HALF PAST PRETTY

Halfway There Starting Right Here

Susan Creamer Joy

Susan Creamer Joy
Location
Paris, Iowa,
Birthday
September 30
Title
Retired Domestic Space Cadet/Current Arbiter Of Midlife Dysfunction
Company
Not often
Bio
Artist, Poet, Writer, Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Lover, Seeker, Follower, Listener, Communicator, Found, Forgotten, Sainted, Sinner, Struggling, Sentient, Surviving...So far, so-so....... Unless otherwise noted, all of the artwork accompanying these posts was created by and is the property of the artist.

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JUNE 8, 2010 5:59PM

Lost Item: Rose-Colored Glasses

Rate: 24 Flag

 

Occasionally I find it astonishingly painful to be facing another blank, lifeless editing blog box.  It gathers first in my chest like a fisted hand gripping a dozen straight pins then slowly radiates a sort of tingly yet decidedly strained, prickly sensation out to my extremities until my heart feels drained and even the tips of my fingers seem stiff and nullified.

 

At this point my brain usually comes to the rescue frantically seeking diversions by seriously entertaining every possible alternative to writing that it can find.

 

 I realized earlier today that I'd taken a hard hit from my own apprehension when I found myself underdressed and sullen outside in our small backyard with a pail and garden shovel in hand, wading through the puddles of yesterday's unfortunate summer rainfall, mechanically scooping soggy piles of dog poop.

 

 Could this be any less debasing than pounding out my discontent at this keyboard even if only in verbiage drafted from the dark side?  I think not and question a brain that sees such a distasteful chore and my writing both in the same dim light.

 

What I fear most is not being heard, which is ironic since I've arranged my life to attract rejection and reflect convention; both of which quite naturally indicate moderate levels of emotional repression as well as heavily edited modes of communication.

 

You'd think I would have cultivated a more assertive, flamboyant persona and a cunning stable of tricks to make myself appealing.  Appealing people are always listened to even when they are wrong.

 

When I really stop and think about it, I don't actually know why I want to be heard or even specifically what it is I want to relate.  Nothing within me is fully-formed and the small bits that are remain largely dysfunctional.  I have a great deal of animated half thoughts and a mind bank of partial truths, but I've learned that you can get into a lot of trouble dealing in fractions.

 

Fractions are only of any benefit if they add up to a whole.  Although that rule would be voided if I were absorbed with the baking of cakes or postulating in the laboratories and halls of science or formulating in the field of mathematics.  But in my world halves of anything means 'not quite enough.'

 

 Sometimes for no big, overriding reason (but for a hundred small ones that shouldn't matter at all), I find myself lagging at the bottom of the top and barely able to hold my focus long enough to complete a single thought let alone an entire sentence. And even if I do manage a whole, comprehensible thought, I find no valid reason to share it.

 

But the tides will turn.

 

With the exception of the very potent ones every emotional ripple flattens out and conforms to the ocean at some point.  There are those histrionic or depressive waves that can often become tidal and tend to wreak a great deal of unhappiness and destruction before finally lapping into some newly formed gully or bay of reluctant adaptation.  

 

However, I think that level of discontent may require restraints and serious medication.

 

Of course, there is always a risk when you let despondency hold your hand in a moment of weakness.  Your soul gets lazy and before you know it the two of them are necking in the backseat of your brain. By the time you've caught on, they've conceived a full-scale depression and drafted you into surrogacy.

 

If you're not careful, you'll wind up an unwed manic depressive dialoging with disembodied voices and men in white coats.

 

I can usually arrest this tendency in the gloaming between melancholy and clinical gloom but it almost always requires an even deeper, lengthier sequestering than is normal even for one so wedded to solitude as myself.  

 

And because I have several crucial roles in this sentient production, I can't that easily bow out and lock my dressing room door without incurring the wrath of my fellow actors nor without some risk to the quality of the play itself.  At least as it is in its present revival.

 

But that's okay.  It's good to keep busy.  And as for the lifting of this malignant haze, it has already begun.  In the course of my long-winded whining, the sun has come out and with it, a glimpse of hearty rebounding.

 

Who can remain tethered to tears and loathing as birds suddenly appear along with the smattering of green particles of new growth from limbs to lawns?

 

Alright, so I may be forcing it a bit.  The last thing that could possibly lift me out of any funk would be finding a resemblance between my own words and the mawkish refrains of a Carpenter's song.

 

I know from past experience that darkness always recedes eventually and in the meantime you just have to hang on to the idea that it is never too late to start over.  We've only just begun.....sing it, Karen....

