Memories, Poetry, Art, and Thought | |
I grew up with one thing expected by my Father, that I would chose my own husband and my own religion. This seemed like an open door to a freedom I would enjoy, however it has been a difficult journey and has taken many years of discovery. Because you seemed to question what is true or not, I am interested in your views of your chosen religion. I have tried very hard not to judge a person by a religion, but as you know it is difficult to see some things happen in the world and not to place a fearful blame on someone or something.
Still, even though my fear closes the door, my wish for further understanding keeps opening it back up again.
It is difficult for me to decide what is politics, what is religion, what is a personal belief and what is real and true. I am here to observe. I am not here to judge unless I see people harmed. Then, it is my nature to wonder what reason one person used to make harming others alright.
Well, these thought go deep to my personal values, and I try not to exhaust all my energy on these worries.
This is written in the hope that you realize that there are people working very hard to be inclusive and nonjudgmental. Ni, The Ancient One
From the voice of the youth of our World
I hang my brushes as one hangs dried flowers that once held colors dried within day's hours. I would wish to take the stubble from the beard... the stiffest that one I could find. Of course my plucking might seem weird However, I have a plan. I will take this growth from a chin of a man. Then, gather it carefully in a clump. Brush to makes when in a money slump. Lightly, dipped in liquid color, Smeared as a sky of blue and white. A work in progress I should not bother till it dries over night. Add then in spaces blank, The meadow green and poppies red. Beyond is a muddy river bank with giant willow touching a fisherman's head. Take what my brushes has dipped, gently add wisps from the hair. And upon the last space carefully tipped, gentle highlights on wet water. Now, to convince this man to be clipped, "my procedure will not be much trouble". A battle lost, a painting waits For money or man to lend brush stubble.
Last updated Tue Dec 18, 2007 Member since January 2007 on Yahoo 360
 Entry for November 17, 2007 Well, enough of the mixed music...too much for me to handle, so, I tried to make my blogs a list instead of a running overlap of sounds. I am looking into going to animation game playing at college. I have a little problem giving up one career to go to another even tho' art has been my life long love. I kept hope that this illness would go into remission, but with the new laws about help for the disabled, I must work to earn and must upgrade my skills. I have managed as long as I can with on-line programs to play with art, must get real now. Well, wishing myself luck and success...along with questioning my own abilities and skills. Oh, well...what will be will be. Gone into my Lyme's fog, and focus is not easy, but it passes and clarity will return. The world look a little daunting lately...just me I suppose. Thanks to all of you who have stayed with me...and allowed me to enjoy you...even on the quiet, blustery days that take your breath away. NV
   Sundown on November 21, 2007 Patch-words (unspoiled) Sadly, I had written all of this before and somehow, it was lost. I think it should be automatically put into a draft before being removed. As, most people who write, know, one cannot repeat a mind thought exactly phrased as it was before. But I will try to get the essence back. I sit upon my golden couch with scratched up armrest. I will cover the arms with lace, but not today. It is old and comfortable. I view the sun as it passes in front of my aged lace curtains that are stretched tightly across the window in order to be different, but also to allow me to see my back yard. The room glows with yellow as the trees and flicks of light to dance through the leaves that are not ready to leave the branch. How glorious it is as each light escapes the trees and dances on my walls in the repeated patters of leaves. Dance and dance. I speak to the universal being as I often catch myself sending thought to that transcendent being. The sun passes each day in an arch that sends me a message of delight. How does this being know I am impressed with the rustic stalks that hang over my eaves and allow me to see the breezes as it passes by. All aglow, my heart delights in the art of this mystery. Does this Godly presence know how impressed I am at the dazzle of display that spirits across my yard. It knows. I am sure my presence is known and even expect. This display requires my applause. The sun touches my cheek and warms my skin making me feel as if I am still important in this sundown. There it is, the leaves dislodged from their special space, and for a moment they drift in the river of a breeze that holds them suspended in grace. Rust, and red with yellow gifts floating until they nestle upon the ground in a pile that rustles and moves till it makes its own pile. Yes, I am part of this, and I am respected by this day even as it slips past me for the many years it wished to offer me this delight. Yes, this being knows every sliver of my being, down to the smallest nerve that beats my heart, or moves my gestures, or thinks great thoughts. Everything is known, and still I say to this being that what has been presented to me is majestic and wonderful. As it passes, I know it will never be repeated exactly the same way, although there will be another day, another sunshine, another reflection on the reflection in my back yard. I hold it in my heart and mind for an eternity. It will not fade as some days do. This day I promise, I will hold onto you. Drift, warm sunshine into my room, wash my walls with glowing dance. Press the lost leaf against my window and let it fall gently to the ground in the rusty, rustle, red carpet. I am so pleased with your work...I see the sun fade...and I face a new night. NV
