Write whatever comes to your mind about yourself.
A Love-Hate relationship, in a way. I love doing it, but hate NOT doing it. The problem is that there are times when I just don't really have anything interesting or insightful to say. Then, the blog kind of dies and I feel guilty about it. On the other hand, sometimes I have occasion to look back at some posts from months before, and think "Wow, I wrote THAT". So, more than anything else, blogging has given me the opportunity to pound out some interesting thoughts that otherwise would have been lost in the noise-filled echo-chamber that is my brain nowadays.
Oh how I wish I could!!!!! I am told that I am a great storyteller, and I so wish that I had the ability to translate that to paper (or ether). My brain is full of so many interesting stories, mostly of the people I have worked with, and interesting things (at least to me) that I have had the chance to see and do. Since I read the first chapter of All Creatures Great and Small, I thought that it (and it's three companion volumes) was the greatest book ever written. I'm no James Herriott, but I think I might be able to make a few people laugh, or at least giggle.
Art is beautiful. Art is beauty. It is all around us. Everywhere, it seems, except those places where "modern man" intentionally tries to create it. Art takes time, both to create and appreciate, maybe that's why it is so rare in our world any more. This is true in the Catholic Church in the extreme. It appears that any art found nowadays is cookie-cutter 1970 minimalist. It all ha the appearance of a conscious effort to be "cutting edge", the problem being that the style was about 8 years past "cutting edge" in 1970 when it became the catholic norm. But I suppose the boomer generation, secure in their knowledge that everything they do is by definition the ultimate achievement, is unable to learn that the world has moved on.
4- crazy dreams.
I have been known to have some wild ones, on rare occasions leading to physical action. One time, I had a dream about getting into a fight with my former employer, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and shook him while screaming "You Son of a Bitch" over and over. The dream ended when my panicked (and previosly sleeping wife woke me up, as I actually, in my sleep, had HER by the nightgown, shaking her and saying the same thing!!!
I miss them so much. I went to catholic school toward the end of the "mean nun" era. I had a few hard cases, but most were kind, firm, guiding. My daughter is in Catholic school (a GOOD one), and it breaks my heart to see her there without the whole platoon of nuns around. There is a retired nun (a real one, in a real habit) who still often is at the school in the mornings, either to visit or to help out, I'm not sure, and her very PRESENCE on the school grounds changes the whole atmosphere of the place. And I pray - every day - that my daughters, or at least one of them, gets the call.
Love to listen to it, love to sing it - LOUD. Damn near any kind. But I have to be careful - very careful - because it can define my mood and attitude. I can drive myself into a real depression by listening to to much melancholy music.
I always wanted to be "normal", but never have been. Nowadays, since normal seems to be defined as a herd of starbucks coffee sipping SUV driving pretentious yuppies, I no longer have the desire to be "normal". On the other hand, now that I live in a real subdivision, I find that I can't fire up the grill or mow the lawn without the Monkees' song Pleasant Valley Sunday coming into my head!
Thanks CC, for the Meme, and for waking me up. I needed that.