Where? There!

Posted on by
3

As I run amok in my home town I am wont to randomly photograph any architecture and various works of art, that capture my attention. On occasion they are easily recognizable icons of New York City – the Empire State Building, the Prometheus sculpture at Rockefeller Center. Mostly, I like to capture items the even fellow denizens may not be aware exist unless they frequent the area.

The rules, such they’re not, are simple enough. Anything under “Where’s Raivenne?” is somewhere in New York City. I post the picture and you guess the location.  The first person to guess the correct location generally wins. A more exact location, even if it appears after a correct response, will trump a more generic description.  For example this photo:

Where's Raivenne

Click for larger image

The person who responded with the lyrics to the song “Downtown” was technically correct. I was in downtown NYC. She won my heart because I do love that song, but “downtown” is too vague to win the game.  Two people responded with the correct answer – City hall Park. the person who responded first “won”. The only answer that would have trumped it is if someone had said answered something like”The fountain at City Hall Park facing Park Row”.

The rules are very loose and winners receive nothing more than the accolade of knowing they’ve guessed correctly.

Some guess more than others, some get them right more than others, some of my of fellow denizens get none of them right.  I also give extra points for creative answers, that are blatantly wrong, but make me laugh. Sometimes I even stump myself. Such as when I once  I posted a picture while I was drunk and had no idea where I was the next day. It took two years and pure happenstance that I walked past the exact place again to answer my own query.

Every now and then I toss out technicalities just to mess with people. Hey, my games – my rules, but it’s all in fun.

I post them on my Facebook page under the heading of “Where’s Raivenne?” The tagline to the album states:

You may not know where I’m going, but you might know where I’ve been…

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see where my fellow slicers are taking us today in the challenge:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 16 – Two Writing Teachers

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries:I Said Duck!

Posted on by
9

If you’ve read my About Raivenne page then you know of my proclivity to drop a salty word or two. If not let me say it in plain language, it’s my blog and every now and then I will fucking cuss if I feel like it.  That being said, if you have followed this blog for a while then you also know, I really don’t curse all that much. At least not here. Everyplace else however is a different story. Suffice it to say my auto-correct, whether on my computer, my tablet or my phone gets quite the work out in changing all the french I speak, which has nothing to do with the lovely language spoken in France.  (Why do we call that -cursing-  speaking french anyway?) Thus when a friend posted the following on Facebook I was highly amused:

duck it

 

My comment and true story:

Oh my autocorrect must have become annoyed at my always correcting its tendency to offer a more feathered suggestion when I am demanding a more carnal one. I swear the one time I was actually texting duck confit, it switched it to the cuss word in revenge.

I probably should make more of an effort to curtail the fowl language – then again, duck it.

<>==========<>==========<>

We are officially at the halfway point! Whoo-hooo! Let’s see how others are slicing through this Tuesday and 15th day of the challenge:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 15 – Two Writing Teachers

 

Buggin’

Posted on by
2

I’ve a problem people…

fernweh-fb

I’ve got the travel bug.

No, really it’s bad.

I have one vacation set for the end of July, another vacation set for mid October.  For the past couple of weeks I have perusing travel sites to plot a weekend in London this year. I’ve also been laying out a plan to visit a couple of far off  lands for 2017. And because -why the hell not? – I’m plotting flights, for a grand excursion in 2018 for my 55th birthday.

I mean seriously, people – we’re not even out of March of 2016!!!!

I’ve held a baby crocodile in the Bayou, wrapped my self with a constrictor in the Caribbean, rode a camel in the desert of Dubai (trust me that last is not as impressive as it sounds, but I did it, so it counts). And yet all I can think is – what’s next?

The 52 year old me finds myself in a position the fifteen year old me could never have fathomed –  I have friends and acquaintances in several countries – and I want to visit all of them!

