TO HELP YOU GET TO SLEEP
As I promised two of you I'd write about this topic, I'm going to do it now. With some of my birthday money I bought some pajamas that have a black drawstring with messages written in white on it. This is what it says: let yourself daydream; agree with your imagination; laugh at the rules; color outside the lines. Perhaps these ideas are supposed to help one get to sleep. Try it. It may work. Happy dreams!
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
WRITING BLOGS
Several times in the last few weeks people have asked me what are blogs and how do you write them. I'll mention here just the rudiments of such writing.
First, regardless of what type of blog you write, personal or otherwise, keep yourself out of it as much as possible. Avoid a plethora of "I"s. Learn to write by giving a difficult description another way of saying it, without "I."
Second, avoid the Passive Voice, such as, "A good time was had by all." Instead, write, "Everyone had a good time."
Third, if you are as old as 18, remember to write with a grown-up's vocabulary. Use words you already know but keep learning new ones. If you write "frisson" in paragraph one, remember you cannot re-use it in the blog you're writing.
Fourth, read every blog you write aloud before you post it.
Good writing involves much more than what's mentioned here, but this is a start. Above all, keep reading. Best wishes!
Several times in the last few weeks people have asked me what are blogs and how do you write them. I'll mention here just the rudiments of such writing.
First, regardless of what type of blog you write, personal or otherwise, keep yourself out of it as much as possible. Avoid a plethora of "I"s. Learn to write by giving a difficult description another way of saying it, without "I."
Second, avoid the Passive Voice, such as, "A good time was had by all." Instead, write, "Everyone had a good time."
Third, if you are as old as 18, remember to write with a grown-up's vocabulary. Use words you already know but keep learning new ones. If you write "frisson" in paragraph one, remember you cannot re-use it in the blog you're writing.
Fourth, read every blog you write aloud before you post it.
Good writing involves much more than what's mentioned here, but this is a start. Above all, keep reading. Best wishes!
LEAVES
Once before in this blog, I wrote about the shadows of leaves the tree outside my third-story window made against the blinds. At the time of that display, it was around 7:00 in the morning. I never knew from that height just what the weather was doing on the first-story level. Often my tree exhibited havoc-playing, presaging a non-existing storm below.
Today the scene burst upon my vision around 8:00, prompting me to lie abed a while longer to locate just one tiny leaf dancing about, but none did. It reminded me of another time in another place where the leaves at my window stopped dancing only after dark -- when the raucous birds stopped their otherwise constant chirping. At that rehab center where I spent two months and a half, care-givers tended to close the wooden window blinds at night and also close the doors to rooms. They learned quickly not to do either to my room: I wanted to see the sky as soon as dawn broke; see the sky beyond the quiet leaves; I wanted to see the first leaf wake up and then others get the idea it was day and time to start shaking. After supper, I returned to my room and from my wheelchair gazed through my window to watch the show and live with my thoughts. My two trees are/were different sorts -- I don't know what kind -- and do a different type of shaking and bouncing about. One has long limbs reaching straight up for the sky, and the other has short fat leaves that hug the limb and know they are going nowhere.
The spectacle was/is one that reflects God and His marvelous creation of a tree, among other marvels. Enjoy the leaves whenever you get a chance.
Once before in this blog, I wrote about the shadows of leaves the tree outside my third-story window made against the blinds. At the time of that display, it was around 7:00 in the morning. I never knew from that height just what the weather was doing on the first-story level. Often my tree exhibited havoc-playing, presaging a non-existing storm below.
Today the scene burst upon my vision around 8:00, prompting me to lie abed a while longer to locate just one tiny leaf dancing about, but none did. It reminded me of another time in another place where the leaves at my window stopped dancing only after dark -- when the raucous birds stopped their otherwise constant chirping. At that rehab center where I spent two months and a half, care-givers tended to close the wooden window blinds at night and also close the doors to rooms. They learned quickly not to do either to my room: I wanted to see the sky as soon as dawn broke; see the sky beyond the quiet leaves; I wanted to see the first leaf wake up and then others get the idea it was day and time to start shaking. After supper, I returned to my room and from my wheelchair gazed through my window to watch the show and live with my thoughts. My two trees are/were different sorts -- I don't know what kind -- and do a different type of shaking and bouncing about. One has long limbs reaching straight up for the sky, and the other has short fat leaves that hug the limb and know they are going nowhere.
The spectacle was/is one that reflects God and His marvelous creation of a tree, among other marvels. Enjoy the leaves whenever you get a chance.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
GREETINGS, AND ANOTHER GOOD BOOK
Greetings, after five months! On the morning of April 22 of this year, I fell in my kitchen and broke my hip. I went from hospital into Rehab, then back here where I reside, but in the Assisted Living section. And now I am back in the Independent Living section, my same apartment for which I had been paying rent all this time. How great it is to be back!
The Executive Director here said to me, "This is just not done, that one goes from Assisted Living back to Independent Living, but you've done it!"
Before I tell you about the new book, let me inform you that almost 100 persons have now read that short story I finished writing last spring Who's to Say. It has met a great deal of enthusiasm and I should be ready to send it out in the early fall. Free time here is scarce. But now the goody I promised.
The book's title is All the Light We Cannot See. The author is Anthony Doerr, a Boise writer of my acquaintance. About ten years ago he awarded me first place in a state-wide contest of nonfiction writing. Of course, I'm one of his biggest fans, and I expect him to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in time.
All the Light is a World War II novel, for which Doerr devoted ten years of his life to research and write. Somewhere he says there are so many books about that war that they could cover all of Germany two feet deep. That's a lot of books about that war, and this volume will be declared one of the best in the fiction category. Of its 530 pages, I am on page 19. Quite a ways to go, but the chapters are extremely short and Doerr's vocabulary is right on the mark. What a delight to find a gibbous moon right on the first page. Suffice it to say this story is about a blind French girl and a German soldier, I think. You can order this through your computer.
Greetings, after five months! On the morning of April 22 of this year, I fell in my kitchen and broke my hip. I went from hospital into Rehab, then back here where I reside, but in the Assisted Living section. And now I am back in the Independent Living section, my same apartment for which I had been paying rent all this time. How great it is to be back!
The Executive Director here said to me, "This is just not done, that one goes from Assisted Living back to Independent Living, but you've done it!"
Before I tell you about the new book, let me inform you that almost 100 persons have now read that short story I finished writing last spring Who's to Say. It has met a great deal of enthusiasm and I should be ready to send it out in the early fall. Free time here is scarce. But now the goody I promised.
The book's title is All the Light We Cannot See. The author is Anthony Doerr, a Boise writer of my acquaintance. About ten years ago he awarded me first place in a state-wide contest of nonfiction writing. Of course, I'm one of his biggest fans, and I expect him to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in time.
All the Light is a World War II novel, for which Doerr devoted ten years of his life to research and write. Somewhere he says there are so many books about that war that they could cover all of Germany two feet deep. That's a lot of books about that war, and this volume will be declared one of the best in the fiction category. Of its 530 pages, I am on page 19. Quite a ways to go, but the chapters are extremely short and Doerr's vocabulary is right on the mark. What a delight to find a gibbous moon right on the first page. Suffice it to say this story is about a blind French girl and a German soldier, I think. You can order this through your computer.
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