 

 

Today, even that is better than nothing at all.

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Susan, I "hear" you, but you are able to express yourself a whole lot more eloquently than I. I'm not sure if I understand when you say, "I don't actually know why I want to be heard or even specifically what it is I want to relate." Your post is amazing. I could "listen" to you all day! Do you talk like you write?!
Thanks Patricia! Some say I talk as I write, but I don't agree. However, my spelling is much better when I speak!:))))
Susan - thank you for commenting on my blog...because it helped me find yours.

My god, what beautiful, poetic writing! I especially like this:

"Of course, there is always a risk when you let despondency hold your hand in a moment of weakness. Your soul gets lazy and before you know it the two of them are necking in the backseat of your brain. By the time you've caught on, they've conceived a full-scale depression and drafted you into surrogacy."

and this:

"With the exception of the very potent ones every emotional ripple flattens out and conforms to the ocean at some point."

And don't feel silly about being heartened by an otherwise insipid pop song...the one that always makes it better for me is "Dancing Queen"...
How eloquently spoken. And the image - glorious!
Michele-What is it about Abba that draws so many people in? I must confess I don't have a favorite among their repertoire but there are a couple of Barry Manilow songs that make me smile! SHHH...don't tell anyone!
You write of a genuine "funk" so well! We all experience it but rarely write so eloquently of it! Good job, Susan. You are not alone. Tomorrow is another day. And, by the way, that soggy rain soaked poop is a reminder that there is a little creature who loves us unconditionally! Go love on that doggie!
Thank you, Kit! I see more light now...:)

Cathy- you ALWAYS know the right thing to say. My dogs are forever in your debt....especially the ugly Chihuahua....such a needy little fellow:)
Interesting reflection. I am so caught up in your drawing that I could simply gaze at her for hours, days. She touches something so I know so well. As I read your post, I wonder if you are asking too much of yourself? Have you decided that you must write a certain number of posts per so many days? Must you adhere to that? If you are not quite sure what it is that you want to say, then can you give yourself permission to play some of the time and just see what happens? You have such a love for words and the journey that helps you make sense of them and of your world. Maybe some days you can simply allow yourself to breathe and relax and reflect and see where you are and allow whatever comes to surface and then see what it tells you?

I think you have a fair bit to say. Sometimes the words come and sometimes they stay away... until, perhaps, we are ready to hear them?

I think it is all right to take care of ourselves as we try to find our way in the filling of the blank page. If we don't take care, who will and what then will happen to our words? Hope this helps a bit.
"I don't actually know why I want to be heard or even specifically what it is I want to relate."

I get it completely. I thought I was the only one.
Anna1leise- what do you charge by the hour? You are a gifted healer, my friend!

Cap'n - One thing I've learned recently is that there is no such thing as being "the only one." Even with a dead parrot... Read your post on your dad/family and loved it...:)
Your creative nature would embrace the dark side. All that poop is your inspiration, which is used eloquently enough it is truly delightful along with being melancholy. I liked this post very much.
rated!
Like anna1liese, I wondered too if you felt compelled to write X number of blogs in a set timeframe. If you are finding it "astonishingly painful to be facing another blank, lifeless editing box" ... maybe it's time to allow yourself to relax and enjoy OS, Susan. Please give yourself permission to be a master of it and not a slave to it.

However, I have to say yet again, such beautiful, poetic writing Susan. Joy by name and a joy to read!
We have to create. The voice inside us wants to put words down and send them out. My mind has started composing things for OS and I want what fills up that empty box. I wrote something similar today but not nearly as eloquent. You are a great voice here and your art is so personal and beautiful. Thank you.
PW- without the 'poop' there'd be now 'pop', right? I get that. Sometimes pain is the great motivator. It is apathy I find most dreadful......

Little "wise" Kate- I see I am somewhat transparent to you as well....yes, I do feel compelled to write..to remain in the mix and current. I suppose I fear being forgotten or dismissed should I do so less frequently. BUt the other side of that is also that this is the only connection I have to happiness most days. Plus, I have been silent for so long I think I've developed a manic desire to be 'heard' and recognized as contributing something of value. Something of quality that lifts off the page rather than lets down.
But I know I don't need to be such a slave driver. My more sensible self thanks you!
It's that Pisces in your chart. Makes one sad and introspective and deep. Such a beautiful painting and beautiful piece of writing._r
I think you may be onto something, Joan!
All this rain....all this watery emotion....overload!
Thanks for reminding me:)
I know exactly what you mean by "this is the only connection I have to happiness most days" for it is the same for me and, most likely, for many others here.

