It‚Äôs Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. It’s here! The link for this week’s Six Sentence Story Blog Hop is live! How about you? Ready to link up your story? No? Not yet? We’ll wait! You’ve got plenty of time to post…like the next 6 days ūüėÄ So note to readers: Don’t forget to check back every now and then. It’s not uncommon for folks to link up come Friday and into the weekend. OK, everyone! Queue up and we’ll read you soon ūüôā

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Come back here on Thursday, link your post…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers¬†ūüôā

CUE WORD: KIND

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
– Anne Frank

It’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up!

Yay! It’s Wednesday night and time to post the link to another round of Thursday¬†Six Sentence Stories! Welcome everyone to GirlieOnTheEdge. I’m Girlie (or Denise, if you’ve a mind to be more formal), your hostess for the SSS.

Keeping with tradition, I post the link each week on Wednesday evening so those who want to get a jump start can do so!  The SSS is a blog hop that is fun, challenging for the writer, entertaining for the reader. The rules of participation are pretty darned simple:

Write 6 sentences. No more. No less.
Any genre of writing acceptable.
Use the current week’s cue word.
Return here on Thursday to link up and let the adventures begin ūüôā

CUE WORD:  BRUSH

Most writers regard the truth as their most valuable possession, and therefore are most economical in its use.
‚Äď Mark Twain

It’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up!

Bienvenue¬†√† GirlieOnTheEdge and another Six Sentence Story Thursday. Each Wednesday evening I strive to put the link up earlier¬†in the evening, U.S. EST, so that our international¬† writers, who are already living in the future ūüôā might link up before half of their Thursday has already passed ūüėÄ

Rules of the hop? Simple:
Write 6 sentences, as long or short as your command of grammar/punctuation takes you, but no more, no less.
Can be story, poem, snippet from a wip… written in any genre.
Use this week’s cue word.
Link up, read, comment, share…enjoy.

CUE WORD:  FLEXIBLE

‚ÄúI refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don‚Äôt know the answer‚ÄĚ ‚ÄĒ Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker‚Äôs Guide to the Galaxy

 

What?! It’s Not #Tuesday?! WTF!

Hey! Special thanks to Clark over at the Wakefield Doctrine…Thanks, Buddy! (Yeah, I know. It does seem as if sometimes we put a stop to comments at each other’s blog lol.)¬†And that’s OK. It’s OK because it’s the official beginning of you know what! (I know you’ll write about it over there Clark, so….I won’t)

Speaking of “stopped dead in my tracks”, this morning, as is my daily ritual, I went to my documents directory to pull up the file where morning words go. Hadn’t gotten too far down the list before I stopped at “Poetry from the past, taken from posts, etc.” Hm. What is¬†this?¬†That was how long ago?!

Oh, there’s been “poetic words” since then all scattered tattered about. But this got me to thinking, since poetry’s been all the rage, I should try and retrieve some of the less ancient stuff. Alas, the bulk of my poetic words were written prior to the popularity of computers and social media. This one in particular I liked. Re-reading it today made me think of Kerry and one of her posts a couple or 4 back in which she wrote about sitting in on a poetry group at her town’s library.

Once upon a time, in the before time and in a further attempt to groom my rogerian aspect, I attended a meeting of the “Poet’s Corner” at my local library. I brought 2 poems to read. The one in the link above and another. The other was about my 2 cats. Dyanne! I should find and post it just for you! You’d like it ūüėÄ

I was more than a little nervous. I had never read¬†my poetry aloud to a group of strangers, let alone sit there and wait for a “critique”. Eegads! What did I think I was doing? lol. I read the poem that appears in the link in the 2nd paragraph…(yo, up there), first. Then I read a piece I’d written about my 2 cats, Madeline and Jamaal. Can you guess which the majority preferred?

So… we’re approaching the end of the year with all it’s implications (spoken like such a clark!). If you know me well, you know that my New Year begins the day after Christmas. I cannot recall when this began. No doubt in the earliest days of my burgeoning young adulthood. A time of deep re-flection. A time of re-assessment… re-newal? re-commitment? It is filled with the most well intentioned “re’s” (Je vais apprendre √† parler fran√ßais!).

As we approach the end of the calendar year, I wish for everyone the hope for finding peace and the will to find strength. Be well my friends. Be present. Today is our only day.

 

This is No Time to Get Edgeitis!

Hey! Speaking of severance packages – I was driving the commute last Thursday afternoon ’round about 4:40 p.m. Sky alight, the few cumulonimbus above showing impressionist dab spatters of grey, I got to thinking. (Of course I did! I’m a clark and I’m driving.) If I’m not singing and seat dancing I must be wandering the old cranial landscape.

I was thinking about something I did a long time ago. Something out of character for me. Something I regretted doing. Haven’t you done something out of sheer hurt and anger? “Lashing out” as defined in Wakefield Doctrine terms is relegated to the personal reality of rogers. I suppose what I did came close, but I can’t be sure. Besides, I’m a clark and rogerian lashing out simply doesn’t exist in my world.

