BLOG STRESS

BLOG STRESS

After a few days of seeing that there were 0 readers of this blog, have decided to change the title, to see if there is an automatic block based on questioning and censoring, the title.

It is time for me to put my big-boy boots on, open that door to the outside, and go exploring.  Is part of my request, made to myself, that I would become more inspired and write in blog, as much as possible.  Didn’t foresee how each day I would wake up and ask, "What will I write about today?"  For those who blog, you will realize the challenge I have placed in front of me, as each morning I awake, and initiate my morning routine.  At this point, I am drinking tea, have turned my computer on, and am in a word processing program, typing.  That’s what bloggers do.  Or at least, that is what I do.   

And that is where today’s blog begins.  Select a subject, or as in my case a title pops in my head.  So I start with a title.  Attention and is what I learned from Goggle News.  The headline.  One glance and you are suppose to decide if this something you will click on, read and in doing so, invest your time.  And that’s something we all consider.  Is this of value to me.  And that is for me the essence of blogging.  Other people do it.  And there are people like me that put something together and put it in their blog.  Often.  

And so, I hope I am not preaching to the choir.  When I display my Title and Subject for today.  Blog Mistress.

Before I get side-tracked, I want to address the phrase I just used.  Preaching To The Choir.  I have seen that expression, and think I know what it means.  It means you have a selective audience, and they have already heard what you have to say, and mostly are just the people around you, that might be your clone.  And so one has to reflect on that, at some point.  You Blog.  You go out into the Wide World of the Web, meaning your readers are vast, or could be, if you happen to interest them in terms of the material presented in your blog, on any given day.  

And there is the important distinction I need to grasp today.  Preaching-to-the-Choir is nothing like writing to an audience you have little or no familiarity with.  Writing for people like me, and I think:  "Yes, I know what to say.  I have a general sense of the conversation we might have."  But then I take a stand.  I have my big-boy-boots on.  Explore.  Take a risk.  Challenge Thy Self.  And so this is where I find the meat and potatoes  and the value of what I am serving up as I blog and still, enjoy my tea.  As I start my day.  

Begin with a simple thought.  Friday and Weekend.  What are others thinking about.  Free Time.  But really, I have my routine and am set in my ways.   Is what they do on Friday and into the weekend, anything like what I do?  So it begins.  My adventure into the unknown.  I need to figure out how other’s think about all this.  And that is when I decide, I need special input.  I need somebody special to talk to.  And ask myself, "Where do I start?"  And since I am experimenting and trying something new, I go to Google Search and type in:  Blog Mistress.

 

Ok I have a title and the opportunity to see what other bloggers; who relate with the phrase, Blog Mistress, have to say.  And I have to ask, " is this a waste of time?"  Am I preaching to the choir?  What I do realize is that when I write blogs about a man and his intentions on Friday night or on the weekend, it becomes too personal for most.  That might be true.  For me, I am flexible. 

 

 Following my own advice.  Forget the routine, you need to get  out more.  Seek Excitement.  Take a Chance.  And from time to time I do.  What I want to suggest now is that I have no plans for tonight, my Friday Night.  And the weekend just sort of happens.  No plans.  In fact, I am looking for something, I know not what.  Not sure I need a Blog Mistress.  But for now, I will just see where all this leads.  After all.  Its just a blog.  And the title intrigues me.  

And Like I said in the beginning.  Its fun when you try something new.  And its not every day that I put my big-boy-boots on and dial up a Blog Mistress.  

 

And now I have done that.  Will spend an hour of my morning, acquiring that point of view.  What do people write about, or think about , or just put out there.  Under the identity of Blog Mistress.  And when I have had enough.  I will go home.  Have lunch.  And decide.  Will I go out dancing or drinking or just looking for a friend.  Or have I had enough.  Wrote a blog.  Thought about the  various possibilities that might happen when indeed I choose, a certain way.  

