A Poem of Winter Peace

Witnessing the birds go by,

lonely heart gives up a sigh

humming soft -a lullaby.

Little does this spirit know;

watching sweetly from the snow

fairies on their small feet go

dance to lullaby.

Last of sunrays flee in fright,

twilight goes to darkened night,

lonely heart lights candle light,

gaze on falling snow.

Candle flickers, builds to flame,

whispers out a hidden name

lonely city calls the same,

such a pretty sight.

Listen close and you can hear

voices singing every year -

you don’t have to live in fear

just light up the flame.

Update from Under the Weather

The sky is an oppressing gray-ish white that spins down and around all things like threads of cotton. Saturday night found me with this winter's first real illness. Fortunately I managed to get through the party all right before the worst of it started.

The party went remarkably well. I'm still a bit unaccustomed to doing the hostess thing instead of just letting my mother do all the work, but all things considered I made a half decent job of assisting. Dad seemed pretty pleased with the evening, though a bit tired since the first guests came in at around two in the afternoon and the last left sometime after one in the morning.

It was a bit unfortunate that my throat really wasn't up to par when it came to singing, but I soldiered through and fortunately I'm pretty good at wheedling out of solos when I want to. I just don't feel very comfortable singing alone in small crowds, even if asked to perform I'm afraid I'm being a nuisance. Being on stage is entirely different in that regard.

But anyway -didn't manage to get the tune I'd planned for dad just right so I decided to skip it all together. We'll see if I manage something out of that song at a later date. I did put together a great collection that we could all sing during the evening and we made it through most of them.

Otherwise I'm not doing much right now since the www has been down yesterday and most of today. And of course me having this cold or whatever isn't really conducive to creative splurges. I found an old plot bunny that I'm starting to revise though. A Sci Fi story, might lead to something.

A Little Something for My Friends

This is for my friends,
the ones who care.
No need to name names.

You're the people who say
-love, you're all kinds of ok,
and I believe you.

You few, you brave who give
that bit of special attention
that means you heard.

This is for you, my friends,
all around the world,
it's nothing special much.

I don't have money or gold,
but my writing is true -
so this is my thanks,
my I Love You.

Göteborg Streets

On the streets,
people are all equals.
Feet are placed
one at a time
on the ground.
Breaths are taken,
looks avoided
or exchanged.
They may wear
expensive
or tread bare cloth.
But what they've got
is no reflection
upon their souls.
On the street
everyone shows everything
in the corner of their eyes.
Don't need to trade lives
or see smiles.
It's all about the feet
pounding the pavement
every day.
Here we are equal
and everyone
goes on their way.

Spare Parts? Are you Kidding Me?!

My computer decided enough was enough the other day. Well, not my computer -rather the adapter that lets me power up the thing. It's been struggling for a while, but it finally gave out completely. No opening, prodding, shaking and beating, worked this time. It's not too dead to still shock me with electricity, even unplugged, when I start poking around its insides, but it's definitely deceased enough to be of no use to me whatsoever.

The beauty of the matter? It's a HP product, and like many of the major players they don't like it when people can substitute their spare parts with generic models. Meaning -the original parts for the computer can only be substituted with spare parts from the same maker. Nothing else will fit. So instead of just going out to buy a generic adapter for a humane price, I'm stuck with having to order a spare part for a rather silly amount of money. Expensive doesn't even begin to cover it. It's a freaking adapter for pity's sake!

Even better though -it's been just about two years since I bought the computer, new from the store. In that time it's become an obsolete model, the spare parts are not available from HP through ordinary ways. I'll have to go through a supplier and see if they can scrounge up a part from somewhere. Price-y, I kid you not. Considering the amount of time I need on my laptop computer each day having to substitute it with a desktop that does not carry any of my software in the mean time really sucks too much to be believed.

The people who design in this manner should be shot. There is no excuse for the shittiness that is HP. None.

Funny Thing About Compliments

I usually put my writing up for peer review at some point. Of course good feedback is always hard to come by, but there are places and persons willing to lend a hand. This time I wasn't too pleased with the writing, but it was at least a finished vignette which was more than I'd been able to accomplish for a while. It was really a pice I wanted to convert into using in one of my other stories, but I wasn't too sure about the style of writing I'd chosen and wanted input.

That's maybe a bit more background than you need, but I'm getting to the point I swear. Long story short - I put the piece up for shredding and got some responses. One thing that really made me pause was the words "not quite up to [your] usual standards". Now you may think that this was a negative remark and indeed it was, but it brought me genuine joy just the same. Why?

Because for something not to be up to its usual standards means that there are actually standards to be (and usually are) met. You with me? Being up to ones standards means being good, great, excellent. So this person had expected a standard quality for me that I didn't produce this time. And because this was actually a negative remark and not praise I can be pretty sure they meant it. Which means I'm a good writer! Yay!

Ok, so obviously it's not the first time I've had that particular notion reaffirmed, but there is just something about this sort of backhanded compliment that makes me feel all gushy and gooey inside. Praise is so hard to take. We look for it, but once we get it we rarely put much credence to it since we all know that -you're supposed to be nice. Comments like this confirm the praise however, because they're brutally honest while still implying that they think we're good at whatever it is we do.

I like being good at what I do. Makes me happy.
^^

There, I'm done.
Have a great day!

Keeping It Together

 
~*~

I think the gods
made a little,
small mistake.
But that's ok -
human imagination
will always be
our saving grace.

~*~