Seamus Heaney, The Act of Union
I am an insurance agent. You are a writer. She is a physical therapist. He is a stay-at-home dad.
We have jobs to perform. We have careers to build. We have schedules to adhere to and meetings to attend. We meet deadlines, make appointments, and multitask our way through the days.
We navigate the hustle and bustle of society. We ride out the ebbs and flows of the economic system. We create trends, and then we buck them in favor of the next latest, greatest thing.
Some struggle to wade through the mundane hours of their workday. Others strive to climb the ladder and achieve new heights of career elevation. The luckiest of us grab ahold of that thing that sparks our passion and find a way to make both a living and a life with it.
Source: The Most Important Job
Classic Mysteries · by Les Blatt · November 24, 2015
The Mystery Writers of America has announced the names of the recipients of three of the organization’s top Edgar Awards for 2016. Walter Mosley will be named a Grand Master, for his lifetime achievements as a mystery writer. Editor Margaret Kinsman and the national organization Sisters in Crime will each be receiving the Raven Award, which “recognizes outstanding achievement in the mystery field outside the realm of creative writing.” And Janet Rudolph, the director of Mystery Readers International and editor of the Mystery Readers Journal, will receive The Ellery Queen Award, which honors “outstanding writing teams and outstanding people in the mystery-publishing industry.”
(Darn! They overlooked me again. But I’ll get them…..)
The Eternal Beginner
I am, I am, I am
On The Heath
where would-be writer works with words
A hopeless romantic, I spend most of my time reading, daydreaming and finding beauty in the nooks and crannies of city life. Being an armchair traveler (Read: Crazy BookWorm) I also carry an all-consuming Wanderlust in my heart that is yet to be realized. But for now, I live, love and write in Mumbai, the city where dreams come true. Writing is the ‘back story’ in my psychologist-by-day life but this blog is my wish and hope to turn that around.
SIER WICKED ROMANCER’S PERSUASIVE POETRY Golden Shellbacks Poetry in Life’s Platue
Focus on life there will always be problems in life. The person who makes it happen and tackles the problems head on the opportunity is only seen by the opportunist. The problem has presented to the person who makes it happen the opportunity is only made when the problem is the person who saw what happened… The person who makes it happen has the opportunity of the problem.Once a lifetime it’s the problems of a lifetime which are opportunitys of a lifetime that is the person who makes the opportunity of a lifetime every time he makes it happen.. The person who makes it happen loving a lifetime of opportunities allowing an dealing with the problems seeking the opportunity of a lifetime once an forever..
This person prepares for the extraordinary hardships and his destination is anything but ordinary this is an, €xtraordinary person!!
☆U N I V € R S € ★
INT€R 》°O ₩ N S £ € F°《 CONN€T€D
Pen’s broadcasting name
#poet poetry # Wicked Romancer
.#poet #poetry #Wicked #Romancer
JANUARY 15, 2015
The world is made of our perceptions.
Hey, how’s it going? I know some of you out there like my musings, I know others that probably think I’m insane. But I also know that I can’t quit being me.
Let me put this in perspective. I believe we shape our world. How we look, how everyone else sees us, is all based on our perceptions. And the labels that come with that perception shapes us.
Before age four, I was skinny as a rail. You could count my ribs. And then I had my tonsils removed. I can still hear the doctors voice as he said it. “Your son might put on weight after this surgery.” Before I heard those words, you would have looked at me and thought malnourished before obese. And then the weight began to pack on.
At age six, I was told I was fat. Everyone told me so. Students, teachers, other random people. Rather than fight the perspective I embraced it. In so doing my size changed in my perspective.
So, I grew. People came up with jokes to tease me about being fat, I came up with better ones. I used their weapons as a shield and in so doing I made lifestyle choices that made me fat. All my choices, all in how I perceived myself.
Kurt Brindley is an award-winning* author who likes to write stuff for you to read. Here, you can purchase his books for a small fee and peruse his short stories, poetry, articles, photography, and drawings all at a cost of nothing more than your invested time. However, if you feel a little guilty about getting stuff for free (meaning you’re probably a Gen-Xer or before), you are more than welcome to donate a little something for his efforts. On the other hand, if you feel a little outraged for having to have to purchase something (meaning you’re probably a Millennial or after), then send him an email through the Contact page and request/demand a copy of one of his books and he’ll send you one — for free. All he asks in return is for you to tell all of your friends on all of your social networks and everyone else via an Amazon Review how sublime and five-star-worthy his writing is.
via KURT BRINDLEY.
