Off

       
       I'm defecting for 5 days. Gone, see ya, another mini-vaction is in order. This is the curse of owning a second home. You must find reasons for visiting it. :o) A holiday weekend is a perfect excuse to defect for a few days. I need it, I've been alittle "off" this last week.
      
       Being "off" for a week is always an interesting combination of mental thought conflict. I'm rapidly approaching something. The something, is that untouchable resolution I haven't been able to grab hold of for quite some time. I can look back over the months and sketch a pretty clear path of where I've stepped. The missteps, the all out stumbles and the clear points of possible redemption that were passed on by.

       I wish, sometimes, I could just come right out with things, confess all that holds my thoughts, love, life, in the grey. I don't necessarily mean this journal. More importantly, to those who deserve to hear the words, to know the whole meaning and story behind my choices. I am far to closed off when it comes to expressing inner feelings to the people who really deserve to know the truths.
      
      My truths, aren't about lying or omissions, my truths aren't about something hidden or devious. My truths are about why I hold onto a certain song with reverence, or why I keep the same picture of me standing with the ocean as my backdrop by my bedside for years and years. Its why I don't stop watching for my horizon, and why I plant a new Iris plant every year. My truths are also about why I stand where I am now, why I couldn't follow through as I 100% believed I would do in March. It's about watching the hands of time, hoping I can beat them in my race to bridge obligation and final destination.
      
       Balancing a stack of truths and a bushel of silence on the thin line of a fence, is the black zone of compensation. There is no reward to be found in this place. I suppose, this could be the penance for once carelessly not recognizing how precious another persons love could really be. Love, there's that word, the most often avoided word in my vocabulary. I eloquently skirt around it's four letters in careful expression. Not because I am opposed to it, just the opposite actually. I crave it's encompassing embrace just as anyone does. I covet the feelings, thoughts, and emotions that those four letters represent.

       Just as I feel the mind has many levels that contain different thoughts and expression, so does my opinion on love encompasses the same such corridors. Levels, all different levels to be found and cherished. From the love you first experience from your parents, to the crushing feelings of a high school sweetheart to the person who takes your heart and cradles it or carelessly crushes it. To the love you have for your own child, and someday, I'll discover how it feels to love a grandchild.

       I look back over the men in my life, from my ex-husband, to the men I've been with since. So many lessons I have learned, so many wonderful times, and far too many wrong choices. The extravagant way I assumed love was endless and could be found at ever turn. The way I allowed pressures and outside influence dictate some of my choices. I even shamelessly admit I let such a vile thing like money come between love and my reactions. Not, money as in I wanted someone to have more, Sugar Daddy style, but money as in a time when I had none and felt I was a penniless counterpart to a wonderful relationship.

       Lessons of the heart, lessons of choice, moments of wonderful memories or gut punched regrets. Ironic situations that leave me cemented to the very spot I wish to escape. Destiny and destination, or is it lessons and the journey that make the heart go round.

       I guess when I am off, it is because I've let the weight of a silent past, press down so hard on my shoulders it feels like I can only look to the ground. I know I'm strong enough to push off the burdens and continue to look forward, this I have no doubt about. Yet, when I continue to circle around what is comfortable and familiar, and attempt to ignore the truths, I fall into this state of mind.

       Like the current status of my novel in process, I know the beginning, I'm hovering in the middle, yet the ending is still unknown to me. Possibly I'm just a happy ending kind of gal, and do not want to end on a chapter of regrets and simple lessons.

       I'm most ready to revert back to the silent portion of this commentary now. That would be the door gently shutting on this level. ;o)  I wish everyone a safe and happy 4th of July. Take good care of your loved ones and yourself. I'll be back next Tuesday and hopefully will have shaken all that troubles me back down into it's nice safe cushy room.

Muse Workspace

       I've been meaning to do this entry since I broke my extraordinary Muse painting done by our resident artist Judi, Judith HeartSong  out of Gallery Jail on the 18th. They held her hostage for over 3 weeks, I wasn't very happy about that. But I promised Judi, I'd show her a picture of her paintings final resting place.

       Since I've been throwing my personal self to the open side of things this week, tonight I invite you into my personal work space. I remember John Scalzi doing a homework assignment of showing your computer space, but I missed the boat on that one, as I do on most of his assignments. Better late then never right?

       All right, I admit, I dusted for this photo shoot, but what you see is what you get. I'm pretty uptight about my work space being neat and organized. If one thing is out of place I simply cannot do a damn thing.

       That concept really only applies to my creative workspace, as for the rest of the house, well you know, I do have two daughters and a posse of adopted neighborhood kids. In other words, this is the cleanest, most organized space in my home.

        I didn't add the flowers for a sense of Better Homes and Garden fanfare, those are also a required embellishment of my work space. 365 days a year, I have some sort of flower hanging out with me. Summers I like, I get away cheap by plucking them from my yard.

       The other side of the room is my "other work" space, the boring items of life, i.e., my "real job" clutters up the other side of the room with another desk, work papers etc. When I find myself stuck on that side of the room, I find myself glancing longingly over at the side I'm sharing with you and find just about any excuse to get myself back over to this side. It's an opposing teams sort of room. Only the responsible Rebecca makes us sit at that "other" desk, to earn the green stuff that enables us to sit at the fun corner of the room.

       Do you guys ever feel like your reading about a nutcase with multiple personalities? Just wondering........be kind :o) Really, the sensitive Rebecca couldn't handle any wisecracks, but then again attitude Rebecca could come back with a written rebuttal that could leave a person speechless..........

       All right, I claim bad headache right now, and lack of mood enhancement medication. Time to rest all the natives in this complex apartment. 

       Judi, I hope your happy with her final enhancements and resting place. I'm sitting here with her looking over me and feel my personal space here is finally perfect. Thank you so much for sending me this extension of you.................

Carol good comment and your right, I should have pointed out my other essay contest Artwork I received from Judi! On the middle picture I posted, my beautiful rainbow of people are there, slighty blocked by my easel that I forgot to put down. I orginally had it in front of my desk, until I received my Muse painting. Since my corner space is limited, my youngest daughter begged me to have the rainbow picture, <as she has begged me since I first got it, she is a huge Judith Heartsong fan> but I'm still holding onto it!

Excavation

Excavation of Thoughts

I suggested a diversion, Muse politely declined, quite the mood she's in this week.

Embrace a note, searching the way to clarification.
The hurricane of desire, takes me into the light. I can't change the define, that is me. Tossing the reins of horse drawn optimism, it's a contagious expedition.
And in this derisive of a thought, I need to scribe it to form.
Just to recognize all that is gone, and to feel the mourning that is within.

And I chant to the moment and shake my love at the wind.
A wing on a slice of Me is abolished faith.
Yes, I know, I shouldn't type that. Distant cringe, how do you like that?
But me and my, is but nailed again. Toss a hand up, toss a foot down, yes that's me.
Listen to words on the sky and take a moment to bow to my graces.
Ignore bothersome delicate sensitivity.