And with that, I return to one of my original thoughts before I typed Blog Mistress into Google search.  Am I preaching to the choir?  Am I side-tracked?  And truly.  Should I forget about going out, and just wait until tomorrow to decide?  And that’s what I do.  I write a blog.  I post it.  And that’s it.  I forget about it.  Tomorrow will be a new day.  And I look forward to it.  With or Without a blog mistress.  I endure.  I manage.  As for you, Dear Reader, I have this to say,     "Have a good day and weekend. Perhaps I will see you in church.  Or at the local bar.  Who knows?  Not I."

 

PAPA MORON

PAPA MORON

I want this blog to reflect my current thoughts, and is motivated by a string of words I just can’t jettison from the thought-waves of my mind.  Woke up with this implant.  Papa Moron.  And giving credit for the universe before my arrival, and before I thought it up, meaning my greatest contribution in all of this is my imagination, and the mental aspect that lets me string words together for the purpose of entertainment.  Life can be a series of repetitive days.  Habitual and frozen in time, such that you might ask, 

"Is that all there is?"  

 

Doesn’t happen that often for me.  I am like a run-way-train that has jumped the rails, and yet still intact.  Find myself in a mental field, where I affect the arrangement and make things right, mostly because I manipulate the words you see, and hence manipulate the image and the probable person, the audience hopes to get to know.  Main Character.  And today.  All this became the main topic.  My blog.  Papa Moron.

Familiar words start me on this quest to tell this story without interruption, stay positive, and provide a measure of entertainment for those that join me here.  I want to be current.  Leap-frog the past and address those who read my blog, as co-creators of the moment we are now constructing, using mostly words and the joint influence.  Not to say this blog isn’t the product of a demented mind, or an overactive member of the smoking class of 2010.  Starts with the familiar:  Papa and Moron. 

 Joined for the purpose of being clear, I want to do away with word-play and manipulated deception.  I intend to say exactly what I mean.  To lay it out in logic and design that presents a proper story or blog.  But first I must lay the obvious to rest.  Papa Moron.  When you read the title, what is the first thing that comes to mind?  Ok, that is difficult, as this blog is open to reader’s world wide, and of ages young to very old, and all you have to have is a computer and be connected to the world wide web.  So I have no idea what comes to mind when you read this.  Papa Moron.

But for me I want to start fresh.  Create a division of the words.  Want to say that in 1910 the psychology professionals used the term to denote mild mental retardation.  So at that time, the term became popular and before we knew it, one might hear:  " Moron.  Really stupid."  Word use and modern times.  Fast forward.  Papa Moron.  Is it possible I am bringing my implanted thoughts into your world, and because my parents and grandparents were alive in 1910 I am influenced in a way, I hope you are not.  To focus,  there was a time when Moron was used as a common insult, rather than as a psychological term of the 1900’s.  Fresh start.  Today’s blog.  Papa Moron.  Let’s get started.

Woke up this morning, intent on writing a blog.  Has been awhile that has been a compelling activity and issue for me.  Write.  Post.  Next day, do it again.  Now for some reason this is what I want to do.  Write a blog.  Want to call it:  Papa Moron.  And so I will.  Papa Moron needs no introduction.  It could be you.  It could be me.  It could be entirely fictional.  But clearly I want this to be entertaining.  

And it would be nice if it were believable and something you could relate to.  Papa Moron.  Just a man.  Obviously has pets or children, or both.  Being papa, and perhaps is something most relate to.  Papa Moron and maybe this is to be a blog about a family, and about somebody we can look up to.  From small and crawling on the floor, to entering school for the first time, in the assembly of facts, the general picture of normalcy might materialize.  Papa and he is not a super-hero.  But is one that we might look up to.  From the time we were small, he was there.  Papa.  And later words and names became important to us, as the world before us expanded.  Papa Moron.    As little as I know about him, might be able to say, 

" This man comes from another planet."  

Might be Jupiter.

