Just stop. Stop. STOP. Time for a Different Rebellion!

Public Domain image from photos-public-domain.com

The events of the last days have only highlighted the weeks, and months of increasing disbelief that have been pounding us all.  Up until now, all that seems to have been accomplished is more debate, more divisiveness, more denial, and more of the same.

Meanwhile our society, our nation spins out of control fueled by hate, fear, hopelessness - a seeming lack of meaningful, supportable choices.

I remember gut-wrenching occurrences of the past - quick, sharp shots that left me breathless and staring at scrolling news reports in total disbelief.  The morning of the 911 attacks is the first that comes to mind.  At these times I pulled myself up out of my disbelieving torpor and said, "You are not doing any good by this, get back to business.  Do your job.  That's the best way to honor those lost."

Today is too much.  "Keep calm and carry on" is not enough. It is long since time to STOP and take a look at where we are going as a society, a people, and as a species.  This path we are all on is not working, and this pattern of hate, anger, fear, and hopelessness cannot stand.  Must not stand. Fighting anger with anger is not effective.  Fighting fear with fear is not working.

 A long time friend posted the following thoughts on facebook.  He proposes a reasonable first step that each and every one of us can take, every day, to start a groundswell of change in how we respect, and care for one another.  Feel like you already do this?  Do more.  There is no "too much" right now.

Jason Ganwich is a photographer/videographer living in Tacoma, WA.  He is known for bringing professionalism, experience, leadership, timing and humor to his projects. I am proud to call him friend, and proud to share his words (with his permission - revised from the first post) as my guest.
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Jason Ganwich, self-portrait

Yesterday was a tough day for a lot of people. It got me down. I cried watching Alton Sterlings wife speak while her son sobbed "I want my daddy." My heart raced watching the video of Philando Castille who'd been shot 4 times in front of his girlfriend and her young daughter. My perspective on life continues to change and it feels so hopeless at times. The friends and families of these victims who have been hit with such devastating blows, are now forced into a harsher reality coming from one that, for many, was already hard enough.

These events interrupt our realities. We hear them. Perhaps we finally listen. For some, we truly absorb the words for the first time. For others, this is a skipping record which they yell over, "Make it stop!"

No matter the tone in which a plea to be heard is made, we must listen. If it's an angry plea, screw our devotion to good manners. It means we earnestly need to listen and hear and act. How can we respond to such intensity in a way that does not make the situation worse - more emotional, contentious, divisive?

AN UNLIKELY ESSAY FOR THANKSGIVING

I am taking a brief moment to pause in the final preparations for A TRIO OF IRISH TALES' release to reflect on the nature of being thankful.  Enjoy!

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Managing Life's Glass: 

An Unlikely Essay on Thanksgiving

by Judith Cullen

© 2015

"It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times,

it was the age of wisdom,

it was the age of foolishness,

it was the epoch of belief,

it was the epoch of incredulity,

it was the season of Light,

it was the season of Darkness,

it was the spring of hope,

it was the winter of despair,

we had everything before us,

we had nothing before us,

we were all going direct to Heaven,

we were all going direct the other way

-- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."  

~ The opening paragraph of  A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

We do it all the time: measure where we are by comparison to another time, another place, someone else's life, the life we desire for ourselves.  Life is full of "Tale of Two Cities" moments, as I refer to them.  They are blips on the fabric of our lives where we know that our proverbial "glass" has both water and air in it, but we often choose the simpler path of acknowledging only one element.  They are both there.  They are always both there.

ESSAY: What Do People See, When They See Me?

The Mirror, the Photo, or Me?