He took my hand and I created a place for no other.
Drone. You hear that. A woman's voice chanting to the break in the clouds.
When done in longing, it is but poetry.
The keys of a piano, stroking my soul in tune with my dissension.
Wrap the words with smoke and mirrors
Everything is just Fine.

Paul, Aurora Walking Vacation
       My Muse is on your side this week. When I am feeling most gut punched by previous choices in my life, it appears, the only way to release some of that is through poetry. I suppose, it's better then laying around in a pool of tears, and denial. Maybe I am the cliche of a poet, who must suffer before the words can create music. Sometimes though, I wish I could lightly write about blue bonnets and butterflies, that world seems so much more simple.
       The words do bring me peace and if they are able to touch others, then maybe there is a purpose to the thoughts. A meaning to the experience, and possibly a final escape for my emotions. Until then, I'll continue to explore via this medium and we'll see how far that vessel takes me.

Rebecca

Sometimes, the spacebetween two lines can be lost if one doesn't look hard enough. 

Or, perhaps, this will help.........

 Just because you don't see what's between the lines, doesn't mean it isn't there.......

Complex Apartment

Light and Fluffy. A circus of vanilla words and pretty musings.

I wrote last night, today I would be all about Light and Fluff, but the writing Muse in me is nixing that idea. Holding back that muse is like trying to push a 2 ton boulder up a hill, it really is a dictatorship here in my Mind.
      
       Have you ever stood in front of a large Apartment Complex and wondered what it would be like to be the proverbial "fly on the wall" for a day in each of the Apartment units. To gain insight into the individual lives of each person living there? I would gladly sign up for that peeping Tom adventure. So in using that as a metaphor, isn't public journals a bit like being in the peeping Tom adventure with out having to sprout wings, risk of flyswatters and for that matter, police! :o)

       So flip a few of the words around in that first sentence. Have you ever stood in front of a Complex Apartment and wondered what it would be like to be the proverbial "fly on the wall" for a day in each of the Apartment units.

Complex Apartment, meaning, a persons mind.

I think we achieve that scenario by being participants in the public journal phenomena. Just like yesterdays revelation or peek into one of my very personal mind apartment units, I think by writing publicly we open the door, and invite company into the many units I call our mind, and invite visitors to mingle with our thoughts. 

       Now again picture that Apartment Complex, that is several stories high, with stairwells and elevators taking you from the simple understated units to the high rise elaborate units. Again, the Complex Apartment is very much like that. In my writing yesterday, I invited people to one of my upper level units for a peek around. Thankfully I didn't have to boot anyone out and I have to say I appreciate that very much. If I go back through my entries I can pretty much assign levels to which I was writing. Observation deck ground level, midlevel musings, and upper level/putting myself out there writing.

       As I wander around journals I assess an entry much like my notion of the Complex Apartment. Someone's entry one day, may invite me into ground floor observation deck and I may leave a light hearted comment with funny commentary. Or I may stumble across someone who has opened the door to a high level room and comments are given openly and objectively with careful thought to respecting that persons open door policy. When handed a key to the delicate upper levels, I feel caution and appreciation should be held to the highest level.

       On that note, I have found 99% of the people in Journal Land adhere to an unspoken code of honor, and are to the core, respectful of each other. Whether placed in actual words, or just held in the highest levels of our minds, I think we've all found a safe place for our thoughts to mingle with others. This community continues to surpass anything my complex apartment dreamed it could be.

       If you haven't already, please visit Pamela at  Just One Girls Head Noise She and her family need your prayers and positive thoughts.

Editors Pick/Clarification

       
       Have you ever written an entry, posted it, read it and thought you were in the clear, and then figured out later, things weren't entirely on target? This has happened to me today.

       But first, before I write my tell all entry, I must address another item on the discussion board today. I found out today that Paul over at Aurora Walking Vacation has earned a much deserved Guest Editor Spotlight for the week. His topic for the journal picks is "writers who use language in an interesting, or engaging way." Please visit his site for another feast of wonderful journals to be read. Paul has included, In the Shadow of The Iris, as one of his Editor Picks! Thank you Paul, I really appreciate this nod and front Journal page honor.
      
       For the record Paul, I am not arguing anymore about the poetry because I humbly admit that yes, I write poetry. You win, it seems that sometimes, poetry like content slips past my fingers :o) Guilty as charged. <damnit> But did you have to use an example of writing with my most profound sentence ever written here on your journal? The one about my butt and wiggle? That should draw a crowd for sure! If your doing a drive by read here, and want better understanding of what I'm talking about please visit Pauls expose about me!

Thank You Paul for the Consideration, I really Appreciate it!

On to the confessional...............

             With the most recent comment (and perhaps a few confused ones) on my previous entry from the talented and up and coming Dr. Ari,Reflections of Ari I realized that indeed, I had taken the chicken sh** <edited since I'm a featured journal this week, don't toss me out Joe!> route with my previous entry. Wimp also came to mind, and also word illusionist that was carefully <cowardly> hiding behind finely constructed words.

       With that being said, my previous entry was about religion. Standing in the minority seats of a stadium basically means I do not believe in "God" as the majority of the world does. I do not subscribe to a higher being, or power that is a controlling factor in how the world turns. I do not call myself an atheist, nor assign any other verbiage to my "beliefs" What I do subscribe to is humanity and personal evolution of an individual.

       I have walked this conversation with more people then I can count about my stance on religion. Some believe I have just never been introduced to religion and therefore, don't know any better. This is not true. I was born into the Mormon religion, at which the age of 5, my parents defected into the Christian way of life. I embraced this culture as any child would and was baptized around the age of 10. I memorized all my bible versus along with the other good Awana's and enjoyed it. During my teens was the start of my defection, questions and exploration. At the age of 16 I informed my parents I wanted to try out being a Catholic, since Christianity was losing it's "power" of devotion on me. For two years I dutifully went every Saturday night before kegs and teenage parties. At the end of two years, I decided again, this wasn't the place for me. Over the next several years I attended different churches in search of the right "place," that time never came for me. During this time I poured through books, searching for a definition or answer my mind insisted on having and accepting, before subscribing to any one definition of religion. I currently consider myself educated and diversified on countless religions available. I still explore religion and the different facets of life it maintains. I went to Church a few times over the last year for people watching and thought evoking moments. I personally find it a fascinating way of life.

       But I also deep in my core, hold zero belief in a higher being. I do not doubt my choice, therefore the fear others hold in the power of their God, does not apply to me. I do not fear an afterlife, and believe when I die, I am nothing and with my ashes carried down a river, I will return to the earth I believe we all came from. Without fear there is no dire pressure on my being. Without doubt, I am comfortable with my decisions. Without belief, I do not feel I am missing anything.