Because the details are missing its up to me to figure out how I will relate to a blog about a complete stranger.  Somebody Stoney Blogger brings to us as Papa Moron.  I don’t know Stoney Blogger.  I have read some of his stuff.  Sometimes I think he is on something, or from a time warp that has nothing to do with me.  Like today.  Talking about the 1900’s and the coining of the word:  Moron.  What does any of that have to do with me?  And that is exactly the point I wanted to make.  Contemporary society and living day to day.  I don’t know you.  You don’t know me.  Have no real connection with Papa Moron.  So why are we here.  Experience and the moment is gone before all is known.  Lost in the flow of days and digital input.  Too much to digest before day becomes night, and across the globe is a general blur of particulars.  Yours and mine.  Why do I care?  Why come here to read this blog?  And I have decided to leave it with you.  What is the importance of words and blogs as pure entertainment.  He writes.  You read and laugh and scratch your head.  Simple moment and visit to a totally strange environment and mental space.  Stoney Blogger.  Papa Moron.

Here for but a moment in time.  Here to have fun.  Here to play with you.  Using  words and the joint influence.  World Wide.  A broadening experience.  Yet, so far away, we have to ask. 

 "What does this have to do with me?" 

 I wonder. 

GOOD LOOKS

 

GOOD LOOKS

Some times I am just not prepared for the world I find myself in.  Not that I am shy, but certainly not aggressive.  I operate on solar powered brain waves.  Cosmic revolutions and with the general idea that what is made in one day or a week, is mine to enjoy.  Universal sensations and empowerment, but when she said to me, and I could not locate the voice,  
“Well Mister, did you get a good look?” 

And my brain automatically recorded this message:  “She thinks I am staring at her.”  And all of this is but a reminder to myself, that looks aren’t everything.  But then I would be the first to say, “Don’t call me as  your primary witness.  I am not good at details.”  And again I wonder if I have missed the boat.  I didn’t get a good look when I stepped into the street, wanting to hail a  Taxi and get a ride.  Taxi.  Car.  Boat.  A  Saturday Night Companion.  And again I say.  “Staring.  At you?  Why would I do that?”  And so this brings me to my subject for today.  Good Looks.

Witness Protection.  My first defense is to not stare.  Rely on the surveillance camera.  Observation and Good Looks.  Take it to the Replay Room.  Stay away from that embarrassing moment when she asks, “Did You Get A Good Look.  Now stop.”  And when technology empowers you to find what you are looking for, is there a problem?  Is there a problem of being one with Good Looks.  What does it take?  Careful observation.  Knowing what you are looking for. 

Being Biased.  You see what you expect to see.  Is that it? Leading Witness.  And so I find myself becoming over cautious when I am in public.  Hear a loud noise and I look the other way.  Not sure I am ready for Good Looks.  Haven’t prepared myself for you.  Didn’t know what to say when asked, “Did you get a good look?  Are you staring at me?”  And if I had more confidence, the proper answer would be.

“  With your beauty and grace, I think you have bewitched me.  Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

So I am not sure it pays to be honest.  I think you learn to look the other way.  In a crowd.  Alone in the country.  Beauty is all around us.  The power of attraction comes with the stars, natural light and open exposure.  So much light and the glimmer of hope that you will notice me.  Ask for my number.  Call me sometime.  And so I was thinking about that today.  Is Saturday.  What do I really want to do?  Star Power.  Renewable Energy.   Being with you.  All that inspires me.  Not sure if I should stay in, or go out.  What’s my chance of seeing you?

And when I do.  Will she say, “Well, did you get a good look?  Now stop staring.”  On your way, Mister.  Or I will call 911.”  And it takes me a moment to process all this.  That’s not my number. “ Gotta Run.”  And with that I duck out of sight.  Hoping for better times.  In The City.