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

It has taken me a long while to get to this point. I have never had a very good self-image.  I never considered myself attractive, and some days I still do not.  The reality is far more disturbing than that. It was not just what I thought I wasn’t, it was what I thought I was: massively imperfect, grossly flawed, highly unappealing.  I’d like to say that I have matured to the point that I realize how wrong that view point was and is.  I would like to say that I fully recognize how popular culture and the media feed the kind of beast that destroys women’s perceptions of themselves as lovely.  I’d really like to acknowledge that I deny the impossible standards of beauty that we are fed from infancy.  I would really like to say that, and some days I can.  Other days I would kill to loose 100 lbs because I just see “me the lump.”

I’ve noticed that there are several different "me" images that I perceive.  There is the me that I see in the mirror.  Thanks to some of the consciousness-raising mentioned above, that image is one that I increasingly love.  Honestly, it is more beautiful now than ever. The years, the miles, the joys, the heart aches – they are all reflected back to me. No matter the frustrations of the moment, the doubts or uncertainty, the sum of these happenstances equals something lovely.  This me has terrific friends, had some great luck, had some challenges that were worth over-coming, and stands to expect more of the same in a future that still holds a lot of possibilities.  This me is very pretty.  I like her.

NEW ESSAY: "The Parable of the Peach Seed"

The Parable of the Peach Seed

"Waves of Golden Fire" (1999) by Eyvind Earle from wikiart.org

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

Life sometimes teaches you in small, subtle ways.  If you aren’t paying attention you miss the larger lessons. 

I am in the habit of having a piece of fruit in the evenings.  It helps ward off late night cravings.  For some reason my evening impulses run to sweets. My 9 pm plum of is a healthy way to stave off a 2 am ice cream binge.

One evening this August I was eating a peach, and the pit split open.  There, nestled inside, was the seed.  I had never seen a peach seed before; never even considered what might be on the inside of the pit.  It looked like an almond, though I later found out that mistaking it for an almond could be the last mistake I would ever make.  Peach seeds are a rich source of cyanide, apparently.  But I did not know that yet, so I dried it off and carefully set it aside thinking, “What would happen if I planted it?  I’ll find out!”

GUEST POST: The Seahawks - A Reflection of Us

I am pleased to welcome a guest posting today: my sister, Maura Cullen.

Way back in the spring I posted Journeys of Triumph and Adversity making sense of the NFL Post Season as the designated sports fan enabler in a family of fans.  My sister also took to writing to express her thoughts and feelings about the Seattle Seahawk's (our local team) near epic loss at the Super Bowl.

Now here we are, and the season is about to officially begin.  There's been all sorts of little dramas along the way - I tell you, professional sports is great theater!  With the Hawks first official game coming this next Sunday, it's not a bad time to revisit why we become attached to certain teams, and why we remain loyal to them.

This essay is written from the perspective of a Seattle fan, but in many ways it reflects how true fans feel about their teams, anywhere.

NOTE: She refers to people "faithfully donning Seahawks gear every Friday" which is a phenomena around these parts known as Blue Friday.  I was in a local grocery last Friday and they weren't just pushing wearable gear.  You could get blue cupcakes, blue bouquets for your sweetheart.  It's a little hard to ignore and yes, I admit it: I have started reading the sports page again.

Welcome Sis!  Enjoy!
GO HAWKS!

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Calendar image by graphic artist Dan Boyer
http://www.wildkingdumb.com/

Playing Outside the Box
An Essay by Maura Cullen
(c) 2015

I suppose that it is an occupational hazard for one who has made a career in the social sciences to be constantly fascinated by human behavior. I have been a practicing school psychologist since 1984 and I still find myself in awe and wonderment as to why people, especially groups of people, do what they do.

Now that football season is over until at least mid-summer, I find myself reflecting on the whole phenomenon of the “12’s.”  Why do the people of the Northwest (and beyond, actually) have such a love affair with the Seahawks?  How did an entire region become motivated to faithfully don Seahawks gear every Friday?  Why has Century Link Field become such a dreaded place for other teams to play? Why have Skittles practically become the new state candy?

NEW ESSAY: "I get excited..."