       I understand this does not adhere to religious beliefs. And when people push me into discussing my beliefs, they show fear and pity for me. This I comprehend and also fully understand. This is your religion, this is what you believe in and this is what compels people to push for redemption. I understand that, and respect that. I am not closed minded enough to strictly believe in what I believe in and shut off all valves of information from people willing to share.

       I also can honestly say I admire the majority of religious communities. What's not to admire? They support each other, they aspire to morals and ethics, they practice family and community spirit. I wouldn't dream of taking that away or diminishing that from another person.

       So why is that my choice is sometimes so intolerable that a group like the Cult 9 can pass such quick harsh judgment, mark my child and myself with a giant red X on our foreheads and shield themselves from the likes of me? I respect their choice of religion, I hold high moral values, I move about life with an iron clad list of ethics, I do not lie, steal, cheat, in other words, in the tone of religion, I do not sin.

         But the greatest sin of all is not believing in God, in the words of religion. So I understand why that would cause others to pity me, or fear for my soul, because that is what that person believes in. On the same token, I do not believe in this line of thought and words of the Bible, so again, it doesn't apply to my daily securities.

       Just as the Jewish do not believe in Jesus Christ, or Christians do not follow the words of Joseph Smith, Rebecca does not believe in any of the examples. Who's wrong? I know it isn't for me to decide. And I feel, if you push your beliefs, without regard to another individual choice, anyone would be exhibiting the most ironic of hypocrisy.

I would also like to add, that during the course of this journal, I've had times that I've struggled and people have left comments of support, and kept me in their prayers. Or spoken of their God. That is perfectly fine in my book.  I appreciate prayers very much, just as I leave comments forpeople who are struggling, I say, I will kept them in my thoughts. Same thing, different wording, same positive flow from our hearts.

360 degrees is a wide expanse of views, understanding and acceptance. This is where I subscribe to having faith in humanity, to open their eye's and accept what is tangible, to explore what is intangible and to embrace what is called Free Will.

Ok, Dr. Ari, is that better? :o) I feel better...........and I promise tomorrows entry will be good old fashion vanilla fluffy words with whipped cream toppings!

"Said Topic"

       I have been trying to do a simple entry this entire week, about what I would classify as one hell of a hot button topic. I've wrote it, edited it, twisted it, revamped it and basically it's giving me such fits I've jumped ship, and this is me hanging on by one hand, to the anchor.
      
        So what is the problem you may ask? And that folks is the key question. The problem is my views on a universal issue are in the minority seats of the stadium. Therefore, my opinions on said topic are usually kept quite personal to avoid the instant gape of mouth, sigh of "oh girl your going to that place," and the sometimes blatant backlash that can be dished out.
     
        It is the backlash of my position that ruffled my feathers last week <in the 3-d world> , and this is why my thoughts have been itching to write about it, while my mind has been marching a most beautiful protest. So in my last and final attempt, I will attempt a compromise between the opposing teams here in my mind.

       Exclusion and judgment is the key words. Exclusion based on a pre-formed opinion, and judgment handed down based on a quick unified decision. This is what a group of 9 woman (mommies) in my youngest daughters class, have done since she started Kindergarten 5 years ago. An honest me, will admit I call them the Cult 9 and I will defend that well earned label without guilt. From the second day of school, way back then, I was asked point blank my position on said hot topic, my honest response, was the word "No." This was followed up with a phone call to me personally 3 days later inviting me to said organization, of which I politely declined. This bought me and my daughter a one way ticket into the exclusion and judgment villa.

       Typically, being left out of said Cult 9 would be an exclusion I would never loose sleep over. But it has certainly been something my young daughter has felt and not understood. How does a Mother explain to a 5 year old that because Mommy doesn't conform to said specific topic, she has grown imaginary horns and the cult 9 must shield their children away from such blasphemy? My child suffered because of guilt by association. How you may wonder? A fine example would be a 8 yr. old Kaitlyn coming home after school and saying "Mommy, Janea said if we would go to 'said place" then she would be allowed to play with me on the playground." An interesting position to be in that I never dreamed in this day and age would be necessary.

       With the precision of a surgeon, I have explained to my daughters that unfortunately some people in this world become entwined so deeply in not necessarily said topic, but the organization of which they belong, that blind folds are centered nicely on their eye's and mind. I feel, that while staying true to oneself's beliefs, if one person <or a Cult 9> becomes intolerable to other beliefs, they loose sight of what should be the ultimate destination. Isn't the ultimate destination the divine Grand Daddy question of them all?

       The unleashing and reasoning for said entry.
       While at the local swimming pool last week, with me resting on comfy chaise lounge with book in hand, and the Cult carefully positioned on the other side of the pool, <yes this town is that small> I had a visitor.

            Cult 9 is now, Cult 8, they have experienced a defection in the posse. Apparently this defector, started back to College last year, experienced liberation in woman's studies and has filed for divorce, claiming being married is akin to slavery. She figured I would be a good allied force, since she too had grown horns and been accused of blasphemy. Now, this woman had never said more then 5 actual sentences to me over the previous 5 years, and now I'm considered worthy? That would be my first irritation.

       As an observer and digger of information, I listened for at least an hour, glancing at the Cult 8 on the other side of the pool, watching their stares and glares, before grilling questions on this poor unprepared defector. Growing horns had not taken away her honesty and she did indeed admit it had been decided 5 years back to blatantly keep away from me and instruct their children to stay away from my daughter, yes, they had stamped a big red X on my forehead just as I had figured. I could write for an hour about the interesting revelations I revealed through my intense interrogation,but I fear this is already too long.

       The Moral of the story.
       In the case of "said topic" which I have carefully been able to avoid actual naming, I would like to point a few things out. I have no blinders on, I am perfectly comfortable with the notion that every single person on this planet has distinct personal views on several facets of their life. I wouldn't dare accuse one person of being wrong and me being right, or the other way around, choice is individual. 

     That is the BEAUTIFUL thing about free will. I believe the word and color gray should be spelled that way. Some people feel it should be spelled grey. I completely respect choice to my core. It's a choice. If you look at "said topic" there are so many choices to be found and the levels of belief are astounding. From zero belief to deep core devotion. I find that a beautiful thing and make every attempt to understand both. My circle of acceptance really is 360 degrees, and it's a good place to be.
     
       What I have a very hard time accepting is when one level of belief trumps all others and the degree in which people look out at others is narrowed into some sort of 30 degree channel. How does one group chant moral do right, yet, exile another group without any sort of encompassing understanding of choice? Hypocrisy at it's finest. Wars have been waged on such narrowly defined causes. I am also not blind enough to think all "said topics" are like the Cult 9, correction, Cult 8 now. I am a singleton in my views and typically stand alone in my choice, but have SO MANY "said topic"  friends and family who embrace me nonetheless. That is the acceptance I love to emulate. The burr I realized I allowed a select group to place between my foot and shoe has been replaced with a nice soft cushion of pity.
      
