Don't Mush With Me!

The gloves are off.

If there's one thing good bloggers are good for it's making you think about things from a different perspective.
It all started when a fellow cyberwriter known as Gale Martin (GEM'S blog), jokingly placed a blond bombshell pic beside my name in her post entitled Happy Friends Day, which you can read here.  I was in good company that day. Gem's not-so-subtle hint that most everyone else in our cyber circle had a pic posted but moi, did not immediately persuade me to show my face on international television. I was content to go incognito. But something she said in a comment to my post dated August 20, 2006, cut me to mincemeat - as it were.

Gale - reinvented - vowed to"embrace the mush" in her own life, gently admonishing me to crank up that novel I'm sitting on. Her insightful observation that my writing is susceptible to wounds (mine) reeked of prophetic wisdom. I prefer - and hope - that also translates into openness for my readers.

Looking into crystal ball........My theory is that before she perfunctorily took the mush-plunge headfirst into Gale, I suspect she tosseled with the transparent types of Mimi messes I fall into. "I see the same kind of vulnerability in your writing, too," she commented regarding a piece I'd written entitled The Kindness of Bloggers, referencing a common midlife teetering she'd heard between the lines of my prose and apparently recognized. Strange thing about messes.

The story of my life - as it were.
Let's rewind the tape. It is 1972.

"Stop playing that piano! We're trying to get some sleep in this house!" I heard from every room but the tree house, where my brother threatened to sleep periodically - and did once - if he had to endure "Fur Elise" one more time..

And the ever famous question, "What are you doing in there?" except in my case it was "What are you doing in there? Writing a novel??" (well, actually, mother.....I am, said my twelve-year-old head.  Didn't she know that?)

"I need you to help your brother bring some tomatoes from the garden. Now hurry up! You should learn how to cook you know." That last sentence I blame for the terminal case of writer's block I suffered for years every time I ate marinara sauce.

After dinner she would try to coax me into climbing the mimosa with my brothers and sisters "to get the exercise you need" - I never understood that. I weighed 90 lbs - I just thought she didn't like my Beethoven. It seemed to me that every attempt at stealing away into my cocoon was blocked by some well-meaning platitude complete with a knowing wink...... "You can't be pretty and smart," my mother used to say.

I never knew which attribute she pitied and which she prized.

That advice did not work for my sister either. She baked culinary wonders in the kitchen, meringues and pudding creations and learned how to sew. AND she was beautiful.
I had an Easy Bake Oven that was possessed.
Who wants to learn to cook after THAT??

I'm sooooo misunderstood.

People have been messing with my mush all my life.
The only man who ever appreciated my marvelous cuisine was my grandfather. He sat in pressed pants, a button up shirt and tie on the hard-swept dirt floor of my kitchen behind the garage. He said my mudpies and tea were "to die for yum yum" and I pretended not to notice that he was really eating tiny little pastries my grandmother had slipped in the playhouse door so he had to tell the truth to his culinarily challenged granddaughter....who adored him.
The feeling was forever mutual.

It didn't matter to him that I was a mush mess.
He loved my mush.

Which is why Gale's comment on vulnerability set the wheels to spinning.

For days I've been toying with the inconvenient concept of authenticity. Bloggers have been writing about it lately. The courage - and honesty - and simple kindness - it takes to be selfless and encouraging of others in your own field.
In a world where your value is determined by the number of links in, it is indeed a brave thing to visit- and revisit-the unpublished and unnoticed.

This is the intrinsic value and underlying wealth of blogging.
And the Emmy goes to................total strangers.
It's a beautiful thing.

Not money or hollow favors or mindless chatter either. But carefully worded critique - oftentimes humorous and witty - as we wonder at the daring artistic talents (and sheer guts) of the scores of craftsmen in these blog pages. You have to weed through a bit of mincemeat to find them, but they're there and well worth the wading.