No More Apologies 

(well, maybe just the one)

By Judith Cullen

(c) 2015

I get excited about things.  This is a known fact to my good friends and relations.  When I am excited about something, it gets 150% of my available enthusiasm.  I am almost always excited about something: a story idea, a design project, something new I just learned.  While this seeming fanaticism can be hard to take at times, its reverse is wholly unpleasant to be around.

Those who know me well understand that this is not ego-based; this is my creative energy at its highest rev.  I function at my best in this state.  They know that I go a little bonkers when questioned regarding something that I am jazzed about.  I am not so lacking in self-awareness to fail to notice that some folks have strategies to deal with me when I “go off.” 

One is to redirect, ask questions, “This is interesting, can we talk about it again when we have more time? I need to go pick up Jason in 10 minutes.”  Another is to make me aware that I have “gone off” and am rattling on, not allowing them to let them get a word in edgewise.  This is usually done kindly. There are a few people who know, and seem to have accepted that I am almost incapable of answering an open question simply.  I hope this is because they accept me as I am and enjoy my flights of exhilaration.  If they don’t, they are sympathetic enough to my terminal enthusiasm to not let me know it. I am grateful for the compassion that all these approaches reflect.

BEAUTY ON THE INTERSTATE is on Sale!

FIVE STARS FOR "BEAUTY ON THE INTERSTATE"!

 "If you have ever had a long drive, be it vacation or vocation, you will be able to relate to these stories. ...She (the author) somehow seems to find details and situations that we can all relate to... An excellent read that makes you think, nod understandingly, crave the open road, but most of all - smile."    ~ Amazon Reader Review

“Beauty on the Interstate” is a collection of short stories and essays inspired by life in motion on the highways and byways, where tales form and reform at a rapid pace, and reflection is possible, but only at 60 mph. 

On Sale NOW for Kindle and Paperback through Amazon!

ANOTHER PREVIEW: What is your "Favorite Drive"?

Beauty on the Interstate is almost ready to launch, so excitement levels are pretty high!

Today's preview is from one of two stories about road trips - something more than a commute and less than moving to another state. This selection is from my absolute favorite drive of all time; one that I hope to make again and again until I can't make it anymore.

I love driving from Tacoma to Port Townsend, here in Washington State.  I love it enough that I am willing to make it a round trip in a single day. It's worth it for a multitude of reasons.

Here's the selections, and be sure to click "more" to see the next "video inspiration" selection at the end of the post.

Port Townsend Lighthouse at Fort Worden State park

My Favorite Drive - an excerpt

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

The destination itself is a fun, quirky safe harbor on the northeast tip of the Olympic Peninsula.  It is known for its creative and artistic community, the numerous Victorian era buildings preserved from its seafaring heyday, and as a maritime center for independent boat builders.  For those movie goers of a certain era, it can also be recognized from the 1982 film “An Officer and a Gentleman” much of which was filmed at nearby Fort Worden, a de-commissioned U.S. Army installation from the pre-airplane Coast Artillery Corps days.

Fort Worden State Park

I was introduced to Port Townsend and Fort Worden as a young carpentry apprentice for a theater company.  Fresh out of college, I spent three summers shuttling back and forth to Port Townsend installing productions in the theater near the park entrance, enjoying campfires where the cast and crew became one among the abandoned gun emplacements, wandering the empty batteries in the woods, hopping downtown for breakfast or dinner at one of the funkier local eateries.  I even remember being dispatched back to Tacoma in the evening a few times, to return with whatever crucial item was required the next morning.  Even though it is three hours round trip, the drive doesn’t really seem that long. It still doesn’t.