Another construction site pumping out noise and dust.
SITES AND AIMS: Not much noise and dust was pumped out of this construction site in 2010. The year sure didn’t go down like it looked like it would. It started with a first online publication in January followed by a second one in February. Seemed like the beginning of a roll. But I changed jobs and there was only time to work at staying ahead of the work. And yet, it’s been the most rewarding year. So for 2011, I’ll order up some more of that. And I’ll write stories when I can because it’s thrill.
Happy New Year!
A BIT ABOUT ME: I was raised in the USA, in New England, with dreams of big cities and Dixie, of salt water and beaches. So I hit the bottom of the Bible Belt and ended up spending the majority of my years there working up a sweat—working menial jobs, working out, working on a college degree, and finally, working a big fat telecom career. Now I’m back, way high up north, because I need to be close to the border.
“I found myself on the other side of the door and at the top of a precipice.
Now I find myself at the beginning of the story. The destruction is all I can see. The destruction would be the end of the story, but in reality, it’s just the beginning.
Here’s the rest of my story…”
Mark Gardner, September 26, 2014
The Beginnings Project came about from Mark Gardner’s desire to try his hand at stream of consciousness writing, not with ink on paper as Laurence Sterne did in the 1700’s, but with an old typewriter, as James Joyce and other modernist novelists have done using that narrative mode.
Using an old typewriter can mean everything from simply connecting with a writing device of old—and any number of connotations that may accompany—to attributing mystical properties to it that allow for the release of stories pent up within it.
Yes, Gardner’s got a great voice and style but what if it was the typing of “Beginnings” on an old 1949 Remington Quiet-Riter that made it everything from merely special to something akin to Aladdin’s lamp?
What it is
A collaborative writing project that began fortuitously and is perpetuated haphazardly.
Tons more at http://missalister.wordpress.com/2014/11/06/go-ahead-jump/
THE CHALK OUTLINE
the blog home of mystery writer Jeff Markowitz
I’m a writer. You would think I could write one of these “About” pages, but I never know what it is that I want you to know about me. Some of you already know me, at least virtually. Still a proper introduction is in order.
My name is Jeff Markowitz and I’m a mystery writer, author of three books (so far) in the Cassie O’Malley series. I also have a darkly comic mystery/thriller, Death and White Diamonds scheduled to be released December 15, 2014. For more information, follow the links to MY BOOKS, and to EVENTS AND APPEARANCES.
I blog about ideas and events that may be of interest to other readers and writers. There will be some blatant self-promotion, but I promise not to overdo it. There will be occasional visits from my dead Romanian ancestors, from space aliens intent on conquering the world with irradiated jello and perhaps from a certain earless pig. There may even be Siamese triplets. We shall see.
Death and White Diamonds(coming from Intrigue Publishing December 15, 2014)
Did you ever have one of those days? You know the kind, when nothing seems to go right?
Richie’s girlfriend suggests a romantic getaway, promising him a week-end he will never forget. So why can’t he remember what happened, when he finds her lifeless body on the beach? Richie is fairly certain he didn’t kill his girlfriend, but his memory is hazy. One thing, however, is clear. When Lorraine’s body is found, he’s going to be the prime suspect in a murder investigation.
If her body is found.
Disposing of the body turns out to be harder than Richie could have imagined. Losing it, however, is easy.
Did you ever have one of those days? And we haven’t even gotten to the bad part yet.
Books in the Cassie O’Malley Mystery Series
Who is Killing Doah’s Deer?
Cassie O’Malley writes stories about “everything out of the ordinary” for a barely reputable magazine. When the deer in Doah Township begin dying in large numbers under mysterious circumstances, Cassie is on the story. But when she discovers a dead body among the deer, she is thrust into the middle of a murder investigation. Before the murder can be solved, Cassie must sort fact from fiction as she is confronted with questions of local politics, marital infidelity, Pine Barrens folklore, Siamese triplets, sea monsters, pterodactyls, plesiosaurs and the elusive Jersey Devil, leaving Cassie finally to grapple with the question, Who Is Killing Doah’s Deer?
available in paperback and E-book editions
GLOBAL ISSUES, TRAVEL, PHOTOGRAPHY & FASHION. DRIFTING ACROSS THE GLOBE; THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER, MY OYSTER THROUGH A LENS.
