"A word in earnest is as good as a speech"
~Charles Dickens: Bleak House

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Maybe if I organize the blog ..... I can organize life!

So, here I am. 7:00 am at the office prepping for class (oh wait, I am writing a blog). But that is me. Organized on paper, not so good in practice. One of the things I blogged about last time was the "lupus fog." It is that feeling you get when you walk into a room and can't remember why you are there ..... but I get it all the time. So there are lots of lists and notes in my life. The problem is I usually forget to read them. So, I like to have things neatly ordered. Which is why this blog can be so frustrating while at the same time cathartic. There are so many ideas for good blogs running through my head I don't know which one to write about first. On my way to work this morning I figured out if I had a topic to write about on a particular day it would help me focus. So here is my plan:
  • Medical Monday - there are lots of cool things that happen in the medical world, and some not so cool things. On Mondays I will investigate.
  • Literature Tuesday - I love to read and I enjoy writing. So on Tuesdays I will share some passages I love and maybe share some of my own work.
  • Wordless Wednesday - I explained this one last Wednesday
  • Thoughtful Thursday - this is my spot for current events (usually political). It is helpful if I just pick one event, or one thing going on in the world and talk about it.
  • Family Friday - this is not just my family ..... helpful hints, recipes, family living
  • Wacky Weekend - I can write about anything I want on the weekend

So, this is my plan. We will see how it works. If I have a plan here, maybe it will help me keep to my plans in my everyday life and tackle some of the to-do lists I have piling up!

Today is Literature Tuesday!

c/o http://www.wbur.org/

On the way to work this morning I was listening to readings from a new collection of poems by Shel Silverstein. I remember his work, it got me interested in poetry as a child and made me want to write my own.

Some of the poems are sad, and I didn't understand them as a child, I just liked the way the words rhyme. I liked the art and the way the poems flowed; to find out today that Shel Silverstein was a perfectionist about this sort of thing made me smile. But most of his poems are just silly. And so today I will share a few that make me smile and think.

I asked for a hot dog
With everything on it,
And that was my big mistake.
'Cause it came with a parrot,
A bee in a bonnet,
A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.
It came with a goldfish,
A flag, and a fiddle.
A frog, and a front porch swing,
And a mouse in a mask -
That's the last time I ask
For a hot dog with everything.

Forgotten Language
Once I spoke the language of flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I hear and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And jointed the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of flowers . . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

The Little Boy and the Old Man
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

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