Apples, Muses and Me

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I have a serious love of all things apple.

I love apples fresh, baked, candied (especially candied). I love apple juice, I love apple wine, I love the way they look and smell.

I especially love that satisfying crunch when you bite down into one.

Not only do they taste good they come with a story, a horror story to boot.

In the bible Adam and Eve bite into the Apple and  before you know it, they’re in Hell. A Devil is involved. Pain and suffering are involved. They realize they’re naked.

Because of an apple.

Don’t over think that here, this isn’t a bible class,  this is a story about Apples.

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I remember when I was about 7 my Grandpa Bert said to me, ” You know how an apple a day can keep the doctor away?”

Actually, I did want to know. You hear it a lot when your either about to eat or are in the middle of eating an apple.

” You throw it at him really  hard”

I was probably mid-crunch when I looked up at Grandpa Bert and nodded. ” Okay. I can do that.”

He patted me on the head, smiled and walked away.

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Now that I have gone all around the apple orchard- this is what an apple a day has to do with writing daily.

I took part in this year’s Holidailies 2015 and YES I posted daily.

I took the challenge because I dropped the daily writing habit and in my opinion my writing suffered for it.

I played around on Facebook everyday, I managed to watch my favorite shows on DVD everyday, I managed to do a lot of other things everyday except for writing.

At one point I wrote that I treated my writing like a toy. I played with and at some point it rolled under the couch I didn’t bother to look for it. I  only ran across it when I  was looking for something else.

Sad to say, the apple bit me back.

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There are a lot of good points to be made about writing daily, there are some great ones listed in this article:

Why You Should Write Daily

The most important one is this: when you do something everyday it becomes a part of your life. Not part of a routine, or a lifestyle, YOUR LIFE.

In my case, when I stopped writing I felt less…I felt less curious, less adventurous, less confident. I also felt a lot less interesting.

Something was missing  – and I’m pretty sure what I was missing was that part of me that sparks the rest of me to action, to life.

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So this month-long project helped me to understand a few things, it opened my mind up to new possibilities I can take up with my writing.

I think  Muse is facepalming itself ( because I think my Muse is a male… that’s me…SWIM AGAINST THAT TIDE ANITA MARIE!) because I’m finally listening to it again.

It couldn’t have been an easy job to get my creativity back on track, to get the mojo working…TO GET ME OFF FACEBOOK FOR FIVE MINUTES.

But someone my Muse did it, despite having me to inspire.

I must have been like that rock Sisyphus had to roll up the hill … but I think my Muse did it.

He got me up to the top.

I also think if I roll back down again it will find a bigger rock and smoosh me with it.

Sisyphus by von Stuck

I learned something in December about me and writing.

It was well worth the journey.

So here’s to apples, Muses and dare I say…me.

amm

 

The King’s Highway

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:::HOLIDAILIES PROMPT:::

What are a few songs that would provide the soundtrack to your life and why?

When I was growing up I listened to a lot of Elvis Presley.

My Mom was a fan of his so we had his albums in the living room but at some point I started to snag them and take them to my room and listen to them on my own.

I think Mom was very pleased with that, so when we would go to the store I’d ask to buy Elvis records and she wouldn’t tell me which ones to get, I’d have to choose them on my own.

I enjoyed doing that.

But this song was my hands down favorite.

When I was around 10 I’d come home from school, head straight for my room and put this song on my record player, jump up on my bed and I’d sing along with Elvis until my voice was gone.

In the story of my life we’d hear this when the going gets rough and I get tough.

With a smile of course.

Back to Elvis…sort of.

This is the theme song from Bubba Ho-Tep starring Bruce Campbell. The song is called The King’s Highway and the first time I heard it, it went into my head and stayed there note for note.

This song would show up if my life were on a screen and there’s a shot of me writing. You’d see  the world is running right by my window ( I’ll bet you’d see freaky stuff like dogs and Martians and monsters and spaceships and kids playing with Hula Hoops and yo-yos) and I finally  look up and notice and think for a minute maybe I should be out there…but then I look down and keep writing.

It all started when I was kid- the writing, the weird take on the world, me never fitting in anywhere or with anyone and not really getting it. I just thought that’s the way it was.

You got an idea or had a talent or a dream and you’d have to see it through alone.

I  learned that from my Grandparents.

So in my life story I’d be looking in a mirror, reflecting on my life and as you’d see me ageing back to that fearless little kid who was called  ‘ Baby Monster’  You’d hear this song- it represents my Grandparents who all passed on there love of Glen Miller to me.

So there it is, some of the songs that make up the soundtrack of my life.

Listening to these songs I’m thinking…it hasn’t been all together a bad ride.

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Three Little Things

:::HOLIDAILIES  PROMPT:::

For the next year, I resolve …

2016

I usually don’t get overly excited or sentimental when a New Year rolls around.

But for ’16 I’ve actually come up with some things I’d like to accomplish.

So here we go…

For starters, I want more sweetness in my life

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I don’t care if it’s food or the way I treat myself.

I want to be kinder to myself and to the people around around me.

But mostly myself I want to be sweeter to myself because I am so worth it.

Ha ha ha.

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I’ve got two writing projects I want to accomplish.

One involves my blogging- the other involves my book.

So that means between cupcake binges and getting my manicures and pedicures ( and I hereby resolve to do a whole lot more of THAT ) I want to focus, focus, focus on my writing.

I’m sure that one is on the top of my list and the reason why is simple.

I’ve seem a lot, I’ve done a lot and I have a lot to say.

And I love to tell stories, so this one should be do-able.

