Sunday, August 29, 2010


Doesn't it make ya sick to hear, "When you wish upon a star your dreams come true." It doesn't always bother me but sometimes it really does get my goat.

Actually, I am not feeling bitter right now, I am tired. Of what you may ask...what do I have to be tired of? Nothing bad really, the boy is doing his work and is really good about his homework. My husband is good, and enjoying his birthday, and the male tabbies of the house are relishing their new brand of cat food.

I am writing a story. Really, I am writing this story purely for my own entertainment value. I doubt anyone else on the planet will ever read it and in a years time it is likely that I will burn it.

I have escaped into stories all my life, starting with "Black Beauty", and thru the "Misty" stories, then going into Alcott, Hawthorne, Emerson, and growing up to Throeau, the all the Austin and on and on. When things are not that great, I go back to my "comfort level" and read this stuff over and over. I know the characters, story lines and the mythology of the authors better than my Bible. That is not a good thing BTW. I am perusing Romans again because I can't bear to read much of anything else right now. I turn back to the Potter series, not because I am lame (OK yes I am) but because it lets me forget for a while.

Stories that allow us to forget are wonderful. As a child, I was FASCINATED with the Bible stories that didn't seem very practical. Noah's ark was something amazing to me. All those animals on a BIG boat with a family, and I bet it stank.....Seriously, how much hay could one have there, unless God kept providing more? Which I am sure He did- as my old Bible study leader used to tell me, "Don't read into it so much." The other story about the prodigal son....what was that dumb kid thinking anyway? Take your part and go blow it all...OK, you are done then right? DUH. I guess those are the questions that I get to ask in heaven.

Anyhow, I started writing this mythological, magical totally impractical story. I am thinking I am done and then I keep adding more to it. I have NO idea why I started this. What I was doing was reading a book by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. For those of you who don't know, she was Charles Lindbergh's wife. She met him in Mexico when her dad was the US Ambassador. One quote from Anne was,  "Everything today has been heavy and brown. Bring me a Unicorn to ride about the town." Her stories about her live prior to meeting CHarles was pretty typical of most teens backthen. The amount she had read was beyond anything. She was able to discourse on some pretty heavy materials at length.

During the middle of my perusal of Anne's story, I decided to write some things down. Initially I was just jotting down IEP notes, and blog ideas, then I started with journaling...then the story. There is no title. There is a lot of a whole lotta nuthing. I think I would let only one person read it, but I am too embarrased to let anyone else. The quality and the style isn't there in my opinon. But then I am my own harshest critic.

I know, none of this has anything to do with living with Autsim or Aspergers or anything. I just thought it was interesting how the mind works and where we are going and what we are doing. Besides I am not going to make up a new blog for a single topic. Even Penelope Trunk advises against that plan.

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