       Perhaps, I am a dreamer, or an optimist, who believes that as long as I carry high moral values, adhere to a strong code of ethics, I stand in a good place. Perhaps, the world isn't really ready for acceptance of all walks of choice and open 360 degree views. I wouldn't dream of telling another person their choice of anything was wrong. There is too much to admire in diversity of humanity. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I hover between a heaven, and the earth I stand on, and you know, it's a mighty fine view. 
             

Journal Appreciation

Ok, I will not let loosing my entire finished entry ruin my smile. I will not allow computers and the cruel technical gods bother me right now. I will continue to smile while I write this all over. Again.

Ok, it's all good, %&)#@freakin_($@#no good%(@#*stinkin$_@&#@ Ok, yes, it's all good now.
Serenity Now Damnit
Ok, now I'm better Ohmmmmm and another Ohmmmmm

      

Today I received an unexpected smile!  An email alerting me about a delightful honor given to me by our very own Flava and friends. It was certainly a moment for the infamous Rebecca Happy Dance, in fact, I even have a visual for you     

 Now, I'm pretty certain my butt does a bit more wiggle then that, but it's close enough, or until I find a better one, or get so dizzy I pass out! Thank you so much Flava and those who nominated me. Jodi, I know your one and darlin your creative mind is tops in this corner of Internet Land, thank you for thinking of me. And here's my new Tag, of which I think it's just beautiful and humbly plan to add it too my About me section! From Flava's journal, here's alittle explanation to what it's for...................



Hello All...well this young lady's blog is just so zany, heartfelt and different. Each day is a new adventure and she makes you feel like you sitting at home or going through the experience with her..soooooooo...
REBECCA aka JUSTANAME4ME2 this award is presented to you for all your creativeness, not only from FLAVA but other friends who wrote or email sentiments about you as well..   KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!   check out her blog here folks! http://journals.aol.com/justaname4me2/InTheShadowOfTheIris/   BLESSINGS FLAVA
Thank you Thank you! I really appreciate it.......

So in the spirit of Journal Appreciation, it's been awhile since I've spotlighted a few journals. This is of course a hard venture since there are SO DAMN MANY great journals out there, but someone has to do it, and I'm up for the task. Notice I didn't say pimp some journals, well thats because I don't wear platform shoes, heavy gold jewelry, greased back hair and carry a pimp roll of cash in my pocket. Then again, if anyone would like me to pimp their journal, just send over some cash and I'll pimp ya till you were exhausted, I'd be a good pimp Mama..........

Enough about me, let's talk about you!

Ari AKA Reflections of Ari
There are funny journals, you know, ha ha type, and then there is Ari, standing in a league of her own. Name a topic, and I mean any topic, and she'll spin you a tale that has you ROFLMAO type stuff <hey, did I do that right? I'm so behind on my Internet slang> I suggest a quick pit stop at her journal before some comedy Exec discovers her and whisks her off to be some famous sitcom writer! Oh, and when you are there, you must ask what "pinkolicious" is all about, trust me, it's a good question.

Flava AKA The Life and Times of Flava
This fireworks of a Lady has not 1, but 3 books due out in the next 6 months, talk about overachieving! And a bravo to you Olivia! This energetic journal is alive and her words just jump out the page at you, a person could get exhausted with all the positive energy flowing from her bright words. Electric words from a positively sparkling woman. She really does have a flair for the Flava!

Jodi AKA whoopin our butts in the quantiy/quality department

This Lady has not 1, not 2, but 3 great journals. Let us begin with Looking Beyond the Cracked Window....  this is a daily peek into her universe, filled with funny stories, honest dealings with people around her. You should see how she handles an insurance claim! Her next journal is a poetry journey Messages. If your looking for blue bonnets and butterflies, you may skip this one, but if your looking for reach down into your soul words, then this is a place for a long pause. Her third journal is Point & Counterpointand it is a new interactive journal for all our community. Topics are given and two people give different opinions on what they think of it. So what are you waiting for??

Chris AKA Inane thoughts and insane ramblings
Now, I don't think this man is insane, if he's insane, what does that make me? Hmm, ok, don't answer that! He writes, he cooks, he boxes, he's responsible, he is always on a quest for self improvement, so the only thing I can figure is he must leave the toilet seat up! And yes Ladies, he is married and a wonderful Father. A talented writer with something always new and interesting to mull around, I recommend a visit!

Tammy AKA Life, live it or miss out
A wonderful visit, stop by and get your daily dose of inspiration from a quote followed up by beautiful thoughts and writing. Tammy is a bit of an inspiration to me, her story and the quest she is on presently is something to admire and attempt understanding. She also tells some pretty fun stories and it makes me wish I was located much closer to her and Stacy, I'm ready for a BBQ ladies!

Judi AKA Judith HeartSong
I'm sure just about everyone in Journal Land knows about our own resident artist, but just to make SURE, this is a must stop. From the grand writing, to the beautiful visual delights of her artwork, you just can't go wrong. And a bonus, shes currently running her monthly Artsy essay contest about color, so I see no reason why everyone isn't entering! It's color, everyone has a hue they love for many reasons, just think it and write it......<oh, and this is not a monster butter up since I've entered the contest, just, "in case yer thinkin it pardner", oh and picture a sway of hip and hand restin on gun belt there for extra effect>

       Ok, thats a few of the MANY I could choose. Some may notice I did not, I repeat did not mention Judith over at Mirror, Mirror on the Wall because I wouldn't want anyone to think I've become her personal journal stalker since I've mentioned her so much in my journal. <But I still think if you haven't visited her pages, your well, you know MISSING OUT>

       I've just realized if the whole book thing doesn't work out for me, I could apply for a job as the back book cover writer, I think I would be good at that, pimpin at it's finest. And no, I'm not drunk tonight, this is hyper writing, I'll blame it on my kids, I don't blame them nearly enough. Ta Da, over and out.................

Whoaa there, you can't leave yet, I forgot 2 things. One is an honorable mention! Paul over at Aurora Walking Vacation cracked my secret code a few entries down and I have to say, I was most happy. A curious mind is a wonderful thing. So with that being said, take a peek at his journal, he has unique views on a lot of things, a humor that you just gotta appreciate and one hell of a cool About me Picture!

Second,  I thought this would be a good time to remind everyone to leave links back to your journal. I love journals and will happily visit yours. My little system is emailing myself my link, I think the email I am using is back from March, just remember "save email as new" It has my name and link, so when I visit everyone, I type my comment, I have already done the little copy button thing of my link and name and presto, just keep pasting along as I comment. EASY And here's alittle secret to my finding journals, after I've left my comment in someone's journal, I take a look at all the comments and if another person has left a link, I'll jump from that journal to theirs via, and here's the key word...........link :o)

Color

       Rebecca, AKA smashing news reporter, coming to you live from inside the courtroom where the honorable Judge Judi <Heartsong, again we remind readers this isn't daytime TV drama, it's the real deal> is about to issue her decision in the landmark case of Secondary Colors vs. Primary Colors.