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I’m not sure if I hate mirrors or if I’m afraid of them.

It’s a little of both.

Mirrors creep me out.

So  this year I’m going to get over my hatred of mirrors.

I might even buy a few and pull my full length mirror out of my closet (it’s way in the back facing the wall ) and use it.

Baby steps. Baby steps. I’m not going to jump into that one fast.

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So here I go into 2016 with three little goals.

It should be an interesting ride.

amm

The Karma Bus Stops Here

crossroads guitar:::Holidailies Prompt:::

Your best experience getting rid of something

A few years ago I would have never dreamed of kicking anyone to the curb, no matter how much grief they had caused me.

I didn’t lay awake at night hoping people who had crossed me would find themselves chocking on cherry pit or sailing through a windshield.

I guess I believed in Karma in a very big way so I never let that anger eat it’s way into my soul. I never even let that fire or anger work it’s way into my stories.

I’d talk about a million and one cool ways I’d like to take revenge, but at the end of the day I just wouldn’t let myself feel it.

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I really believed that there was a price to be paid for that kind of thing, so I was careful what I wished for. 

Karma, I believed was like the Universe- it demands balance.

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And then one day I decided that this Karma thing is a bunch of hooey.

I’ve been watching people do whatever it takes to get themselves through the day.

You know how the Aztecs would haul people up and do thousands of human sacrifices a year?

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That’s nothing compared to the mischief, the meanness, the skullduggery the ” me first ” or  ” I DESERVE to be happy” spiel I hear before someone takes out a knife and jams it into the back of their friends or family members because, oh Hell, they don’t need a reason.

So what happens to these people?

Not an effing thing- they merrily go on using and hurting their nearest and dearest or their friends or anyone else who happens to be close at hand and despite the pain and obvious chaos they cause they don’t stop.

Ever.

Well.

I don’t believe in Karma anymore. I think its wishful thinking- that when we’ve been hurt or injured by someone Karma frees us so we can go our merry way because the Universe will sort them out.

So you don’t defend  yourself, you don’t ask for justice and you dare not wish for revenge.

I’ve come to the crossroads in my thinking, and I’m thinking it time to let that kind of thinking go.

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It’s a nice idea, a great concept but I’m not so sure it has a place in the real world.

Does it?

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2016

:::Holidailies Prompt:::

Recycling Christmas

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Every Christmas and every New Years I go into the season thinking it’s time to make a fresh start of it- expand on the good things, toss out the bad.

Celebrate it all and  move into the New Year open to whatever comes my way.

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Before she died my Aunt suffered from severe depression.

I remember I was watching her draw ( she was a very talented artist) and I was telling her how I was doing a lot of writing and I hoped to write books one day.

She looked so sad and she said, ” People in our family all had dreams and none of them ever came true.”

She died a year later.

That’s what her New Years brought her- despair, grief, sadness and death. I wish she could have known more then that in her 39 years of life.

When I think about ringing in the New Year, that anything is possible so why can’t that anything be great? I remember that last conversation with my Aunt and I wonder if I’m just fooling myself.

Is New Years is just another date that we face with all of the despair and pain and sadness from the year before. Or do we get a clean slate, a chance to start anew. 

I’m not sure.

I wish I was.

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Nothing To See Here…Let’s Move Along Folks

:::Holidailies Prompt:::

If you could invent any holiday, what would it be?

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There’s no getting around it.

I would have considered the Holiday Season incomplete without Halloween- so had there not been one I’d have brought it on.

See for yourself:

Getting out knives and carving up pumpkins and scooping their innards out into a gooshy pile on a plate and then roasting their seeds and planting the rest so the pumpkins run riot all over the front yard?

Check.

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Finding haunted houses full of ghosts and monsters and bodies buried in the backyard or in the basement  or stuffed in steamer trunks in the attic and then charging people to go in and look around.

You know- I’d actually have let them do that for free.

Anyway.

Check.

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Dressing up in costumes, celebrating the strange and the macabre and celebrating all things of the night- and for those hours after sunset not being afraid of the dark?

Check.

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The treats, the games and more treats and games-laughing far into the night with the faces we choose to wear, not the ones stamped on us by birth or  created by life’s left hook to your face.

Check.

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For one night, we can create or join mysterious rituals.

We can hold up a candle, pull open the door that separates the world from the living and the dead and peek through or walk through- move with the spirit or follow it.

The choice is yours.

Check.

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For one night we can romance the darkness, the mystery, the sweetness of Autumn

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Or run from it and win the race with whatever scares us the most

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Either choice is exciting

Double Check.

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Being that the Universe knew what it was doing when Halloween was invented I say Kudos- I would have just invented a riff on it- and why do that?

I love the one we have just as it is.

amm

 

Strange

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:::Holidailies Prompt:::

The strangest thing in the room.

Could the strangest thing in the room be the embalming tools I’ve collected over the years?

The Voodoo Dolls, the books about monsters, the mirrors that are doors and the doors that swing open and shut when nobody is in the room?

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Or maybe it could be the empty bottles of poison sitting on a shelf above my bed next to a picture of my cat, my dog, the old faded  picture of my first Christmas tree?

I’m not sure when the little bottles were drained dry

or why

or by whom.

I’d rather not know, would you?

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The  strangest thing could be the bones in the corner, or maybe the knife under the bed, the empty glass wrapped in a towel and hidden under the floorboards next to the window.

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I think I know, I’m sure I know,

The strangest thing in the room,

the darkest thing in the room

the thing that comes and goes like a nightmare on those long cold nights

is

Me.

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