Guess it’s just me a little late to the party. Again. There seems to be a trend lately towards the “micro” post. You know, the “let me tell you about this or that in 300 words or less” post, the daily postette, or the combo ditty post where half of it is taken up by pictures.
Blog writing is supposed to be imbued with inspiration and imagination and creativity…. why in the world am I having trouble lately with this writing thing?! Can’t seem to find of any of those “tion’s” and “ivity’s” lately. What does that say about me, at this very moment?
If someone said to me right now, “Girlie, you have 2 minutes to put up a post because we are turning off the power”. Could I do it? Sure, my life resume says I work well under pressure but write a post in 2 minutes? Done and Done? 2 minutes? Really? Let’s give it a shot. (You, over there! Grab your stopwatch and stand over my shoulder while I settle in for a micro minute burst of spontaneous….. Damn! I’ve got nothing….hell, let’s try it anyway)
It is presently 6:56 am. Timer set. Ready? Write!
I have 120 seconds to throw up, drip some words on this screen (we hardly knew ye Jackson) that make sense, sound good and can otherwise pass as a post about…what? Changing timelines? Hell no! That will take way more than 120 seconds. My current project of grooming myscottian aspect? Shit, that will take even longer. Damn! The clock is ticking. There is no-th-ing…in… my…. brain. Quick!! 60 seconds left. What?! And I have to proof this shit too? Ok, ok, ok!
No, no it is not 6:58 am. It can’t be!! Well folks, it appears that I cannot write a post in 2 minutes (or 120 seconds). The power is about to be turned off in another second so, until next ti
Excellent question! Can I answer it objectively? I was sitting, writing this draft with all distractions possible (plus 2) with a side splitting, going to explode headache to boot! Wtf, man! The creative damn had seemingly broken and right on cue arrived the distractions: verbal, musical, physical. (“hey, let’s fuck with her now because in an hour she has to go and stand in a world that is not of her making. what? I’m telling you it isn’t. whadya mean she can change it?!”)
“Bring it on” is what I am not saying…..out loud. “Let’s just try to persist, try to plod on and through the obvious attempt by the “universe” to stop….” Well, that’s at the crux of it all isn’t it? Stop what? Progress? What does that mean? I knew then what would happen in a few short minutes. I’ll be forced to stop this activity because it is damned near impossible to proceed when my thoughts have been successfully scrambled by…. the….. Timeline Task Force (TTF)!!
There, right there is the white elephant in the room. Come on. You can carve out a little more space. Besides, it’s my elephant and it’s my house. “Timeline Task Force?” Well, it’s a term I use to describe inertia and otherwise induced events that seem to prohibit forward momentum away from what presently is my timeline, my “place in the world”….the world my body is creating every day. Sometimes referred to as my “perfect world”. Confused? Natural reaction since “perfect” implies ideal, without fault, etc. But not in this case. For my purposes, well for yours really, I’ll say that we wake each day to the world our body has created. The habits, the action/reaction cycle, the routine, if you will. Even if circumstances are not “ideal” we proceed as we always have done because our bodies are used to it.
For those of you out there who may read this and think “oh, what a sad little clark. Worry not! There are changes in life worth fighting for. For some, the day to day of one’s perfect world may require a little tweeking every now and then, say a new car is needed or some weight needs to be lost. Then there are those who face a steeper incline. (me? I love getting on a good ellipitcal….)
Saturday morning news flash! Thought this draft was headed for the trash. Everything up until this paragraph was written a couple of weeks ago. Usually, after that length of time the only place for those words are in the draft trash. But fortunately for me, returning to this draft was not accompanied by frightening, cosmic shenanigans, which is what happened to the RagMan the other day. Now there’s a frightful experience. Have to wonder who’s been f*@#n with his universe. LOL Yes, all of that is saying “go to the Secessionist Rag and read some stuff. Heads up…if you smoke cigars, ya better leave them outside…you just might spook the RagMan.
It’s Valentine’s Day and I would like to give one to Pink. The Wakefield Doctrine! Is it really coincidence that the kids in the beginning of the video are of the age around which we all become either a clark, a scott or a roger?
To head off the scotts out there – no I am not depressed. To head off the rogers – get over it, people use bad language in songs all the time. Yo, clarks? Well, it depends on your mood doesn’t it? LOL
There’s been a Rage Against the Machine song circa 1998? playing in my head for days now but the melody from Perfect is stuck on replay in my brain causing a commotion. Better give them some airplay today as well don’t you think?
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY clark(s), scott(s) and roger(s)….
