Death, Stephen King and Other Musings

I was surprised (at least a little) by this article on Stephen King and his belief in intelligent design. What surprised me is not that he believes in a Creator, but how interesting his view is. He admits that his beliefs are inconsistent. Not many people will cop to that. Most of us will swear that we have never had a doubt in our minds or hearts about what we believe.

Some Christians (me, me, me!) are pretty hardcore about what we will admit when it comes to our faith. I think that's because we want others to see our choice as sweet and easy. "Wade on over here to the Ark, folks! Don't worry, the water's fine!" We try to sell the Christian life as a luxury cruise and not a journey in the hold of a slave ship. The truth: it's kind of both. Depends on which moment of which day you are in the trip.

(Let me borrow some of Stephen King's honesty here and say this: I believe in God, but I sometimes doubt my faith.)

My niece and I were having a conversation about life and death and God and faith. We got caught up in the old wages-for-a-day vs wages-for-a-few-hours dilemma. I don't care how strong my faith is, there are times when I just have to pray hard about that. (By the way, I'm talking about how we all get the same salvation, no matter how early or late we ask Jesus for it.) My niece and I were also questioning the whole issue of whether or not suicides go to Heaven.

For years, I was so staunch and expert (hah!) on all things MY FAITH. I had my very set ideas about how God handles things. All things. I've read the Bible, therefore... I can tell you everything about how God will judge others, but I know He will make exceptions when it comes to me. So there.

Seriously, though, as I told my niece, I know what God says is right and wrong in most general situations, but we are all going to judged individually - not in groups, pairs or on a friends and family plan. I truly believe that, when it comes to how we live our lives - as sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers, friends and lovers - when we die, we are all going to have our own conversation with the Lord.

Just because I might know how a person lived, who am I to say what was in their heart when they died? Who am I to understand God's conversation with you about your sin when I am still trying to have my own discussions about my own problems?

Peace
--Free

Cleaning Day (Flashback) Music

This is not my usual day to clean house, but got all caught up in the writing yesterday. And, because I am sort of neglecting the blog, I'm doing a cheat post.


I went all "Old School" on it. Here's what I'm vacuuming, mopping, dusting and dancing around to as I try to pull this disaster area of an apartment together:

Can you tell that I LOVE Klymaxx?

Have a great day, all. Let's try to get it together for the week coming up...

Peace

--Free

For The Glipho Group

I was talking to a really nice guy over at the Glipho.com social blogging site & really wanted to explain the beauty of Alaska to him. I'm talking about the beauty that we can see just driving around in our cars - not having to fly out over the mountains or get a guide...

So, here is a photo post by someone is not that great of a photographer!

Just a sunset I caught while riding around midtown Anchorage

This is out at Beluga Point. Friend & I drove out one day. 

Can catch a great view even from Walmart's parking lot!

On drive to Beluga Point

Campbell Creek, running next to my family's house

The Homer Spit. Went with fam so they could do fishing charter for the day

Houses sitting on the mountainside at Beluga Point.

Was a beautiful walk in the fam's neighborhood today!

And here are some webcam views

• From the Sheraton Hotel downtown
• Midtown
• Downtown
• Some "weather-cams" at various locations

So, yes, Anchorage is gorgeous when she wants to be, but the winters are getting too long for me. I need some heat!

Peace
--Free

A Sneaky Peeky

Okay you guys. I never do this, but a really dear friend encouraged me to.

I am going to post a snippet of an excerpt from the rough draft of my current work. According to my friend, this will force me to tighten up my writing. He also thinks that I need to feel "exposed" as a writer so that I can really create. This friend of mine says that I am both wild and repressed. (Some friend, huh?)

Anyway, I am always so paranoid that someone is going to take my story and run away to Printland with it! I can't even talk about it anymore, so I'm just going to do it.

Untitled Work

(by T.M.Conway)

Of course, I felt stupid. I was sixteen but felt five. Being here in this new/old place where I’d been born but never lived, it made me feel out of sync with my soul.

My cousin let me feel lost for a second then said, “I started smoking when I was fourteen. Quit for a while, then I met Boogie and started back. It was smoke or get pregnant.”

Now I felt even more stupid. Who was Boogie and why did smoking keep Sugar from getting pregnant. And why was my cousin doing things at just a few months older than me that could get her pregnant? Then I learned that Sugar had her own way of carrying on conversations. She answered me without prodding.

“I was trying hard to keep from smoking,” she said. “Mother Henry dying the way she did just about scared shit out of me about cigarettes.”

(Mother Henry? Someone from the church then. I was keeping up.)