CLOSE SHAVE

Some things seem too good to be true.  Close Shave.  It didn’t happen to you but it could have.  Boston Bombing.  Confinement at Gitmo Bay.  And that is all I have.  Things happen and now I reflect on the possibility that it could be me.  But it wasn’t.  Not this time.  Stopped running 10 years ago.  Didn’t gain weight.  Didn’t start smoking.  But it did take me away from the finish line.  And now I’m back.  Smooth Talker.  How smooth should it be?  The shave.  The dog needs a haircut.  Not shedding, but quite shaggy.  And later on, when I have spare change, I will let a professional do it.  For now, I will grin and bare it, in the sense that  Spring is here.  Outside dog I am, for now.  No flees.  And later I will disinfect.  Clean up and head for prime time, where I will declare.  Close Shave.    


 

I harbor no discontent.  Things happen.  Money and Time and life without the hassles.  That’s what I want.  Many ways to  go about it.  Move out.  Move in.  His or Hers.  So many choices.  Man and Wife.  Man, single.  Woman with many lovers.  Man to Man.  Woman Touch.  And is silly for me to consider what you do with your private life.  But then again, if you come out and air your preferences, and put it all on  Facebook.  Don’t tag me.  



 Got enough trouble just paying the rent or mortgage.  Close shave when surveillance ends up on your street, and everything is seen or repeated in multiple language, around the globe.  And So it is.  Close Shave.  When the world gets small, and you are still in it.  A player.   Or just a photograph somebody took with their camera-phone.  Makes you a frame of reference, and they come calling.  FBI.  Friendly, but…Inquiring.  May we  talk to you?  And I consider it a close shave, when they go away and don’t come back.  It could happen.  Things happen.  I harbor no discontent.  Tis the new society.  Close Shave  

Do I have a preference?  Sure I do.  But why should I state it here?  Dude comes out and declares, “Its all good.”  As for me, extreme close-ups are not my way.  Mood and Indifference and casual shades of gray work fine for me.  Not eclipsed by the moon, or shriveling up in darkness.  Darling of the invisible crowd, I prefer my privacy.  Out in nature exploring my option.  Outback and its something we don’t see all that often.  Walking away from the camera and from you.  Needs time alone.  A happy wander down by the creek.  Doesn’t need the government or city telling him, “Your killing the fish.  Stop or we will fine you.”  Going  West isn’t the final answer, but with back to the sun and constant movement, and less technology, I predict.  Life Simple 

One more day in the city.  Professional services and a close shave.  Now I return to you.  Not exactly a raging beast, and although the fire still burns within, its not as noticeable as when we first fell in love.  Youth has its special ways.  Everything is possible.  But then again.  Close Shave.  Feels and Looks good, from that perspective.  Not able to tell what time does to you, is one of those things you must experience for yourself.  But I can say, “Walk Away.”  Find peace and comfort.  Do more with less.  A man by the ocean is appealing.  Nice when he strips down to bare necessity.  Stands  Tall.  Shows what is there from every angle.  And that’s it.   Decide for yourself.  What makes you happy.  Smooth Talker.  Close Shave.  And anxious anticipation.  Are you satisfied?  Life in the City.  Or with your significant other at water’s edge.  Earth Day.  

 How’s it going? 

SPRING ROSE

SPRING ROSE

I am trying to do the right thing here.  But global and warming and social up-bringing are make it almost impossible.  Spring rose.  Could blame it on the lay of the land and of course my current state of mind, or more so, blame it on the drain.  Its all backing up, and the amount of water at my feet is alarming.  Using my pipes, and shouting, “Help.  Help.”  But there is no 911, nor people where I happen to be just now.  I am on my own.   Spring and it might be the miracle air that keeps me going, when it has been a long winter, and the social chill has been obvious.  He doesn’t answer my email.  I write.  I do all the things I’ve always done, but for some reason, Easter is almost here, and soon it will be April and baseball and Those Damn Yankees.  Seems when nothing else works, I work on the idea that he is a man, and yep, we talk sports. 