Why this popped into my head today I don’t know. Well, maybe I do. Excuse me a second would you?… Hey! Christine! No, this isn’t….yes, I know I accepted the double dog dare…I told you I can do it…yes, yes it’s coming…really….

Where was I? Yeah, yeah…The thing about clarks? Unlike the propaganda, we are not devoid of emotion. We simply process/express it as the Outsiders that we are. It manifests differently for us. Don’t be fooled! We of the intellect/mind first, can cry buckets with the best of rogers under the right circumstances. I now know that the “awful” thing I did 20 something years ago represented something different to the roger on the receiving end than it did for me. Except 20 something years ago, I wasn’t conscious of that very important piece of information.

Driving a companion highway in my head, I was feeling as if I needed to apologize for sending the Box. Then I asked myself: why did I think it would it make me feel better if I could tell this person I was sorry? Given the circumstances and the relationship, surely, it was within the acceptable boundary of potential reactions.

Then I asked myself: do I really want to look under that bed? Am I prepared for what’s been shoved under there? A catch fucking 22 for clarks, especially those of us who are making a conscious effort to evolve. How do we face the awful parts of ourselves, the seemingly abberrant aspects, and believe there’s any hope whatsoever of enjoying a truly happy and fulfilling life?

[Honest Christine! Didn’t plan on this post coming out. I’m gonna trying hanging with Lila more. She’s one of your people. LOL]

What do you really think? Can I turn this into a TToT? Me too! Hit it baby –

TToT1. I’m grateful I was able to privately thank the man who was an integral part of my timeline jump of 2013 before he left the building Wednesday. For good.

TToT2. Another day. No, I never tire of reminding myself that each day I wake up is another opportunity. Anything can happen. And by that, I mean anything good!

TToT3. In conjunction with #2, I give thanks for the awareness that no matter how bad a situation, it can, and very often does, get worse. I suffer no illusion that “things can only get better”. Who invented that one?

TToT4. Faith. See #3.

TToT5. Get this. I swear this is true and I only wish I’d seen the entire directional shift. Wednesday, I left work at 3:30. I was happily surprised to drive at relativly normal speeds with barely a slowdow out of Maryland and into Virginia. Until that is, I hit Tysons Corner. Electronic highway signs indicated an accident several miles up the road, coincidentally, at the exit I get off at. Yay. As I slowed down, my eyes wandered up and off to the left. There, silently, gracefully was a small flying V of geese headed in my direction. Flying west almost directly overhead. Barely 3 tenths of a mile up the highway I catch something out of the corner of my eye, only this time from the right. There! I watch in total amazement a flying V of geese…headed east! Same group of geese? Did they cross the Beltway and realize they’d taken a wrong turn? Awesome.

TToT6. No rain in a week. Sunshine every day.

TToT7. Practicing doing the scary things, the uncomfortable things. The things that take me out of my comfort zone.

TToT8. Not being forgotten. Or would that be – still being included? ūüôā

TToT9. Having at least one person to remind me to HTFU.

TT0T. the Cat. (holy fucking shit. right after I typed “the Cat” I heard geese flying overhead the house. 8:49 am. enough said. this post is done.)

“So put me on a highway
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time”

 

 

 

Mr. Jackson. If you please….

I’ve only written one piece whose voice was totally in “slam”. It was easily 4 or 5 years ago but I remember that as I was writing, and for sure when I was finished, I could hear with my mind ears that distinctive, I will not be ignored, “cadence”.

In fact, I could not read the words straight. As if by poetic possession, my inner voice would only perform this piece as apparently it was intended.¬†Some sort of badass bard voice…slam. ¬†That’s my word for it. I don’t know what it is really. Dub poetry? Close? Not quite.

In a milisecond of that moment, my body knew. I felt it. Just felt it. Poe-slammetry. Know what I mean? In my head, the voice was perfect. In my head, the inflection was perfect. Yet not translateable. Outloud. I was hearing my piece perfectly, internally. In my cranium only, was this cerebellic surrealty. Of performance art.

Where did it come from? This stylistic hijacking. I hadn’t listened to the Last Poets in years. Hadn’t tuned into anything that would have planted a seed of insurrection or feelings of “political” oppression lol. So why this intense, insistent, very specific expression of my words. Where did this come from? This¬†spoken word.

I have not written anything like it since. Not a single group of words since has insisted on being voiced so specifically.  There was no playing with them for effect. No arbitrary interpretation. One way, the only way, would give them life.  It was through deliberate, emotionally urgent, intentionally intonated expression that set them free.

Coincidence the title of this piece was “Life”? ¬†At this moment, I think not. My body produced the words. My body interpreted the words. My body spoke for my brain, spoke for my mind that which was going unattended. Life.

I wanted to do a proper Ten Things of Thankful post this weekend. This came out instead. It’s pretty awesome to think I still can link up at this very cool hop. Where, if only for 48 hours, I can feel I am among birds of a feather. Joining 2-gether. Flock of one. Never undone.

Thank you. Mr. Jackson.

Nowhere near the edge…of completion

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 :D
First of all‚Ķ I need to say this because you need ‚Äď as a roger ‚Äď 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” a roger.¬† 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