A mixed bag

All posts in the A mixed bag category

I Throw Snowballs at Myself

Published June 12, 2021 by Nan Mykel

I’m not OK.

You’re not OK.

That’s not OK.

Pretending otherwise

is not OK either.

I won’t throw them

at you, however, but

hoard them For myself. 

I deserve to be

pelted more than you.

So there!

(with a definitely not OK photo of me)

Topic for a Poem

Published June 10, 2021 by Nan Mykel

That’s the hardest part of it since

I insist my muse do the work,

not me. At least most of it. 

So I wait and listen, feel and

free associate and recall my

dreams and surrender to the past.

We have lived it together, she

and me. Sitting on the train tracks,

waiting.  The train is running late.

Ho ho, that wasn’t fun was it!

Lighten up, Mu!

(For https://dversepoet.com)

IF THOUGHTS WERE WORDS

Published June 10, 2021 by Nan Mykel
Oh no. Here she comes again. I wonder if she eats babies. I thought the holly bush would be protection enough, How awkward not to carry a weapon. Just my voice. I felt like a genius when I selected the holly bush. She ignores me. Guess that’s better than murder. I never guessed I could yell so loud! Good. She’s going inside, through with beheading petunias. Now back to my babies.

HONESTLY…

Published June 9, 2021 by Nan Mykel

KEITH ON TRUTH – Reblog

The lies are like a loose string in a woven fabric

Posted on 11

“Always tell the truth as you don’t have to remember as much,” said a voicemail greeting from an old friend. His greeting spoke volumes to me when I first heard it. He would alter his greeting at work on a daily basis offering adages or life lessons and this remains my favorite lesson of his.

To me, it is an important lesson as when people do not tell the truth, not only do they have to remember more stories, the lies are like loose strings in a woven fabric. They will eventually begin to unravel. This is especially true when people in leadership positions lie. Their lies are so visible, others have to adjoin their lies with the so-called leader’s. That leaves greater exposure as there are now more strings to unravel.

It truly saddens me how the truth has become more of a commodity these days. Politicians feel they can get away with exaggerations or even bald-faced lies. The know pseudo-news outlets that support their tribe or party will cover for them. To be frank, when someone knowingly covers for a lie, that is also lying.

All politicians lie, but by far the worst of the lot is the former president. But, that is truly not news, as an attorney who worked for him for years before he was elected said the former president “lies every day, even about things of no consequence.” Similar quotes can be found by more than a few people who worked for him over the years and in the White House.

Yet, too many believe this person. He did not win the election – he lost. It was not stolen from him – he lost. He lost because he got seven million fewer votes. He has been unable to prove election fraud losing well over sixty court cases, while winning one. That is a pretty miserable investment of money to pay attorneys for so little return. Some funders actually want their money back as they felt the former president cheated them by insinuating there was fraud.

Yet, these lies led to people dying on January 6 when he invited, incited and pointed protestors at the Capitol. Lies about the seriousness of COVID-19 led to more than deaths than needed and some people still believe it was all exaggerated or a hoax because of such. And, those folks who are still covering for those lies – such as in Texas where it was recently ruled illegal to use the Vaccine passports, reveal a how screwed up this former president has made things.

The truth matters. People rely on politicians to tell them the truth. We need to believe them, but when a president, governor or senator lies, it devalues our country. Being a sycophant to an untruthful person does not bode well for one’s reputation. And, these sycophants know they are lying, which bothers me as much as the lying itself.

Runaway Thoughts

Published June 7, 2021 by Nan Mykel

Crabby (above) is lying down because I can’t figure out how to heist him  (he’s currently unattached to anything but gravity).  Suggestions welcome.  I found him dead and de-gutted him myself in 2019…   

If there should be a good God: “please protect the no fly zone in Washington, D.C. better than you did on 9/11…”

    While housecleaning I had the horrible thought that I might live another 10 years and suffer from having discarded the many droppings from my past in an anti-hoarding activity. (Smile)

P.S. And by the bye, when I searched Webster’s for the spelling of horde…hoard?…, I saw that the word traces back to the word vulva…And when I first looked up horde it was across the page from the picture of horse, with 35 places on a horse numbered and named…

Things

Published June 6, 2021 by Nan Mykel

They say it isn’t nice

to  love things as well as life

but hoarders know that things will stay

when others in their lives go way.