“She had so much trouble breathing right before she died that they said Brother Henry had to prop her up so high in bed, looked like she was ‘bout to take off running.”

Overhead, the Collinsford sun was bright. I liked the way the heat made my legs feel longer and prettier. The heat did things to me, I’d been noticing. Texas heat was different from the heat in Anchorage or Seattle. Texas heat made me think things and want things and even (if it was nighttime and the air still enough) feel things I didn’t know how to resist feeling.

Sugar’s voice came at me from like a dream I was having about being back here in my mother’s hometown – my birthplace.

“Said she’d only smoked for six or seven years when she was real young. Got saved and joined church and never lit another stick. Wouldn’t even let Brother Henry have his pipe anywhere but outside on the porch. All that and then died without being able to take a good deep breath.”

Somewhere an insect made a strange noise. A car or truck coughed to life a few streets away.

“I had to go over there one time and sit with the old lady. Just long enough for Brother Henry to get some rest while everybody else was at the church for a big prayer meet. I sat there for about an hour and almost lost my mind, listening to that woman trying to breathe. Poor old woman sounded so bad, I started talking to God about whether or not it would be a sin to put a pillow over her face and just let her rest for real.”

My heart seemed to be beating really slow, like through syrup or history or… something. I propped my elbows the scarred wood of my Aunt Sadie’s porch, lifted my face to the sun  and closed my eyes. (Dreaming awake.)

“So you quit smoking?” My voice didn’t sound as if it came from me.

“For a while. It was too hard though. It was like when you try to make your mind empty. All you can do is fill it up, right? And I stayed cranky cos all the time I was either hung-over or sore. Pretty sure Boogie was starting to hate me.”

I turned my head, squinted against sunrays to look at Sugar.

She shrugged. “Cos I was always drunk or fucking. Was the only way I could keep my mind off smoking.”

My heart punched into my ribs. I’d never heard the word “fuck” spoken. Images flashed through my mind. Images of the time I’d seen a magazine hidden behind the toilet tank in a school friend’s house.

Sugar snorted a little laugh my way.

Was she laughing at me?

“Yeah. So. I don’t wanna end up with a baby hanging off my tit. Not yet. Not til at least after I finish school.” She yawned and leaned back, elbows against the top step, legs stretched down the other three.

I turned my head to look at her once more. Her eyes were closed against the world.

“And maybe not even then,” she said.

(© T.M. Conway)

Peace
--Free

Don't Be Fickle, My Readers...

Really, people? Anytime I go away for a few minutes - from either the blog or from G+, you guys just stop visiting my posts.

SMH

Shame on you!

Seriously, though. I am away on very important life business. For one thing, I have to determine what I am going to (be able to) be doing with the rest of my life; for another thing, I have to really get something done on this book I am writing. I need to finish this thing.

I will be hit and miss on G+ and here on the blog, but I do check in & I sure hope you guys keep supporting my blog by stopping by. I mean, it's not like you can't go back and (re-) read some of the older posts! LOL

Miss you guys & be back with you regularly soon.

Peace
--Free

Unlikely Crushes

Since we are all talking about crushes on both G+ and my new social hangout, Glipho, let me talk about crushes that might surprise you. Why not? I've talked to death about obvious crushes I have. (And, yes, this is something of a filler post. I haven't been keeping up the blog like I should, so...)

Number One: Katt Williams.

This was tough for me to admit. Not less than a year ago, I was trash-talking this man like I knew him and he owed me money. All I'd ever heard about him was so negative. I actually believed he was a pimp, so that was a big strike out. When I did see bits and pieces of his comedy shows, I heard three things that turned me off: weed, "ni**ers" and impolite names for female anatomy. I didn't even hear the jokes.

I'm not sure at which point it was that I listened to Katt Williams tell a joke all the way through to the punchline. I do remember when I heard about his love for children. That was a few months back when I started hearing about all the supposed troubles he was (is) going through. Out of that, I remember hearing more of his concern for his children. What made me fall head over heels into my crush on him was when I found out that he has eight children - seven of them adopted. Wow. Now that's man that makes my heart flutter. Y'all know how I am about smart being the new sexy, well manning up is the new swagger.

I have to admit that even when I am (now) listening to his comedy routines, I cringe a little at the language, but I am cringing and laughing. I laughed so hard one time that I literally almost fell over off the stool I was sitting on.

So, Katt Williams tops the list, for being smart, kind, a family man and funny. I sure hope he can hold up through all the trouble he's said to be dealing with. As my mother used to say: Satan gets busy sometimes.