 Anxious thought the night of November 21, 2007 I have spoken to many colleges and have become aware of a new pattern of manipulation. The form of manipulation was actually used later in the TV program, House, as one of the female interns decides that she can't be heard or taken seriously unless she uses this new form of manipulation. It is better, I suppose than the boiler room type of selling, but as one hears the formed speeches and obviously manipulative endeavors of the sales pitcher, one is aware that this is still someone that wishes to manipulate one into a position one many not wish to take. There is a book on the subject, and it attempts to teach the art of seduction without force. Similar to the Southern Bell speaking to her husband or partner in such a sweet fashion that the partner is either unaware of the manipulation or is so enthralled at the attention that they unwittingly go along with the favors the lady presents to him. Actually, I have reached a point of running in the opposite direction, for I am not sure what ideas are mine and what are the sales person's. Anyway, I have discovered that the cost of tuition is far too high for my pocketbook, and no amount of talking will assist me in paying back the cost of this education. I therefore, do not want to be set up for failure and use up what federal avenues I have available to me. I am so talented and have been for years, however, I have never been allowed to reach my full potential. I suppose it is as they say, "how much is a mind worth". I know there are massive poor populations that cannot reach their goal or their ultimate worth due to the cost of education. So, I cannot feel more sorry for myself than I would feel for them. No longer are Father's teaching their child a trade that will be past down for centuries. No longer are Mother's passing down talent tricks to their daughters. It has all been turned over to other people who obviously think that their educational programs are better and therefore much more valuable thus priced as expensive. Ah, well. Somehow, I will get where I am intended to go with my talent. Grants are so complicated and so far into the future. The world is moving too fast to allow this slow grind to obtain financing to go on much longer. So, you will see my little movies in the free-bee programs that I use to play my artistic cartoons. Talent will out. And...my love of art...I have actually been writing games for my art and then doing the art for over 20 years. I have it all ready, I just have to have a way of presenting it. All the programs that I used before have be upgraded and uppriced. Sad. NV
 I write...September 23, 2007  Rembrant "The Sea of Galelea" This is an artwork wanted back...under the FBI files of lost or stolen art treasures. It would appear that religious artifacts are among the most coveted of artworks...and some person has actually stolen what should in most cases be respected as the commandments were respected. I suppose even here under the cathederal of a blue sky, we all break commandments in spite of all we are guided to do. I wonder if guilt will someday bring this work back into the light of the public where it can be enjoyed instead of ingulfed. NV
 Notes on other blogs...Entry for September 23, 2007 I could not enlarge this and do it the justice it deserves. I do wish I had the talent of memory of who painted what and where I picked up this photo of artwork. This is not an attempt to plagiarize...for it is my respect of such work that causes me to want to show their work. It is called the Nightingale although the artists name escapes me. Upon a desert in New Mexico, this was my early version of waiting for my grandfather to greet us after his work as a coal-man on the Sante Fe Railroad. Since he knew the conductor, there would always be a sound from as far as we could hear...a train whistle that started from a low mellow reminder until it came to a loud horn striking fear if one were unsuspecting. Wheels screech with steam and then everything stands still even the sounds. The desert is silent and rarely do clouds form unless it at base of the train wheels. There he is, tired and sweating from a labor of love given to his family of seven children and now even more grandchildren. The large muscle in his right shoulder shows the years and deliberate ambition that he displayed every work day. This was man and his loves...and dedication that is not understood as well in this day and time of self indulgence. Oh, for the memory! Ni
 I am a Satin White Moment... September 17, 2007 A crisp white page to be written upon without speculations from my past or even prognostications of my future. Here, I am nothing that has been thought of me in my past, not even when those thoughts come from within myself. Here, I am new, a bright beginning. A rebirth of sourts has taken my being from there to here. I am a bright penny without a past being spent in machines that say who I am, or what I look like or even what I should look like. It does not matter...even if my words are read in a silent place in another space, I am only what they read. I wipe away all those things that cause tears of judgment, all those nonsense fears probably created by others more that myself. Actually, here, I am more myself. I glow with anticipation of who I will create and in a deeper hope I think I can become that person in real life. All the lies and whispers and gossip can no longer influence my judgment of myself. My weakness of taking the census of a group and deciding they are right or my decision to allow one overwhelmed teacher to decide who and what I am now and the measures that must be taken to change me to fit this world that only can be seen by the one. I should be lost on this white page, but I am more profoundly sure of myself and my place in time and space. For here, I am the real person...I have become me...right here in front on the non judgment of past deeds or future plans. Just me you see, is left in place of sadness and torment and even silly hopes and dreams. I stand on the plain of white light waiting to say who I would be today at this moment and time. I am the white moment.
