and poetry. Therefore, most of my poems have been called "gloomy" or even "depressing" it is.


You think you know me, but you don’t
I am not what you think of me
I am not wet clay anymore
I have molded myself to be stronger
Forged in the fires of your making but tempered by inner resolve
I am rough and unglazed, unfinished, but I am stronger

You think you see me, but you don’t

I am not the weak link in your chain
I have emerged from the confines of your space
I fly and soar on my own two wings
Catching the wind on the currents of my own destiny
I may falter and glide rather than fly, but I am stronger

You believe you can guess me, but you can’t

I am not the box for Pandora to open
I have broken from the guidelines of the story
I walk with a crown and my head high among the crowd
Vilify me in your rendition and cover my body with scales
Yet my prince still comes for me and makes me stronger

I am not you, I am me
I sing my own tune ~ dance my own steps
Depress me ~ Condemn me
Hate me ~ Love me
No matter what you try to do to me, I can be stronger

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

An Injustice to the Fairer Sex

Have you ever noticed that our society is full of prejudices?  It seems like everything tends to reminds women that even with the right to vote we still are just not equal.

For instance, take something as simple as pajama pants. Sometimes women's pajama pants are fluffy ("It's so fluffy!!!"-Despicable Me) or very soft, but most of the time they are thin or made out of a material that more closely resembles burlap than sleepwear. Yes, the pants can come in pretty colors and designs, but it's almost as if the designer purposefully makes them so that the women would feel the quick need to discard them during the course of the night-- Wait...aren't most designers male? Hm, perhaps I've stumbled upon the heart of the matter...

Now, take a man's pajama pants and let us examine them, shall we? They may be ugly in color or design (or both) to the female view, but they are ROOMY, and COMFY, and SOFT, and LOOSE. I find myself either stealing my husband's pajama pants many nights, or merely outright buying a man's pair of pajama pants for myself.

To emphasize this point, I very recently acquired a pair of men's Star Wars pajama pant bottoms at the low cost of merely ten dollars. These things are basic black and white, but are so completely comfortable that I never want to take them off! For a woman to get the same level of comfort and ease, usually the pajamas are a designer label and cost at least double what I paid!

This is a terrible travesty! I say we women stop meekly accepting the burlap we are given and demand the same level of comfort at the same cost as men! If we unite and storm our government centers, we will no longer be ignored! Let us tell our elected officials that we women are taking a stand and let us make our fore-mother's proud!

Let us declare every night a comfortable victory!

Thursday, March 17, 2011


I apologize in advance.  Nothing in the following is meant to wound or criticize anyone beyond myself.

Recently, I have been brought to task about my lack of verbiage and appalling grammar by a well-meaning friend. Not one to put much importance in proper grammar anyway, I was at first shocked at her candor. Once my anger subsided, the horrible realization dawned on me that she was indeed right. Where once I prided myself on learning and utilizing more sophisticated means of communication, I have lately been sorely and woefully lazy in my vocabulary usage.

What is to blame for this serious grievance to the English language?

Lack of continuing education?
Deplorable living situation?

The cessation of my first love--writing?

Health ailments?

Even if the answer lies in any, all, or none of the above, there is no true excuse in allowing myself to sound uneducated!  Jane Austin would shun me~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow would condemn me~ Mark Twain would damn me~ Emily Dickinson would scoff at me.

So why have I fallen prey to the seductive allure of using pure slang?

It is tempting to lay the blame at my environment's feet. Living in the South, it is difficult to find one with whom the joy of verbal sparring can be exercised. When you are surrounded by those who do not speak the same language, often it becomes difficult to maintain one's use of a foreign tongue. I love those whom I call family, yet some of those have been my harshest critics in using my expanded vocabulary. I grew weary of hearing that I believed myself more superior all because I chose to use more of the English dictionary than they. (It sounds harsh, but it is unfortunately true!)

Eleanor Roosevelt has been quoted as saying, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." How right that is!

I no longer choose to allow myself to "dumb down" my words just to give a few people the illusion that I am no better than trash that does not know any better.

I will henceforth practice my second language with more fervor than I have before--here I go!

It's not plagiarism.....

If your source happens to be sitting an inch next to you, running her mouth.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

The End is the Beginning

As my online blogging career begins, I'm struck with the question: What would someone want to know? I'm not entirely sure, but perhaps the title of my blog is a noteworthy discussion.

What does "this end upside down" mean?

Everyone has heard or seen the phrase "this end down" on a large cardboard box. It indicates that there is something precious or fragile inside that can only be positioned one way. Consequences for disobeying this written warning could include anything from leaked oil to having a 10 piece tea set becoming a 50 piece tea set.

With how crazy my life has been lately (unemployment, stolen social security number, no luck with job search, health problems, loss of grandparents), I feel as if my entire reality has completely shifted inside out. I imagine myself as a box that is not labeled "this end up" but instead "this end upside down". Can you see me as a cardboard box with feet sticking up in the air and doing a headstand? Yes, that's very much how I feel right now.

Besides, I never claimed to be "normal" anyway. Where is the fun in that?