Tag Archives: Nostalgia

750 words 1-2-12

Today my inspiration for writing will be taken from the closest book to me. A wrinkle in time. I opened it to a random page, 90, and chose a random sentence to write about…or not. I guess we will see were this goes.

The sentence:

This was far worse than the nothingness had been; while she was nothing there was no need to breathe, but now her lungs were squeezed together so that although she was dying for want of air there was no way for her lungs to expand and contract, to take in the air that she must have to stay alive.

Ok, I’m writing on my cell phone keypad so this might take a while but here we go.

While writing out the sentence from the book it brought to mind times when I was a child playing with a friend named jeffrey. His mother and my mother were best friends so we played together often. Jeff had a swimming pool and we spent many hot south carolina summer days in that pool. It was an above ground circular pool so one of our favorite game was to try to create a whirlpool. Everyone i n the pool would push the water with their bodies around and around traveling around the perimeter of the pool until all of the water was moving so fast that you could lift your legs and float on the current. The passage from the book reminded me specifically of another game we wpuld play. We would try to see who could hold their breathe the longest under water. I remember a time that I wanted to win so badly I stayed under the water so long that my body started taking over and trying to force itself to breathe. It was almost as if my body was convulsing in a way. What the hell was wrong with me. Had I lost so many times that I was that desperite to win a silly game. I remember when I finally came up and took my first breathe it was like it was insufficient. Only after many many very deep breain the of are and quite a bit of time breathing heavily did I feel like the oxygen was getting to the places it needed to be. I don’t recall whether I won that round or not but I damn sure remember how my body took over and tryed to force itself to inhale and exhale while I was under water.

We had a lot of fun in that pool. Makes me wanna buy one for my kiddos. That’s not even a possibility right now as I don’t know how much longer I’ll be aloud to live in my house. Foreclosure is a little slice of hell on earth. In a way, this foreclosure business is very similar to that day in the pool. I’m underwater holding my breath trying to hold on as long as possible just looking to win a little extra time in my home. I can feel myself suffocating, dying a little inside as time presses on and presses in on me, presses down on me and compresses my chest, the thoughts of being homeless knocks the wind out of me.

I bought the book, a wrinkle in time, for my teenage daughter. I remember being in elementary school and one of my teachers read it to our class. It was magical. When I seen it at the store I asked if she had ever read it. She said she hadn’t so I bought it in hopes that she to would love it like I had. Well, she hasn’t read it yet, she’s been reading some vampire series. Not the twilight one, something different. So while she indulges in vampires I decided to read the book again to see if it still held the same magic it once had. I just started reading it today and I gotta say, I’m having a hard time getting into it. Maybe the magic is reserved for young hearts. I don’t know but I guess after I read it I’ll know for sure.

I guess in a way the magic you experience in your youth will forever remain locked in your young heart, something to be relived through the magic and mystery of that bittersweet thing we call nostalgia. I’ve played the “who can stay under the water the longest” game with my kids in my mom and dads pool and it has lost its former appeal. Now the joy is letting my youngest win the game, who had previously been to scared to put her head under water and just discovered this past summer that she could safely and that she liked it. Or trying my best to talk my oldest, who refuses to play childrens games, into playing.

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This is the analysis after my writing. I love the 750 words website. Its so cool.

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This Day…

This day will never happen again…


This is true for everyday. Maybe posting something about the good days will help me remember how blessed my family and myself truely are.
After all, its always easy to remember the crappy days. The key is… to help myself remember, and focus on more of the good days.

May 16, 2011
This day will never happen again…
Today was the first time I worked with my father. It was hard work, but not to hard. It was also very much of a relief that my dad got the contract to do the job. We have both been in need of work for quit some time. Granted, our individual circumstances for being in a “work drought” are vastly different, it matters little when work presents itself.
He’s pretty easy to work for. As a laid back and easy going guy, hard work just doesn’t seem as hard as it could be. More importantly, I had the great fortune to see my dad smile more than he has in a while. He thought he would get me back for all the times I’ve taken pictures of him. Often sneak snapshots of him doing silly stuff, like the day I was fortunate enough to have my camera ready, just in time to catch him doing a dorky dance while leaving the pool house and on the way around the pool to where we were all sitting. He was trying to make us laugh. We did. Then I was able to make him cringe with a sneak snapshot.
So, guess who was the pic taker today….