So why did my friend's worldwide comment cause me such angst? And what does that have to do with mud pies and tea in a playhouse? And why am I so admittedly disturbed - even miffed - that "vulnerability" landed in my lap (er....blog) again. Ahh.....again. Might hold a clue.

Why now? When I am stronger than I've ever been, when the best of the best of the best is happening in my life FINALLY, why now, when I know who I am. Really.
Epiphany approaching. .....

It is no longer about dishing out mush.
It is, as Gale so eloquently pointed out, about minding the mush.

Her words set me on a path of memories I've been reaching for - and giggling about - for some time. The courage and the spunk to be that little girl again. One who happily cooks a disaster with bubbling joy ....to simply present it to someone she loves.

Such is good writing.
Courageous writing is mush.

At times (who am I kidding.. most of the time) the labor is soooo over-exaggerated ("I'm soooo exhausted from writing those stories. I stayed up allllll night long slaving over the oven....I mean typewriter. How will I ever keep up with all this endless bloggin??!....) Enter violins. Swoon. Faint. Where is Rhett when I need him?

You may have noticed a certain fascination lately with one Scarlett O'Hara, in my Dating Profile of the Day blog and an occasional mention of her antics here.
I doubt that is an accident.
I find her famous lines and silly quips to be .......well......dare I say....me?

Vulnerable indeed.

So why am I so bothered by that silly ole word?
Not because it reminds me of a time in my life when I was vulnerably at the mercy of someone cruel (although that certainly could be a part of many women's psyches), not because I was trampled on by a man climbing up the testosterone ladder (although that certainly DID happen), and not because I lacked the confidence to sew or bake or stitch.

I am not bothered by that word.
I am terrified of that word.
Which brings me and my adventurous just-gotta-figure-it-out-part-of-Mimi running straight to it.

My fear is not of uncovering pain or looking at regret and being hurt by it. 
My fear is that I won't.

Because deep down I know that that is the only place in me that is truly universal.

What I discover every time I run screaming from anything, is that my self-proclaimed I-am-woman-strength never holds a candle to the fear that nips at the heels of real. What I have discovered through the unassuming greatness of unmet artists across the globe and far-flung friends and passersby is simply this: I am nothing without my willowness.
My work is not a damn thing without it.

No matter how many mud pies I want to perfectly make, how many straight A's I want to present to my once-upon-a- dad, no matter how many smirky glances I give the "rights and the "shoulds" and all the politically correct garbage that surrounds the "truth"........nothing can penetrate the lets-make-em-laugh-crack-a-joke-mimi-girl armor faster than a little girl's loving nod to the man who ate her mud pies.

And if that screams vulnerability then so be it.
I've decided to be the Barbie doll with brains.

So here I am.
De-fluffed. Not a blonde hair in sight. Not perfect.

Not invisible.

I'm here to stay.
Thank you, Gale.

The Kindness of Bloggers

I just read Rhys Postlewaight's entry entitled Compliments-The Art of Making Someone Feel Good and it gave me much to think about. You might want a cup of mocha for this one. I have a few things to say.

My mouse died at 3 am this morning in the middle of research, a new post, and a host of other multi-tasking online activities. I was not a happy pet owner.
As many of you know, midnight to 3 am is my favorite time to write. The computer froze, I hadn't saved (I know.......don't say it) and I was on a roll. What does this have to do with Rhys post? I'm getting there.......


My blog brain has been spinning ever since Bobby Griffin, of The Bestest Blog of All-Time fame, emailed me at 11:30 pm Tuesday night to tell me I'd been chosen for Wednesday's (8/23/06) with this suggestion "I wanted to let you know ahead of time in case you wanted to crank out one last post, spruce up your template, etc....." YIKES! I had less than thirty minutes to be brilliant.