Hell, the only reason I’m not  going anywhere between now and July is time and money.  Actually, it’s just money. I have plenty of vacation time, in which to feed the travel bug, just not the funds to satiate it’s hunger. I mean have given up my Starbucks from time to time for travel. Put back that oh-so-fab suit for an extra hotel night, and really I can Netflix tonight to real life another night – right? Right!

But a girl can only deal with so much ramen noodles and there’s no Netflix without electricity – so priorities.

* spies a travel deal online * Hey, that bed-and-breakfast weekend in….

* spies utility bill on table * Le sigh….

Oh this travel bug has sunk its teeth in DEEP.

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see how other’s are slicing through this 14th day of the challenge.

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 14 – Two Writing Teachers

 

Because

Posted on by
1

Saw this posted on Facebook…

10606024_10153192264032242_5775111352022328194_n

I feel this also applies to just about any and everyone in the creative field, but especially the writers.

We creative types give many, many thanks to our respective muses, imaginations, inspirations or whatever we choose to call that which guides us to create in whatever medium. And while everything we do is a piece of our truths, it’s not always our personal stories we convey.  A Clockwork Orange By Anthony Burgess,  Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote are first person stories told from the viewpoints of a fifteen year old boy who probably has Asperger, and a flighty young woman in 1940’s New York City, respectively.  Suffice it to say neither tale was told from the first person view of the author. We as readers seem to innately understand this when it comes to novels, without introductions, forwards or some other advance notice to clue us in. Yet not so much with poems. Unless the reader already knows, or knows of, the writer, the first person view-point is general taken as, well, personal.

While my drawings and paintings leave a lot to be desired, I do feel I have a fair hand at the written word, specifically my poetry.  Still, just because my writes are in first person singular, don’t always make them my first hand account.I mostly write in the first person, as in 95% of what I pen is from that perspective, and considering  some of the poems I have written, let’s just say be damned grateful those writes are pure imagination, okay?

Though I cannot help it if it is not read, I now make a point of adding a footnote at the end of my writes if I think there may be even the slightest confusion. At least now, if a comment is given under misunderstood information, I know it’s not because I didn’t let the reader know.

I write, you read, and if the correct words come together enough for you to feel something, then I feel I’ve done my job well as communicator. I’m not going to lie, it makes me feel good when I read that the things I write touch people.  If I manage to evoke a laugh, a quiet reflection, visceral anger or have your heart-break just a little, I am grateful. Just not a former sharecropper, or an unborn child, or a cutter or getting murdered or… or…

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see how others are communicating with what’s left of this lovely Sunday:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 13 – Two Writing Teachers

 

Timing Is Everything – And It Sucks

Posted on by
4

It was 7:30 am  when the sun’s warmth, a chirping bird, and yes, my bladder, wake me.  I rise and am actually shining and raring to go.  I told I was going to be productive today.

I promised myself today was indoor chore day.

You know the day. The today is the day I am finally going to <- fill in the boring-time-consuming-put off for too long – have no choice chore – here -> day. Today I have three of them to be done and I promised myself they will  be done today.

wecan

There’s only one sliiiight problem…

The weather was gorgeous today.  A beautiful early spring day here in New York City.The sun is out, the temperatures are wonderful. Of course it is.

yosemite-sam

Yes, I could probably leave this until tomorrow when it’s overcast and not as pretty, but I know me. Dreary days never make me want to do housework. Besides, it really has to be done today because I actually felt like doing it. Goodness only knows when I am going feel like being domestically productive like this again. (I think the last time was around Thanksgiving.) I told myself I could not leave t go to the store, because once I’m out the door that’s it, I’m not coming back to do anything. I even told myself I am not allowed to post today until at least two of those things were completed.

Not started.
Not partially done.
Completed.

The first one, the hardest one, was checked-off by 11:30am. Yes!

I look at my computer. Touch a key to wake it. The blank page awaiting a post stares at me. I almost sat down, but then I remembered it had to be two things. I had only done one.

swearing

And naturally there were the texts and calls with their oh so tempting invitations trying hard to lure from my appointed goals. One friend flat out laughed at me, but I held fast.