On the long drive back from pawleys island this is the picture message I got. Ugh, he got me! No, I wasn’t doing a dumb dance, I was doing “BOY” work. Ugh, double ugh. Oh the humility of femininity demished and caught on film. I’m gonna wear extra lipgloss today, lol, to recuperate.

Nobody said it was easy. But no one ever said it would be this hard.

I’m going back to the start

Awesome Moments

I just love the 1000awesomethings blog. I think I’ll start my own list. My search for lifes awesome moments are sure to be little treasures as each are discovered. Likewise, I can only hope for some long term “positive outlook” benefits.

In the mean time, anyone interested in lifes “SCHWEEEEET” lil moments, you can check out 1000Awesomethings website at:

http://1000awesomethings.com/

Though I’ve read many of this sites awesome things, I figured I would share the one that inspired me to start my own list of LIFES AWESOME MOMENTS!

http://1000awesomethings.com/2011/04/28/256-when-the-bass-kicks-in/

The comforts of routine

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The comforts of routine are most likely what all species living on this rock strive for. I don’t think brain size plays any role in this commonality that links the multitudes of species. From ants in the forest to uncles in the den, even older brothers who’ll punch till you “say when”.

I dream of the days when routine was bothersome. Nostalgia is often more bitter than sweet.

There’s no place like home

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I’m pretty sure that this will be the image I’m gonna use when I create my bottle cap pixelated art picture.
The piece that inspired me is one I seen on the wall at the Medical University downtown. I saw it while there with my mom, dad and grandmother Viv. Viv was there for a procedure and while we waited, we went down to the cafe to eat. The picture, if I remember correctly, hangs on the wall outside the cafe where there are many other pieces of art on display.
I’ll have to research to make sure, but I think the image is in the likeness of a local man who is an artist himself. He’s the artistic eyes and hard working hands behind many of our cities beautifully crafted elegant iron gates. I will post a story about him as soon as I find one. Until then, this is the picture…

He is the image at the top in the center. I’ll try to find a more detailed picture. I took a picture of it myself while I was at MUSC that day. Unfortunately, my picture of the piece resides on a hard drive on a laptop that my husband took with him when he left.

Update:
NEED MORE BOTTLE CAPS, A LOT MORE, Lol. CALLING ALL WHO MAY BE BURDENED BY BOTTLE CAPS. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR BURDEN WITH ME. I WILL MAKE GOOD USE OF IT ; )

https://lilywhitewash.wordpress.com/2011/04/30/beer-bottle-caps-wanted/

http://artwork.musc.edu/artists/pages/right/01.html

https://lilywhitewash.wordpress.com/2011/04/29/musc/

Refugee

We got concert tickets as soon as we found out Tom Petty was coming to the coliseum. As the date for the concert grew closer so did my contractions. August 15, 2003, the night of the concert, I knew for certain that my size and irregular contractions wouldn’t allow for me to go to a concert I desperately wanted to go to. Danny took my place next to my husband and reported his enjoyment afterward. They had a blast.

My 3rd child was born less than a week later. Kieran Emily Sumpter came into the world on a very stormy August evening. The lightening was so intense that it knocked the power out, on the labor and delivery floor for as far as I could tell, just briefly until the backup generators kicked on. The only thing that was left unrestored in my delivery room was the machine that monitors heart rate and contractions. It wasn’t long before I was in more pain than I’ve ever been in in my life. My epidural drip had run dry. Next to me was a gentleman who was working tirelessly to restore the HR/contraction monitoring machine that would have validated my pain had it been functional. He never did get it back up and running before my daughter made her grand appearance. Much like the anesthesiologist who never made it back around to my room in time to refill my empy epidural drip. My 3rd child, 2nd daughter and 1st natural child birth all occured the same day, August 21st, 2003. Though I had given birth to two children previous to her, I had never experienced such pain in my life. It was foreign to me, and scary. I kept saying… I’ve already had two children and I didn’t feel like this. Somethings wrong. I’m ripping in half. Please help. I was wrong in that nothing was wrong at all, it was what women had felt while giving birth for all of humanity up till recent and the marvels of modern medicine had unveiled this wonderful little thing called anesthesia.

