I just found a poem from my brother.  He wrote it for me.  Over the Christmas break we were writing Love Notes to our family members, to go into our Christmas stockings (a really cool addition to the candy).  We were all sitting around writing, laughing, and talking.  My brother was  writing his notes in different writing styles for each person.  We were throwing out examples for him to use:  Haiku, iambic pentameter - though he reneged on the Shakespearean Sonnet.      When he got to mine, he announced that it would be a limerick.  I said, "make it clean!", which is funny because I'm the only one in this family who openly swears.  So the likelihood of a naughty limerick coming from this bunch, is highly unlikely.  Then someone else chimed in, "Use the word Nantucket".  I got a jolt of joy this morning as I was looking for something or other, and I stumbled upon my limerick!  I miss my famil...

Embarrassing, but necessary.  Sometimes it just needs coxing.  

I am in awe.

     It was sunny on campus today.  I had an enjoyable lunch with a past professor who is now a friend.  And I talked to another professor who is becoming a friend.  Then when walking across campus I heard someone call out my name.  It was my first Study Buddy from last year who I hadn't seen in awhile.  It was wonderful to see her and catch up.  I no longer walk across this space unknown.  It feels a little like. . . belonging.      It is the Nature of the Sun to Shine, Deepak Chopra.

Read it and then we will talk.

     This is an assignment for UF 300 (a University Foundations general ed type class).  We were to write our life story, and display it in an electron concept map.  Why do so many teachers seemed to be obsessed with our life stories?  I think it's to help us learn to be reflective about our lives, see connections, learn stuff.  That's all great and good, but I do that on a daily basis.  I'm always looking at the energy of my day/life, looking for patterns, discovering wounds that need to be healed, and joy to be had.  I sort of want to move on to something new.  But for the sake of a good grade, and to be the exemplary student that I am, once again - my story.      My Story Concept Map (CLICK BELOW TO SEE MY CONCEPT MAP) Concept Map on Spicynodes      On March 17, 1982 I graduated as a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) with the hopes of going back to school and getting my Registe...

First day of school      Poor Freshman and those new to campus, having to dig through the ice just to know where they are going.  Far be it from me to want to benefit from the suffering of others, but I'm feeling pretty damn good about now that I am not one of them...any more.

     I used to be so intimidated by the process of buying school books each semester.  It doesn't help that I find books themselves intimidating.  And libraries, and just about anything with shelves of books...like a school bookstore!  I found the whole thing confusing and overwhelming.   And it didn't help that I had this unrealistic fear that I would show up to class on the first day, with the wrong books.  Is that a punishable sin?  What exactly did I think they were going to do with me if I did show up with the wrong books?  And by the way, it happens.  I've seen it - thank goodness not to me.  But to my knowledge, no one has been repremended, banished from school, or exploded because of it.  I think I'm safe if I were to have a future inadvertent bookstore mishap.        I now know how to peruse the shelves and read the signs to find the classes and corresponding assigned lit...

Did I mention this?   Night shift is killing me...

Pageviews by Countries  Entry Pageviews United States 123 Russia 12 South Korea 1 Lebanon 1 Wowser!  Blog hits from South Korea and Lebanon this week.  I want to go there.  I do. 

     We are told in class that our first assignment is to turn in a 500-word creative non-fiction writing piece.  Being that this is a creative writing class, this is totally acceptable and anticipated.  What comes next, is not.  We are to bring extra copies of our piece to be handed out to others for critique.      OK, I know it's an over the top example, but it feels a little like handing over my precious, new born infant for critical examination.  I am breathlessly watching as the body is passed from person to person, while they poke and prod.  "Nice angle of the jaw, but this nose is much too long and will need to be sliced".  Another chimes in, "And God forbid we should allow the jutting of this elbow...what were you thinking?"  And still another, "The poochy belly really works well here, but perhaps a little more pooch?"  WTF?  Who willingly subjects themselves to that kind of scrutiny over a tender exten...

Grabbing a cup of Joe before class.  Working nights is killing me...      Clever advertisement.  Though spelling is in question.  Makes me want to be a RA (Resident Assistant).  Actually, I have been looking for a job on campus - working daylight hours being the optimal goal.  I looked at this job, and I like the idea of helping folks figure out the campus and college life (now that I'm such an expert!).  And I could totally handle any bullshit students pull, deal with discipline, and have some fun.  Isn't that the job description for this gig?  But payment for this particular job is free housing, living with the people I would be helping.  That's not going to work. 1.  Too much fun is just annoying.  I am 55 after all. 2.  I'd still need money for stuff. 3.  And where in the hell would I put my bed? Yep, that's my bed.

     The person I have known longer than any other person on this planet, excluding blood relations, is Lynn Binn.  Back in the - high school - day, I called her Lynn Binn and she called me Sue Boo.  We have stayed in touch all these years.  And although we rarely talk these days, when we do, it's as if no time has passed.  Joy of joys, she is visiting me for a quick over night stay.      At breakfast out, we chit chat non stop over gravy and biscuits, frou frou hot chocolate, and gluten free pancakes with real butter and hot (not warm) syrup.  She reminds me of the time in college when three of us friends went to a school outing, which included a potluck dinner.  She had brought a loaf of homemade bread, but for some unfathomable reason, it never got opened.  We carried it as we walked home, our trio enjoying the comradery as only the carefree youth can.  Half way home, we stopped at a park bench to talk and giggle...

Let's once and for all stop pretending that this is an oddity.  I find most people sense spirits in one way or another.  And some of us have full blown conversations.  It's just not weird or rare.  Get over it.

     The Hemingway Building on campus is probably my favorite.  I'm sure it's one of the oldest, with it's beautiful brick work and more intricate design.  Not flashy, but eye catching all the same.  I just love to walk by, as the sight of it always seems to lift my energy a bit.  Beautify does that to me.  I'll always sit in a room so that I will have the most advantageous view, which if possible will include nature.      So, how happy was I, when I saw that I would actually be walking into the building for a class this semester.  One problem though...  Sitting in the Hemingway Building for a creative writing class.  Intimidating much?      Being an old building, I assumed there would be dead people.  Rule of thumb, the older the building, the more spirits there are.  And this one is no exception.  But nothing heavy or too distracting.  Just the usual.

     I have never taken a creative writing class before.   Until today that is.   I’ve been one part excited and two parts terrified.   See my blog post – The Scariest Class of All - Sept 2015.      I really have no idea what to expect.   I took Research Writing a year ago, but I suspect this style will be more loosey-goosey.   Yet, creativity needs a structure of some kind, doesn’t it?   Well, doesn’t it?        The first thing I noticed was the energy of the people coming into the room.  Wow, talk about loosey-goosey.  But not in a bad way!  As I sat in this pool of energy from about 15 people in a small room, I could feel…hmm...how do I put this into words?  There was structure, yes.  But their energy went beyond the structure in an expansive, explorative way.  It felt like they could go anywhere or do anything using their imagination a...