Good morning, Monday morning. Woke up today with a few table scraps in my head, enough I think for an actual post. That term, “table scraps”, it’s ancient, archaic. But then, I suppose I am so it makes no nevermind. Hey! There’s another one of those, “Yo dude, what the hell you talkin’ about? English man, English!”
There are 2 drafts sitting, waiting for me to give them a little cpr (creative, purposeful, rejuvenation) and yet I cannot bring myself to work on them. Call me cruel, but I simply don’t have it in me today. Instead, I’ve got those aforementioned scraps – a few leftovers from the weekend.
Saturday, for a huge number of people, is customarily the first day of the weekend. A day off. And so it was for me. The morning was somewhat typical. Relaxing in that certain way when you realize you are doing a little of what you actually planned just not with the intensity you originally thought… I got up early but not quite as early as I had planned. Did a little work on the computer but couldn’t quite get to writing a post. Exercised but left out a few of the usual, typical moves. Finally picked up the bass again and took longer than it should have to make my fingers remember a simple song learned only a year ago. It was enough though because, after all, I had a list and only so much Saturday.
The next item on “the list” was to take Zoey, our black lab to town. To walk. We always begin our walks at Old Fort Park. Then we head into town, walk a few blocks, wind our way along Riverside Dr. ultimately returning to our place of origin, Old Fort Park. Most times these walks are uninterrupted by small talk with a familiar face. That’s because, after 9 years of living in this town, we don’t know many people. Hell, we don’t really know anyone!
Back to Saturday. The 3 of us arrived at the park. There were people milling about up at the ruins (hence the “Old Fort of Old Fort Park”); we could hear the strains of live music coming from Canal St., the main street in our historic district. Canal had been blocked off for some sort of art fair (again) and by the time we arrived, appeared to be winding down.
As Zoey began our walk and concluded her business, we spotted a young woman and her 3 little yorkie dogs. (I used to call those kinds of dogs blender material lol). But these 3 were not the typical yappy, “hey get outta here ya little rodent” dogs. Whadya know! Here was one of those rare familiar faces. My SO and I had met this young woman only a couple of times in the past 2 years and it had been at least a year and a half since we had last spoken to her. Although we had never exchanged names, we easily picked up the conversation with the observation that she was once again walking 3 dogs instead of one. (Backstory: a year and a half prior, her parents were preparing to move to New Mexico taking 2 of the dogs with them. Mom’s back in town for a few months, hence the threesome reunited.)
The little tidbits I present here are but window dressing for an insight, a revelation, a glimpse, a clarification, a light bulb going off, a…..validation(?). Our conversation seemed to quickly go from polite superficiality to the more personal as we all shared stories of living in various locations and what stood out as our favorite places. She spoke of her parents living in New Mexico for the last year and a half and how happy they were in their new “home” town. During this conversation, she mentioned how her Dad had never liked living in Florida and how, when they made the move to New Mexico, he felt as if he had finally “found his people”. I will be forever grateful to Lanie for articulating for my own self what it has been like for me living in this quaint little beach town. As nice as it is, I have never, ever felt as if I belonged. I had not “found my people” here either.
I brought up the concept of the body always “knowing” first. How our brains very often rationalize, for lack of a better description, our instincts. “Physicality” was Lanie’s word word for it. For me, the feeling, the “physicality”, the “knowing” that I did not belong/fit in here never left me despite my familiarity with this place. And now for the first time, I felt validation that it wasn’t me, it was “them”. Acknowledging that there is more to finding a place in which to settle, to call home, than a pretty setting or less congestion or proximity to a beach…or sunshine 363 days of the year, give or take. Why had I not trusted my body and acknowledged/admitted sooner that the place we vacationed for so many years was just that. A place to vacation. Both my SO and I are by all accounts pleasant, likeable individuals and yet neither one of us has established any friendships here. Freakish if you ask me, particularly when he is a roger! Despite all of our figuring and planning prior to moving here, despite the lists of priorities, the pros and cons, despite all of that, you simply cannot know what it is like to live in a place until you move to that place.
[I struggle to find the proper words, the sentences that will make all of this coalesce. Let me try and put on a scottian cap and simplify. I have struggled with the idea of moving out of Florida for years. We moved here with a "plan" but the plan didn't work out like it was supposed to on paper. (does it ever?) Now it has become a matter of readjusting (the) priorities. That and paying closer attention to what my body is trying to tell me.]
