Midweek Memes & Music: Positive Affirmations (Re-blogged)

’tis a wet, windy Wednesday! A good day to stay indoors, warm and well-fed, and enjoy this re-blog of mine from October.

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Random Ramblings; Myriad Musings

I felt like sharing some helpful tips which have helped me in life. Perhaps they will help you, too!

Now for some music – a trio of tasty tunes!

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Mid-Week Moon Memes!

The skies have been overcast for the past three days now, but not a drop of rain has fallen from the dusty-looking clouds. With all of the wildfires burning here in the West, we could use a bit of precipitation!

The moon was full last night, and will be so again tonight, but I don’t get to see it this time around. Hopefully the next full phase will occur during clear skies. In the meantime, enjoy these moon-related memes and bit of music!

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Midweek Music: 14 June 2017

Just a few tunes to get you all “over the hump” and sliding into the weekend…enjoy!

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Midweek Music…31 May 2017!

I felt like posting some pictures and music for this final day in May, 2017…enjoy!

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Midweek Musings: International Women’s Day

Today is International Women’s Day, and March is Women’s History Month. What, if anything, do these observances mean to myself and other women around the world? It depends on who you ask, where that person resides, and what their perspectives and experiences are. When I talk with others, I look for common ground and relatable experiences to initiate dialogue. Then, if I find a difference in personal experiences between myself and another, I ask questions in an attempt to learn about and understand that person’s unique experiences. The funny thing about this is, even the most basic questions that I ask of others never really get answered! This makes it difficult to know where another person is coming from, and makes it virtually impossible to meet them halfway with anything.

These hiccups in communication mostly occur in online interactions, especially when there are differences in language and culture. Mistakes in translation can create unintended offense on both ends. This is why I prefer speaking with others face-to-face: it’s easier to gauge the veracity and intent of the person with whom I’m speaking, and enables one to clear up any misunderstandings right away!

What does this observation have to do with International Women’s Day, you might ask? Plenty. After all, I am one woman in this big world. Therefore, my observations, experiences and perspectives are just as important on this day as that of any other real, genuine, XX-chromosome-bearing woman. International Women’s Day, and Women’s History Month, still seem more tailored for the Euro-centric and Anglo-identifying ones. Inclusion is still lacking, from what I see – but, that’s just my perspective!

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Excerpt from NaNoWriMo: Prologue

Author’s note: This is the prologue of the story I began during NaNoWriMo. I thought that it would be fun to post excerpts from it now and then! I’ve been inspired by today’s New Moon, it would appear.

He starts awake, gasping and choking. Coughing up water, gagging, snorting out sand-filled snot. He raises up on his forearms, struggling to stand…a wave of dizziness hits hard. He collapses helplessly. The crying of gulls is loud in the air…what is that clacking sound? He strains to raise his head – gods, it spins so! Bright light hurts his eyes; he clamps them shut and drags himself forward. His body aches all over. What happened? He can’t dredge up any memory save something from a nightmare…idyllic peace shattered in an instant…

Water lapping, calm seas, joy and general bonhomie as the grand ship cut through the waves on the journey home. Tall, proud son at his side, strong hands on the wheel. Grinning at his father in his good-natured way. Eyes that twinkle in the same way that the young man’s mother’s eyes did, so long ago. Eyes that now turn distant and intent, staring over the father’s shoulder, concern and the hint of fear growing rapidly. “What is that? By the gods – Father, what is that?”

Turning slowly…ever so slowly, as if in a dream…seeing the small island passing on the portside, nine figures cloaked in black garments, screaming foul incantations and dancing wildly, madly…time seems to slow to the cadence of heartbeats. Black clouds gather and roil, coalescing into lumpen shapes that begin to swirl ominously like the funnel-cloud of a tornado.

