 Yep, it's me.
I've found my inner, creative person doesn't respond well to polite prodding. Instead, she needs a firm, upper hand. One of my own motivational self-talks usually goes something like this... You know exactly what you need to do. So, just do it already. You've been really good at finding distractions lately, and it makes me want to vomit. Get your head out of your... uh...I mean... get your head out of the clouds and focus. You don't have time for all of this nonsense. Quit putting it off, and stop making excuses! Make the decision and tackle this thing head-on, make it whimper, send it sniveling and cringing into the corner. Glare at it, intimidate it, and reduce it to the inferior little wimp that it is. No one is going to do it for you. Hell, no one CAN do it for you and it isn't going to go away until you react. You will never be rid of it unless you confront it. Awwww.....you need a break? You poor, poor, pitiful thing. You're such a tragic wreck... too much pressure for you, huh? Sure, by all means, take a flippin' break. Do some yoga, work on your relaxation breathing techniques, drink a tall glass of Moscato, let you mind wander around to inappropriate places for a while. *Sighhhhhhhhh* Whatever. Geez!! You need an entire weekend? (eye roll) Okay, take your little 'relaxing' and 'stress-free' weekend, you freaking pansy...you're embarrassing. When you come back, it's balls to the wall and no more crybaby sissy crap. I hope I've made myself clear. If not, I will make you sorry. You might possibly get the worst case of food poisoning ever and you won't be able to figure out which end to hold over the toilet. You may even ruin a perfectly good pair of underwear. Oh, wait! I already did that to you, didn't I? (evil laugh) Anyway, you get the gist of it. I'll be watching. © RC Woods and rc-woods.com 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to RC Woods and rc-woods.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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 Doing a little switch-a-roo and working on 'What Lies Beneath - Initium" for the last couple of days. (Included a little excerpt below.) I'll return to the other story in a while, but I have to take advantage of these ideas when they come, or they'll be lost forever. As a reminder, 'Initium' is the beginning - the relationship between Shane and Jeremy from their first meeting, along with a bit of Jeremy's dark history. Would love to have both of these finished by mid-summer, but we'll see how it goes! As promised, the weather broke and Shane led the way to the river. Trying to keep up with the larger boy as they traveled the winding trails through the boreal forests proved a challenge, but he would never ask him to slow down. Instead, he struggled to stay on Shane's heels, his breath ragged as his heart beat with fierce determination to keep up.
As they neared the river, Jeremy heard the rush of water growing louder with each step. Shane's pace slowed and finally stopped. Coming to a breathless standstill beside him, he looked down and his eyes widened. A few feet from where they stood, a cavernous trench slashed through the earth. On the other side of the deep ravine, the forest continued on, stark white birch skeletons intermingling with deep green spruce. Several yards below, the river raged, foaming white crests crashing against jagged brown and gray boulders protruding through the turbulent water. When he spoke, the roar of the river muffled his voice. "Well, what do you think?" Shane asked, his eyes dancing with enthusiasm. Jeremy only vaguely heard him, fascinated by the natural spectacle directly before him. He drank in the sight of the bright blue sky; not a cloud littered the brilliant color before meeting the green treetops on the horizon. The crash of the river filled his ears, a soothing rumble lulling his senses. It wasn't until Shane bumped his arm that his attention was brought back. "I said, what do you think?" he asked again. When he finally looked away from the breathtaking view, Jeremy was smiling. "I've never seen anything like this."  Body language and eye contact are pretty big factors we sometimes unknowingly use to determine quite a bit about people. It's almost as if our subconscious picks up on the other person's non-verbal signals. We may not even think about them at the time, but instead, hours after the conversation is over. Have you ever met someone for the first time who spoke to you in a polite manner and appeared to be a pleasant individual, but something deep in your gut told you otherwise? Maybe it was because they didn't hold your gaze during the conversation and continually looked down or away, or perhaps it was the subtle crossing of their arms in front of their body, a possible sign they were closed off to what you had to say from the beginning. Non-verbal cues; they're an important part of our communication - almost as important as speech itself. We send non-verbal messages every time we interact with others. We already know the familiar facial cues, such as a smile, a frown, an amused cocked eyebrow. But what about the body? What does a person's body language tell us? How close does someone stand while carrying on a conversation with you? It's likely to depend on your relationship to the individual. The farther away one stands generally means they are only an acquaintance. (Anywhere from 4-12 feet away) The closer one stands could indicate good friends or family. (1.5 - 4 feet away) Then, you have the close talkers...they're usually the people with whom you share intimate relationships. (But then again, sometimes they're not! Who's not a Seinfeld fan??) Posture is also another big player in non-verbal communication.
Are your shoulders back when you talk to people, or are they slumped forward? Do you keep your chin tilted down or slightly lifted? Are your hands relaxed, or do you find yourself fiddling around with something? If you're standing, which way are your toes pointed? The signals we reveal to others are often too numerous to mention, and someone who isn't giving their full attention may never pick up on some of the more subtle signs. And that leads to something very sad. As suckish as some people are at not being able to pick up on these types of non-verbal signals, it's only getting worse, and will continued to get worse. In this day and age, texting and social media make up a large percentage of social interaction. Will we ultimately lose the fine art of non-verbal communication and gain a world of individuals who are socially numb? The absence of these silent signals can easily explain the dilemma of miscommunication via email, texting, or on social media. The SHOUTY capitals and exclamation points only serve as a pitiful attempt at real emotion!!!!! When you type a message to someone, you are personally very clear about how you intend for the message to come across. But it isn't always relayed to the recipient in the same 'feel' as how you meant it. It can end up being a huge disaster over the tiniest of innuendos you never realized you made in the first place. It wasn't what your message meant to you - but what it meant to the reader. It's all about how it will be perceived, and you can never predict how someone else will react.  It's a little odd how one small innocent action can set the mind on a journey back in time.
