Randomanda....the telling of time.

While this blog (I still dislike that word) continues to be a work in progress in relation to the overall format, and also to the old posts [many of which] I'm still reverting to draft form because they no longer flow with my current current...I've decided to change things up a little. The first bit, you're used to: Randomanda. The second bit will be called (and later explained): A Little Bertie Told Me. The third: Request & Dedication. And the fourth...I haven't quite settled on a name for yet. The content will have more weight (not as heavy as lead, or metal), and more depth (but not quite a well). And as film once did, I trust it will develop over time. 

Randomanda...the telling of time.

(Photo credit: http://www.cafepress.com/+question-mark+clocks?page=5)

My cell phone died today (read: lost all charge). It's uncharacteristic of me to let this happen, but it did...I did. And so there I sat and there I waited. In a cold, clock-less doctor's office. Aside from having no iPhone entertainment (a tragic first-world problem), I had no idea what time it was or how long I'd been waiting. I'd been seen, had an x-ray, a neb treatment, but still there was time - vats of it. To occupy myself, I began to compare the room to a casino; it seemed a reasonable simile, as well as an activity that might low-light my autistic attribute of counting metal objects or ceiling tiles. I'm not sure I've been inside of a casino (maybe once), but I understand there are no clocks...so there's that (one). Being in a doctor's office - amongst all the sick folk - I figured I was close to playing roulette (two). There were no slot machines, but there was indeed a container with a type of slot (if you will) for depositing contaminated sharps. Close enough (three). As it's been said gambling is a rush, a visit to the doctor is often enough to elevate ones pulse and blood-pressure (four). And (five) there are shot-sized cups nearby; the liquid collected inside is not the nectar one typically seeks in effort to obtain a buzz, but the cups count.

They are both a gamble (doctors - some, not all -and casinos). And similar to the way people are plied to stay and spend more money with free steak dinners - a very cute, very charming, and very married resident - did generously offer me his phone charger for the duration of my stay. 

The outcome? No whammies!! Wait. No. Um, double 7s and a cherry? (I don't know the lingo.) Double bronchitis, leaning toward, but not yet pneumonia. Bronchitis and I have an annual date, though it's not usually bilateral. I'm not worried though; +Kim has promised me one of her lungs should both of mine fail. 

Comments make me happy.  Do it. If you want to, I mean.  

Great big bowls of love..  ~ A

Nudges

I should think I'd like to have this for when my ball isn't round. It doesn't exactly have edges, but sometimes it won't roll. 

642 Things to Write About

Equally, but separately interested in this one...

Q&A A Day (A 5 Year Journal)

Or this one. I like the idea of them both, the 5 year idea.   

One Line A Day (A 5 Year Memory Book)

It's something..

(Photo credit: mpsaz.org)

I think about writing - often. And when I come here to begin, I scroll through my unfinished, drafted posts and eventually lose interest or mental energy. Today, I'm ignoring all the posts I've not finished - especially the ones where I've no idea where I was going or any hint of a handle on the point I was trying to make. Admittedly though, I haven't deleted the drafted fragments. They may be brilliant.

A friend of mine recently shared with me that she had written something and will soon be published. Amazing news! I'm thrilled for her. While telling me her news, she also shared that the reason she pursued her writing was because of something I said to her once. ...That if she was truly interested, she should explore it and at least give it a shot. I vaguely remember the conversation (it was years ago), but it sounds like something I would say (and mean) - and I'm happy for her that I did. It's surprising sometimes...the that things that stay with a person.    

My heart is soft like mashed potatoes; my friend's dedicated words made me tear up. I do that. It also made me think; I do that sometimes as well. -- I don't write in the hopes that I'll be published. I'd be lying though, if I said I didn't want to be read - at least in this venue. In truth, I'm not sure why I write. And in reality, I haven't been doing much of it. But for reasons I've not yet been able to align my mind with, I'm encouraged from all directions to write. I'm not fishing for help in understanding this, I'm saying I'm not there yet. I'm also writing.  

Act 1, Scene 2

I attended a Diversity Summit this past Friday and for the first time (pardon the cliche speak) - in a long time - I felt I was somewhere I was supposed to be; somewhere that made sense. I listened to genuinely inspired and passionate people speak. I was extended new analogies for concepts I'm quite familiar with - causing/allowing the boundaries & borders already established in my brain to expand; I love that. There was food throughout the day; good food, as conference food goes. And I could have eaten or not, and still been more nourished than I've been in years. The sessions I attended, the people I met (among them - a Paralympic gold medalist), and words I ingested - fed me. Dramatic? A bit. But if you know the whole (more recent) story, it's not unreasonable or even flowery. 

In truth, I was hungry. I am hungry. But I wasn't mistaking Waffle House fare for fine dining simply out of that hunger. The Diversity Summit was good. Really good. And that, along with the words from my soon-to-be-published-friend (which are now acting as unintended reciprocal encouragement), have done...something. The trick to that something, is to not let it fall away as weeks and months pass; it too has to be fed. Grown. At the same time, in the grand scheme, the conference was only 1 day out of 1000. There is so much out there (again with the cliches), and it's beckoning like hell.

Soledad O'Brien was the last speaker of the day. She referred briefly to the Starfish Story; a simple metaphor that spoke to me on at least two levels. But I'll get to that...

In the meantime, check out The Art of Perception with/by Amy Herman. Brilliant.