The song Refugee by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers is a song me and my husband held close to our heart. It was a song we cranked up loud and sang the hell out of when it came on the radio. It was a favorite we played on our home stereo via cd. We sang it word for word, loud as possible and probably even more hideous than loud.

Its a song that I haven’t been able to listen to without crying, and I mean the ugly kind of crying to. The kind of crying that you should hide your face from any onlookers due to the painful contortions ugly crying cause your once pretty little face to be mangled into.

The words have recently sounded different to me. The lyrics mean something new. Not good new. Just new. It occurred to me that for the past year, my children and myself have been living very much the life of refugees and would like to be granted a much needed asylum. There’s no place like home, and for us, for now, homeless is where we are, and where we’ll be until we can find our way back. Back home.

Refugee

Writers: TOM PETTY, MIKE CAMPBELL By Tom Petty and Mike Campbell

We got somethin’, we both know it,
We don’t talk too much about it.
Yeah it ain’t no real big secret,
But somehow, we get around it.

It don’t really matter to me baby,
You believe what you want to believe,
You don’t have to live like a refugee.

Somewhere, somehow,
Somebody must have kicked you around some. Who knows why you wanna lay there and revel in your abandon.

It don’t make no difference to me, baby, Everybody’s had to fight to be free,
You see you don’t have to live like a refugee.

Baby, we ain’t the first.
I’m sure a lot of other lovers been burned.
Right now this seems real to you,
But it’s one of those things you gotta feel to be true.

Somewhere, somehow,
Somebody must have kicked you around some. Who knows? Maybe you were kidnapped,
Tied up, taken away, and held for ransom.

It don’t really matter to me, baby,
Everybody’s had to fight to be free,

“Refugee”

She just dont know what else to do about it.

She gets mad And she starts to cry, She takes a swing man She cant hit! She don’t mean no harm, She just dont know What else to do about it.

Aside

1. Sharing my bed. I loved laying next to my husband listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. I loved cuddling close when I was chilly. And I loved the smell and feel of his soft clean skin. My … Continue reading

WHAT SHOULD I DO TO CHANGE?

Laying in my bed, not doing anything except watching an episode of House and trying to figure out how to get outta work tonight. I hear this little nugget of wisdom:

Time changes everything. That’s what people say. It’s not true. Doing things changes things. Not doing things leaves them exactly as they were. -House

http://www.holliesquotes.com/life/page39.htm

Ok, I’ve been a subscriber to the time changes theory. Its been a year and nothing is changing in a hurry. So….what shall I DO?

I would love some feedback on this post. Anyone with a suggestion is much appreciated.

WHAT SHOULD I DO TO CHANGE?

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3 words that encompass a future…

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Different than today.

You’ve changed so much I almost don’t recognize you anymore.

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My repsonse to him, after I realized he would never take responsibility for the pain and destruction he caused… also when I realized I was talking to a complete stranger. My husband of 10 years exists only in my memory.

Me: You denying the truth is expected but is also the worst thing you could ever do. It invalidates the pain you’ve caused to the people who loved you the most. I’m aware that the man I married and loved is no longer part of you, your being, your soul. You’re merely an empty, cold shell of the heart and soul that used to reside there. I will no longer seek an apology from you because you (my husband) are gone. Unfortunately, it also leaves you without the one chance to heal a wound in someone you once called your best friend and love. Your continued denial is hurtful as much as it is alarming. We (the victims) will get a form of justice but we will never get the one thing we long for…. ourselves back.

He failed to reply to this. This is very likely the last conversation of our relationship. How sad things end that started out so beautifully.

The picture is one taken of my husband after “April” and serves as a reminder of how different (to me) he looks. Its almost like going to a viewing to pay your last respects to a loved one. Even though you recognize the individual in front of you, they don’t look like the person you once loved. Its a deadness, a hollowness, a shell of a person deficient in spirit.

Things that make me cry

I was tooling through some old status updates, this one is exceptionally painful to read and can’t be done without tears:
***** *******: In honor of our first trip to New York tom has dutifully asked every toll booth worker a question. He reminded me that the first toll booth I ever seen in my life I advised him to ask a question… so to get my monies worth.
November 6, 2009 at 2:21 amMr Explaino has zero luck