Survival of the fittest is everything- so the saying goes and so we witnessed as indigenous North Americans were wiped out by smallpox and underdeveloped weaponry following the English invasion. Aborigines were to share a similar fate and in 1789 an imported bout of smallpox was to kill 90% of the Darug people and of the 400 indigenous languages spoken prior to British colonization, 330 would die with their people. Today most Aborigines speak the language of their colonizers and only 70 indigenous languages remain, making up 0.7% of languages spoken in Australia. North Americans and Australians were of course not the only victims facing down the barrel of British Colonial power, China was to lose its nation to opium addiction as the British smuggled opium to the East in reaction to China’s self-sufficiency and banning of western goods and under the British Raj, India too was to lose its trading power to the British as only British government members were permitted control over salt production.
Mindy Ogg is a writer, a daydreamer, a creator of worlds… She is a breast cancer survivor and a mental health advocate and consumer. Interests include new age and classical music, butterflies, nature, sci-fi, technology to include Apple products, and humor. To her, butterflies signify hope. And she’ll be the first to tell you laughter is the best medicine!
Welcome! The choices I gave myself for a blog were Tumblr and WordPress. So here I am. It’s nothing fancy but it fits me well. It doesn’t need to be too elegant at this time since I will only be writing a few times a week, if that often. My blog can be found at MindyOgg.com. Simple! I’ve fallen in love with Twitter, and find I need a place to expand on my thoughts and share with others that take up more than 120 characters.
Some of us had a blast this last Friday night! People were frantically replying, tweeting, retweeting, favoriting, reading blogs, eating cake, the ladies fighting over men… Sue, aka @homenotalone even went to ask her husband for permission! Quite fascinating actually! It was grand! All in jest of course. (wink)
I hope to meet more wonderful people on Twitter. @FantasmaDivine broke the 1K follow record in just a week! And here I thought I was doing well with 310 followers in 4 weeks. (Mindy says, as she glares over at @FantasmaDivine) I’m still defining myself I guess. I like having a smaller following for now.
Oh and there is Odell aka @DellDracula who likes to suck the life out of Dell computers. Actually I find that Dell sucks the life out of me. I’m about to buy a MacBook Pro. But don’t you know? The new MacBook Pro with Retina display doesn’t have a Kensington lock slot on these theft magnets! Oh well. Should I still get one? What was Apple thinking?
What can be expected from my blog in the future, you ask? Perhaps I’ll expand on some creative ideas (top secret) that hopefully will lead to a book of fantasy fiction, full of imagination and intrigue. Interested in the supernatural or the paranormal? Stay tuned. While other posts will have to do with breast cancer as I am a cancer survivor, and also mental health as I am a mental health advocate and consumer.
But I hope to make things interesting here on WordPress. Perhaps I’ll echo back a little of what I’m learning from Jackson aka @Jackson_D_Chase about Twitter and writing. He’s over there on the other side of the fence. No ladies! Not that fence! Do not fret. He’s over at Tumblr. Jackson is the guy all the ladies were fighting over the other night. So Jackson, I hope you are recovering okay. Did you eat all that cake all by yourself?
With much love, fun, and hugs, everybody.
It’s that time of year again. Young or old, be sure to do routine self-exams of your breasts, make that annual appointment with your doctor, and get your routine mammograms. I was one of the lucky ones who’s breast cancer was caught early via a mammogram. A routine screening mammogram found something which required a followup diagnostic mammogram. Thereafter I had a double stereotactic biopsy on my right breast.
I had to wait 10 days from the day of the biopsies for the test results. On July 21, 2010 at 10:20 AM, I received the call from my doctor telling me I have been diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC). In less than 2 weeks, I had blood work, a mammogram on my healthy breast, an MRI on both, a CT Scan, a bone scan, a lymph node survey, and a PET scan. I needed a PET scan because my surgeon said there were lesions on my bones. Yikes! Thankfully, the PET scan showed no evidence of cancer. Breast cancer can be deadly when it spreads to your bones, brain, lungs, or liver.
On August 30, 2010, I had a bilateral mastectomy to remove both breasts and two lymph nodes. As it turned out, no lymph nodes were involved. If there had been involvement, it would have been easier for the cancer to spread to more distant sites in the body via the lymphatic system. My staging was determined to be Stage I. So I was one of the lucky ones.
I’m a writer and reader of fiction and live in Auckland, New Zealand.
While I have dabbled in non-fiction from time to time, my true love is crafting exciting stories that interest and move me. And hopefully have a similar impact on readers!
I mainly write fantasy and contemporary fiction and have had some short works published. I’m working on having a novel published too.
I was recently re-elected to the committee of SpecFicNZ, an organistion for writers of speculative fiction here in New Zealand. I am now the Treasurer, also known as the Unnamed Dragon.