Entry for August 27, 2007 about frog and strings    Well, again the spell checker has erased all the blog and I must start over.
First, about the frog, which you may have seen me use before...with an artistic twist...I use it again. I was watching my English mystery this morning, and their was light happy music playing in the back ground. I glimpsed a movement in my back yard through the lace curtains that I stretched tight across the window so it allows me to see my dogs and trees. My husband was out there in his blue overalls and his blue shirt feeding the golden dogs. They were strays we took in because someone did not care...enough...when they were tiny puppies. One has learned to flip over backward to get attention he craves. The grass is green this year due to our frequent rain fall...enough so as to fill a low area of our yard with water. I can hear the frogs at night singing. For some reason my husband is walking to the little pond area and I can't see what he is doing. Then he goes back and washes out the large water bucket for the dogs. Then he walks with the music on the TV that he cannot hear and goes out the gate. He leaves straight from there to the car to go to work. This is his routine...from childhood till now. He does his chores and then goes to work. He will face at least an hour of wall to wall traffic and then he will work for the other guy to buy a yacht while we struggle to buy a car for me to use with a wheel chair. They will have large houses while we have one big enough for my wheel chair. They will work for beauty and physical workouts, while we work for things to keep us alive. Their lawn will be for putting around. On and on it goes and has gone for years. Today, he will represent a union that is trying to make our life tolerable, all the time knowing that the overlord will want all of the special things that the people who have appointed him have promised. A long line of appointments that are said to be available to college grads...but the chances for them getting that job is the same as that of becoming a movie star. Rare, indeed. Still, my husband thinks it is worth his while to save the dogs, and the frogs. Oh, he calls when traffic slows and tell me that he has to recur a frog from the dogs water bowl every day. It is a toad and cannot live in the water, but it insist that the dog water is better than the drying pond in our yard. Now, he is at work trying to save jobs for others and to teach them how to stand up for themselves in order to have the things in life that a person should be allowed to expect and get. Still, these appointed ones will not even know the faces of those that toil with heads down and backs bent. The ones that do the bottom line work. Their jobs are up for grabs by other countries so that the appointed can make top dollar at slave labor. Unions that ask for equality are feared and looked down upon. Still, there will be a request for the simple things like health care for the retired instead of having to hold government responsible. Retirement benefits that are in the same standard as the least of the people in the service. A gentle reminder that someone who must work till age 75 should be treated just as wisely as those who can retire at 45 with pensions so high that they can vacation the rest of their lives. Sad...huh?
 Picasso in August 07, 2007 -
This is a painting done of Picasso by one of his worst enemies. From what I read, he had many people that he was envious of...I am so sure that grammar would not pass my English professor. He was such a genius with words that a paragraph that one would be sure said one thing would actually be saying something else. Obviously, he could teach attorneys a thing or two. He worked at a small community college so that he could help those who has little resources and were making an attempt to lift themselves up. Due to the dangerous neighborhood that I took a night class, in. I had to drop his class and challenge the course. I did not want to do this...I absorbed his talent and wanted to continue. However, when one has to decide between being mugged or taking a course...I think one should use a little wisdom of their own. This is supposedly cubism, but I like to call it gem art. One must peer through a small cut diamond and take all the shades and changes and paint them upon a large space. I should be able to remember the artist...but, I can't. Too many medications to stay alive, and I wonder if that is really what I am doing. Supposedly, while in France, his girlfriend ran around on him and then wanted to return. He said it was alright with him if she would agree to leave the room when he requested her to. To have his breakfast and to clean up after him. In other words, she was a live in maid. I wonder who was punishing to whom. I love to play with who or whom...such a delightful way to muddle the mind. I must change my site...going to clean house now. NV
 Entry for July 24, 2007  I have looked at my art...and looked at photos and felt that I fall so short of what I want to acheive. Sad feeling and one that I know does not have an answer since the only one that counts is the viewer and what they feel when they see art. Still, I am my own worste enemy, and for what reason I can't say.
