the prompt is rhythmic. repetitive. I really enjoyed swinging as a child. well now that I think about it, anything that happened over and over again. I had one of those plastic horses on springs. I would fall asleep on it. I rocked myself to sleep overnight until my grandmother saw me do it and told me that only babies rock themselves to sleep. My mother would leave my sister and I at day care so that she could golf. I would walk around in a circle over and over again. A teacher asked me once if I had to go to the bathroom. There was a small playground behind on of our houses when I was growing up. My favorite thing to do was to go there and swing back and forth. I would sing Neil Diamond Song Sung Blue to myself.
when I was around seven I lived in a two story brick house on a small hill on locust lane in Bethesda Maryland. I set up a little private place for myself behind the furnace in the basement.there was a small wooden chair. I would sit there and have milk and graham crackers.
I was going to do a daily prompt but then I decided to just put my fingers to the keyboard. I was going to say pen to paper but I have terrible writing and who writes anymore anyway. well I am sure some do. I am writing a food diary. That reminds me that I have to put in my entry for yesterday. I have developed this unsightly rash on my face. It is swollen and red. I have had this on and off over the years but over the past few days it seems to all of the time. My doctor says it is Rosacea. Maybe it is. The medication she gave me seems to make it worse. I think I will go off all medications and supplements. So far I have given up gluten and sugar. Alcohol finally got dropped two days ago. That is extremely difficult for me. Dairy was dropped yesterday. What really do I have to live for now? Tea without milk and honey is a hardly worth drinking. My husband thinks it is from our Poodle. I shouldn’t pet him he is telling me. Not pet my poodle?Not snuggle and hug?I think I am depressed. My face feels like a balloon and I want to scratch it all of the time. What did I do to deserve this. There has to be a reason. I just have to figure it out. Heal thyself my sister has told me in the past, for various other ailments.
via Daily Prompt: Blur
I have to get started writing again, so I will start with the prompt. I don’t have to get started writing but I want to so this is the first step. I have not done anything creative in some time. Maybe it is the winter doldrums. Now that finally the sun is out and it is a bit warmer and I am even hearing birds sing, it is time to get going again. I have not painted. I have not collaged. Although I did do a bit at Christmas. Oh this is supposed to be about blur. I have no idea. The lines are blurred. It can be this or it can be that. I can be taken several ways. My opinions are often swayed when I hear different points of view. Sexuality is blurred. Anything goes. Gender is blurred. A picture out of focus. It has been photoshopped and often it looks better that way. Stylized. Google pictures offer to stylize my pictures. Just like that.
So I read some other entries on the word for the day mythical. It might have been yesterday. I am often a day off and I am not sure it continues through the weekend. I can’t say I have a lot to say about the word mythical. I have never been too interested in mythological creatures. Fables maybe ,but not really either. Too much like fantasy to me. My sister enjoyed fantasy books. The hobbit, wizard of Oz .that sort of thing. Not really my cup of tea. I did enjoy Hanzel and Gretel. if that was considered a fable. Something about the dark woods and the beautiful innocent children. The stones shining on the path showing them the way. I had a thing, still do for rocks. For stones. I wasn’t too big on that witch but it wouldn’t be the story it was ,without. The evil one.
I think of those old fashioned coffee makers that are made of metal with the glass little contraption on the top where you can see the coffee bubble. I looked it up though and to percolate means to filter through something porous..Maybe with those old coffee makers they are referring to the metal filter that fits on the metal stem that fits into the bottom of the pot. It can go on the stove. There are also electric percolators. My mom had one.I have a big one. A large urn that I bring out for special occasions when a lot of people are around. It is in the basement in a box.
Flames. heat. pain. burning. Two ways I would hate die would be by fire or water. I can never get the image or the thought that people made the choice of jumping out of the twin towers over being engulfed in flames.I did one of those past life things on line that told me I was burned at the stake for being a ” healer” at one point in my life. I like that I was a healer but burned at the stake? Of course why am I believing or giving any credit to something I found on line based on what? the time of day I was born.