Remembering that A World of Reeholio had clocked in at over 1000 hits the first day his site was nominated, well...let's just say, the pressure was on. But the adrenaline was intoxicating. I typed my little fingers off until 4 am, researching Gone With the Wind and writing a Rhett Butler parody for my Dating Profiles site. I wasn't sure if it was funny enough, just knew I was happily exhausted (!!) and put the blog to bed.
True to Rhys' prediction, comments started filling my inbox almost immediately. I got two hours sleep, attended a heavy duty meeting at 9 am, worked until 8:30 pm and nearly killed myself getting home to check on the site. It was incredible!!

I am thankful for the link exchange concept such as A World of Bloggers, Bestest Blog and others; but there is much more to it than that. Sometimes, I'm technically challenged; like today, when my right-hand pet bit the dust AND my frustration with not being able to get the BestestBlog live link applied to the sidebar slowed me down. So, I decided to send Rhys an email to ask him how in the world he DID that (I wrote Bobby and did what he said but still couldn't get it). When I clicked on Reeholio today and read Rhys well-written post I got all side-tracked and thought........hmm...now here's a guy who takes the time to be appreciative of others. We could learn a thing or two from Rhys. With all the zillions of picture-taking tasks I'm sure he's itching to get to, he takes the time to write about Yours Truly my fellow friendly blogger, Author Gale Martin GEM's blog) and give her the props she deserves...and not in the usual commercialized way. If you haven't read Gale's article on Happy Friend's Day, I suggest you do. Peppered with a disclaimer and reflectively written off-the-cuff, she extols the value of friendships old and new.

Rhys is a smart guy. He knows what's important.

Gratitude is not unusual for Gale. She always gives credit where credit is due (the mark of a great writer, by the way) and does not succumb to blog-writer's-competition illness like so many others.
She is not intimidated by the work of strangers.

Gale Martin is a smart woman. She knows what's important.
Which leads me to my Saturday epiphany.

Blogging is exponentially exploding, and there are as many subjects as there are words on Wikipedia. And who's to say that my blog, or Rhys'sblog(s), or Lizza's wonderful blog, or Amanda-the-comical-nurse-in-training, or anybody else should have the edge. That's just it.

We all have the edge.

Intelligent prose will stand on its own.
Passionate photography will stand on its own.
So will fresh ideas and honest conversation.

Comments vs. Compliments?
I'd rather have one intelligent and thought-provoking comment left on either one of my sites than a half-hearted-self-seeking-gimme-a-link-please blurb anyday.....well, unless I hear from Random House or
a nice little request for an article for Bill Gates. Maybe.

Dear Bill,
I'm terribly sorry but unless you leave an uplifting an sincere comment on my blog I simply cannot work for you. ("Mimi....I think you've just done murder." Hush, Scarlett. I'm busy now).
".......and furthermore, Bill, I must have editorial ghostwriting funds for my friend, Gale Martin, (oh! you've heard of her? Great!) and a page or two in the techno catalog for a few sunset photos by ....."I know, I know" Bill chimes in, "that New Zealand photographer."
"You've heard of him, too?" asked Mimi, batting her invisible cyberlashes. "Of course! He's all over the internet. He's bogging down blogging here at Microsoft with all those sites of his. I just thought if we could steal you away long enough to write about something you know absolutely nothing about, you'd stop writing about your cyber-link friends and they'd stop commenting on your commenting on their commenting long enough to slow down the traffic and we'd all get back to work on the really important stuff (Ah.....the truth comes out)..." like our new education initiative for rising 1st graders - Hacking Hoax 101, with a HipHop theme of course - you've heard of it?"
Sigh.
He just doesn't get it.

"Have you ever heard of a book called "How to Win Friends and Influence People" Bill?"...."I know this great little article....."
Bill? Bill!? Are you there??

Silence.
Notta.
I should have listened to Scarlett.
"Miss Mimi. Is that YOU?