Number Two: Michael Croslin

Yes, I know, I know. You probably have not heard of him. I only know because I looked him up when I learned that it was he who invented computerized devices for monitoring pulse and blood pressure. I have a gratitude (and hotness) for the science-minded who have made life better for the rest of us. It's the whole "smart/sexy" thing again. Even if Croslin (born before my mother) is that much older, I have to crush a bit.

(By the way, if anyone has more info, I'd appreciate some links. I found very little online. Surprise, surprise. I guess if I wanted a category with a million references, I should have been looking up killers or rapists instead of scientists and inventors. ~shrug~)

Number Three: Tito Puente

What can I say? He had rhythm and style and an what I call "elder suave." Look at him. Still had it.



Just love any man who can move and/or make others want to move.

Peace
--Free

Do I Really Want to be This Alone With My Thoughts?

Ever since I saw a post on G+ about relaxation tanks and deprivation chambers, I've been fascinated with the idea.

It seems therapeutic to take a little time to clear your head and just think without all the distractions of life. I started thinking how nice it would be to experience this kind of restful solitude and I wondered if there were any local places that offered the chance to try it out.

You know that anytime you start a search for one thing, you have to wade through twenty-million other things, right? I always start my searches way too general and never do get around to specifics.

A check for deprivation chambers brought up the expected tidal wave of results. I ended up checking out a link to how the chambers work.

Oh boy.

I got exactly 14 seconds in with this video and damn near had to call 9-1-1. Did you see her nose going under water? I couldn't stand to watch any longer. I almost drowned by proxy.

This video is not as exciting and artistic-looking, but at least I got the point without needed follow-up therapy.

Hmmm. Sounds nice, right? Except I didn't hear anything about cost or time limits. Pretty sure these aren't the kind of setups that you can have in an apartment as small as mine, even if you could afford one. Still, I did like the idea of getting enough relaxation and stress-relief to replace hours of sleep.

I sincerely liked the idea until I realized that I would be locked into a tank with nothing but some quiet relaxation. And my thoughts.

Speaking of therapy.

I have trouble with too much relaxation. Seriously.

The other day, I started using the background sound videos on YouTube. I've been playing 4 to 8 hours of rainfall, ocean waves, wind-chimes... It was starting to sound like some sort of temple in my bedroom, but the soothing noises do help me stay focused on writing tasks. I liked the effect so much that I decided to use a video of sounds to help me sleep.

Okay. Once again I need to bring up my strange personality - phobia, weirdities and all.

Night One: I drifted off to sleep to the sound of crickets and wind and something that gently ticked. I woke up having a screaming nightmare about insects crawling over my body while I stood naked in a dark windy field looking at a scarecrow that was dressed like the priest in The Exorcist.

Night Two: I tried dozing off to some meditation chants and that seemed to work. I slept longer, but still woke up at around 3 in the morning with memories of having performed strange sex acts with someone who (in my dreams) reminded me of my ex. I doused my room with holy water, said some prayers and told Satan to get thee behind me.

If I react like that in my sleep when I get too relaxed, I can't imagine the counseling I'd need after an hour or two in a deprivation chamber. I write to get thoughts out of  my head; nothing sane can come of spending too much time with them.

Peace
--Free

Reading, Writing & Will I Flip?

No, I won't flip out, but I was driving myself a little batty the other day while trying to focus on writing.  I've had so much trouble concentrating since my bout with Sarc that I'm thinking of talking to my doctor about it. I mean, what's happened? Have I developed some sort of attention deficit problem?

Anyway, I did manage to concentrate long enough to figure out a way to battle my problem with keeping focus. I resorted to something my father once taught me about: background noise. I should say that my father taught me to choose my own background noise to rid myself of the distractions caused by random noises.

Can I stop here and say that there are wonderful benefits to living in this day and age? Back in the day when I needed some background noise, I had to plug my ears and listen to my heart beat. These days? Well, let's just give YouTube a standing ovation, shall we? This is one of several videos I found to provide some nerve-calming sounds to your situation:

Um, it was at least something like this one. There are a TON!

Of course, you know how I am - easily-distracted and attracted. I spent thirty minutes checking out my options. There were videos with rain, rain and thunder; rain, birds and thunder... I'm pretty sure that if I'd kept looking, I would have found something even more specific, like maybe rain from the summer or '69 at two in the afternoon. Seriously. Go take a look. 

Once I chose a video and got down to work on my writing, I couldn't believe how much more focused I was. I was so focused that I felt more creative than I had for a long time.

But you know me. Or maybe you don't.

After a couple of hours, I started to feel like there was something missing. Something that would complete my writing experience.

I found it in this little application: Qwertick.