PREVIEW #3 - "Beauty on the Interstate"

We are getting close, final revisions are underway and the collection should be live very soon!  Here's another snippet from one of the chapters:

My Car, Myself

"Junior" from Tex Avery's "One Cab's Family" 1952

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

"Our tendency to anthropomorphize our cars – ascribe human attributes to them – goes way back to shortly after the automobile ceased to be a luxury item and came into common public use.  Our cars share years, even decades with us as we experience joy, anger, heart ache: life.  We become so connected to them that some begin to believe that, like the ground at the Little Big Horn, the energy and emotions of the days and weeks are absorbed into the car’s very fabric.  We feel that the car has viscerally shared these experiences with us – the car as a living entity.

Concept drawing by artist Bill Peet for "Suzy the Little Blue Coupe"
http://www.billpeet.net/PAGES/susie.htm

"This has been whimsically reflected by the creative imaginations among us in the likes of the 2006 Pixar Cars feature.  Going back farther, you can find auto-friendly tales spun by the like of Tex Avery in the1952 One Cab’s Family, and Disney’s sweet contribution that same year Suzy the Little Blue Coupe. Suzy… is one of my favorites.

"Of course it’s easy to forget one of the classics in auto-anthropomorphism: 1988’s industry changing Who Framed Roger Rabbit. It’s hard to remember in the midst of all the improbably animated characters and expansive action that among the pathos in the madness is Eddie Valiant’s loyal, spunky friend Benny the Cab’s spinning with his tires disintegrating in a puddle of “dip” outside the tunnel to Toontown before crashing into a light post. Benny was a fully realized character, integral to the action that audiences grew to care about.  The ultimate in car come to life.

"So it’s not surprising that people do this with real, non-animation cars . . . "

##

How we do come to love our cars!

BOOK TRAILER Goes Live for "Beauty on the Interstate"

It was July 2013 and I had just accepted a part-time contract job that meant commuting some 60 miles round trip on the Interstate (I-5) several times a week.  It began with a single two page story one day.  Little did I realize that the highways and byways are full of stories . . . Beauty On the Interstate is a collection of some of those essays and short stories.

Stay tuned for more previews between now and release in August, when it will be available for Kindle and Paperback through Amazon.

Check out the first Preview post with an excerpt from Short Strokes for the Road
And the original story that sparked the collection Cool Is as Cool Does

Here's another video for you to enjoy.  I did, while I was writing the essay My Car, Myself.  Here's the delightful Disney short from 1952: Susie, The Little Blue Coupe.

IMPORTANT NOTE: The sharing of this video in this post in no way reflects, nor should be construed to indicate, the support or endorsement by the Walt Disney Company of this, or any other book by this author.

NEW ESSAY: Listening to All Voices ` "Why Not?"

"Party Trick" by Fluff, 2008 from Wikimedia commons
DO NOT try this at home or without adult supervision!

Balanced Voices

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

Just when I think I have my feet planted firmly on the ground, someone reminds me that I don’t and I am forced to confess the truth. I am an Idealist: a person who is guided more by ideals than by practical considerations.  Sometimes I feel this marker is unfair, that it posits a circumstance in which someone has to be either one or the other.  Some days and in some circumstances I think I am much more the Realist: a person who uses facts and past events, rather than hopeful feelings and wishes, to predict the future.

Is our perception of ourselves that limited?  Can we only be one or the other?  Or are we in a continual balancing act between head and heart, a perpetual weighing of concerns and needs versus our desires and dreams.  All are essential to who we are and how we get to where we are going as individuals, as nations, as humanity. 

I admit that my default is to the heart, but I am well acquainted and able to function earnestly with my head.  All I have to do is look around me to see that there are people far more pragmatic than myself, and those much farther out in dreamland.

So, why does this labeling bother me?  It is because I believe in balance, in respect, in loyal opposition.  It is because I believe that a world of realism would be a bleak place: a world never able to look beyond what has happened and what is happening, to what might happen.  A world that never leaves "the box." Dull, dull, dull!  Yet, I readily admit that a world of idealism is a world in which nothing would ever get accomplished, and frequently the clearly evident would be ignored in favor of the wishfully hoped for.  When the Tiger is gnawing on your foot is not the moment to deny that that Tiger exist.