In my day job, I’m a Fieldworker for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, and provide education, information, advocacy and support for people living with neuromuscular conditions.
I live with my beautiful partner, who is also a writer, and a somewhat neurotic siamese cat. The cat doesn’t write.
Phantom Feather Press is soon to release “The Best of Twisty Christmas Tales”. This anthology features stories from renowned writers Joy Cowley, David Hill, and Dave Freer. It also features my story, “Albert and the Christmas Fairy”.
My short story, “Recession” is one of those in the
anthology for charity project, “Baby Teeth: Bite-sized Tales of Terror”.
“Baby Teeth” is the winner of the 2014 Sir Julius Vogel Award for best collected work.
Check out a prize-winning example of my writing at www.wilywriters.com
“Wearing the Star Cloak” won the Wily Writers competition and
was nominated for the 2013 SJV Awards.
Or get a copy of Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine issue 49 to read my
SJV Award nominated story, “The Interview”.
The following is an excerpt from a short story about a young man from Atlanta. His first job after graduation from high school was with the Greater Atlantic Life Insurance Company. It was 1940 and jobs were scarce the pay poor; he would get to keep one-dollar for every policy he sold. His territory…the Appalachian Mountains. He did not know that the daughter of a potential buyer would be the wildest thing he would ever encounter in his life. It is a work of fiction based on real people and circumstances.
Andrew Pritchett walked two miles to reach the run-down shacks in the Tennessee foothills that edged the Georgia state line; he sold burial insurance. He knocked hard on the rough pine boards of the door, scrapped his knuckles, wiped the blood on his pants leg, stepped back and looked at the rotting porch, barrels for sitting, a can for tobacco spitting and a mangy dog swarmed by tiny black flies. Suddenly a gigantic body filled the opening of the doorway. Moody Cahill wiped his mouth; relocated tobacco scum to the front of his patched overalls and returned his hand to the barrel of a shotgun.
“Mr. Cahill,” Andrew stuck out a trembling hand as he choked back the smell and disgust at the sight of the man he desperately wanted to sell something.
“Your neighbor down the hill, a Mr. Ragsdale said that you might be interested in some burial insurance.”
New Author -Carole Parkes
Psychological, thriller, mystery, secrets, betrayal, adoption, romance, poetry, art
A big “Hello” to everyone inquisitive enough to visit my home page; it’s great to meet you. I hope you’ll stay long enough to visit my other pages on Short Stories, Art Work, Poetry, My Blog, and of course Tissue of Lies my first novel.
I intend to make this blog-site a mixture of articles, short stories and poetry. The articles will vary and will encompass life experiences, news items and interesting pieces I’ve re-blogged from other people. You’ll see from my posts that I have a wide interest range, so I hope you’ll join with me and follow me into my blogging adventure. Together, it could be a an enjoyable ride.
I’m not sure if I should plug my book here but what the heck, “nothing ventured, nothing gained” is what they say, so here goes.
“TISSUE OF LIES”
This Kindle E-book is only available from Amazon.
**** Caravancath, 8th april 2013
This book is an enjoyable read. Keeps you engrossed till the end. I can not wait till your next book.
***** Nicola Squares, 11th April 2013
Fantastic book. Very gripping and original. Really enjoyed it. It’s a shame it isn’t out in paperback as I’d like to buy it for my mum to read. Well done Ms Parkes.
**** Robbie, 31st May 3013
A thriller of a story enclosed in many tangled lies.
The author slowly weaves the lies, entangles her main characters within their threads and reveals the consequences and outcomes with a few twists to her plot.
I have already encouraged two more purchases to friends that l know will fully enjoy this story and would recommend this to anyone who has a fascination with the weight a lie could carry. An enjoyable read.
**** Michelle Cooper, 2nd June 2013
A well thought out story.
This is a really great story, with many twists and turns, the characters are good and the story flows along nicely, my only gripe knocking off a star for this reason is that towards the end the character Jeanette, all of a sudden became Jean, and it became frustrating, there are also a few repeated words within the book and a few silly mistakes e.g site instead of sight, I do not want to seem picky, and would not put anyone off reading the book because of this as it is a good read, it just needs a further proof read.
NB From the Author – Carole Parkes.
I have taken note of this helpful review and re-edited and re-published “TISSUE OF LIES”.
NB please be aware that all stories, artwork and poetry are my own exclusive work and are subject to copyright laws.