        Although it seems inconceivable that the entire country wouldn't be aware of this critical case, I will again recap what has captured peoples attention from across the globe. A world wide strike by the three Primary Colors, Red, Yellow and Blue, caused a major color meltdown felt by every man, woman and child. 

       The origination of the major color strike, lead by the Primary Colors leader Red, has been traced back to a prestigious essay contest. It has been discovered that entrants for this colorful essay contest were asked to select one favorite color and describe it's delights. Apparently, after the contest closed, Red realized not nearly enough people had picked it's vibrant hue and became inconsolably offended. Red then held a closed door meeting with the head leaders of Yellow and Blue and they announced an official Primary Color strike.

       This official statement was issued to newsrooms across the globe.

"As the Primary Colors, Red, Yellow and Blue, we feel our importance has become diminished over time. One only needs to look at the Crayola Color Force Colossal Box 120 count to see our vitality is sorely under represented.  We believe a temporary strike will enlighten those who's eye's feast on the beauty we create directly and indirectly. Without our participation in color enhancement, we feel people will again recognize our critical role is not something to be disregarded!"
Red, Yellow, Blue

    
       The strike was felt immediately with the quickly diminishing hue's of secondary and tertiary colors. An injunction was quickly filed by the Secondary Colors leader Purple, even as he felt his vibrant hue fading. A temporary court order was issued requiring all Primary Colors continued participation in ALL color enhancement until a court trial could commence.

       Presiding under the watchful eye of the Honorable Judge Judi <I would like to add, no one steps out of line in her courtroom, several Tertiary colors were removed from her courtroom for random acts of catcalls, whooping and hollering whenever they agreed with a witness> The Secondary Colors had a list of witnesses a mile long that has taken over 16 weeks to listen too. Painters, children, teachers, writers, gardeners, belly dancers, artists, color wheel specialists, crayola crayon scientists and so many more it would be incredibly long to list.

       As a reporter my own personal appreciation for colors has been forever changed while listening to the various testimonies. I've discovered that people depend on colors more then I thought possible. A childs pink dress her Grandmother had bought for her, a prized possession, even though she had outgrown the dress years before. A painting full of diverse color that transports a woman to a time when she felt carefree and beautiful. It's the emotion attached to the color purple, capturing serenity, and soothing a broken heart. A man produced a Thomas Kinkade painting to illustrate the dimensional highlight and colors that he had come to relish in his living room.

       I've discovered people surround themselves with different colors to create a peace, or encouragement of soul. It's about the woman who loves to lay in fresh cut green grass to feel centered, or the man who can't stop looking into the emerald green eye's of his wife. The ritual of smelling a bright orange and peeling back the layers to delight in it's juicy orange center. Color can be the bridge between missing someone and remembering them, a woman explained how walking through her rose garden, breathing in their smell and touching the colored petals brings her back to when her husband used to bring her roses every week before he passed away. Another woman cried when she testified that her own wedding song, " A Brown-eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, would loose all the irreplaceable happy emotions she feels when played, if Brown become an obsolete color.

       Lawyers for the Primary Team called a small select group of witnesses who swore under oath, that primary colors where the only way their eye's were happy. But during cross examination all witnesses for the Primary colors eventually admitted they had fond memories of a large array of hue's. One male witness broke down under Secondary Lawyer Magentas bright and bold coaxing. When pressed about a favorite color of his childhood. It was discovered the male witness had painted his room during his teen age years the color Teal. <Lawyers for Primary Colors asked this witness to sit on the Secondary Color side after this admission> A common bond was discovered between all witnesses, for both Primary and Secondary. During questioning all witnesses were discovered to be strongly attached a specific color scheme, but under heavy questioning, it was found the majority of witnesses had changed preferences over the course of their life, that color was essential to their memories, moods and day to day life.

       Resolution is at hand! Honorable Judge Judi has just entered the court room, a hushed silence has covered the courtroom like a black blanket to await her verdict. Lets listen in..........

       "Ladies, Gentleman, Children and Colors, I have listened to the testimonies, looked over the millions of exhibits and have reached a verdict. I would like to address the defendants, Red, Yellow and Blue. It is with appreciative heart that I realized during this proceeding how pivotal your role in color scheme is undeniably critical to the overall beauty of this world. Without a united front between the three of you, a willingness to blend and create, our world will loose all that is the palette of emotions, creativity, beauty and comfort humanity depends on.
       A common question people are given, whether to discover new and interesting things about a person, or to spark a glorious topic for an essay contest, is "what is your favorite color?" I haven't seen one piece of evidence that would indicate people really deep in their heart only love ONE color, but instead adore and love one hue color depending on personal need in their life, and surround themselves with many other colors. With that being said, it seems only logical that everytime a color is mentioned in this world, it should come as the highest compliment to the three of you. If a child claims pink is her favorite color, Red, you should feel proud of your contribution to her happiness. If an Artist paints a glorious purple Iris, Blue you should smile to the highest peaks for your required addition to this majestic color. If a woman receives a green leather bound journal for her quiet writing time, Yellow, you should feel comforted that you will always be there to inspire her creative soul.
       My Verdict is in favor of the Secondary Colors and let me remind everyone, color should never be taken for granted, without these additions in our world, we would live in a one dimensional background devoid of eye catching inspiration. Court Dismissed" And with a twinkle in her eye, the Honorable Judge Judi, pulled a burnt sienna colored scarf from underneath her stand and waved it at the room! 

             
       A sigh of relief could be heard throughout the courtroom. As a reporter I paid special attention to the reaction of the three Primary Colors. Each individual color seemed to beam with smiles, nod to each other in approval and hug one another as if in triumph. It seemed to me, that although their strike was lost, they appeared as they had won the world. It occurred to me that possibly, this was their intention the entire time. To remind humanity of the importance of ALL color in our lives. To that, I say brilliant color enhancement. Bravo.

       Rebecca, AKA bold and colorful reporter, signing off and heading home to curl up in her favorite violet blanket, with a tangerine colored glass of pink lemonade and an art book filled with abstract colors delight. After careful consideration, I will still lay claim to my favorite color to dress in as black, but as my signature color, I can only say I couldn't live without Blue and Red, because that is what gives me Purples. The color that brings me to a place of serene peace, and elicits a soft side of tranquility. Hue's of purple represent a feeling of calm that can't be described but felt from deep within. Amethysts are for my healing and lavender is my color of safety.