After our enjoyable, enlightening chat with Lanie, my SO, Zoey and I walked towards town. We walked a block on Canal St., then hung a left onto Magnolia. There on the corner, in what is known as Christmas Park, was the source of the music we had been hearing in the background. A four piece band playing blues, and “classic” rock. They were good. There weren’t many people listening as everything was winding down but we sat there anyway and listened to the last few songs. As we continued our walk, we talked more about the conversation we’d had in the park with Lanie who, herself, had recently made the decision to move with her SO to the town her parents now lived. The bottom line for me is that in talking with a person hardly known to me in the conventional sense, a practical stranger, I was able to come away with a clarity I have kept occluding with doubt. The clarity that fear is at the root of all evil. It is fear that keeps us from realizing our full potential. Fear and the notion that we have time.
Thank you Lanie for reminding me that fear keeps us all from finding a better, happier life, and that if I still have at least one more move in me, maybe I too can finally “find my people.”
Oh-k. But what does the fine print say? Always with the fine print. What is up with that?Why is the important, potentially scary stuff always relegated to the bottom of the page in that teeny, tiny print?
Alright, so you read the post title, maybe you listened to or are listening to the musical selection. Pretty obvious, eh? Moving. Leaving. Changing. Altering. Evolving. True. True. True. True and true. (yawn – gimme something else…some thing)
What are the life changing moments/events portrayed in movies that catapult the main character/protagonist into action? Are they ever good moments/events? No! Of course not! Is there always a happy ending? Right again! No, there isn’t always a happy ending. Yet that doesn’t keep people from making one last ditch effort at (fill in the blank)
Was in the library recently and decided to see if there might be a movie or two worth checking out. Being the weekend, the selection was pretty much picked over. Until my eyes fell upon Everything Must Go. Huh. That’s what I’ve been thinking lately. Pulled it off the shelf and saw that Will Ferrell was on the cover. (Not a favorite although I did like him very much in the film Stranger Than Fiction.) Started reading the front cover first instead of my usual flip to the back. I was highly suspect of the single line reviews: “Sharply funny” or the other one “A real gem”
Look at the front cover, flip it over, read the plot synopsis and then tell me how in the world this movie is a comedy? According to the Detroit News: “Everything Must Go is an unflinching comedy about what happens after life falls apart.” Where is the humor part of that again? Quick, get me some of what they’re smoking at the Detroit News and maybe I can find humor in losing your job,coming home to find your wife has thrown you and your stuff out on the front lawn(same day) taken up with your sponsor/friend, falling off the wagon trying to drink it all out of focus….. Or any of all the other ”personal challenges” that accompany timeline deconstruction. No. No mind altering substance can convince me of the humor of such things. This is not to say that humor cannot be found within those places. Totally different thing. But I digress.
I’ve always been pretty good at sizing people up (a common clarklike trait), analyzin’ and dramatizin’ (long live the Lady! that in and of itself is saying something, trust me on that one!). But what good is ”suss-sight” in reality, in practical terms? It may head off a con man, an insincere lover, a fairweather friend perhaps but really what are the practical, self applications? Can I suss out my own damn self? Of course fool, of course.
In support and endorsement of it, I will restate for the record, that the Wakefield Doctrine is proving an invaluable tool of late. For many, life’s journey is pretty straightforward. A more or less uncomplicated, road trip with decent maps. For others, the Rand McNally was left behind - on the kitchen table or worse yet on top of the vehicle. Bummer! The trip is bound to veer off on a few unauthorized exits. Shit happens, right?
Here’s the deal. The Doctrinetells us that we all view life through the lens of/ experience reality as, predominantly a clark,scott or roger. Whatever your predominant bias, there always remains the ability to see/experience the world as a scott or a roger would. As a clark, this can be an asset on the (neverending) road trip when the maps were stupidly (or is that intentionally?) left on the coffee table or more accurately, under the pile of books and magazines stacked on the bedside table.
(“any readers left? 1? good enuf”) The purpose of this ramble-ette today? Restating outloud my sincere intent to alter my timeline* when everything seemingly points to disaster. Why? As an example of the efficacy of the Wakefield Doctrine of course! Besides, I have been languishing in a non creative, dusty draft hell for weeks. Quick! Someone, anyone get me a broom stat!.**
* make sure kids when you attempt this thing you are in good physical shape. trust me on this one **reference to cleaning one’s island, the tonal as Juan would say
No, I am not talking football. (Like I ever doubted that my team would lose.) I’m talking about myself. You know, the project that never seems to get finished. Gets put to the side every now and then, coasts a little when it should be toiling steadily towards the fnish line. But then, who can know where/when the finish line is?
“So where does this leave a person such as myself?” That is to say, a clark? Thanks to the Wakefield Doctrine, I have been introduced to other clarks who are rather active on the internet in the form of blogs and such. They have provided me a source of inspiration and encouragement that we like people really can exist “out there” even if “out there” is as expansive a place as is the space that surrounds us all.
