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Category Archives: Dp Challenge

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There are people in this world who think that it is their job to irritate you. In fact, they believe it so deeply, it inhibits their ability to do their real jobs with compassion, conviction and commitment.

These are usually the people who demand your respect, but have done nothing to earn it.

They are enthusiastically apathetic, passively aggressive, dynamically lazy, and arrogantly proud. In a nutshell, they believe their own press and seek approval for their oxy-moronic behavior.

There are big people with little minds who will bash your ideas and demoralize your idealism.

There are little people with big mouths who will push you to your limits – and anything else within reach.

You will fight for your right to an opinion; others will fight as if it is their right.

I have great expectations that people are supposed to be kind, empathetic, caring, and thoughtful. I had no idea how great those ideals would be to me, and how insignificant they would be to some others, met along the way.

I have tried to build so many bridges that I ought to be able to walk to China.

My efforts to be considerate of others’ tentative behaviors have been met with more fear, and distrust, than I realized they had. They were begrudging and resentful. Or bottomless…

If G-d intended me to be surrounded by so many major irritants, then it is my great expectation that I should have received a giant strand of lustrous, creamy, and perfect pearls by now!!!

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http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/great-expectations/
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A PRAYER FOR THOSE GROWING OLDER

Lord, Thou knowest that I am growing older.

Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject.

Release me from the craving to straighten out everyone’s affairs.

Keep me from the recital of endless detail. Give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains; they are increasing with the years and my love to speak of them grows sweeter as time goes by.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.

Make me thoughtful but not nosy; helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom and experiences it does seem a pity not to use it all. But Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

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Thanks for Stopping By! It means more than you know.

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here comes the sun

I was born into a world of words, a cacophony of languages and sounds, as I was formed. My mother and father were students and teachers. My mother was a major in Linguistics at college while she and my father created me. As I grew, I knew that there was much to learn and the need to look for the meaning in that which was left unsaid. From childhood until now, I cry at the lyrics of a sad song.

My life and deepest emotions have been formed by the greatest writers of the last half century. Songwriters, authors, politicians and playwrights filled my earliest memories with life-changing authority, creativity, and kindness.

Yearly, I have been reminded that Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream and it was ended in violence on my birthday. Each year is a reminder of good versus evil, the dreamers who dared to see beyond the shades of black and white, and the need to express your truth for positive change.

My AM transistor radio shared space on my bed with my homework. The lyrics of James Taylor, Carole King, Paul McCartney and John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, and the Bee Gees played poetry in the confines of my room and my mind.

Music has always been so important to me as I reached for the lyrics of meaning, hearing them with my head and my heart, and seeds of empathy were created. Before I even knew what the ideas and social commentary meant, I sang of my journey that would take me to the jet plane that I was leaving on. I did not know how to love him and prayed, day by day, to understand more clearly. The lesson was that no matter how difficult the times, I would always have a friend, and come running, as fast as I could, to someone who needed me too.

At the age of 10, I practiced writing the lyrics to “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John until I could sing it by heart. In Junior High, I struggled against the taunts of classmates while I read Ray Bradbury’s “Summer All in a Day.” To this day, I feel for that dear Margot yearning to see the sunlight and feel the ray of warmth against her skin. I understood what it felt like to be the sensitive girl, seemingly on another planet, with her heart on her sleeve and desire to make others understand that which they could not see or feel. I recall the sting of others’ cruelty and excuse to exclude while they had their day in the Sun.

Each day, I must use my words to comfort someone else or help them to feel that they need not face the dark alone. I write because I was born into a world of words, and there was no other choice, but to try to accept the challenge and capture their power. If my words could ease someone’s pain or give a ray of hope, then it was what I was meant to do.

So many years have passed and I can still feel the renewed spirit of the self when the Sun escapes from the dark clouds, piercing the cold winter’s air, and shares its dreams of a more peaceful and optimistic time.

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Thank you so much for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/writing-challenge-reflections/#more-71506

Working on August’s Monthly Challenge, I am continuing my Series “All the World is a Stage ~ and I am Aging Upon It”
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/01/going-serial-2/
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so many candles so little cake

It is unrealistic to refer to myself as middle-aged. While there are centenarians, and more power to them, they are the exception and not the rule. However, at fifty the goal post of what counts as OLD keeps moving. Whatever age you are, if you are older than me, then you are old.

I am not just listening to “Oldies” because I am aged and crotchety. I am not trying to relive my youth. My memories are very clear about the good, bad and ugly of those years. However, it is my opinion that the best singers and songwriters came out of the 1970’s. Lyrics could be understood and instruments were not electrical switches on a board. So you will still hear me singing along with James Taylor and Carole King. Consider it an enjoyment of the music not an indication of my fossilized past.

Or, if it helps the rationalization, then we discuss those unfortunate things that happen to our outer selves after a certain age. I have arthritis in my hands, knees, feet, back and spine. We smile and demure that it just comes with age. Of course our hair is thinning, it is those meds the doctor makes us take. The doctor told my husband that he could have a head of hair or a healthy heart. These choices are not nearly as clear as chocolate or vanilla and definitely not as much fun.

Unfortunately, I have had to have many surgeries in my 30’s and 40’s. If they have taken out so many things, how come I just keep getting bigger?

Such are the mysteries I am discovering at fifty.

This is the stage where you go to the basement and cannot remember why you went down or what you came for. However, you can remember your favorite childhood toy, the name of the girl who pushed your head into the water fountain (yes, this really happened), and the phone numbers of the houses you used to live in. My husband can forget to buy milk, but he can remember the 12 digit number on the side of a half-inch screw.

Maybe fifty is the age of the long-term memory?
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Thanks for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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