Okay. So I don't have this down.

It isn't like I intended to disappear from my own blog for over 8 months. It's more like I never think I have anything to say and I stare at my blog link and think "well maybe I should just post something, anything", but then I see something more interesting on the Net and I am off in a heartbeat. Within that split second I forget there is even anything I created, let alone a blog languishing for lack of attention.

And sure. I have a few people who read my blog 8 months ago. And if I actually put the time into it perhaps more would read it. But that brings me back to the thought that I really have nothing of interest to say. Which, of course, isn't true. My friends will tell me I have a lot to say. Not only that I have a lot to say, but that they actually enjoy hearing me say it. However, their view of me and my view of me never quite meshes. You know?

My mind plays old tapes sometimes. Do you ever have those go off on you? Tapes from childhood that say your opinion doesn't matter? I have a pretty tight grip on my mind after all these years, but every so often one of those hidden tapes starts to play and I find myself not pushing the stop button. Instead I listen and nod my head in agreement and get caught up in the lies--letting the old tapes stop me from doing something worthwhile and beneficial to my future. Like this blog. Oh, I don't think the blog will have any major effect in my career as a writer, except to teach me to actually carry through on a writing commitment. But that alone is a pretty big deal for a writer.

So, as this year winds down and a new year approaches I am going to work on this thing called blogging. Maybe by this time next year I will have it down. (If I trash that damned tape player, that is. Where did I put my hammer?)

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Opportunities

Hi, folks.

I subscribe to Tor's newsletter. Today I was cleaning out my inbox (yes, this is a task I tend to put off until actually reading the emails becomes hours worth of work. I don't know why, I just do.) and found a lovely story by an author on how she caught the writing bug. From her story I now have two new books to look for. I love Tor. :)

Here is a link to the Tor article:

Tor Blog: Patrick Rothfuss: The Start of My Journey to Becoming a Published Author


The books I will be looking forward to reading once I acquire copies are:

 The Trouble with Fate by Leigh Evans

and

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss


It is good to have goals. :D

Grief

I've put off making another blog post. You could call it procrastination, I suppose. It wouldn't be incorrect. However, there is more to it than just that persistent devil in my ear that says, "you don't need to do that now. Look! Here is something much more interesting to occupy your time. If you wait, you will find a better subject to write about. Just wait." Although those thoughts are there like the sweet pull of caramel against my teeth, the reason I have avoided this post has been overwhelming grief. I haven't wanted to cry anymore. I haven't wanted to open up that pain, knowing what facing it again will reduce me to at the first poke. It hasn't seemed worth it to go there when there are so many other things I can do besides cry at the separation of someone I loved from this mortal world—their separation from me.

Just writing these first words have left my eyes covered in wet, blurring my vision. A friend told me, as I broke down in tears a week ago while mentioning her death, that it will take a year before I regain my stability. A year before I won't cry at the mention of her. A year before the pain is reduced enough I feel in control again. I don't want to wait a year. I don't like crying at the proverbial drop of a hat. It isn't that I wish to dishonor her memory. I just don't want to cry anymore. I feel raw and on edge from the tears.

I cried for three days straight when I received word in February she had passed away from cancer. I regained my composure—until her memorial service. After that service I collapsed in my grief. I was seriously undone. Now that I have regained my composure these bouts of tears are unnerving. I love her and I have lost her and my life is never going to be the same again. I know that. Whether it is a year or fifteen years, the pain of being separated from my dear friend will still be there. The tears will fade, yes. But the pain won't go away. I still feel the loss of loved ones from early in my life. Not this sharp, knife twisting in my gut pain. But, a deep ache and longing for them. With each loss that cauldron of pain stirs, reminds me of the people I have loved and lost. Too many people who I cherished more than my own life. And I hurt.

My friend is no longer suffering, no longer in horrible, physical pain. And for that I am grateful. I am grateful she is now in the next world. Yes, I believe with every fiber of my being that there is a next world. And that those I have lost are there and having a blast experiencing new things and continuing in their path of growth. It tempers my grief a bit to know they are not suffering now. It doesn't, however, remove it. I hate that we must go through this separation in our lives. I hate that there is death, a veil put between those we love so we can't hear them anymore, can't touch them, can't be with them. Perhaps it is a mere illusion. Some have said it is only an illusion, that they are closer than I think. If this is an illusion it is one I can not break. If I could have broken it, I would have done so by now. It hasn't been for lack of trying. Illusion or not, the separation stands. And my pain doesn't go away. Though if I have a choice between enduring pain and my loved ones being free of pain, the choice is easy. I gladly hold this pain for their freedom. But it isn't a choice I want. I want my loved ones. I miss them all so very deeply.

I wrote a poem for my friend, Em, who passed away in February. I want to share it here with whoever may be reading this blog. This is in memory of one of the sweetest, most beautiful women that ever graced this earth. She was so young, taken much too soon. I wish I could have done a better job with this poem. It pales in comparison to her, and is less than what she deserves. I will write more poetry. Perhaps one of those will be better.

Take the next world by storm, Em. Soar high, sweetie.

False Reality

rush hour spent
going to and back

money received
for a hard day's work
to buy the "good life"

moving through time
too fast to connect
with others

it's a false reality
when all that's real


is love

Patty Saturn © 2013

To Blog

or not to blog, that is the question. I have finally decided to give into the madness and start a blog of my own. I was unable to get the blog name I had actually wanted--which had so many possibilities. I had wanted the blog named "Plain Yogurt". Because starting with plain yogurt you can create so many things. But, someone else must have already claimed it since Blogger said, "No! You may not have it!"

Thus, I have reverted to an old friend, reprising my role as the Duchess of Spring. If I stay in character it will limit me and this blog to a mere fantasy. While the fantasy has been a joy since the creation of the Duchy, I am not sure I wish to be limited any longer.

However, getting up off my static place and actually creating a blog regardless the name is movement. As a writer, I need movement. If I do not have movement, if there is no change, I will wither and die. So, for now, the Duchy is here and the Duchess is playing. Learning to blog. It has to be a good thing, right?

Welcome to the Duchy

As the Grand Duchess of the Grand Duchy of Spring, I welcome you to my lands and to my castle. 

The staff keeps the food flowing, coffee and tea are always on, and there are rooms available if you are tired and wish to rest. The musicians will play your requests. There are horses in the stables if you wish to ride around the grounds. 

Enjoy your stay here, but remember this is my home. Please respect it.