A helpless form, dressed in rags, hangs unsupported in front of the chanting, dancing worshipers. The chanting rises to a fever pitch as a thunderous sound grows in volume, getting louder by the second. The ugly noise travels through the ground and the water, seemingly filling the air itself with its oppressive presence. All on board the ship clap hands to ears; some fall to their knees, others writhe in agony.
A circle flashes into view above the chanting forms – a beam of light shoots down, vaporizing the ragged sacrifice. The chanters are washed with that hideous, sickly light; eyes ablaze, they turn as one, facing the ship. Waves suddenly churn – the ship plunges and whirls in unseen eddies. Massive chains drop from the circle in the sky, smashing into the tiny island. They lock into place and pull taut…the ground shakes from the impact, and the waves increase in intensity. The lookout in the crow’s nest is flung into the wild sea, screaming as he falls. Water washes across the deck, slamming helpless bodies into gunwales and tossing others to the waves.

The man reaches out, grabbing his unconscious son as they slide across the wet wooden planks. He desperately clutches at a flapping end of rope in an attempt to arrest forward motion, to no avail – the ship lurches madly as another freak wave heaves it to starboard. He’s falling…the side of the ship looms close. He strikes his shoulder on something…he loses his grip on his son. The cold water envelops him in an icy embrace. Shouts and screams are close, some growing faint and ceasing altogether. He tries to get his bearings by exhaling a stream of bubbles and following their trail.

He breaks the surface of the water. His eyes see the huge chains locked into the earth, but his mind still doesn’t register it as being real. Thunder rumbles continuously; the white light spins madly in the center of the circle, the clouds are black and ominous as they seem to be sucked into the spinning light. Creatures from the imagination of a mad god drop from the circle, summoned by the chanting, dancing worshipers. Their fell magics are directed at the sky, the water, and the now-sinking ship. The incessant waves have taken their toll and the port side has been stove in from some unseen impact.

“No…please…” he gasps, treading water weakly, still trying to keep his son’s head above the surging waters. Out of nowhere, a powerful arm grabs him around the chest and lifts him onto a couple of floating barrels that are still miraculously lashed together. His son’s limp form soon rests next to him – he is relieved to see that the younger man still breathes strongly. He looks around for his savior, but only sees a saurian tail cutting through the water towards another bit of flotsam. One of the lizard-folk, it appears…he had employed a goodly number of them. His desire for a diverse crew would pay off quite well, today.

The ship is floundering, quite resembling a dying cetacean or sea-serpent struggling and clinging to life. The sails hang in rags from the masts, rent and torn by the screaming winds. Forms, human and non, bob in the waves. Some manage to stay afloat – others tread water weakly, then cease their struggles, then disappear from sight. He turns blurred eyes to the limp form of his son. ‘I’m so tired…I must rest for just a little while…then I can help,’ he thinks. Darkness lays her warm cloak over his eyes and mind, and he floats away.

The clacking sound rouses him again…he knows that he needs to get away from it, but can’t think of why. He carefully moves his arms, stretching them out in front of him and feeling for something sturdy to grasp hold of. Splintered wood. Wet, wadded cloth. A soggy, frayed piece of rope. A hand…he clasps it, but it is cold and doesn’t return his grip. He carefully releases it, not opening his eyes, not wanting to know who it might belong to – or whether it is still even attached to the arm of whomever it belongs to. He needs to focus on survival. Head spinning, he makes minute, painful progress…then passes out again.

Voices call, getting closer. “Did you see that?” “What was it?” “Here! I found someone – come, come!” “Over here…no, that one is done for – mark them with the red cloth so the priests can tend to them once we find all of the survivors.” The sound of scuffing sand gets nearer still. The ugly clacking is so close…too close…sand scuffs harshly, there is a soft thump, and the clacking ceases. He groans softly, twitching his hands in the sand, trying to move. “Here – come, I’ve found another!” The voice, so close…speaking in a familiar language, but with a unique, distinct dialect. A woman’s voice. Hands press his arms and legs; questing fingers probe his shoulder. He lets out a loud gasp of pain, then dissolves into paroxysms of helpless coughing. “Turn him, quickly!” More hands grab him; fingers sweep into his mouth, clearing out sand and spittle. Fingers pull his eyes open – the sunlight is blinding and he tries to squeeze his eyelids shut against the burning intrusion. His head is cradled gently for a moment and a bowl is brought to his lips. “Here…drink this, slowly,” says a soft voice. He parts his lips; warm broth trickles down the side of his face as he swallows. He squints against the light, trying to see who tends to him – all he sees is a light-limned shadow. The broth is good…he relaxes slightly as the pain eases, closing his eyes again. His breath steadies as he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. He feels nothing as he is transferred to a travois, wrapped in a wool blanket, and has pillows carefully propped behind his head and shoulders. He is lifted to the back of a horse-drawn cart and lain down between two others. The horse grazes quietly nearby; the driver eats his own simple meal, waiting for the order to take the poor souls to the nearby infirmary.