It was the damn lilacs. Never for one moment did I think that by burying my nose into the sweet smelling clump of flowers that for the next hour I would be reduced to a useless blubbering idiot. I'm not much of a crier, but the memory picked me up and body slammed me hard. There was nothing I could do. That sweet smell as I buried my nose into the clump of purple flowers... I was a kid again, playing hide-n-seek around my Grandma's big lilac bushes with my sister and cousins. From there my mind drifted to the phlox she had planted along the concrete hedges. It was thick, and I can remember the beauty of the light colored petals. I always just wanted to lay down in it and submerge myself in the softness. I was pretty sure it was so deep that I would totally disappear. (I never did this for fear Grandma would skin me alive for smashing her flowers) Fishing was always great at Grandma's house. The little pond held a variety of creatures to entertain us kids for hours. We used bacon for bait and would always catch a plethora of fish. Rubber worms were best used for dangling in front of bullfrogs, but those feisty critters weren't as easy to get off of the hook. We lost a pretty good JAWS toy shark in that pond. Deciding to hook fishing line on it and pulling it around the edge of the water seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't. The line broke and we could do nothing but watch as it sank into the deep dark abyss...lost forever. Grandma would make us lunch. Ground bologna sandwiches....it's been years now since I've had the pleasure of ground bologna. Even if I made it, it would never be the same as it was back then. All of those things are gone now. The lilacs, phlox, ground bologna...and Grandma; perhaps the reason behind the tears. Maybe it is lost childhood I cry for, when life was simpler and easier, and knowing I can never go back there. Except in my mind.  Why is it we spend so much time depending on other people, or specific circumstances for our happiness?
I'll finally be happy when I find Mr. or Mrs. Right - I'll finally be happy when I get a new job - I'll finally be happy when this or that happens... Chances are, even if you think at the time those things will bring you a significant amount of happiness, there will always be something else to wait for, something else to anticipate. Why do we do it? Life shouldn't be about waiting for happiness, or depending on others to bring it to you. You have to make your own joy, where ever you may be, and at whatever point you are in life. Life has a way of throwing curve balls. Expect surprises - and not always the kind you want. You have to accept things for what they are, and move past. If you don't, you're wasting time. And if you haven't already figured it out, time goes by fairly quickly. Seize opportunities. Don't allow yourself, or someone else, to talk you out of something you want. You'll learn that opportunity very rarely knocks more than once, and if you don't answer, it moves on. There's nothing like that feeling of regret when opening the door too late and no one is there. Take chances. Even if you fail, at least you tried. If you don't, how will you live with the 'what if'? Let people gossip, let them talk crap about you, criticize you...at least you're making someone's life a little more interesting because of your actions - but be proud of yourself for taking action; some people never do. You won't make everyone happy, but why are you trying? It doesn't matter who's happy with your choices if you're not. Don't expect support. This is a hard one. The people in your life who you thought would support you the most sometimes don't. It will hurt your feelings. It will make you doubt yourself and your ability - ultimately ending up limiting your opportunities. Even though these people may care about you, perhaps they're only looking out for their own best interests. You have to forgive them, but you don't have to allow them to pack your bags for the guilt trip. Day to day humdrum, stuck in a rut, same 'ol, same 'ol - it's difficult not to hope something better is right around the corner...something that will finally make you happy. But, what we tend to forget is that THIS is it. Do you have time to wait for happiness? Today could be the end, tomorrow might be your last day, a week from now or maybe even a year. Truth of it is, no one on earth knows. Are you willing to gamble away the guarantee of the life you have at this very moment? © RC Woods and rc-woods.com 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to RC Woods and rc-woods.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.  A child's brain is a sponge, absorbing every small detail crossing through their vision and falling into small innocent ears. Most memories recalled by a healthy, happy child include those of a protective mother with warm comforting arms, a mother who can take away the pain of a scraped knee or bee sting with a magical kiss. A mother who sits beside them in the dirt, creating the most fantastic concoctions of mud pies with pebbles and weed seeds for toppings. A warm and caring mother who would read bedtime fairy tales... you know, the ones in which the handsome prince saves the beautiful princess and they live happily ever after?
But not me. My earliest childhood memory consists of a black granite head-stone beneath a lone oak tree, the picture of a howling wolf carved deeply into the smooth face of the monument. Kneeling in front, I would trail my fingers across the letters etched into its smooth cool surface, and although I couldn't yet read, I knew what the letters spelled. He told me. I have no memories of my mother, but he tells me I look like her. I've seen pictures in our house and always wondered how he could think so. Her hair was brown, while mine is coal black. She had the most startling green eyes I've ever seen. Mine are blue. But, to say my childhood without a mother wasn't happy would be a far cry from the truth. My days were filled playing dress up and having tea parties with my dolls just like any other little girl. I caught fireflies at dusk, keeping them in a jar beside my bed at night and then setting them free at daybreak. I played hide-and- seek in the dark shadows beneath the dusk to dawn light and searched for earthworms beneath rocks and logs for fishing. I had snowball fights and built forts in the woods, never realizing for a moment that I was missing a mother. I had him. He took care of me, spending every moment doing everything and anything my young child's brain could create or imagine. From a young age, I knew he wasn't my father, but it didn't matter. Our closeness was not forged from the ties of blood, and there was no one I could have loved more. The Alpha of our pack, he was strong and intimidating, but I rarely saw that side. He was caring and fatherly, disciplining me when I needed it, but never failing to remind me how much he loved me. The pack called him Jeremy. I called him Dad. © RC Woods and rc-woods.com 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to RC Woods and rc-woods.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. |
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