But as of this moment, I have just not been available.  Local setting and they turned the clocks ahead, and when they do that, I blame all my short-comings on the notion that when you mess with my biological clock, I become light-headed and a bit of a ding dong.  Having said all that, I want to reassure I am trying to do the right thing here.  I will answer your emails when the water recedes and the electricity comes back on, and I am not standing in a foot of water.  Computer woes.  Mental difficulty.  And Spring rose.

I need to get some fresh air.  Go out in the garden and prune the roses.  Test the soil and check the damage.  What happens when you don’t answer your mail, drop off the planet in winter, and create a communication barrier with your internet friends.  Have I reached my lowest point.  Is the chill and difficulty of winter over?  Is the depression over.  Can I rise up and find higher ground, plug myself in, once more, and keep a city schedule and yes, can I please my boss? 

And that might be the line I cross, on the way to Spring Training and professional baseball in the warmth of summer.  Be natural.  Be a man.  Face the issues that come with having internet friends.  Deal with it.  Modern and Face-book savvy.  Too popular for his own good, and now its time for the good news.  Spring Rose.  Your beauty is magnificent.  Your spirit, generous.  And when it happens that he doesn’t answer his emails, just know.  Its not you.  Nothing personal and specific. 

Local conditions determine his existence. 

Global presence.  Every body has a computer now, and internet connection.  Be friendly. 
 Answer your email.  And include a Spring rose.

The ground is wet.  Winter is almost over.  Snow melts and the garden is muddy.  I want to make things orderly and better.  Not sure where to start.  I pretend that I am busy.  Too busy for baseball.  But you know that isn’t true.  Man likes his sports.  Wears his love out where you can see it.  Yankee pinstripes.  Puddles and mud on the in-field.  Land slides and a general mess could be the source of the problem.  But that’s not it.  Mostly its about the local situation. Getting older now. 

Not that it makes him less friendly, but you can see it in his eyes.  His love of blogging and connecting with strangers is taking a backseat to the birds and the garden in his backyard.  Spring and a sense of gratitude.   Seeing another season ushered in.  And simply stated, that’s it.  Local conditions.  Global warming.  Too much water in the creek.  Now its in his yard.  And he thinks of you.

 Spring Rose.  A perennial beauty and source of much pleasure.  On the way to the big game.  Yankees coming to town.  April.  Expect to be there.  Having fun.  And when that happens, perhaps you can forgive me and at the same time, not say, “He’s busy.  I can wait.”  Truth is: It is rude to not answer your friends email.  And even worse, he blames it on global warming, when we all know.  He’s sniffing glue. Making a lattice for the rose garden.

Maybe. 

I am trying to do the right thing here.    Your land is my land.  One is global and in another country, while I am at the local level and making excuses.  In the end we need to work a little harder.  Make nice.  Improve on what we have.  Stop throwing our garbage in the creek.  Water and its about a foot up my leg, just now.  Spring rose.  Incredible flooding problem here.  And if you believe what I am saying, its because of global warming and all the things we do.  And on top of that, answer your email.  Last chance.  Baseball season begins.  Never too busy for all that.  He’s a man.

EVENT REHEARSAL

EVENT REHEARSAL

Was thinking about the good and bad; the wear and tear of life.  Flashback and the image was there.  Scarborough Fair.  Songs often bring back the memory of an event that happened and left a lasting impression on me.  But this is not a blog about improvisation and what you do next, as a way of forgetting or even moving ahead.  Character development and how does it help me to go back, and review the events of the scars I wear.  Not being specific, has an element of guerrilla theater in it.  Customs and history of a time, best forgotten.  That is the main thought that inspires this blog.  Old scars.  When you ask, “How did you get this one?”, is it better to say, “I have forgotten.  I don’t recall.”  And schedule an appointment for cosmetic surgery.  Hoping its over, and will not be mentioned again.  And that is the thought  behind this blog, event rehearsals.  Is about being comfortable to move ahead, without reminder of the scars we carry.