My things all around me pile,

big Mama to the little child.

Old letters calling to my mind,

tales from those who are left behind.

Wise old Yoda looks back at me

as though to say, “It’s me and thee.”

(Nan’s reblog from 2019)

It’s 2021 now and I’m still dealing with “things.” In fact, earlier this month I added a 6 ft x 4 ft painting from the Recycle store down the street, plus purchased a 4-drawer legal size filing cabinet. One of my daughters caught the –quirk…defense…habit…addiction…affliction…from me.

I suspect it relates back to a problem with transitional objects*. For much of my life my transitional objects have been books after the baby blankets disappeared. Hunger, depression, loneliness, a longing to be validated and changing schools all along before I could really practice making friends (11 schools in 12 years prior to 2 universities). The result has been too much of a me-me-me focus. I never heard of a support group for hoarders, but I suspect the world could use one. No, not the world–there are many more refugees with bare bones belongings than self-centered hoarders, or maybe it should be hungry and lonely hoarders.

I don’t think being incested as a child (grammarians would shudder at that misuse of the word) is pertinent to my hoarding. I do suspect that my feelings and thoughts being discounted by my parents is probably the primary culprit. I recall as a very young child cutting a hole in the skirt of my dress. When someone asked me why I did it I said that I didn’t have anything else to do. Then, somewhere I wrote Say It Aint So! (Maybe I blogged it here, too):

Here’s the thing:

I’ve been talking

through this

loudspeaker I

found in my crib

80 years ago and

just now notice

it’s not plugged in!

The old Christmas cards, letters and especially valued articles (on consciousness, imaging, evolution, dreaming, nature, etc.) and even more especially old photos of my immediate family and genealogy on both my parents’ sides and other genealogical records and shells and driftwood, fossils and puppets and 10 shoeboxes of big old-oversized dvds leftover from my volunteer days at Public Access television, plus journals and dreams…you get the idea…

Actually I feel kind of scared at the thought of discarding evidence from my life. I’m scared of depression and boredom, I guess…And perhaps surrounding myself with things is a form of escape from acknowledgement of the inevitable end of things and me.

We are not amused…

Published June 5, 2021 by Nan Mykel

Since I seem to recall swearing off snarking some time ago, I’m reduced to snarking via reblogging or partially snitching. Since jill dennison (Filosofa’s world) is fairly reliable for snark, I thought I’d share a bite of hers’:

She describes several irritants, closing with a favorite of mine:

“Software, websites and browsers that make sudden unwanted changes. Most of you here on WordPress can relate, for WordPress has made numerous changes over the past six months that most of us hate, but they seem not to care about the opinions of their customers. Microsoft Office continually makes small changes, or what they call ‘improvements’ that require us to do something differently, generally requiring extra time. And the two browsers I use, FireFox and Opera, have recently made changes that, at least in my view, are not welcome! It seems we just get used to something, figure out how to work with it, and then it’s changed for no apparent reason. (Italics are Nan’s)

I have more pet peeves, but these are the ones that are bugging me most at the moment. What are some of yours?”

Nan responds, “In my senior moments I suspect it’s a ploy to steer bloggers on to the more expensive .org than our .com” P.S. I love our wp.com, fellas!

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SOME PEOPLE LIKE GOSSIP…

Published June 4, 2021 by Nan Mykel

I confess I like excitement, but of the curious kind—the true kind.

I don’t make this material up…it worms its way to end in my lap. I don’t subscribe to the New Yorker–but the May 24th issue, from the sister of a friend who passed it on to me–gave me quite a bone to gnaw on, about Francis Bacon. No, not the earlier Francis; this one was an artist (1909-1992). Unbelievable, but I believe the New Yorker, so it must be true. Read the article by Joan Acocella based on the new book The Life of Francis Bacon by Mark Stevens and Annalyn Swan and tell me what you think.

I’ve been coming across other pieces of writing such as the above recently. This week my excitement was additionally ignited by a couple of shorter pieces in the June 4 The Week magazine. Both were on the Health & Science page, 23.

