Today is Monday, the beginning of a fresh week to write and move forward with life. Looking out my window, I can watch the construction crews working on the water construction of the Old Village of Mt. Pleasant. My pups, Shakespeare, Shamus and little Miss Shasta, are barking, perhaps telling the crews to stay away from 'their territory.' Shamus and Shasta are rescue animals, so they do all they can to protect their peaceful, loving territory, and they are determined not to share!
Observing my sweet animals, I am reminded of different times in my life with Phil. Times when changes were not welcomed - especially by Phil. He is a bit territorial too. A Vietnam Veteran, he strives to protect all that is close to him, even IF he does not share his emotions or affections. He tells me that is a part of his training, before the war and beyond. He uses the phrase which I now detest, and I am quoting it here -- It Don't Mean Nothing.
Right. That is in a perfect world. Life, along with the challenges we confront, definitely means something to us. Whenever Phil would repeat to me during times of disagreements, "It Don't Mean Nothing," REALLY MEANT SOMETHING - TO ME.
I confess, it is extremely difficult for me to understand those words because I am a writer, and I express my thoughts. My mother accused me of wearing my heart on my shirt sleeves, or my shoulders, and she was correct. I've always been the type of person to 'open a vein and let it bleed.'
There is a famous writer who stated those words years ago, and for the life of me now, I cannot recall who it was, but those powerful words have been a part of my life -- 'open a vein and let it bleed.'
Working as a writer makes life interesting. People imagine the life of a writer as a glamorous, exciting life. After all, we are able to allow our fingers to dance across the keyboard, writing words, characters and stories that are so easy to compile.
LAUGH. Laugh. L-A-U-G-H!
Just picture it. A writer awakens at 3 or 4 am, ideas, characters, and story lines, dancing inside our minds. We roll over, frustrated that we cannot sleep. We tell ourselves we must sleep. We focus on deep breathing, we count sheep. Defeated, we rise from the bed, turn the coffee pot to brew, find the keyboard, and pound into the computer the ideas we must preserve.
At the moment, I am sipping my first cup of coffee. My fingers dance a graceful ballet of manicured nails, tapping the words onto the monitor. I am dressed in my nightshirt, a gigantic teal blue garment from Victoria's Secret, embracing the secrets of me.
My hair is not styled. My face is nude of makeup, so if this is the way to glamour, I shall never make it to the glamorous life.
I confess, I do my best writing when my makeup is on and my hair is styled for the day, so within a few moments, I shall tip toe to the bedroom to find my face for today.
Valentine's Day is two days from now. The daily headlines contain more stories about Anna Nicole Smith. Listening to the news during the weekend, I feel I know her almost intimately. She left this world completely unhappy and all alone - so similar to Marilyn Monroe - in so many ways. Such a tragic life she led. Now, if only that precious five-month-old baby girl can find someone to serve as a role model for her, to guide her into a happy, productive life. She will certainly have the money she needs, but like Anna Nicole and Marilyn, what good is the money if you cannot have someone to love you and care about you?
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