I know I have written books that sit upon a shelf because I do not see the light I saw in them as I once did. Do I read my own work so often that it becomes dull and thus I stamp a sign on my mind that it is not good enough...or is it a valid thought? I back up in a corner and see myself as I did when I was a child wishing I could make myself so small that no one could see me...and yet, I wish to be heard. How, can I say, "Poof Poof Pissel, make me just as small as sniffles"? Is this really my hope, or am I creating a way out of hope and ambition and high design? I really think it is depression ideas, that can only see so far and only be so much...because they are thought from an incomplete person...a child that lived long ago trying to make sense of a crying world. Ni
Entry for July 15, 2007  Well, one can tell that my Grand Kids are not sissy girls. I am so proud of all my grands. Neat people. All of them in their own light. None of them remind me of me...they look like their mom's mostly...their dads a little and other in the family some. They are allowed to roller blade in my house, use my wheel chair, and chair lift...when it works. My husband has to work so hard to keep us going, I use to be able to bring in the extra we needed...I applied for disability, but the U.S. must not be as rich as it claims. Ha. The IRS has chased most of the companies out of our country to other countries...we will have no one able to buy those products except the two percent of the very rich...I am not one of those obviously. If I write my book, I suppose I could be...but, I banter around with blogs hoping someday the ending will gell. I think it is mental laziness...maybe. We found one three foot long shedding of a snake in the yard I can no longer mow. Several small black snakes...probably rat snakes that eat our little bird eggs. Anyway, frogs and turtles have taken over a small pond...which is a natural gully that fills up. I love the nature, but one day I opened up my computer desk and a three foot snake was curled up in the disks. Now, after my hubby took care of the job...I have holes in my disks and a snake in my freezer. And you thought your life was crazy. Gotta go...Ni
 Entry for July 12, 2007 http://www.cbc.ca/health/story/2007/07/11/obesity.html Well, I feel a calm over my life as I read this. Are we a country constantly alarmed about something all the time. Terror....is made to live within us...more torture than a terrorist could cause? Ah, relax...the site changed for delectable needs a box of chocolates, and the maiden who stands by the ocean can see my ocean created long ago...just to see if I could take one pixel at a time and create a vast dream. Forever dreaming. NV
 Claws and Tags Well, how does it happen that I am looking over my floating tags and wondering why the word frustration is larger than the other words followed by the word oils. My art of recent years has taken on a form of fantasy, the above computer giant was during a phase of role playing games. I somehow thought I would be good at it and finally decided I must help my husband bring in the finances...or I had to be a contributing person in society. I improved my skills and back to work I went to take care of those less fortunate than I. No form of retirement, no unions to represent caring and extreamly difficult technical assistance to giving life to those who were on the brink of losing their battle with dreadful diseases. Still, in the God of things, it appeared to be a way of giving serene respect to those things that a power beyond me had placed upon a fragile earth. I think, I respect people even as I study their infinite flaws. No perfect trees without blemish...yet stand they for hundreds of years...without muttering one word in their own defense. Forest layed to rest for the living quarters of the rest of the world. I worry, did I use up too many of the worlds not so infinite gifts. I went a few years without electricity, but then fire wood was my downfall. I walked to shop and do all my chores, but work was much too far to control the use of the car. It seems every way I turn, I leave a blemish upon the earth...so, in all my caring have I saved anything for the seven generations that follow me? I pray so. Will, it make a difference...probably only in comparison...because there are those who have really left a mark of loss upon the earth in greater measure than their contributions. Do soldiers count among the forest layed to rest without reaching their ultimate life? Does all the caring and giving that I have done even make a small dent in this statistical balance. I don't really know the answer. I suspect that my not knowing is the reason that the word frustration is larger than the other words. I hope it does not remain so. The computer art above was huge upon an old computer my husband built, but due to the size of a floppy disk, it deminished just as the dinosaurs. Maybe, that was their down fall...a world too small to hold them. I think our earth came from a much larger planet containing huge life that could handle such gravity as a planet that size would emote. It broke into parts as it collided with a universal object. No small space meteorite but a breaking apart of a huge planet. Now, all its parts have revolved around the sun for so long they are now well rounded and have found other orbits. Maybe this will be the fate of our war like ambitions on earth, maybe we will somehow become more well rounded and able to handle the differences of earth's people without taking offense to a different brain valued idea. Oh, to James: I can't, I am much too fragile, too recently broken and not well rounded enough. If the future allows, we will not be the same people...this time is lost...but, next time is not. Life to be continued, NV Oh...dear...where is that spell and grammer checker?