The first was headlined “Writing by Thought Alone,” and described an experimental neural interface that has “allowed a man paralyzed from the neck up to compose sentences on a computer simply by imagining himself writing on a piece of paper.”

The second article in The Week was equally startling. Since the intestines of mammals are capable of absorbing oxygen, it was found that oxygen deprived mice and pigs completely recovered after the insertion of a doctored oxygen compound via the anus. They “completely recovered from very, very severe hypoxia.” (A medical researcher from a Tokyo university plans to begin clinical trials on humans as early as next year.

Perhaps it was the mental images that formed after reading all three articles that made an impact–on me, at least.

And oh, also the statement that Ohio was once below the equator also made an impression… (GeoFacts No. 17, Ohio Department of Natural Resources-Division of Geological Survey).

At World’s End?

Published June 4, 2021 by Nan Mykel

A pure delight!

insanitybytes22's avatarSee, there's this thing called biology...

Honestly, my world has ended so many times that when people speak of such things I tend to just roll my eyes. Been there, done that, and I have the tee-shirt, or at least, I havethe scars.

Once some people came to my door selling the end of the world and I was ready to buy, too! I’ll take three. Bring it on. Can’t get here fast enough as far as I’m concerned. I’m out in the middle of the street looking for the delivery truck.

The last time my world ended I was filled with regret, like I’m not finished yet. I’m like a pot roast that has not yet been tenderized. All we have here is a low grade cut of meat and some crunchy potatoes. I need time to slow cook, to infuse those spices, to spoon myself off the bone.

In the midst of melodrama…

View original post 264 more words

Cliches, Metaphors & Dreams

Published June 4, 2021 by Nan Mykel

I haven’t been a newbie on Word Press  for 5 years, but while I should be getting more familiar with its challenges I have been having my own, as each year passes.  So although I read some of the “One Day” invitations to write and post on a topic, the struggle to accomplish the goal usually proves too much.  In this posting I started to respond to the word diligent,  then gave up and hours later (I’ve been at this computer for a long time) gave up on submitting it to the joint enterprise, and this is what I am left with:

Don’t know how this works, but I’ll put my toes in, responding to “diligence.”  I looked it up in Roget’s Original International  Thesaurus--great deal at Thriftbooks– and was led into a garden overflowing with what we ourselves are told not to use when writing–cliches.  It was such fun I’ll share a few suggestions, under a sub-meaning of voluntary action:

Dealing; done deal; do one’s stuff; swing into action; run with it; get off the dime or one’s dead ass; fish or cut bait; shit or get off the pot and put up or shut up and put one’s money where one’s mouth is; lift a finger; get a life; do the trick; cut the mustard; carry the ball; rise to the occasion; have a go at; in harness…

And going from diligence in action to activity, we’re told about pep and moxie and oomph and pizzazz and piss and vinegar; hubbub; hullabaloo; hoo-ha and foofaraw and flap; many irons in the fire; much on one’s plate;  get-up-and get; eager beaver; wheeler-dealer; finger in every pie…have other fish to fry.

So–a thesaurus could come in handy in character development dialog when writing fiction, even though we are cautioned not for us  authors to use cliches (which I often ignore when blogging– I think it’s fun) which brings to mind something I read yesterday, in The Julian Jaynes Collection,  edited by Marcel Kuijsten, p 86:  “Every word we use to refer to mental events is a metaphor of something in the behavioral world.”  (I see I just used “brings to mind,” above).

Why was I reading Julian Jaynes?  I often sit in a comfy chair next to my bookcase when drinking coffee, and pull out a book to look at while relaxing.  I had bought the book about Jaynes’ theories because in 1985 I had heard Jaynes speak at a 6-day gathering of the Association for the Study of Dreams and the International Dream Conference II at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, and had been duly excited when during the discussion period he stepped down from the podium while speaking and into the aisle while another dream expert in the audience left his seat to join Jaynes in the aisle while the two experts politely though energetically offered their conflicting views, waving their arms in the  energetic exchange of ideas.  That small drama was quite exciting to observe.  I wasn’t that young, but still impressionable. Actually, I still am, more than 35 years later.

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