“TISSUE OF LIES”
Julie Simpson always had a vague suspicion that the dear couple who’d raised her, were not her real parents. To her horror, she discovers not only are her fears well founded, but unbelievably, this same couple had somehow been involved with stealing her when she’d been just a baby.
Julie longs to find out the truth but she’s reluctant to start anything that might end up with her beloved parents being prosecuted for her abduction; she loves them and wants to protect them. Ultimately however, the need to know her origins wins and secretly, she searches out her real parents and forms a bond with them. Owing to the necessity to protect her mum and dad, it’s a relationship formed on lies.
Julie’s husband John, in on the secret, fears there is something odd about her new-found parents, particularly her birth mother Jeanette, who strikes him as being insincere. However, the uncanny resemblance between her and his wife Julie, quickly brings him around; they look so alike he cannot doubt they are mother and daughter. As their relationship deepens and they all become more comfortably at ease, John’s fears evaporate completely.
Perhaps he would have been wiser to heed his instincts, for all is not as it seems; there is something odd about Jeanette. Even her husband Arthur begins to notice her changing. Yet even he is totally ignorant of the conniving lengths she is preparing to go to wreak her revenge. Surprisingly, her revenge is not toward her daughter’s abductors; there is another, even older score she wishes to settle. A tale of lies, deceit, greed, revenge and much more.
Austin Burke “-AB“- 20. Pre-med with a minor in Philosophy. Easily Distracted.
Alex Drozd “-AD“- 20. Ex Music Major. Bad at music.
Robin Williams has been one of my favorite actors since I was a kid. I remember there was one year where I rewound my VHS tape and watched the movie Hook every single day. I absolutely loved that movie, along with What Dreams May Come and World’s Greatest Dad. He will be missed.
It is suspected at this current moment that the actor took his own life. This is a reminder that depression can hide in those we’d least expect to be diagnosed. Be kind and offer help to everyone you come across in life. You never know what they might be going through.
The Next World
A short story about a fictional tribe of fictional people
Lakmi walked up the hill heading towards Angad, the tribe leader who performed what the tribe called “the journey”. The journey, it was believed, began when the spirit left the body and went into the next world, a place of joy. This was where Lakmi was about to go.
Angad was waiting for Lakmi at the top of the hill next to a large stone. He greeted Lakmi with a smile. “Are you ready?” he asked, “You must be very proud. Your firstborn-son is now a man and his future looks very bright.”
“Master Angad, I have some questions about the journey” said Lakmi, “Must I go now?”
“Why what do you mean Lakmi? It is the time to go.”
Lakmi’s eyes drifted from Angad’s. Uneasy at the tribe leaders stare Lakmi replied, “There are many places in this world I’ve yet to explore. The other hunters and I were discussing this, they share some of the same thoughts.”
“Lakmi, you and those other hunters sound like madmen. Why would you be thinking about this world when you are so close to seeing the glory of the next one?”
“Will I ever be able to come back and see the rest of this one?” asked Lamki, ignoring the question, “Why is it that no one ever comes back?”
Angad laughed out loud, “Lakmi, my fellow man, why would you even think about coming back to this world, when you know the joy that awaits you in the next one? No one ever comes back because they are enjoying themselves in the next world! They don’t even think about leaving it, especially not for this one!”
“I suppose you’re right” said Lakmi, “But Master Angad, I have another question.”
“Another, Lakmi? I fail to see why you are concerned with asking questions. The time for your journey has come! Much joy awaits you. You are a respected member of the tribe and you have served it well. You will be leaving us with a very fine young man, your son, to take your place. This is the order of things and you have always known this.”
“Please, just a few more questions.”
words will be jut words, until you bring them to life
Stranger. What is stranger for us? Someone who you don’t know, stranger is the person who you’re sitting next to in the bus, air plane, sometimes stranger is the person you’re living next to. Basically they know nothing about you, and you know nothing about them. But eventually there are so many people that consider them as friends, there are a lot of people that know your story but when you need them they aren’t here. They say don’t trust to strangers, they will hurt you. But the one thing they didn’t tell me is that a stranger can become your everything. That stranger you’re going to trust with your life, will be here for you every time you need, and the most important thing of all is that you will love that stranger no matter what. I’m not talking about boy and girl relationship. No, this text is about how one girl become my best friend. We’ve never met each other, yet we feel like we know for years. We can relay and trust without considering if we’re doing bad think. It’s been almost a year and I feel like I know her forever. We are like one soul trapped in two bodies. She isn’t stranger for me, but she was 8 months ago I didn’t know her but now she is the person I have most trust in. I know that this kind of friendships is very hard to find and harder to preserve but I’m going to do all in my power. I want to be the first person that is going to say ‘Happy Birthday my little angel’ so here I am writing this text that is for you. Thank you for all you’ve done, I wish you all luck on this planet, your dreams reality and that next year we are going to celebrate together.