Other injured crewmen have been located. Those who can move on their own do so, heading to the triage tent that was hastily erected by the rescuers. Many of those with the fewest injuries are the lizard-folk, who are telling and re-telling the tale of what befell them as they are tended to by the healers. An elderly, blind priest listens to the recounted disaster, his fingers weaving runes of light in the air before his sightless eyes. His magick-infused writings are being seen in various guilds throughout the land, being transcribed to books, paper, and carved in stone by whichever mage, shaman, witch-king, or wyrd-woman can decipher them. For good or ill, this occurrence is recorded by all with the ability – and the tale spreads swiftly, like a virulent disease.

Midweek Music…Merry Solstice!!!

Merry Solstice, everyone! Here are five songs celebrating the “official” first day of Winter – enjoy!

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I’m a NaNoWriMo Winner – 2016!!!

*WHEW*

I did it. I completed the challenge! Even with being behind by about a week, I put my fingers to the keyboard and typed them raw, LOL

My final word-count was 50,020 words – and that’s perfectly fine with me. I’ll see if I can get the damned little widget to work; if not, no biggie! I see that number and am quite satisfied. It’s been a long month in more ways than one, and I’m glad that it’s over!

My poor brain is fried, so I have nothing clever to say – so I’ll just play some music, shut my brain off, and do some gaming for the rest of the day! Check out my Twitch channel if you want to watch me do some AvA action. I’ll get around to reading, writing, and re-blogging later on. Enjoy the mid-week music in the meantime…later, ‘gators!

Midweek Music…3 August 2016

I found that picture and just had to share it…it is certainly true in my life overall, LOL!

I’m noodling on this tiny laptop for the time being, and considering buying it as a back-up / travel ‘puter. One has been needed for some time, and this one will certainly fit the bill! Finances are compatible, so…why not? No time like the present, no?

These three songs were running through my mind today, so I figured that I’d share them with you. Enjoy!
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Miranda Sings Award!!!

I was nominated for this new award by my friend Paul over at wwwpalfitness last week, and figured that today, the final day of June, was a perfect day to re-post it with my own nominations! If you haven’t checked out his blog yet, give it a go – he always has something interesting there on a daily basis, whether his own original thoughts, workout tips, or re-blogging other people’s interesting blog-posts!

The rules are simple: thank the blogger who nominated you (done). List seven things you love about yourself, then nominate and notify seven other bloggers of this award – and, you can’t nominate the person who nominated you! Don’t forget to display the award in your post, too.

What are seven things that I love about myself – or, what are seven semi-interesting things about me? Here is what I came up with, this time around:

1. I’m an Aries with a Leo Ascendant and a Virgo Moon.

2. I’m an ISTP.

3. I’m an empath.

4. I like motorcycles, classic cars, and tattoos – part of what makes others label me as “unladylike,” ROFL!

5. I’m a genius – my IQ tested at 126 when I was eight, which was before I learned computer programming, the intricacies of Dungeons & Dragons, and the patience of doing crossword puzzles (in pen, LOL).

6. I like being outdoors, away from people. I like the sounds and smells of the forests and the beach. I always need to be near trees. Talking to the birds, while puttering around in my garden, is fun.

7. I love to read, listen to music, write, work out, and play darts – that is, when I’m not gaming!

Last but not least, here are my seven nominees – apologies if you’re an “Award-Free” blog!

1. Cindy Knoke

2. Like Mercury Colliding

3. Blog of a Mad Black Woman

4. Dublinhousewife

5. Where to next? | Riding in Cars with Dogs

6. Element | Healing

7. Bonnywood Manor

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