Color Really Is Divine!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the Beautiful and Colorful Essay Contest Brought To Us By Our Own
Judith Heartsong.
May all your colors be vibrant Judi, and you continue to share all your glorious colors with us.

http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1469

Response and Research

Main Entry: [1]book
Pronunciation: 'buk
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English bOc; akin to Old High German buoh book, Gothic boka letter
Date: before 12th century
1 a : a set of written sheets of skin or paper or tablets of wood or ivory b : a set of written, printed, or blank sheets bound together into a volume c : a long written or printed literary composition d : a major division of a treatise or literary work e : a record of a business's financial transactions or financial condition — often used in plural <the books show a profit>

The Book Hath no Ending.

   A repeat in topic is in order today. Although this time, I would like to propose a research and accumulate information perspective. For my questioning curiosity, with a side benefit of being relevant to my current side endeavor, I realized what a beautiful resource I have in, well, to be blunt, YOU.

       As a lover of my mainstay dictionary, anytime I'm pondering something, a quick check to the dictionary is my first stop. Today's check resulted in 29 matches for book.  
Now, out of those 29 matches, a few could be discarded. Who knew there was such things as book louse? Thankfully, I have yet to open a book infested with these tiny little creatures, I'm afraid something traumatic like that would alter my reading pleasure for life. I would hate to be forced to don a full body suit everytime I opened my books, bugs should know better then to disturb such a pleasure escape. I'm getting alittle irritated with bugs lately, they really need to learn their place in society!

       There were plenty of other books.......phrase, picture, talking, telephone, trade, comic, and of course, the black book. Although the dictionary doesn't describe a black book as a plethora of phone numbers for your dating pleasure, it simply says it's a list of people you've black listed. Where's the fun in that? Hmmm, I'm rambling, back on topic............
      
       My curiosity today, leans towards the idea of "What makes a bad book, a good book, a great book and the best-selling label of a fantastic book?"

       I know thats quite a subjective question, considering everyone has different tastes in books. That list is another I won't bore people with, but I can't help but reason, that all books have a few common denominators. So what are those common threads? What type of book makes you curl up in a corner and hide, so that no one can bother you while you finish a 400 page novel in a day?

       I consider myself a pretty well rounded reader. If it's well written, I'll read it. I'm not a literary snob in the sense that I only read 500 page saga's, written by the best masterminds in the world that have been dead for 30 years. Nope, I read just about anything I can get my hands on. For example, the last weekend I was up at my cabin, I took the kids down to the local town <population like 100> for some ice cream. While I was waiting for our order I grabbed a book off the sitting area book rack. Before I knew it, <10 minutes total> I was asking the lady at the counter if I could buy it. She told me to just return it when I was done. The book, "The Wedding" by Julie Garwood. Romance at it's finest. 400 pages of sinfully good delight. Finished in a day of basking on my porch, with the finest view I've ever found. No profound thought shattering moments to be found in this book, no mind boggling strain on the brain, just simple old good fun. I appreciate fun.

       So what makes a person return to the same Authors over and over? If I find another Julie Garwood, I'd probably buy it because I enjoyed that book so much. When a person is searching for the next book to read, and your walking though the library or Barnes and Noble, what makes you stop and pick a book up?

       I will admit one thing for me personally, a cover makes a lot of difference for me when I'm blindly looking for a new book. Since I don't stick to one specific genre, it's like walking in the dark feeling for a touch of texture. A book cover is typically what catches my eye first, then the back cover, if it makes it past those first two tests, I'll read the first chapter........if it makes it past those 3 tests, I'll buy it.

       So what are your book buying tests?  In the name of research, I must also ask, what makes for a BAD book? I pose all these questions today, to the brightest readers around, journal land fanatics like me :o) Gathering an array of opinions, seems like a good idea at this juncture of time. So yes, I'm on a self guided adventure, yet, in this forum, I have the opportunity to receive additional input that is most appreciated!

I love a bright and curious mind, and if you're reading this, bravo, indeed!

The Lifetime Itch

        How often have we all sat, staring at this screen, with the little curser line blinking at us, willing us to write something, anything. Well, it seems I'm having one of those moments. So when all else fails, write what seems simple and obvious, like about the blinking line that keeps teasing me with it's constant blink, blink, blink.

       This is the classic case of writing avoidance, block, procrastination whatever keeps the page white, instead of filled with a pattern of black letters. If I can justify time here, then I can avoid the space I should be typing into. I've hit the crossroads on one of my endeavors and it's decision time. Deletion and devastation, or revision and resurrection.

       Words can really add up to a whole lot of nadda, or a spectacular abundance that keeps a person enthralled. I love a good book. I feel pretty safe about making the assumption that most people enjoy a good book, but not all readers enjoy writing. Although it would seem the two go hand in hand, I know several people who enjoy devouring a fine book on a Saturday afternoon, but wouldn't dream of keeping a journal, or even sending a friend in a letter. I suppose, either you have the writing itch or you don't.

        I for one, have a writing itch that never seems to be scratched.

       It's much deeper then just keeping my many journals alive. It's about scratching out the occasional eclectic stream of conscience sentences, which Plittle over at  Aurora Walking Vacation had suggested as poetry, although I've never considered, nor labeled myself a poet. Now, I'll give Paul credit, against my denial of being poet material, he has been able to substantiate his claims with some pretty undeniable material. If I remember correctly, he pulled out the dictionary with me, and that hurt. Hard to argue with the grand daddy of word meaning, the all powerful master of definition, the dictionary. <By the way, mighty crafty move on your part Paul> I'm just not ready to toss a label of poet next to my name. Too many expectations, guidelines, purpose, labels associated withpoetry,and if I may be blunt, some <those usually who claim to be of the serious nature> poets can be a biased, judgmental, pretentious society, of which I'm perfectly happy looking in the window at the cliche.

      It's also about this itch that picks on me constantly. The itch that is stories. To tell a tale, to craft a story, to write a scene, these are the little visions that pick at me until I write them down. Sometimes it comes at me in the form of a title. Poof, like reading the title of a book, then the story follows around it. Sometimes it's a person, and I write a whole story around that specific character. Occasionally I'll be talking to someone and something about the way they say a sentence brings forth a quick essay. And so on and on and on and on.........never ending mind bombardment.

       This is the stuff daydreamers are made of. Off to lala land, mind floating in the clouds, enticing new and interesting versions of everyday life. This is the life of a writer. I think though, it's important to distinguish the difference between a writer and an author, just as I distinguish in my own world, the difference between a poet and a simple person who writes slightly quirky meandering of her mind. I'm not an author, nor am I a poet, but I could be if I keep writing, daydreaming and tenaciously step up to the next level............the labels are attainable.

       Enough procrastination here, I think I've wrote enough, to knock down the block I was facing just over there...........

When all else fails, borrow from another

I am no philosopher, but if continuity is anything,
It is in this, bright pictures in the dark of the mind,
Each an echo of something, but still unique.
Claude Monet

~?~

? I am about the question. Questions have been one of my mainstays for as long as I could remember. The question typically has an answer. A question asked, is knowledge gained in my world. Name a topic, and I have a bountiful list of questions to ask.
      