PREVIEW #2 - Beauty on the Interstate

We're rolling closer to the August release of Beauty on the Interstate.

This collection of stories was sparked by a single piece of micro-fiction which I wrote in 2013 right around U.S. Labor Day that was based on a real incident I experienced on the freeway.  Who knew it would grow into a collection of stories and essays about the life vehicular on the great, rolling stage of drama that are our highways?

As we finish up the final editing, this collection includes:
             ~ Cool Is as Cool Does (the original tale)      ~ The Bubble of Me
             ~ The Red Car                                                             ~ The Terrible Tuesday After
             ~ Hurry Up and Wait                                              ~ Road Construction
             ~ My Car, My Self                                                    ~ Whole Brain Driving
             ~ OR Highway 20                                                      ~ My Favorite Drive
             ~ Short Strokes from the Road

You can click on the original tale's title to read the story that started it all! We'll be releasing the book trailer soon and we travel the curvy road to this book's release.

It is the season for lots of road travel in the U.S.  I enjoyed watching these great shorts as part of my inspirational research for several of the stories.  As you head out onto the road this vacation season, take a moment for a little refresher.  It's kind of incredibly how this feature from 1965 is still incredibly apt today. That Goofy!  What a nut!

IMPORTANT NOTE: The sharing of these videos in this post in no way reflects, nor should be construed to indicate, the support or endorsement by the Walt Disney Company of this, or any other book by this author.

NEW ESSAY! The Only Constant is Change

Planning Time for the Unexpected

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

I remember my Franklin Day Planner fondly.  It is such a great system for learning time management. I used them for years.  You can still get them in their attractive binders as well as the now obligatory electronic apps.  I still use a lot of the methods from those Franklin days: making lists, marking what has to be done versus what could be done, open Os in front of things started but not completed, big Xs on things completed. I get great satisfaction from making those Os and Xs, like hugs and kisses all over my daily intentions.

Something has changed from those halcyon days of my Planner.  It is something I did not expect to happen, naturally, and I am not sure that there was a symbol in the Franklin method for marking it, denoting it, categorizing it.  Back in the old days, blurred into the haze of fond memory, it did not seem that things ever got totally out of control on any given day.  Somehow, there was a way to write everything down and make things conform to a plan.  But that’s not the same in my life anymore.  Sometimes something happens that just guts my entire direction.  It can be technical, emotional. How am I supposed to mark the unexpected?

COMING SOON - A New Release!

Photo Cover Art by MJ McGalliard

Coming in August:

"The Highway is a great rolling stage for drama.  Some are grand and expansive, complete with flashing lights, bells, and confrontations of life and death.  Others of these rolling epochs are simple moments of delight and justice, for where would tragedy be without comedy?"

What began as a single short story has blossomed into a series of observations and adventures inspired by interstate highway travel.  Stories in this collection will include:

• The Red Car
• The Bubble of Me
• The Terrible Tuesday After
• Road Construction
• Whole Brain Drive

And more! Coming to Amazon for Kindle and in Paperback.

As we gear up for this release, enjoy this quite amusing look at the future of motor travel as envisioned by the artists of the Walt Disney Company: Disney's Magic Highway from 1958.  You have to admit, highway travel can be as funny as it can be terrifying!

IMPORTANT NOTE: The sharing of this video in this post in no way reflects, nor should be construed to indicate, the support or endorsement by the Walt Disney Company of this, or any other book by this author.

MUSINGS: "All My Cousins"

All My Cousins

My Great Aunt Cornelia, my Grandmother
Lillie, and my Great Uncle Robert as children.
Love those smiles!

by Judith Cullen
(c) 2015

We’ve always been a bit apart, my cousins and I.  Hard times, good times, distances near and far, as well as the various interpersonal mixes that are part and parcel of an extended family are the understandable cause.  My sister and I have not always been in close touch with our contemporaries across the family strata, nor they with us.