You know I mean business!

Alas, it is now after 5pm. The sun is on the other side of my home from when I started this morning. I have only minutes of daylight left.

Now you know when I put my mind to indoor chore day a) it’s serious and now that I sit here at last to post b) I’ve checked three items off the list!

Yeah you read that right. The thirds job was the easiest one. I decided to just buckle down and “git ‘er done.”

I now have the rest of the evening and all day tomorrow free. Go me!

goodjob

<>==========<>==========<>
Let’s see how productive my fellow slicers are this 12th day of the challenge!

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 12 – Two Writing Teachers

 

Telling Tales

Posted on by
4

On the train this morning, I overhear a father reading “Little Red Riding Hood” to his daughter.  I admit I was happy to see a father reading to his child, especially on the train. Regrettably, it is still just enough of a rarity to be noted and appreciated when seen.  I was even impressed to see that it was a classic fairy tale and not something from Disney.  I smiled because it was a beautiful thing to see, but then it hit me.

This is where it starts.

Every little girl grows up with fairy tales. The classics of Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. Not to mention the several other Disney princesses, added to the classic mix. We females are just shy of programmed from toddlerhood to yearn for romantic bliss before we even know what hell romantic bliss is. This is where little girls first start getting the notions of a handsome prince, on a white horse, who will sweep them off their feet and they will live happily ever after.

Right here.

We feed our children these fairy tales, especially our girl children, that covertly, or not so covertly, start to define roles. And then wonder why romantic expectations are not reality based when they are older. Yes, we have the princesses who have on their big girl panties, but they are still princesses or princess types that perhaps with the the exceptions of Merida of Brave and Elsa from Frozen, nearly all wind up with some prince (or princely substitute Flynn Rider – Tangled, Dimitri – Anastasia), rescuing them from -fill in the blank-  and who is going fall in love with them and to make sure nothing bad happens to her ever again. Because heaven forbid a Disney princess be responsible for her own happiness independent of a man.

How do we empower our young girls with tales of strong girls who are not or will not be princesses and that’s okay? How do we empower our boys with tales of strong girls who are not or will not be princesses and are not a threat to their strengths? There has to be tales out there that show realistic yet loving relationships long after the dragon/evil witch/bad guy is taken care of. Where are those stories?

I’m thinking I need start researching this and stocking up on them in case I ever have a grand-child.  Yes, I will read them fairy tales, but I am definitely throwing in some realistic tales in between.

Editing to Add:

Ask the universe and it will provide – this morning a good friend of mine posted the following link. Talk about serendipity! Now I know where to start my collection.

12 Empowering Children’s Books to Add to Little Girls Bookshelves

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see what tales are being told this Day 11 of the challenge:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 11 – Two Writing Teachers

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – As Cute Does

Posted on by
11

“I bet you think you’re cute.”

This coming from a young woman in her late twenties to me because I, a grown-ass woman almost twice her age, beat her to a seat on the subway.  I’m sure she only said it because she saw I had earbuds on and likely thought I could not hear her. Wrong.

Let’s see…

I.  I’m in a bodycon dress where this body is throwing all kinds of conscious attitude, the boots are cute, the mane with it’s deep purple highlights is shining and glorious, the gold mirrored, clear trim sunglasses are fierce and the face is done.

II. A woman does not step out of her home looking the way I looked  and don’t know she’s got it going on – no apologies or *bleeps*  given.

III. Oh dear Lord, it’s 2016 – catty females still say “she think she cute”? I thought that was as played out as “jive turkey”. So disappointing.

Being called out on cuteness traditionally is supposed to tear a female down. It’s a chastisement. Because heaven forbid she should own her beauty. She should be modest and demur, respond with something along this lines of “Oh no, I don’t think I’m cute”

Pssshht! This is me we’re talking about – addressing someone who is likely ten years the junior of my own children. Modest? Demur? Me?–Never going to happen.