The first clark I made contact with “out there”, via another clark, is one Seven Ravens. Not unclarklike, she is also known as Molly M. You can visit her by clicking on her site listed to the right on my blogroll or you can find her at the FaceBook. Coincidentally, she is also a proponent of the Wakefield Doctrine. She read, realized and understood. But then she is a clark after all.
At this juncture, perhaps I need to restate that I, GirlieOnTheEdge, am a clark. I do this, I recapitulate that which I find obvious, so that there is no misunderstanding as to how I view the world – what reality it is I am experiencing. Some of you know that of late I have been on a “journey” of my own. A journey of self – development, (self) evolution and the like, involving all sorts of “analyzin’ and dramatizin” (it’s the Lady Molly. it’s the Lady). It is a sort of selves-actualization if I may cannibalize a term (only) from Maslow and co.
And there is Clairepeek. Here’s where it gets a little interesting for me. LOL. Claire has been referencing the Wakefield Doctrine in some of her recent posts. Claire you see, is a clark. That’s the cool part. Someone “out there” in cyberspace, on an entirely different continent is writing/creating/contributing all the while acknowledging just as publicly that she is a clark. I recently left a comment at Claire’s January 13, 2012 Wordy World post commisserating with her in what she was going through…you know, clark to clark. You can imagine my surprise, when I read her response to my comment.* Check it out:
“Thanks Downspring#1 First of all… I need to say this because you need – as a roger – to understand the motivation behind what I (and I think as any clark-like person would)”
(In my comment to Claire) I could not have referenced myself as a clark too many more times without being totally redundant, so what exactly happened? Claire read my response and “saw” aroger. But did she? Claire is known in some circles as an “FOTD” which = “Friend of the Doctrine” (The Wakefield Doctrine). Why? Because she has demonstrated on more than one occaision through her comments her understanding of the premise underlying The Wakefield Doctrine. Which is why I was confused. How could she think me a roger when in fact I flat out made the statement that I was a clark? I can only assume she was reading my comment/words and getting a sense of something “not clarklike“. It was not my intention to don a rogerian suit when I headed over to Claire’s “house” however. I am perplexed…..(“tell me Vivian (as in Westwood), what went wrong?”)
* Over at the Wakefield Doctrine I am known as Downspring#1
Talk about walkin’ the edge. There are times when the lines are so blurred how does a body know for sure? How do you know when you’ve crossed the demarcation line?
“I woke up fine so I told myself today
there are no problems chance of ricochet
It is not certain it isn’t always clear
All I know is I won’t accept the fear
Walking blindly I found myself alone
there were no signs no little stepping stones
With which to guide me I stumbled then I fell
Who knew the edge could send me straight to hell
I woke up fine so I told myself today
there are no problems chance of ricochet
It is not certain it isn’t always clear
All I know is I won’t accept the fear
The excerpt above? Just tryin’ something out. Storytelling through blog, poetry or song lyrics (“whadya think? country? blues? pop? not sure what musical direction to go”) is supposed to be cathartic. That’s all well and good but unless there is a definitive outcome as a result, then what’s the point? Spur of the moment words almost always do not emanate from spur of the moment events or emotion, therefore catharsis should result in something.
“Something!?” How very vague, so very clarklike of me to end this post with such ambiguity. Ambiguity has such a bad rap. It really shouldn’t. It is my humble opinion that leaving as many doors open allows for as many thresholds to be crossed. What’s wrong with that?
What the fuck is up with that, huh?! Suffice it to say that at this very moment, both post and accompanying vid have a pointed significance pour moi.
…go ahead…they’ll wait…(like hell they will)….reach wa-a-ay in there and rip out some shit and throw it on up….they’re waiting Girlie and let’s face it, they’re not going to wait forever…
Trust. Risk. Persistence. Self-awareness. Urgency. Denial. Sympathy. Patience. Longing. Realization. Accomplishment. Success. Complement. (not to be confused with “compliment“)
I am able to write and launch into cyberspace any thought, any emotion. It is for me, controlled folly. Yes, I reference Don Juan. His statement to Carlos regarding life is that , as a warrior, everything he does must be controlled folly. That is to say nothing really matters, nothing is important.
DJ to CC: …“It’s possible to insist, to properly insist, even though we know that what we’re doing is useless”, he said, smiling. “But we must know first that our acts are useless and yet we must proceed as if we didn’t know it…” 1
Moving forward is about will. Will is about choice. Remove the importance to a thing and remove the chain that binds. Freedom comes when all things are equal, when all is everything and nothing at the same time.
