Charity1958's Blog

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Your Success is Straight Ahead


Where am I going?

I look here, look there and everywhere.

I see the road ahead and I still do not know where I am supposed to go.

Many say, map it out!

Some say, plan it out!

Others say, know your destination!

Like the sound of a train making that choo-choo sound.

The smells of that smokey steam engine that permeate the air.

It passes by and I still have no clue!

There are days where things get out of hand.

And there are days where the focus is relentless.

Like taking a bite out of a favorite dessert, Yum!

But no matter where the destination?

Just know that your success is straight ahead.

Keep going, keep going and do not stop!

 

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Creative Clips: Girl at Work


creative clips

As a way of gaining my writing flow. My son suggested that I create snippets of scenarios from different situations in my life. I hope I can regain my creativity and begin to write again. I welcome your feedback. Let me know if I am on the right path.

Girl at Work

She sits during lunchtime, and cannot help but think how much her stomach is grumbling from the hunger pains. She is tending to a candidate scheduled for testing. She is abruptly interrupted by a fellow employee who failed to read, “proceed with caution,” sign placed on the door earlier to alert employees to enter cautiously. The phone rings, it is her fellow employee inquiring about her fish sticks that are cooking in the toaster oven in the office. So many thoughts flutter her mind, and she cannot wait until the day is over so she can go home to start her weekend.


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My Creativity


Words are a lens to focus one’s mind.
– Ayn Rand

I think back to when my words flowed, my creative streak was in full gear. My words came through like musical notes on a  page to form a beautiful melody. I am in a struggle attempting to create a work of art to keep you awe-struck!  Let me know, how I do at the end of this piece.

I don’t know about you, but I find myself questioning my creativity. Where has it gone? I looked forward to writing; I could not get enough of it!

I think I stopped writing when I started working. I spent two years on the unemployed island. It was what I did-It consumed me! The feeling of my fingers as I typed on the keys, the ideas flowing and seeing the finished product created by me. It was nothing like it.

It was what I did to avoid thinking about being jobless. The many job searches and resumes that were sent out. I can not begin to count how many and eventually,  I stopped counting. My escape was the writing which kept me from pulling my hair out!

I want it back, that feeling of oneness with ideas and the flow of words.

Writers Digest Quotes


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How is life?
~Anonymous

My life is pretty damn good; I have air in my lungs and energy in my step. Embrace your gifts; you may miss a valuable opportunity for discovery.  I had an in-depth conversation with a friend, recently. I told her of my ” tales of woe ” for that particular day. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

My friend is such a brave soul for having a challenging and complicated friend. In a tactful, politically correct fashion. This phrase was expressed, ” I know that you are going through a hard time right now, but at this moment, if you are not ready to make the proper changes to improve your situation, then there is no point dwelling on it.”

I quoted it, exactly how she said it and to be honest? I felt insulted but deep down I knew she was right.

We should not fester about problems if we are not ready to step up and change it.

She is my support person, and we work for the same complex organization. It is almost like being part of a “Tele-Novela” without the hot sex, infidelity or mayhem.


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The room was small; you could see out the window that overlooked the alley in between the two tenement buildings.You could see the silver trash cans all lined up ready for garbage day. My uncle’s room vivid in my mind. The walls were plain; the paint was an off white color. Windows had no curtains just the shades.

I was 11 years old; my Uncle Pipo was bedridden by then and unable to walk. He became ill with the meningitis virus at a young age. I always wondered how it all began. When did my uncle stop walking? My uncle never married and had no children of his own. In my heart, I felt he would have been a great Dad.

His hobby was saving empty glass coffee jars and filling them with half-dollars. He preferred only the glass jars with the Maxwell House labels. My grandmother helped by collecting the jars for him. Did I mention that my grandmother and my uncles, Pipo and Manolo lived on the second floor of our building, and we lived on the fifth?

I got a kick out of dropping the half-dollars in the jar. I liked the sound of the coins, perhaps like many kids that grew up in that era. I loved the noise!  I remember feeling the anticipation, and curiously,” How many coins did Uncle Pipo save today?” He listened patiently, as I talked and talked about my day at school.

The third jar was almost complete, and the other jars were stored away in his bureau closet. Memories are so vivid like it happened yesterday. I sometimes reminisce and travel back to that time.

My uncle died that same year from health complications. I don’t recall the details of the funeral or viewing my uncle Pipo in a casket, but I do remember the loud sounds of the coins. It was time valued.

He took the time to listen to my thoughts and childhood dreams. Uncle Pipo was a tender memory, and he will always have a place in my heart.


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Extreme Sadness


Extreme sadness?  Where is its core?  Where does it stem?  I would like to pluck it out like a pimple ready to burst! It is gross but true.

The intensity saw just is. It is part of the human condition; perhaps it is a piece of one’s soul that is hidden within, laying dormant for an opportunity to immerse and make itself known for all to witness.

A situation or someone pisses you off, and there it is rearing its ugly head.

Just know that no matter what?

You are in control, decide, make a move and not allow it to take over.

Alternatively, it will destroy you in the end.

 


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A View of the Autumn Leaves


It's Autumn

As she sits she admires the view of the autumn leaves with their unique colors. She enjoys the peacefulness of her back porch on a chilly brisk morning. Her memory travels back to the way things were in the beginning. She finds herself missing his caresses, his gentle touch and the sound of his voice and the way it soothed her to a great calm.

On many occasions, Charisima has voiced her feelings, but her concerns are not being heard. He is oblivious! Does he think that things will continue as they have been? The relationship is traveling in the direction of a downward spiral of despair.

Their children are grown now with their own lives to live.  Her hope, her love for him is unwavering.