Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Seasons, you gotta love 'em, right?



photo credit: Blizzard of March 1888 - Residence of George H. Richards via photopin (license)

At last . . . fall has arrived! I'm not sure if I should be sad or happy, because I do love fall, but it means winter is coming. And as we all know, winter is the longest, most irritating, whiny b*tch in the world. Amiright? Yeah, it is. What's funny is Julia is sooo excited about winter coming that she checked out an armfull of books about her 'favorite' season yesterday and asked me to read them to her last night. Imagine the acting skills it took to recite: "Winter is coming. Winter is coming. Everyone put on your coat and hat. The sky is gray, it might snow today! Everybody say . . . yay!!!!!!"

Cue Grumpy cat.

I mean . . . I do like winter. It's pretty and I love the hush of the world and the sound of tires crunching on fresh snow and sunrise on icicles and I like eggnog and wearing my favorite sweater.

Sorry, I ran out.

Do you like winter? Do you like snow? Come on, people . . . let me know! Maybe you'll get a prize, or maybe you won't. Pass the bottle, honey. It's El Nino.

Have a nice day.

Friday, October 9, 2015

Mind Games . . . Forever . . .



Today is John Lennon's 75th birthday. If you've read The Time Seekers you know that my rebellious young character Jesse claims to be John's illegitimate son. Bitter and seeking answers, he goes to New York to meet the famous rock star, but by the end of the book something happens that just might change history forever. Can't say without giving it away!

You guys know how much I adore John Lennon. He's been a guru, a father-figure, my fantasy lover, an imaginary friend, etc. I used to sleep with a picture of him every night under my pillow because I LOVED HIM THAT MUCH. Seriously. It was weird, but I really do adore him, and thank you very much, Tom, for telling me John was tiny—it only slightly ruined my fantasy. I'll have you know that after much research it's concluded that John was about 5' 10". So, fantasy FULL ON again.

John had proclaimed himself a 'househusband'—a term fairly new to most people in the late 70s. He took care of Sean, baked bread and generally became a recluse. Because he felt he'd let down his first son Julian, as his father had with him, Sean became his final chance to get it right. For the most part I think John did a good job, but what bothers me about those last years is the sort of imprisonment he seemed to be enduring. Yoko is an amazing artist, no one can argue that, but I've been doing a lot of research on narcissistic behavior and from what I've read she fits many of the characteristics. Was John really free to go out and do as he pleased? Was he being manipulated by someone who knew all of his weaknesses, someone who had not only control of his heart but also his money; his brand, his image? I'm really starting to wonder. Something tells me had John not been murdered the night of December 8th, 1980, he probably would have split from Yoko and started a new life. But no one will ever know for sure because we, and he, weren't given the chance.

If you look at John those last few years, he's emaciated. That's what really bothers me the most. Why didn't anyone tell him he had an eating problem? Was he being encouraged to control his food intake? It's clear he had body issues and needed help. Something in my gut says there was foul play on so many levels. Because he'd lost his mother at a young age, then his best friend, then countless other people he cared about, I think he was emotionally fragile. These are the kind of people narcissists latch onto. It makes me very sad. In my opinion, he was a victim of emotional manipulation and he wasn't living life of his own free will. He wasn't even allowed to have a bodyguard. Wow.

I always sort of envision John as a swan. He was special, and for anyone to have killed him, it's like sin of all sins. But if you look at history, many of the peacemakers have met violent ends. We can't seem to handle it. We're devolving. We've reached that level of high consciousness and have become so afraid that we've started to descend. Down, down, down we go.

If John were still alive he'd love the internet. But like the rest of us, he'd grow tired of the constant bullying and taunts, and most of all, the politics. In my opinion, he'd say, "Alright, we've had enough of being online, let's all get out and DO SOMETHING. Let's create change. Let's still be humans. We have the ability, and we've got the power. Freedom comes from within. We're all free. We're all beautiful. Seek peace. And above all, love one another."

Every time I hear the song Mind Games I get a deep, deep feeling of love and hope. Chills. That's the beauty of John Lennon. It came on the other night in the car and it really struck me how completely different the sound is. How different all of John's songs are. It's so imprinted with his soul. No one can change that or ever take it away. Happy Birthday, John. We miss you.


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Winds of Change (are messing up my hair)



photo credit: Time for some change via photopin (license)


Editing, still editing. Wish I could say it's the best thing in the world, but really it's kinda tough. You guys know this, but this has been a rough year, and writing—one of my biggest joys and loves in life—is like pulling teeth for me because I JUST CAN'T CONCENTRATE. All I can think about is how am I going to make money, how do I make money. Money, money, money. I've never written a darn thing for the reason of gaining a profit, but I am human, and dang it, some moola would be nice. But . . . that's life and we're all in this together.

Thought I would mention Julia, mah baby girl who's not such a baby anymore. We've got this thing going because she's so flipping smart that it's insane, and I started this game called, Hey Google. She's Google, btw. I say, Hey Google, what continent is Japan on, she says, Asia. I say, What's a snail, she says, A mollusk. I say, this that everything you-name-it, she knows it. Hey Google, what's the closest ocean to us. Well, actually, since we're in the middle of the U.S., it's both. Are you sure, because I think w'ere closer to the Atlantic. She nods slightly, making a mental note to check it out later and prove me wrong, haha. I don't mind being wrong.

Hey Google, how do I make money?

Hope you guys and gals are swinging the night away. Think of me sometimes.


Do you believe?

Fifty-Five years ago on November 22, 1963, president John Fitzgerald Kennedy rode alongside his wife Jackie in a motorcade through the crowd...