Not sure we get through this life unblemished.  Not sure we get through this life all alone.  Songs are a trigger sometimes.  You hear just a portion of an old song, and it is as if you are there.  In the yesterday.  This fragment of the Papa Roach lyrics, from their song:  Scars is with me today.

“…….I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut

My weakness is that I care too much

My scars remind me that the past is real

I tear my heart open just to feel. …….”

Event Rehearsal and have not decided if we do this over and over, because it will never be perfect, or if its just the perfectionist’s touch that drives us forward, experiencing wear and tear and a certain amount of damage, trying to be the best that is possible.  Wear and Tear.  Proper maintenance and care.  And yet, it is a question I seem to ask.  “Scarborough Fair.  What’s that about?”  Roughly speaking I just want to know, what’s happening to me.  You left a mark on me.  Is this something to be measured and weighted and amplified.  Event Rehearsal.  Over and Over.  It comes to mind.  And now what?  Will keep this blog short, because if the truth be told, I am not sure why I am allowing this to be entered to print.

Accept the duality of it all.  Life and Death and scar tissue.  See it as it is.  The mark you left on me.  Between the shadow of tragedy and the light of joy, let’s make it clear.  I find beauty in my scars.  Emotional triggers point to broken bones and broken hearts.  And yet, given a choice would I have it any other way, but to show the mark you left on me?  The answer is clear.  Inner strength and true depiction of all that you mean to me, is most compelling.  Let it show.  Find beauty in my scars.  The scars of time.  On stage.  Event Rehearsal.  Over and Over.  The mark you left on me, plays on.  Scarborough Fair.  Life and Music.  Plays on.

PLASTIC BAGS

PLASTIC BAGS

Lately, I am only writing one blog a week, and feel compelled to write something that others understand.  Having said that, I utter with sheer amazement the phrase, “Long Live The Queen.”  Brings to mind my need for tradition and institutions that keep rapid change and decay of all the things I rest my values on, at a level I can tolerate.  Tis brought on by my fascination with plastic and how it has changed everything for me.  Identity Theft and using plastic cards to run my world, pay my bills and dominate the moment if perhaps I lose My purse or holder of the plastic.  And that brings me to my blog for today.  Plastic Bags.

Introducing some personal information into this blog, I mention one of the many rules I live by, starting with:  Rule @007:  Rule is to be shaken, but not stirred.  It goes like this:  “If what you are doing isn’t working, try something else.”  And now that wisdom is starting to migrate.  Not an environmentalist in the official sense, but can say, “When the neighbor’s dog leaves waste in my yard, I politely ask the owner to clean it up.”  And that brings me to a common sense accounting for Plastic Bags.  Seems where I live, they have imposed a ban on Plastic Bags in most retail establishments.  Requires the consumer to pay 5 cents on each transaction to buy a paper bag, or 99 cents on each transaction to buy a cloth reusable bag when you are empty-handed and have too many items to carry.  No longer in this town do they ask, “Paper or Plastic.”

Not sure I have an issue with the bag issue.  Like I said, “If it becomes a problem, change the way  you do things in your daily routine.”  Reusable Bags.  Today am reading about how the store owners are saying, “…..plastic bag ban causes more shoplifting.”   Reading the small print I learn:  business owners are struggling because of a significant increase in theft.  Reusable bags and now more shoplifting.  Stop using plastic and does this mean we eliminate identity theft, and everybody is happy. 

Not sure.  What started out as a blog about Plastic Bags, becomes a lingering thought I can’t seem to get rid of.  “Who needs plastic?”  And that is where I will stop with this blog for today.  Topic Creep.  From Plastic Bags to everything else, and yes.  I want no confusion.   Want peace and understanding.  I hate it when they say, “ I don’t get it. What were we talking about?”  And that makes perfect sense to me.  If what you are doing isn’t working, try something else.  And in Our Town, its not plastic bags in the garbage dump.  Been there.  Done that. 

Now its plan B.   



A  Ban On Plastic Bags at the consumer store.  Across the aisle, they say, “No Plastic.”