1. A Separate Reality, Further Conversations with Don Juan,
by Carlos Castaneda
In my next life, the timeline just around the corner I am going to have my computer facing out a window or patio door. At this very moment, the sun is attempting to burn through the horizon. The striations of grapefruit pink are melding with a golden hue that will eventually become the sunrise. Added to that is the special winter mix of clouds that coalesce in clumpy, cotton ball formations. Until the dawn starts pulling them apart, melting like cotton candy when it hits your mouth.
I didn’t write a Christmas post and I’m not going to write a New Year’s post. My new year has already begun. Long have I considered the day after Christmas to be the first day of the New Year. Christmas for this Girlie serves holiday double duty. It is special for all the reasons that Christmas is for me but it also represents/serves/stands in for New Year’s Eve.
So. “What have I done so far in my new year?” Not enough! And there is no excuse! As Downspring#1, (I am also found at The Wakefield Doctrine, aka the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers), my contributions speak to the efficacy of the Wakefield Doctrine. Therefore, I have no excuse for not employing the single most useful tool anyone could ever have to alter one’s life, ne, one’s timeline. It won’t be easy, it won’t be a cakewalk, and it won’t move my mountain in a day. But it’s not impossible. (Shit! Think I just committed to something scary just then. Maybe no one will notice? Quick – start the next paragraph.)
….er, ahem….just a sec…..where was I….. I might as well admit that more ofen than not, this little blog thing I have going is, for all intents and purposes, a sounding board for myself. Yeah, I know, yet another self indulging/self indulgent outloud, look at me now journal. But not quite. Ya see, as a clark in process (self analyzin’, dramatizin’, evoluting, non-polluting member of the werld at large), it is incumbent upon me to step aside and outside myself and lay claim to the statement, “yes Virginia you can alter timelines.” More importantly, I am making a statement outside my own (damn) head from which I cannot hide. I cannot retract the statement and I cannot crawl away in fearful failure. There is no alternative to success.
Having said that, think I’m gonna make like a scott and skeedaddle. Just going to “do” today. See what I can drum up. You know what they say – “if you’re not moving forward you are moving backward”. Not going to think too much, not going to reminisce on things. No sir! My brain will be front and center, looking outward (and up in the trees) at all times. Don’t worry….I’ll try and keep the carnage to a minimum and check back in again in a few days…
Back by popular demand? LOL I cannot figure it. Ever since it’s first publication on 5-7-11, there is consistent activity at Girlie’s post, “Turquoise tube tops and the edge of oblivion…”. For the last 4 weeks there has been a singular hit each and every week. Of all the many, many posts gone by, this one is consistently viewed, albeit on a somewhat irregular, regular basis. I ask myself: “why this one and not another?” (actually, there is one other - keep reading). Give me a minute will you while I conjure those words for a mini review. BRB. In the meantime, relax, listen to some music. This won’t take long….
First things first: Girlie does not, repeat does not wear a tube top of any kind, of any color. (hint on the fashion front: only Elvis could get away with the rhinestone jumpsuit. Only Elvis.) Girlie’s sister postette from 7-8-11,”Turqoise tube tops and the edge of…..” is also viewed with the same irregular regularity.
So nuggets to nuts, I went and re-read both posts and checked the stats. Despite more comments on the redux version, the original was still viewed more times. It was in the original where I was trying to convince myself that if I was viewed/seen/thought of as being a tad on the, shall we say, “different” side, then it was due to a cultural difference. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to tell yourself.”
“To change one’s frame of reference is not to say that “who” we are changes. A clark* in Virginia is still a clark* in Florida, a scott* in Rhode Island is still a scott* in Idaho and a roger* in South Carolina is still a roger* in New Mexico.”
Flash forward to follow-up TTT post. Huh, thought it would be heavy with life altering shit….wait. It was because it referenced however lightly, my attempt at a script re-write, my ongoing attempt at altering life at will. This, within context of being a clark who, to be honest, is both a huge advantage and disadvantage all at the same time. Let’s face it. The odds at getting a new script taken seriously are huge .
“Enough!” Lets’ move this thing along already…!” What is this post about? What is the point? Does fashion of any sort have a bearing on this conversation? Are you sure clarklike females can be considered fashionable? Is this post simply about plugging the Wakefield Doctrine? (well, why not – it’s only the single most useful tool in the Universe with which to alter/build/and repair one’s life. who said self-development/evolution can’t be fun!)
Speaking of fun, I’m finished here. Need to go and work on the other post, the new one that’s been sitting in queue. So in case you find yourself grumbling a little for having spent the time to read my post today, this one’s for you.