Family is a blessing.  Family can make you crazy.  Family is wild and diverse: you are theirs and they are yours whether you like it or not.  A collection of sub-divisions on both sides of my family spin themselves into a bright spectrum of personalities: a generation vibrantly reflecting those that came before while each having a unique light all their own. Those are my cousins.

Something remarkable has happened over the past few years and, for all its dangers and cultural pitfalls, social media has made this easier than it would have been for previous generations.  We’ve all been reconnecting.  I think my sister, as usual, took the lead and began the process.  For me, it really began when a cousin came down from her home in Alaska last summer to visit her immediate family here in the Puget Sound. Almost every connection and encounter since then has been tinted with the same sweetness and surprise – the same delight.

NEW ESSAY from Upcoming Release: "Beauty on the Interstate"

I have been busy enjoying the last moments of the release of The Blackberry & Other Tales That Creep while preparing the text for August's collection, entitled Beauty On the Interstate.  I am really enjoying the revision process of the 8-10 essays and stories that will be part of this release.

The following story is a little preview from the planned essays for Beauty... .  ENJOY!

Public Domain photo by Alex Grichenko

Hurry Up and Wait

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

I’ll never forget that morning.  It was a typically overcast, drizzly Pacific Northwest weekday anonymously tucked somewhere between November and March.  It was the kind of morning that would typically blend into the sameness of other winter, weekday morning commutes. The sky hung in a misty, moist silver blur as I pulled out onto the main drag by my house, embarking once more on the 30 mile trek to a job in the state capitol.

When I first started driving this particular commute nearly two years ago, I remembered every turn, every leaf and branch, every bridge and stream of the very scenic journey.  At the time my amazement was such that I said a loud to myself, “I wonder if I will ever get tired of this lovely drive?” The drive was, and is, filled with loveliness to fill any scenic sensibility: vibrant mixes of green, leafy trees; the different glimpses of sky and mountains; the far off ripple and sparkle of Puget Sound waters.  The answer turned out to be “yes, sort of.”  I’ve long since stopped noticing every scenic bit and bob along the way.  I still enjoy the views and the changes of season, but not as attentively as I once did.  It was not going to be scenery, this particular morning, which made this trip stand out.

AN AUTHOR IN SEARCH OF A GENRE

An Author in Search of a Genre

By Judith Cullen

© 2015

We like to categorize.  It makes it easier to find things we need or want when they are classified, organized: canned vegetables in this aisle, pasta and soups in the next. Everything sorted and alphabetized so we can lay hands on it at just the right moment.  It is not a bad working concept.

I was the primary proponent of this very concept recently in my Mother’s house.  An overhead cabinet was mounded with decades of holiday decorations and items for little homey touches: candles of all sizes and shapes, votive holders, mobiles, windsocks, table and window décor, various objects d’art.  After 45 years they had become a festive Fibber McGee’s closet. I was regularly ascending a 6’ step ladder, as the designated household climber, opening the cabinet door with one hand, and holding the other up protectively against anything that decided to descend before its time. I reached my limit.  I bought a bunch of inexpensive plastic storage bins and sorted out both that cabinet and the closet beneath.  Now we can find things without risking life and limb. Now the holiday accumulations of the years can be found and chosen from easily.  I can’t tell you how many times the words “Oh, I haven’t seen that in years” were spoken. But this essay is not about reducing clutter or increasing your feng shui.

Authors are regularly asked to categorize themselves.  What do you write? What is your genre?  The literary word is a vast series of pigeon holes and authors are challenged to fit themselves into as many as possible to make their work easier to access by interested readers.  It makes sense, right?  Yet I continually find myself straining at those carefully drawn boundaries.  I know other writers who have chosen more defined markets for their books, and are much more prosperous than I: Christian Romance, Historical Romance, Historical Fiction, etc.  Am I only a fiction writer?  Am I only an essay writer?  Do I have any claim to being a poet?  Why can’t I wrap all these things up in the term “author” and just write what inspires me?

