C.B. Potts's Blog, page 7

Thursday Morning

What is magic? Or magick, if you're of that inclination. Magic is the application of will, words and action to achieve a desired result; often in the hopes that the desired result will be achieved through extraordinary mechanisms.

But I was thinking what if you weren't all that picky about your delivery mechanisms being extraordinary, provided they actually work? People will go through the most elaborate rituals, complete with special hand sewn robes and wands made gathered from twisted elm br...

Wednesday Morning

There's a point at which you realize you've had entirely too much to drink; your brain feels like it's floating inside your skull and the horizon turns arbitrary. It's a lovely, wavery space. Afterward, you fall down, and if you're lucky, you sleep.

If you don't sleep. Well. Insomnia sucks, but a drunkard's insomnia? You think dreams are treacherous? Try being awake, damnably awake, and yet not one bit sure that what you see in front of you is real, is really happening, is there at all - in th...

Friday Morning

Strange dreams last night. I woke up planning the promotions for the cupcake bakery I don't actually have and have no intentions of starting - there were cupcakes named for the beginnings of stories; a Dark and Stormy Night was rich and fudgy, with loops of frosting and those little flat bitter chocolate squares on top; Once Upon a Time was distressingly angel-cakey, with strawberry puree and butter cream and edible iridescent glitter.

Yesterday was a long day. I wrote a LOT: 17 1/2 billable h...

Wednesday Morning

It is warm, so warm for now, and the wind is blowing. The sky is gray and looks heavy with rain; the toilet flushes reluctantly. Retreating snows have revealed bird seed by the pound beneath the feeder. Today our feathered friends will feast. Hello, spring. Hello!

My Mom visited, and we spent time comparing recollections - the points in our history that unite us. It was good to see her smile over funny times gone by; it was strange to hear her version of pivotal moments from when I was a kid....

Tuesday Morning

So somewhere along the way, we began using 'adult' as a verb. Defining what it means to adult varies from person to person, but it's generally some variety of having your shit together: waking up in the morning, going to work, paying your bills, feeding the kids, taking care of life instead of whatever else one might want to do. Whatever else might want to do tends to break down in a couple of directions: some people say they can't adult because they're depressed or have chronic health condit...

Monday

It is so easy to lose perspective. You might think your life is not going very well, and then you meet someone who would be so very happy if they could just have the problems you have instead of the problems they've got. It's a life changing experience, to have that happen. Explicitly. Overtly.

I have been thinking about competencies and social markers; it's got my shoulders up in knots, so I'm probably meant not to be doing that. I need spring to get here, already - I want to go walking and...

Story Telling Has Its Perils

It is a very dangerous thing to tell someone a story they've never, ever heard before. This is particularly true if that someone's made more than a few trips around the sun, and only now hear the tale where they are the hero, where they have the power to change things, where they can take on the dragon and win.

Equally dangerous, but in a different way, to introduce someone to the tale where they're the villain.

The evocation of strong, unfamiliar emotions in the listener can prompt what appear...

Hold Still

Just for a moment, hang on, hold still and listen. Just listen. You don't have to hear; you don't have to understand. For a collection of seconds, dwell in sound without meaning. Close your eyes if it helps - sometimes it does, sometimes it makes it way way worse. Either way, do it until it's easier to breathe. Then step forward, back into the day.

Hold still. Whatever is happening, it is not about you. It is never about you, really: people act from a place that is not you-centric, even when i...

Five Things Make a Post Tuesday

1. History is a funny thing, especially personal history. It's composed of memory and anecdote - the tales we tell between us - and so many things hinge on interpretation. Sometimes the history *you* think you have as your very own isn't in alignment with the history other people have associated with you. Then add in cognitive decline or other memory impairment issues, and the ground becomes even more uncertain.

I've been thinking a lot about Alzheimer's and memory loss, in part because of a w...

Five Things Make a Post Thursday

1. Suzette Haden Elgin has left those of us who are still living to go on to her next adventure. She was Ozarque here on LJ, and the conversations we've had here involving her are among the most beautiful. For many years, she lived with dementia. Someone, I don't remember who, told me she'd spent many days then reading and re-reading books; her time consumed with experiencing words, language and story rather than retaining it. I am sad she is gone, but I am more grateful and joyous that she e...