Very Frazzetta. (and that’s a high compliment)
Just a quick update as to the novella project entitled: ‘THE HOPETELLER’. This is a combination of post-apocalyptic journal and fairy tale. Well, I just finished it and now it’s up to editing and cover art. Both should be done by the end of the month, so I’m hoping for a June 1st debut. This isn’t going to be a promotional thing like my novels, but I’ll try to put together a cover reveal if I can. I will probably post it for opinions to see what needs to be fixed up. Anyway, here is the blurb that I wrote up for it:
Humanity has been driven into the wilderness by the ‘Invaders’. They have been forced to live as colonies in the wilderness where survival is a daily struggle. Hope becomes harder and harder to hold onto as the years pass.
Then one day, a young…
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I love Ubisoft
Ubisoft’s new RPG,Child of Light, is a beautiful game which uses its watercolor inspired backgrounds, rhyming dialogue, and whimsical characters to create the ambiance of a new fairy tale. The visuals are so fantastic that I felt like I was immersed within a painting. As I traveled through the fantasy world, I would actually explore to experience the amount of detail that was crafted within all visual elements of the game. Only screenshots, or better yet playing the game, can justify how much of a visual piece of art Child of Light is.
The emergence of indie games, and a new respect for the classics, has taught us that graphics do not always create good games. As a community mostly comprised of writers, we deeply understand the value of the story. Child of Light uses rhyming dialogue to tell the bulk of its narrative. This form helps to…
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Apollo was a great archer, but sometimes he was a little full of himself. One day he caught sight of Eros, Aphrodite´s son. Eros was also an archer, and his arrows were responsible for instilling the twists and turns of love and lust in a person’s heart. Apollo teased young Eros, putting down his abilities as an archer, claiming that one so small could make no difference with his arrows.
The insulted Eros took two arrows, one tipped in gold, one blunted and tipped with lead
With the leaden shaft, to incite hatred, he shot the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river and god Peneus.
With the golden one, to incite love, he shot Apollo through the heart.
Apollo was seized with love for the maiden, Daphne, and she in turn abhorred him. In…
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Im just a damsel, coincidentally destined with distress. And I think I’ll start writing.
I don’t speak not because I’m afraid but because in my mind is a chaos of thoughts..never to be fathomed into one decent idea. I hate to watch people believe in impossibilities but when I talk and tell them that life IS full of possibilities, I don’t want the fingers to be pointed at me when the man jumps off the bridge believing he could fly. I refuse to share a piece of my complexity for it may be too dull that no one would ever stay and hear me out.
I am not deaf to society’s pleads for help and peace. It’s just that I don’t want to start agreeing with everything that it just comes down to me believing in nothing at all. I know that people suffer from poverty. I know that world hunger is a huge problem. I know that global warming is buzzing everyone around. I am aware, but I don’t want to speak.
I don’t want to join a bandwagon of people sharing and liking photos on Facebook praying and hoping that each like and share can suddenly modify its cyber molecules and turn into food that can feed the poor or shelter that can save the homeless or medicine that could save the dying.
I dont want to be a mindless zombie trying to follow the trends of society..simply looking out for where the meat and brains are.
Instead, I want to take action. Because people often judge words before they see the kind of action these words may come to. I want to help. And maybe I can. And I don’t have to speak. I’ll let my hands dive into society’s vast ocean of malfunctioning brains and plant seeds upon them.
I’ll stop laying around the couch and maybe run a marathon to save cancer kids. I’ll turn off my lights for the Earth hour stuff. Maybe even donate my old stuff to charities. I could maybe study more so that one day I won’t be one of those Filipinos that go abroad thinking they’re modern day heroes by bringing dollars back to the country..maybe I’ll stay and share in the burden of my country. Dear reader, I know it sounds cliche..something one would write to win an essay contest. And for a 16-year old its far too impossible. But who says it can’t come true?
Dear reader, I want to be a someone someday. I think I’ll start by believing and taking a step forward. Are you with me?
..and he stole me.
Why is it that life teaches us to run so fast before it can ever slow down. So that on the days when we finally get the hang of it, life ruins us. We trample. We crash. We burn.