“Let me explain it to you this way – both of my parents brought nothing but beautiful children into this world and I’m an only child.”

She said nothing else to me, but from the murderous look that crossed her face, I think she got the point.

N’est-ce pas?

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see how others are getting through this 10th day  of the challenge:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 10 – Two Writing Teachers

Aaarrrgggh!

Posted on by
3

aarrgh

I missed posting yesterday. How did it happen? And so early in the challenge to boot? I woke up with the intent to post. I even had a couple of ideas on things to post. Then I was reminded yesterday was International Women’s Day.

Wait… what?  I knew it was Women’s History Month, but how did the day itself totally slip my radar?

Argh!

Now I wanted to write something for the day. I even found a great graphic to open with – so what happened? Oh, that thing called my job *queue echo chamber*. The errands I ran during lunch, that would have been my time to work on the challenge. The much needed snooze I took on the train ride home where I remembered I promised to drop by my sister and check her computer. Only to receive a text from my brother, who did something to his computer and needed my to check it. Yes, I’m the family  tech support – don’t ask.  I know the drill – I will have no peace until the issues are resolved. Just go get it done, Rai.

Aarrgh!

All done with everyone else I walk into my door and see the mounds of  laundry that had been put off for too long and were sorted last night before I went to bed waiting to be washed. This was ridiculous. I had to get at least one dang load done before anything else right? Right.  But wait, why do I have a headache – oh I’m hungry. Why am I hungry? I had a cup of soup for lunch before errands. That was only six-seven hours ago. Really Raivenne?  A. Cup. Of. Soup. Six-Seven. Hours. Ago.

Aarrggh!

My cousin picked a perfect time to call offering dinner. I had actually declined because I knew if I left the house nothing else was getting done.  Bless his heart he brought it to me. Yes! A load of laundry is in the machine, it’s not even 10pm, I will eat and I will get to writing – perfect.

I woke up after 2am.

Are you kidding me! My partially consumed dinner on the table in front of me, wet laundry still in the washing machine waiting to be hung.  Yet what was my first thought – “Dammit I didn’t post!”  Come on say it with me people…

Aarrgghh!

So today I post on how I did not post yesterday. I pick up my pen, turn it into pixels, cross fingers it does not happen again and keep on writing, but as for yesterday…

Wooden stamp with failed word

Aaarrrggghhh!

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see how others are getting through this Day 9 of the challenge:

sol

Slice of Life Writing Challenge – Day 9 – Two Writing Teachers

The Spirit Believes

Posted on by
18

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
“Burning the Old Year” by Naomi Shihab Nye

Romans, Countrymen
Sons and daughters of Israel
The spirit believes
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t
The heart sees what the eyes belie
The soul comprehends He is risen

This cannot be, so many claimed
And yet it is, as many others knew
The spirit believes
An absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space
A new calendar of the divine
Marking a new era that time cannot erase

Grand strides began with
Faith the size of a mustard seed
The spirit believes
I begin again with the smallest numbers
Each morning’s new breath, my daily bread
And a nightly prayer before my slumbers

<>==========<>==========<>

Today, Mary is our host at dVerse Poets. She introduces us to writer, Naomi Shihab Nye, and challenges us to choose a line from Naomi’s poem “Burning the Old Year” to write a poem of our own. Overachiever that I am I chose an entire stanza to work with in a stylized Glosa.

dVerse ~Poet Pub | Poetics – Choose a Line
dverse

Oh Cap’n My Cap’n

Posted on by
17

The captain is dead, he is no more 
His boxed life wasted 
His crunchy remains

Scattered

Across the tile floor 
I should be sore

But instead I’m done in
By a toddling perp
Who knows not his sin
Munching
With that drooling
Cereal killer 
Grin

<>==========<>==========<>

Putting a memory to grin with a Quadrille…

dverse

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille – 4