Writer and Lover of Words
every time you see me
you see the most beautiful me
that there is
and the most beautiful me
that there will ever me
and it is a gift
that you give to me
that I wish so much
so very much
to give back to you
in a new ending loop
of what love is suppose to be
And is
And will be
This week, I will turn 38 years old. This past weekend, I decided to celebrate my birthday with a party. Why? Why not? Too much of my life in the past year involved going and going with not much enjoying. So a break was in order.
It was a great break. Friday, I went to EPCOT with my Mom and Aunt. It was a lazy day, a wonderful day, with two wonderful whom I love more than life itself. My aunt and my Mom met in college over fifty years ago. Aunt Joanie may not be my blood aunt but she has loved me from the moment I stepped foot on this earth. We ate and chatted and just had a good time. It was well worth taking the day off work and playing hooky as my boyfriend calls it. Saturday was the birthday party and my house was filled with family and friends as well as music thanks to Mr. Kevin aka the Professor. He gave me a nifty gadget to record my poetry and other story ideas. Sunday was restful and a trip to the beach. My feet ended up in the ocean. Something that I love to do whenever I get near the ocean. I felt great right up until I woke up this morning.
Today, I took off job number one, but failed to take off job number two. Thus, it really was another manic Monday that I wished was a Sunday. Even if it did begin at 5:30. Nap time wasn’t productive. I wasn’t productive knowing that I had to go to work. I wander through this day and made no headway on the to-do list or cleaning up the house after a party. (And to be fair, to my guests, there wasn’t much cleaning up that needed to be done, just putting things back in their pre-party places.) Mostly, I just wasted time which lead directly into my mini manic Monday. I did it to myself. I failed to plan and ended up driving myself crazy, which isn’t hard to do since my main profession in teaching.
My only regret is not taking the whole day off. Take time for yourselves and don’t cut yourself short. Take the whole day off celebrate yourself even if it isn’t your birthday.
There is one question that continually draws my ire. Are you ready? No, I am not.
I am not ready for school to begin in a week. I am not ready for tomorrow or the next day. They are coming anyway.
Time slips past me and deadlines always loom.
So I am not ready for today or tomorrow, but they are coming anyway.
Good news, bad news. It is coming and I will deal with it when it comes.
That may be too late, but some days that is the best that any of us can do.
Available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle formats.
The first time I read this book, it held me captive, curled beneath my comforter until it was done with me. Recently, it was released under a new publisher and with a new cover. Dusk and Summer kept me prisoner for a second time this afternoon.
The novella published by Pinto in 2008 is a deeply personal metaphysical journey that we are guests on. The beginning of the novella brought out the English teacher in me; I wanted to make some corrections. It seemed to me like he was using to many words when fewer would have allowed the tale to flow more evenly. Don’t allow the rocky beginning to turn you off. It has a purpose and if you let it, it will take a hold of you. Pinto is a gifted storyteller knowing which elements of the story to share and which to hold back.
If you are tempted in novels to skip the forward and go straight to the meat of the book; don’t. You will miss some much needed information about the author and how this book was birthed as well as the love behind it. All books in one form or another are born of an author’s heart. This one came from a love grown and nurtured over decades between a father and a son. It is also about letting go and following the wishes of a love one.
There is a villain, one that I have had personal experience with, cancer. It claws and rakes families with misery. Some survive, and others goes through what the Pinto family did. They sit day after day with their love ones doing everything they can to make it though the next day, hour or minute with their sanity in tacked. Hoping and praying for miracles that never come. Searching for meaning.
This is a book about one man’s search for meaning; about a son looking for a way to fulfill his father’s last wish and finding strength in his father’s life and death.
For more information on the author please visit: www.josephpinto.wordpress.com
Life has a way of complicating and un-winding itself all at once, which way it goes is up to the user. Sometimes a day goes both ways at once.
This summer, I have been struggling to finish my first book, make enough money to pay my bills, complete multiple on-line classes and work on other writing projects. I had this idea that I could finish a second book before August. I haven’t been doing very well or at least I don’t think so. What I was doing was moving slowly but surely forward.
Then the bottom fell out of my emotional world last Thursday. Everything seemed hopeless and I slid back into the depression that I have been fighting most of my adult life slammed into me. I struggled for most the day to get myself together.
My roommate’s husband tip-toed around me as the tears just poured out. I called the colleague who I am collaborating with on a unit plan and told her that I was sending her what I had and won’t be up to working on it anymore that day. It was hard, but I just couldn’t text what I needed to say. I donned thick sun-glasses and when out to run some errands including laundry which really couldn’t wait.
And that is when the narrative changed. My support system kicked in and even though I am still struggling to figure things out, I feel better equipped now to hand things then I did the last time I was spirit slammed by depression. And I am writing.
No excuses.
I am writing and I finished a chapter on a project entitled Eden, last night. It feels good.
My heart still aches and I know that depression is lurking ready to pounce, still, there is something to be said for throwing yourself into work at times like theses and trusting that some how everything will work out.
I am grateful for my depression. Grateful for the moments of joy that I feel in between the lows create by years of ugly mental paradigms, negative self-talk and off kilter brain chemistry.
It makes me appreciate the friends new and old who have stuck by my side when my brain has been in a negative loop and I’ve spend too much time dwelling on things I cannot change. They haven’t punished me for things out of my control and see the woman fighting to get better and healthier as beautiful. They acknowledge my struggle and support me the best way they can. When I go on too much they tell me or change the subject in a not so subtle way to let me know it is time to give it a rest. Sometimes they tell me where they are so I understand that I am not so alone.
It makes me appreciate that they aren’t perfect and I can’t expect them to be. They won’t always have time for me and my problems which also makes me examine those problems a little more closely. If it is really an emergency then they will be there as soon as they can be. If it is something I can handle on my own I do. It may be frustrating to them when I don’t reach out when they think I should, but I am getting better at knowing when to ask for help and when I really can do it on my own.
My depression makes me less likely to sweat the little things as it were because my time and my emotions are simply too precious to waste on them. I need to spend my time working on the big picture and the details that really affect it not the other way around. It doesn’t matter if the picture frame is crooked if the roof is leaking. My priorities need to be in line with my goals.
Smiles are precious things. So are tears. And I have been learning that sometimes I just need to cry and say whatever ridiculous thing has been twisting my emotions. Sometimes they are silly. Sometimes they aren’t. But either way, it is far better to have them out than in.
“In 900 years of space and time, I’ve never meet anyone who wasn’t important before.” From Doctor Who
And that includes you and me.
Papa and Momma don’t dance
down the lane
They don’t skip to my lou
or any such thing
He has a limp from the war
says he fell out of bed with a whore,
But that ain’t the truth
Because truth ain’t pretty or nice
And Momma has been through too much
A husband who promised her the sun
moon and stars, but walked away
when chasing kids got too much
But Papa loves Momma
Since the day she pulled
a miracle out of her bag,
the red pepper flakes he forgot,
a tiny miracle that made
two broken families
full of kids looking for love
find their Momma and Papa
again.
And twenty years later,
Papa loves her more than beer
They don’t dance down the lane
But they are doing just fine.