I am not your Cinderella. I don’t fit the shoe. But you loved me anyway. Because like Sleeping Beauty, I was a maiden stuck in my dreams, never to be touched by reality, and never to be messed with by nightmares of horrible creatures. But you showed me the beauty of the world. You let me take a bite of the apple..like Snow White did. You watched me sink my teeth into the vast impossibilities of the universe before you told me it all contained poison. YOU LIAR.
And when I realized my stupidities, you watched me wrap myself in fear and lock myself up in the tower. Then you called upon me. “Oh fair damsel of the wretched tower, let down your hair for I shall show you the stars tonight.”
For all we thought it was a night of valor… I let you in… but you left right after I fell. YOU CHEATER.
And so now outside my castle is a dragon for one to be brave enough to defeat. But more importantly, it protects me from all the unworthy knights of your kind. Please dear one, I am fragile and I can only take so little cracks before my mind tells me to grab the blade.
All love ever did was break and burn and end.
So dear love who claims he can love me more, will you slay the dragon, will you save me- a damsel in distress?
I’m Mark, a nineteen year old middle class individual who enjoys writing and hails from that funny little island that ruled most of the world once (Britain). I’m sure you knew to which collection of nations I was referring there, but sadly I feel that everything must be explained on the internet, I’ve read youtube comments.
Much like everyone else, there are various things I enjoy: Football, Cricket, Squash (the sport, not the drink), photography, writing, watching TV, listening to music, and using the Oxford comma.
I also have an appearance, again, much like the majority of humans. I won’t go into that though, I don’t want to entirely bore you. Anyway, That’s enough info about me, enjoy the blog!
People tend to have themes for their blogs in order to help gain a base of readers who have similar interests. They may base them on what they know a lot about, a blog will not often stray far from what that person would choose as their specialist subject on Mastermind. One of my friends writes largely about Halo or Doctor Who, having written reviews, case studies, and analyses of both. He can do this well because he knows both subjects pretty much inside out. If I were to follow a similar tack, you’d be reading an in depth study of the different themes and characters of Scrubs. Likely to have less of a pull I wager.
Another reason for a theme in a blog is to direct the posts. If you have a theme, you know what you’re writing about. If this was a blog full of reviews of television shows, then I’d watch a new programme, and then proceed to pick holes in the plot, or the casting, or the direction, costume and lighting before ending the post by abhorring the show and pleading with my readers not to watch it, unless of course it is so bad it’s actually quite entertaining. That’s how most objective reviews of things seem to go, people love being critical, and it gives others something to moan about, everybody wins. Maybe if I had a political blog I’d scour The Times to find the latest parliamentary debate and then articulate everything that’s wrong with our government, topping my article with a thick layer of doom and just a sprinkling of gloom. Unless of course it was the Jam Debate that had been hotly contested in recent days, then I could just copy John Finnemore’s satirical overview of it from The Now Show, changing it slightly and aiming it at a different demographic in the hope I’d be able to revel in the praise truly due to Mr. Finnemore. In that case maybe I’d add a little political cartoon, to separate my blog from the hoi polloi of political-ish blogs. What is a political blog without a shred of whimsy?
Rather than meticulously planning my blog theme, or even stumbling upon a theme as I wrote, I’ve ended up with a stuttering, confused blog that spans Instagram, through history, to politics and even a fanciful imagination of archaeology in the future. Even though when my friend and I were discussing this issue prior to starting blogs I had an idea that it would consist of ill-defined ‘rants’ about the social or political issues of the day, that lack of a concrete base has led to the coma my blog has descended into in recent weeks. Anyway, hopefully now it’s woken up for a while, probably should’ve used that time to conceive a theme. Oh well.
Music. There’s a lot to it. Some of it is incredible, some of it is terrible, the terrible stuff is incredible and the incredible stuff is terrible. Such is the paradox created by the opinions of people. The same piece of music can be reviled, worshipped, and ignored simultaneously. That all means that nothing I or anyone else can say about music is right or wrong, true or false. There’s probably some types of music you enjoy, there are some I enjoy, and our opinions are as valid as each other, as are those of anyone else. With that in mind, I’d like to take just a few minutes to compare 4 artists. The first comparison is one that’s been made before, much to many people’s horror; The Beatles vs One Direction. The second will be equally as appalling to many; Justin Bieber vs David Bowie.