- My Latest creation Entry for July 09, 2007
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  I have just heard the birds in the trees...which have been drenched with rain for the last fourty one days. No flooding in my neighborhood, although ten years ago someone disposed of several cars in the creek and it rose high enough to destroy two homes and a black leopard in a cage that had no way for it to escape the water. Sad to keep them in cages and sad to see them die.
I hear quiet, but my husband went out last night to listen to the calm...he heard quacking of ducks and barking of distant dogs...but above all that he could hear the new oil well pump. Sad but true...they want to take a view of our property and will pay 25$ for it. Hummm...I knew when I moved on this property and built our own house and did our own garden...it had oil in it and volcanic slabs that hide an undergroung fault covering a huge casm. Should I let them look, or make them buy the land? It is going to happen, but I really don't want to give up my family home. I know every aspect of my place...I have dug with a shovel to build my own foundantion and driveway. Even wore a shovel out...I know the birds that have nested here since we moved in and still nest in our garage and therapy pool room. I brough a bird home from college that had run into a glass window and knocked itself out...it is now a family of doves in the pine trees we planted. I brought things from my Mom's house and planted them on one side of the house...those pines are grown past the top of the telephone poles...how, does one let all that go. How does one pack up all their favorite bushes and roses and so on...I don't know. Well, it is a dilemma. A quiet concern of many people who do well at it. Being a service brat and then wife. I have moved so many times and I have lived here the longest. Dear me, she says as she runs down her very own rabbit hole... Oh, my creation...not from pictures...my own art. Ni
 Entry for July 02, 2007  Sorry for that display of frustration...hope that it was not too unacceptable. Today, I am just trying to get my head on strait enough to pull all the pictures I shared back together. I displayed many on this site...so, I am so glad I was a sharer person. Is that even a word.
Thanks...for reading with a listening heart. Before my mother died, she asked me how anything could just be erased from the computer...since she had been blind about fourty years...it was difficult to explain. "Till, I remembered she had given my oldest son a magnetic writing toy that lined up the iron dust...made lines. I forgot the name of it. Anyway, the lines were there until one shook the toy writing board...and then it was gone. Never to be recalled in perfection again. Just like the days of our lives...all in order...we fall asleep and it is gone...days, months, years...and lifetimes...gone...in the blink of an eye... We must live on a magnetic board in space...just present until something or someone shakes us and then we are gone. Oh, the furniture and gifts remain...all the tangibles remain. Their molecules are not so fragile, I suppose. Life on the other hand is our body constantly changing chemical after chemical...never stopping. We actually glow from this movement...our eyes shine from the changes...still, we are destined to stop moving, fading into the past where even our names are lost...more important our personalities and spirits are lost to those who shared them. We never own a soul except our own. More into the mind later...I am a little down...but, I must move forward. NV
 Entry for June 28, 2007 Hello Ni,
Thank you for contacting Microsoft Online Customer Service.
I understand that you would like to obtain a Replacement disk for your Windows XP in order to re-install it. Please be informed that even though your friend is having a same Windows XP Home software, you cannot use that disk to re-install or repair your Operating System because the End User License Agreement (EULA) stipulates that a copy of Windows XP software can be only installed on a single computer. If you would like to install it on a second computer, you are required to purchase an additional license for the product. Please note that as your Windows XP Home came pre-installed with your computer, the Original Equipment Manufacturer (OEM) or computer manufacturer is your best resource for product support and obtaining Replacement disks and manuals. |
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