Oh, boy. Once I had my laptop keys sounding like a real typewriter, Hemingway couldn't have told me Nah-thin!

Isn't it funny how the mind works? Or maybe it's just my mind. Something like a change in background noise or the sounds a keyboard makes can change up the whole writing situation.

At any rate, I thought that I'd tell you all about my experience. Especially my buddies over at G+, where I haven't been in so long that I'm offended no one has sent out a search party. 

Speaking of social networks, and since I am blogging, I need to mention just one more thing I ran across in the last couple of days. There is this blogging network called Glipho. It's described as a "social publishing engine." You will  have to check it out. I am on there now, but just feeling my way around. If you do join up, come by and say Hello to me.

Now I need to turn off my distractions, turn on my background sounds and get back to work. (Maybe after I run by G+ and say Hi to the folks over there!)

Peace

--Free

Bookshelf Dreams

That time of year is coming around again. It's a day that brings out the best and worst in me. My "inner child" comes out to play once a year. Sometimes she is a good girl, but sometimes, she is a pure and perfect nightmare of selfishness.

Yes, my birthday is coming.

Meh.

Yep. That's about  the way I look at it.

Even though I refuse to "grow up," my inner child is getting a bit wiser. The older I get, the more curious I am about things. I wish I'd had such a hunger for learning and discovering when I was younger.

I know am in tune with the saying about youth being wasted on the young.

When you are young, you do everything with gusto and no experience. It's the conundrum of life, I suppose. I mean, I couldn't appreciate a good heartache until I had blundered through a couple. Sex was only sex until I learned what real love was about. Smoking, eating, drinking - what a child I was about it all! How nice it would be to go back and enjoy the "first time" of some experiences, huh? But with the wisdom and palate of maturity.

But I ramble (because that's what older folk do).

This post is supposed to be about my dream bookshelf. Not a bookshelf of dreams, but what I dream of having on my bookshelf.

In all the moving around I've done over the past several years, I slowly let go of things that weighed me down. Getting rid of my books is a big regret. I did pass them on to friends and family, but, still. Thankfully, we live in an age when books are weightless, only taking up room on the microchip in our phones or tablets. What a world!

Having books on a microchip is pretty handy, but, as with photographs and letters, some things are better when we can touch them and hold them. Until I can collect hard copies of them, here are the books on my dream bookshelf *:

• The Conjure Woman
• Till We Have Faces
• The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
• The Souls of Black Folk
• The Art of War (though I probably won't read it)
• Everything by Zora Neale Hurston
• The Alchemist

There are so many more. There are the Christian fiction series by people like D. Brian Shafer and Frank Peretti. I also want to read more of the lesser known literary works of early African-American writers. 

Anyway, this is what I wish to see on my bookshelf. From now on, when I meet people, I'm going to ask what they would wish to have on their bookshelves.

(Note to my family: this post is not a hint, but do what you must!)

Peace
--Free

* I use Wikipedia in most links because it will provide an overview for those not familiar with a title and author.

When Apps Go Right

I am a horrible person. Not horrible in a mean-gal way, but horrible at learning new languages, and horrible about mimicking other people's accents!

While my sister is the champion of mimics, I am the ruling monarch of sucking at languages. When I'd meet someone who spoke something other than English, I used to at least try to learn how to say "hello," "please" and "thank you" in their tongue. Oh, that and a couple of naughty words or phrases!

A long time ago, in a place far away, I met a young Welsh woman, so I asked her to teach me how to say something impolite. For almost 25 years now, I've been telling folks I know how to tell someone in Welsh how to kiss my a**. I just used Google Translate. I don't know what I've been saying for all these years, but it doesn't seem to be anything like what Translate brought up.

For all the time that I have been in love with some of my celebrity crushes, I've planned that, upon them seeing me and falling instantly and deeply in love with me, I would say something charming in Spanish or French. At the rate I am learning, I won't be able to say "Hey handsome, what's up?" in English.

I bring up my horrible language skills because I found an app that just fascinates and amazes me. It's called the Rosetta Course series from, of course, Rosetta Stone.

Now, I have heard people complain that the Rosetta method is too expensive. Let me say this: the app that I checked out is just a taste of the Rosetta course and I managed to learn a Japanese word in about 20 seconds. Ask me, the Rosetta folks aren't charging enough!

With the app I am toying with, I attempted the Japanese before I almost sprang my tongue. I switched to Spanish. Nice.

This is surely an app to check out.

Raha*
--Free

(*Swahili. According to Google Translate: Raha = rest, joy, comfort, bliss, contentment, enjoyment.)