I also understand too that you "fear being forgotten or dismissed". But believe me, the friends that you have made already here (and there will be many more to come) will read when you post. Of course, write for yourself and your needs but don't worry about being forgotten ...you are already very popular so please, relax and enjoy!
You are a blessing to me, Kate. I have had a terrible day. You've made me smile. Thank you so much.....:)
We best get those other ways to happiness figured out soon!
Don't you think?
"It's like looking in a mirror..." Thank you
"But the tides will turn"
Here's to the turning tides.
The way you write you will get there, wherever there is...
im never sure if we write so we can be heard, or so we can hear ourselves.
JD- I'm goin', I'm goin! You are a cranky editor!
Stacye- We look pretty durn good in that thar reflective device!
Trilogy- Row, row, row....sinking is not an option, right?
Lunchlady2- and when I get there, I'm buyin' you a beer..or soda...or tea!
Lorianne- I think it is a little of both. We hear ourselves but understand our voice better when heard by others.
Awww...I only pick on ya cause I'm fond of ya'yo love ya'... : )
Oh, I know that JD! You is my FAV! Even though you are a cranky editor!:)
You pick up dog shit in your underwear?


{[R]}
I hear you. I had a serious funk this spring but it seems to be lifting. It makes me appreciate the really good days.
You weave your words very well, all the best to you.
I'M NOT CRANKY DARN IT!!!!
...............................oh wait........................??
Larry, Larry, Larry....If it weren't for you, I'd be suicidal....or...wait...is it BECAUSE of you?
How do you do it? :)))))
And it wasn't my underwear....It were ma PJ's thank u bery much!
I'm going to sound like a broken record now, but oh my god do I love that painting! I collect madonna-type of images, and oh my goodness.

now, on to your words

I started copying & pasting that lines that most spoke to me, moved me but forget it, I'd be pasting the whole thing

no, wait

"Of course, there is always a risk when you let despondency hold your hand in a moment of weakness. Your soul gets lazy and before you know it the two of them are necking in the backseat of your brain. By the time you've caught on, they've conceived a full-scale depression and drafted you into surrogacy."

You've captured my life so poetically & with a dash of humor...

Oh, Suzi, if someone as brilliant & creative & beautiful as you has these struggles, well, at least I'm in good company.
Caroline Marie- I consider myself to have found the most profound, brave and candid company I've ever known right here. My struggles are given a place to rest, regroup and resurrect into something of power and meaning. You have helped make this so. If I can do that for you, I will have earned more than I deserve! You are so, so sweet!!:)
Susan, I love following the meanderings of your mind. Even your half-thoughts are fascinating. (I was going to add something about how the next time you're in the backyard underdressed, take a picture, but I've gotten into enough trouble this week!)
Yeah, Cranky...I don't think you can dig that hole much deeper...wise move!:) You are an angel, ya know? Sort of like Groucho Marx was:)
Ah Mark....if you weren't such a womanizer, I'd say 'I love you!'
Your praise comes duly noted, as does the subtext of understanding in the fragile craft of writing your insides out. Dignity is not something we are allowed to hold if we want to be spectacular. Neither is pride. Not because we are undignified or without pride, but because we are subject to losing it or being told we have none by the sometimes fickle and misunderstanding audience.
So, down we go! Hopefully, in a storm of literary brilliance so we can leave a legacy of eternal transcendence. Or, in your case, a pair of lovers who actually get along...:) You know I'm kidding...right?:)
Zinnia- summer is here....let the funk lift and the words flow! I'm listening!!!:)
Creative, inspiring and eloquent; well done, Susan. R
Thoth- you are like the steady railing that holds me up and keeps me from breaking my neck on these steep stairs. Did God put you here?
Undercover angel......:)
Susan, if I made you smile ... even just once ... then I'm glad and I will smile too! :-)
i notice this was posted yesterday and hope that today is even brighter. if not, i'm that off-key disaster singing along with you

"So much of life ahead
We'll find a place where there's room to grow,
And yes, We've just begun."

hope my voice is the funny distraction that paints a smile upon your heart.

love & light.
Hey Susan. I love this:

"At this point my brain usually comes to the rescue frantically seeking diversions by seriously entertaining every possible alternative to writing that it can find."

...it's so very true, but not a great yardstick to measure your mental health. Because even when you're on top of the world, I'll bet your brain will continue doing this.
Rennata- Just knowing you are out there being so amazingly prolific and profound brings a smile to my face! Thank you!

D.Bard- Ummm....what brain? You give me too much credit:)