Well, yes, silly....of course it's me...We've been comment contracting now for quite a bit, don't you remember?"
"Well, dear Mimi, I just found my jpeg files - forgot where I stored them, the paperclip guy was out to lunch and he had to help me find them again.....err... - there's a rather blond woman with a literary air about her invading my picture files.....I just can't take my eyes off.....off.......(he was reading Gale's blog! That link thing is really working, Rhys!) (Gorgeous blond pic in right corner should be HERE. That would be moi).

Busted.
Thanks, Gale.

"I just don't think you're right for our company, Mimi, after all. I'll deal with that New Zealand guy another way." It was the coldest SEND I ever caught.

"But wait! (desperately beating my now nearly comatose new MICROSOFT mouse to a pulp) ..."I can do this! I promise not to get attached to any of your appliances in the catalog, I won't write a single kind thing, not one flowery megabyte of truth will drip from this sick mouse of mine.....give me another chance! PLLEEEEAAAAssse......"

I'll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another blog.....err...day.

Well! I never heard of such bad taste."
Shut up, Scarlett.
"Bill, sir. You are no gentleman."
Shut up, Scarlett.
"I can shoot straight, if I don't have to shoot too far."
Shut up, Scarlett.........Fiddle dee. Forget about Gates. I just ran across this blogging lady in India....and this high school student's art work is really cool.
I think I'll write a review or two.

Portfolio Reeholio

They range from stark and sepia to hauntingly absent of color, but always interesting in scope. Pictures, that is. Rhys Postlewaight, a creative photographer from New Zealand, likes to mix-it-up. His popular website/blog of photos is just one of several online pursuits. Let's hope he takes time to fiddle with that camera of his more often; his photographs are wonderful.

Take "Daniel" for example, juxtapositioned with "Empty Swings." It is a blog layout well done. I'm not an expert technical critic of photography, but I know talent when I see it. He has an eye for color and movement, even when there isn't any there, which, of course, is what makes art art.

Thus far, at least what he's shared with the blog world, his work consists of simple and elegant lines such as "Flower" (my favorite), Craters of the Moon, Sand (a close second favorite), and Coconut Tree, all of which have been exhaustively photographed by others; however, Rhys has a unique spin on color and frame, in my humble opinion.

At the bottom of Portfolio Reeholio, there is a link to another blog (yes, he has yet another blog!!) called Wild New Zealand. It's like stepping into the countryside. Along with stunning photos, he provides us with personal commentary and facts about the country he obviously loves. My favorite shot on this page is "Rocks on Ice?" taken on Hellfire Stream in the South Island of New Zealand (posted August 7, 2006) From there, is a link to a page of Sunrises.

What makes this blog unique, besides the photography talent, is the international peek into another land by someone who lives there and can speak to us visually and like a neighbor. I believe that's what Rhys Postlewaight, the owner of A World of Bloggers, had in mind to begin with. His simple, and clever, entrepreneurial philosophy of introducing us to each other through blogging is catching on.
Reeholio's photographs are a breath of fresh blog air. Take a look.

Other sites by Rhys Postlewaight include World Famous in New Zealand and A World of Reeholio.


*sunrise photo public domain Jon Sullivan*

The Promise: Can she do it?

I have three books in the closet.
Let me clarify. I sometimes like to think of them as still being at the bottom of a stack of disheveled prose in the bottom of the closet where I found them - after all, they hibernated there for more than a decade - actually, I set them free a couple of years ago. They now reside in plain view. On my desk. Still somewhat disheveled, but shaping up.

I made a promise to myself all those years ago. That one day, I would peek inside the closet and resurrect the jumbled-up-me that lay scrambled under college books and baby booties on the floor of that tee-tiny cell.
The day finally came when I no longer had diaper excuses, thesis deadlines, or mother exhaustion; pity parties, emotional wrenching, and procrastination fell victim to one powerful motivator -

The promise.

It is here.
It is now.
I promised myself that I would finish and publish my first book by the time I turned fifty.
I have exactly 101 days, 7 hours and 33 minutes.