       I think, questions are the stepping stones to the acquisition of information. Whether it's trying to figure out from the Home Depot guy exactly what type of screen door he would install in his house, or the friend that calls on the phone asking for motherly, relationship or clothes advice. Start asking the questions and the answer you seek, will follow.

       Questions are also the device that spins me in circles and drives me in a classic sense of up the wall. I find myself all too often questioning all that I do, all that I think, all that is Moi. If I am all about the questions, then when does that cycle end?

      I can see where anything in excess can be construed into a bad thing. But how can anyone out there not question all that is possible? It's about evolution of the mind and exploration. Everywhere I look I see potential. Potential is constant, possibilities are endless and opportunity is at our fingertips. What causes someone to just stop, dead in their life tracks and decide this is as far as they will be going?

       Is ambition the underlying factor? Desire for more or content understanding? A motivation of the mind to know more, or not? I am not referring to things of money nature in any means. Money is simply a byproduct of a chosen profession. I am also not interested in material things. Again, byproducts of a byproduct.

        What I'm pondering this evening, is what makes one person continue to explore life, learn new things. What makes one person pick up a book they know will be challenging but filled with new and interesting knowledge, versus the person who only picks up the National Enquirer at the supermarket for guilty reading pleasure? <By the way, I do both- Latest book purchases ---The Art of War, The Denama Translation, Sun Tzu, halfway done and what a brain workout this one is! James Patterson- Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas, for the romantic in me, finished, didn't enjoy the end~~~Life & Style weekly, supermarket, had to see Julia Roberts little darlings and the worst dressed list>
      
       Being a bit of the observer I like to think I am, I've seen all walks of life display different levels of questions. I know people who I doubt will ever reach the pinnacle of their Mountain top, always searching for new instruction, knowledge, aspirations of all that is possible. I know people who seem clearly intent on staying on one level and thats a happy, content plateau for them. I can respect that, but an honest me, will say I don't quite understand that. It's something I can't quite put the finger on the answer and say ahh haa ok, I get it.
      
       There's several levels of me that I could assess as nice and content. There are many more that are always on the prowl of whats possible tomorrow. There are also levels that are just on constant discord within....
      
       Maybe tonight I'm just frustrated with a friend who says and does just about everything she can to maintain a stagnant pace in life. A friend that I see as a bottomless pit of potential. She asks the questions, validation of sorts, I ask the questions back on her, and this is where she takes the divine pleasure in placing a brick of excuse, complete with the mortar, on her wall of reasons why doing is not a possibility.

       Is it just typical human nature to toss the brick and seal it with mortar, or is it typical to ask the questions and build the steps of answers. Or is a good mixture of both the place to be?  Is questions the path to exploration or a circle that keeps us chasing our tails. Who knows, but I know I've thrown down a few stepping stones, and that I am content with.

And this is a good example of asking too many questions takes one's mind in one big old circle, and tosses you back in the corner of square one..............

Summer Invasion Hath Commenced

       Serenity now. I'm writing via laptop, with my new wireless connection. Sitting in a nice, well padded wicker chair in my back yard. The air is warm, the sun is just going down. I have a fire going in the chimanea next to me. I have a chilled bottle of wine in the ice bucket, a fine crystal glass to compliment it.  I'm gently blowing the bugs away from my screen, no need for bug splatter on the high resolution upgrade. The soft sways of summer are upon me.

      Who am I kidding. I'm hiding. I don't think they are onto me yet. I can hear voices, they haven't searched the back, yet. The final bell of school rang just yesterday at 1:15 p.m. With in one hour of final resolution, they were upon my home like strays around a garbage can. The phone is ringing off the hook, home and my personal cell......."Is Shelby there?"  

       By 3 o'clock, it was a schools out for summer party. By 5 o'clock I was BBQin for 9 strays. Hot-dogs galore. By 7 o'clock it was a finely tuned sleepover for 5 extra's. Groceries had become depleted and toilet paper obsolete. I call in a sub so I can make an emergency store run. Sleep was but a dream. 4 a.m. Wake up Rebecca, Hailey is throwing up, too much something.

       I walked out of my office a week ago, files and paperwork heaping in my backseat. A smile on my face, see ya, I said to my coworkers, I'm home office Mama for the summer. Sweat pants and cut off shorts, pajama's until noon if I'd like. Suits reserved for must do meetings. It really was a beautiful feeling. It really was.

       I woke up this morning to silence. No alarm clocks, sun flowing through my windows. Ahh, thats right, it's summer, no deadlines, no clocks to watch. What a grand feeling, all 10 seconds of it. I could hear movement just outside my door. This child obviously didn't know the rules. No requests until I've had my coffee. Phones start ringing by 8:45, "Is Shelby there?" 

       By 10 o'clock this morning a strange phenomenon began happening. Glimpses of bodies walking around out front. I peaked out through the curtains, gasp, boys.......5 of them. Giggles from the several teenie boppers in the room indicated full awareness. They all looked like hoodlums on bikes to me.

       I had agreed to take one child home to their house by 11 o'clock, too many kids for one car. I place Shelby in charge and demand all boys not take one step inside property lines and all girls to remain inside the house or else summer ends today.

       Carjacked. Yep, school is out. I forgot to lock the car last night and I am now minus one radar detector, several CD's, a bookbag that I always keep in the car for emergency writing, a leather jacket, and all my change. I'm in a darling of a mood now. I run to the Tahoe to make sure it's locked and my flyrod is safe.......all is good. The boys hanging around move across the street, I think my ranting and raving has reinforced they don't want to cross the property line.

       Kids coming and going all day long. My front yard looked like a bike rally. I maintained a tough Mom demeanor and only let one boy in the house briefly for the restroom. This must be some sort of age 13 thing. Boys lurking around. I don't like it personally. Where the hell did Barbie Dolls and kiddie pools in the backyard go?
      
       My home has become the hub of activity in the neighborhood. Other parents seem just delighted with it after finding out I will be here all day, this whole summer. I suddenly find myself longing for my office and the distracting chatter of office fanfare.

       I've been discovered, and marshmallows for the fire have been requested. The bugs are swarming my computer screen now that the sun is down and I've yet to polish off one glass of wine. As the great and powerful Seinfeld-ism would say.......Serenity Now.

       Has it really only been one day?

As It Is

A word is a word, is a picture, is a letter, it's a thought performing a function in a word. A link to a string wrapped in a bow of insight.

       But it's still just a word, put a word in a sentence, any sentence, it's a statement, it is a stroke of a paintbrush, it is a vision for your mind, it's an opinion, it's a reality or fantasy.

        A word is just that, a word. Words. I love a fine word. The word is what I express with. Paint a story, paint a smile, stroke of genius, irrelevant statement. Does it matter? I string the thought into letters into the word, into the sentence, all derivative of the mind.