ME & MY JOURNAL: Wisdom

My Birthday Present to Myself

My history with journaling and keeping a diary has resulted in a colorful collection of blank books containing three to five entries, followed by still-gaping pages that have been awaiting ink for years, even decades after they were started.  My journaling has typically devolved into the kind of internal quandary debates that are sure to bring such disciplined activity to a full-stop. 

Yet this time around I am doing much better.  It’s “Journaling for Dummies” if you will.  Or perhaps it is more like “Compassionate Journaling.”  Inspired in part by the “Cure for Sleeplessness” chapter from the late Maeve Binchy’s Chestnut Street, I have been journaling for almost three weeks. This is a personal best for me.

I keep it simple: one thing a day that I feel blessed by.  I write one page only.  If I don’t write all the way down to the space between the last line and the edge of the page, I do not fuss. It has not been continuous. The “compassion” part comes when I forgive myself for missing a day and don’t simply throw in the towel, but pick up where I left off.  That has been a lesson all by itself.

Blessings have ranged from concepts (learning, friendship) to actions (laughter, tears) to actual physical objects (trees, rain, birds).

NEW ESSAY: How a Non-Sports Fan Finds Satisfaction in the 2015 NFL Post Season

The Journeys of Triumph and Adversity

 Photograph by Rama, Wikimedia Commons, Cc-by-sa-2.0-fr

By Judith Cullen

(c) 2015

I am not a huge sports fan.  I am not a hater either; it has just never been my thing.  Acknowledging that we are none of us ever completely of one “type”, I am the art-theater-literature geek in the family.  Yet I have found myself in the last two winters being the “sports fan enabler” in our household.  I cook hot dogs, make cocoa, popcorn, and dish up ice cream or whatever else might be the desired accent to the game-watching experience.

I think my dis-relationship with sports goes back to early days.  I have never had much athletic prowess or even a glimmer of talent.  My one brief, shining moment in sports came in elementary school where it became clear I was a desirable player to have on ones team in dodgeball due to my great skill at avoiding the ball in question.  I had enough arm strength to lob the red rubber sphere over the heads of the opposing team to my team in the “jail” section, while managing to avoid being out myself.  A talent for avoidance is not really highly prized in most sports outside of recess time.

Yet, for the last two winters I have gotten wrapped up in the ascendancy of the Seattle Seahawks, our “home” team, in the annals of American football history.  For dyed-in-the-wool sports fans, I am sure the appeal is familiar.  Since we have established that I do not possess a strong competitive gene, then there has to be something else which appeals to my nature.  It is the stories that swirl around it that fascinate me, and observing the great drama of reactions to those stories.  Colorful characters, expanded plot lines (sometimes painfully so), moments of high drama and ludicrous comedy: it’s some of the best theater I have seen in years!

WELCOMING THE NEW YEAR with Notes to Myself

To Thine Own Self 

By Judith Cullen

© 2014

I came into the possession of a literary journal recently.  I took it home, excited to turn its pages and enjoy the work of fellow scribes.  That I would consider myself a peer with people recognized as “Literary Fellows” as these were, is a major step in confidence in itself.  I may be a humble self-published writer of fiction and essays, but I felt I deserved to belong simply because I do consider myself a writer.  By the same token, after years of qualifying my stage design work with the word “craftsman,” I now do regard myself as an artist.

I began to read the first essay.  I stopped.  I couldn’t read it.  The form was so self-conscious that I was distracted from the words.  “Maybe it is just this author” I thought and turned the page to another story.  Same thing, another composition so wrapped in its form and its own erudition.  “I’m not stupid,” I thought.  But these works made me feel so, because there was an “it” to be got, and I just didn’t.  I realized that I was waiting for someone to tell me a story, to transport me into a world of their imagination and thoughts.  Note to self: I love stories.