I was right to begin with. There are 3 books in the closet; three more I've yet to start. I've spent the last several years penning epiphanies onto the pages I'm staring at right now. Piling up in living reams around my feet, are story lines and twists I resolve in dreams, then get up to write down in the wee hours of the morning
- still lovingly scrawled, at times, by hand; on my desk, resting in my lap, sprawled naked on the floor, stored on my floppies, and borne of the better part of the guts and refuse of my life -as it were - screams the closing of a chapter in the middle of the night.

One fictional meandering of suspense and psychological intrigue, one compilation of stories I gathered in storms, and one honest true tale of the bravest boy I know.

One is a love story, one is a love story, the other is a love story.
Here's my challenge to you: every now and then, when you're blog cruisin' and decide to stop in to say hello...........how about giving me a swift-kick-in-the-writers-pants to keep me going. I need SOMEBODY to hold me accountable for this metaphorical mystery that keeps piling up in my head and spilling out onto the paper before the sun comes up.
It must not go back in the closet.
I would never forgive myself.

Thank you, in advance.

And by the way, we're gonna have one helluva party.

The Human Side of the Playground

Bustling around the house this morning getting ready for my day, I heard a news reporter comment on the likelihood of the cease-fire agreement holding out in the Mideast, as well as a brief overview of the way the whole thing escalated. Phrases (and paraphrases) such as "who started it?" and "Does so-and-so believe Hezbollah started it or is there more to it?" and again, "who started it?" It struck me how similar - similar? no, identical - the exchange sounded to something you might hear on the school playground after a monkey bar scuffle.

 It's usually easy to spot the bullies and rescue the bullied; no need to create a he said/she said inquisition or convene a world summit instant replay. Just obvious bloody handkerchiefs and one smug bully.

Who STARTED IT??! The answer is little consolation to those who just want some peace on the playground.
Indeed.

One Red Paperclip

Check it out.
one red paperclip  According to Mimi Writes - "I highly recommend
oneredpaperclip and applaud the owner, Kyle MacDonald, who did, in fact, trade one red paperclip for a house. 
Ingenious site!

Sophisticated Lizards

Let's face it. 
Bloggers are just sophisticated lizards, a species of human chameleons with the ability to change our skins. We are - apparently - the very essence of slithering anonymity. Some silently scream, others inundate with bells and whistles, most just want to have their say. 

While it may be true that the African lizard of whom I speak is reported to have a projectile tongue - yet another resemblance to those of us who daily spit verbiage online - I'm beginning to appreciate the more beautiful aspects of my fellow bloggers. The world - according to Mimi - is becoming a much smaller place.

At the click of my mouse I may find any sort of neighbor a half a world away or inconspicuously hiding (like our lizard friend) just around the corner, down the street, in my house, in my head. I have come to appreciate the complex world of blogging as a good thing, freedom of expression as a sacred journey, voyeurism at its best. Strip down the commercial mongers and we might just have something quite amazing.

My neighbors reside just through the next-blog door and sometimes, what I find, rocks my world. As it should. Mothers post pictures of newborns like shining constellations of another chameleon variety, sassy teenagers with music blaring and life pouring from every word (they're writing! YES!), thoughtful clergy with souls to save, Red Hat Ladies sipping green tea and teaching yoga, a soldier in Iraq, or the worried face of a mother trying to get her children out of Lebanon. My neighborhood is full of simple joys and extraordinary pain.

But what I like about blogging is this: even when I have to skip to the other side of the sidewalk to dodge propaganda and self-serving neighbors, there is always another story - "a person of real" I like to call them, someone who is writing from a place of courage and self-discovery. For just a bit, I can step into their life and read and feel what once was reserved for laboriously censored print or diaries locked tight in secrecy. A dialogue has begun - strangers asking each other not only to understand my difference and viewpoint - but also, "Come on in! Sit down a spell and tell me what you think. I may not always agree, but the simple truth is - I could use the company."

And that, my friends, is well worth the price of admission.