Firstly, The Beatles and One Direction. The Beatles had millions of die-hard screaming fans, One Direction have millions of die-hard screaming fans. That’s an obvious similarity. The Beatles were pioneering, changing the face of music as we know it, One Direction are, erm, apparently very good looking. The Beatles formed in school before working hard off their own backs prior to being discovered, One Direction were put together by Simon Cowell after each was deemed not good enough to be a solo singer. One Direction sing (but don’t write) some very catchy songs. The Beatles wrote and played some catchy songs too, but clearly lacked One Direction’s creativity and ability to tell stories through music. Lady Madonna’s all well and good, but did she ever know she’s beautiful? McCartney told Jude he was “Made to go out and get her” but he left out some vital advice – how could he not tell him to live while he’s young?! A real blunder from Paul there.
Both bands have become massively popular across the Atlantic, and One Direction are probably close to being as big as The Beatles. In fact Harry Styles reckons they’ll be bigger than them, and subsequently, bigger than Jesus. That’s quite a claim, Harry, and you’re a moron for making it. You may think that’s a bit harsh to Harry, but no, that’s an unbelievably ridiculous thing to say. The Beatles transformed music. One Direction haven’t even dented it.
Justin Bieber’s quite the phenomenon. He’s got millions of fans, most of them 12 year old girls, but fans nonetheless. He’s a singer-songwriter who’s famous worldwide. David Bowie is also a world-renowned singer-songwriter. They’ve both had tremendous chart success, Bieber’s Baby was a huge hit, Bowie has hit the top of the charts a few times himself. But Life on Mars? Has nothing on Bieber’s work. Bieber’s songs are so evocative, so powerful, so inspiring! He sings about real things, not alien rock stars and spiders from Mars, what were you on about Bowie?
Maybe Bieber’s been listening to Bowie though, he’s definitely made some Changes and he’s even dabbled in drugs, a signature Bowie move. However, moving back to sincerity for a minute, Bowie is one of the real legends of music. His constant reinvention allowed him to stay at the top for years, and his latest release showed the power he continues to yield, leading him to be named as one of the 100 most powerful people in media. Bieber is a temperamental teen whose ego far exceeds his musical ability and who’s contributed less to music than Jimi Hendrix’s appendix. He’s led millions of preteens to believe that meaningless pop drivel is the pinnacle of music and his antics show that he’s not worthy of the adoration he receives. As far as a comparison between Bieber and Bowie goes, it’s like refusing to use a Macbook pro and instead showering praise and admiration on an Amstrad CPC 464. Sorry to bring my own personal bias into this, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave my views on Bieber and One direction even slightly ambiguous. If you do listen to Bieber and One Direction, fine, each to their own, but if you’ve not given the likes of Bowie, The Beatles and Hendrix a chance, I implore you to do so.
By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA
Consultant, Strategist, and Writer
I am on the passenger side,
Daydreaming to the sky
The day’s bright and full of life.. then
In a mile, I caught your sight
My heart starts beating triple times
The thing that I don’t know why
And the bus stopped for a while
Not long you’re in the seat behind
The music starts playing love songs
I get notion to have conversation
I love your eyes put in my direction,
I find my heart set in motion
We talk and talk while the road seems stretched,
The time runs slow till I reached my place
All was fantasy, I never noticed,
You wake me up, all eyes on my face.
(I wrote this poem from an experience when I was in a bus and caught sight of another passenger who had me wonderstruck! Well, other than that, I also have a deeper meaning with this poem!)
On a personal note, I love the outdoors, comedy, bbq, reading and traveling. I worked in the beer industry in college so I love talking about good beer. I used to be a competitive runner so (like all runners) if you make the mistake of asking me, I’ll tell you about my entire career and PRs. I also spent my youth working in restaurants, so if you’ve done the same, we can swap stories.
Mihran Kalaydjian, A proven ability to articulate a company’s brand culture as well as key strategic initiatives and delivery of desired results. Outstanding leadership, communications and project management skills. A committed individual with strong organizational skills that believes leading by example is key to building a strong team to achieve high guest satisfaction results and cost control measures.
Mihran Kalaydjian provides visionary leadership and management oversight of the sales, marketing and revenue strategies for Classic Hotels and Resorts.
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
‘Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
‘Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell’d, when the sun was bright
I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
‘Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- ’twas the chilly wind
Came o’er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe’er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.
I have been happy, tho’ in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.
Desert Artist & Coloring Book Illustrator.
There are no foxes here
Where Love blossoms...
Comfort food for the soul from a time when things were so much simpler...
Editor and publicist for my author wife Michelle McMurrie. Michelle is transgender and wrote her current books under her previous name of Michael Pugh.
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share YOUR favourite tunes with The Mob
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If poetry be the food for love, pen on.
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