       Read. Reading is sisterhood to the word. One doesn't exist without the other. I read. Read the stop sign, read the milk carton, read the novels, read the words put in front of me. It's a man on a hilltop who wrote the note and left it there to be found. It's the journal that hides in recesses of space waiting to be discovered, it's the handwritten letter from a friend.

       To write is to give, as to read is to take.
To write is to grieve, to read is to receive.
To write is to express, to read is to absorb.
To write is to give a central part of yourself, to read is to understand.
To find the darkness and brilliant light and the signs of humanity, this is true exploration.
Unions of mind, thought, expression, understanding, knowledge, unknown and life.
If I could read the words of a 1000 unknown souls I would be richer in spirit and thought.

       Thoughts. The thought is the starting point, with everything we do. Break it down in any manner pleasant enough for the thought to accept, but it's still the thought that starts anything and everything. It's the thought that brings the words, it's the thought that enacts the action. It's the words or voice that show the thought.

       This walking, talking, reading, writing thought learned a valuable lesson today. The reading that became the painting, that came to a thought, that brought forth an emotion, that became the words, into the sentence, that became the insult, to another thought. In other words, my words to another brought forth a spew of defensive and irritated thoughts.

I found this interesting indeed. I am not sorry for the honesty and concern I wrote, I am regretful for the interpretation it created.

       Public consumption of thoughts, words, and reading can be a precarious combination of opinions, understanding and thought. Obviously a fine line must be drawn, a personal one, and I was able to distinguish that for myself today. It was a fine lesson to learn and I will keep that in mind as I paint a picture for the people who gift me with their reading of my words.

Give and Take, as it should be. Read and Write as we should. Thought and Choice, as it is.

As Always, these are my thoughts......................

Spirit Rally

Sometimes, life brings you crossing paths with Extraordinary people. This is not something to be regarded as just simple luck of the draw. They are someone you can draw from, selfishly steal inspiration from, and garner perspective you never thought of finding.
But even Extraordinary can become tired, when questions of mortality, cancer and unsurpassed love is placed in front of Extraordinary souls.
This is our way of sending part of our spirit and hopes back to Extraordinary.

For Julie and Judith
Extraordinary souls with spirit we all cherish.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Judith & Julie
"Hold an Open House in your heart for all people and all things. Each one carries certain amounts of Hope, Love and Joy.....the main ingredients to healing and mending!
 Your voices have been heard....and in return you have been thought of and prayed for.
Wishing you extraordinary amounts of warmth ..........Marc :)  (grofsand)Grains Of Sand

Dear Judith and Julie,
 
I just wanted to express that I'm wishing you both the best. When it comes to giving encouragement and support, sometimes I find myself lacking in that area. But I wanted to say how brave I think you both are. And I wanted to show my support.
 
Forgive me for standing on the shoulders of a giant, so to speak. I am borrowing words from Mr. Adams. Just remember, when it all seems so hard, when it gets the rockiest...
 
"Courage and perseverance have a magical talisman before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish into air."  John Quincy Adams
 
Best wishes to you both,
 
Ari  Reflections of Ari

Julie and Judith,
       As I wander around the world of journals, it's the diamonds in the rough that I keep clicking back to over and over again. It's well known that I adore your pages and understanding why, is pretty easy for me. For one, my own Mother just got done with her breast cancer treatments, along with my Aunt. So for me, the matter of watching loved one's deal with such a thing is VERY prominant in my world. The second, I find just fascinating is your sibling relationship. Toss on some wonderful writing and zany antics by the both of you, it's easy to feel right at home at your pages.

       You both have given me a gift by allowing me to see some of your world. You make me laugh at your crazy antics, you make me smile with your tales of Twin-dom, and bring tears to me when you are down. Yet, even on your saddest entries, there is always a spark there, a spirit that shines through the blue. The strength and dedication found on your pages is unsurpassable. We are your silent cheerleaders, sending you warm wishes from across the nation. Your almost there, rest and keep those beautiful smiles sparkling. We can't wait to read the stories of the next chapters of your lives!
Hugs and Spirit,
Rebecca



Every sunset is the prelude to another sunrise.
Much love to the twindom,
Marti <Picture from Marti, just for you!> Midlife Musings


 Julie and Judith,
 
You are two of the most fantastic people I have come to know here in J-land.  I look forward to reading the entries Judith makes of your adventures.  I cry with you when the page is filled with emotion.  I laugh, more times than not, at the zany escapades the two of you take part in.  Your sisterhood inspires me and the state of 'twindom' leaves me in awe.  To know that there are two people out there who love each other, take care of each other, get their strength from one another...it warms my heart and restores my faith that all is not lost in the society we live in today. 
 
Have your down time, but know this, we are all here with you through thoughts and prayers.  Just because your over the hump does not mean we leave you stranded.  Looking forward to the smiles and adventures to come.  Love you guys!
 
Tammy  Life, live it or miss out/Tschamberland

My wish for the Twindom is never ending health, happiness, and love.... Hang in there, the end is in sight! J.J. Astaryth Adventures of an Eclectic Mind

Judith and Julie,

My mother has been an oncology certified nurse since 1994 and worked at the Mayo Clinic's bone marrow transplant unit in Jacksonville, FL (where I happen to be today on a stopover for our vacation).  She has been interviewed in trade journals specifically about how medical professionals in her line of work deal with the emotional ups and downs. 

I showed her your 5/27/05 journal entry today and she was very impressed with both of you.  Her first comment was that, unfortunately, your experiences are as "NORMAL" as she has seen in this field.  Mom found it AMAZING that she has been able to do the house remodeling that she has.  She pointed out that many, many, many people who are not undergoing chemotherapy are not able to do these projects but here Julie is knocking them out or at least trying valiantly before cussing, throwing a hammer through the drywall, and calling in a pro!  Despite her current downturn (remember, recovery is a continuom), Mom thinks Julie'situation is very POSITIVE because she is looking to make all of these home improvements, indicating that she EXPECTS to come through unscathed.  That belief has a healing power on its own and a synergistic effect in conjucion with treatment.

Look how far you've come (or to quote sexist Virginia Slims ads of the '80s......You've Come A Long Way Baby!)  You have run the marathon that neither of you signed up for.  You have turned the final stretch.  The crowd is cheering you on.  If you look at the mass of people, you might see Rebecca holding a poster that reads "Go J & J, Go".  If you listen closely, perhaps you can hear me screaming "Just a few more yards!".  Just meters away from you is a paper banner at the finish line that your friends, your family, and even us AOL Journalniks have fashioned just for you....

Chris  Inane thoughts and insane ramblings

 

Hey ladies.............Here's hoping that you feel a wave of encouragment rolling your way from the Great North Coast of Ohio!  ~ Oceanmrc Midlife Matters

And for you both, the finest box of virtual chocolates we could find. Keep your spirit and your chocolate high soaring!