This is my 100th post here at Tri-Polar Machinations. Congratulations to me. Now, for the party!
Hoot hoot holler.
I'm taking a prompt from the Journal Jar. Whatever will it be? Well, let me tell you...
What is your favorite book? Tell about your favorite books as a child, teen and adult.
Okay. I can remember one of my favorites from childhood being Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel. As a teen I liked Michael Chrichton, Steven King and Mark Twain. As an adult I've enjoyed Tom Robbins, Kurt Vonnegut, and Anne LaMott.
There. That was a lot of writing.
To continue... I read a lot as a very young boy. My mom encouraged it by reading to me when I was young. As an adult, I don't find the time to read as much as I used to. I do enjoy it. It's been difficult sometimes when I am fighting depression to pay attention and have much reading comprehension. I'm thankful that I have that right now, and I'm looking forward to my next read, whatever that may be. I recently read Carrie Fisher's autobiographical "Wishful Drinking" and really enjoyed it. It was easy reading. She's a great writer. I thoroughly enjoyed Anne LaMott's "Operating Instructions" and "Bird by Bird." Another very great writer is she.
Now, time for another great writer to do some writing. That's me. I'm a great writer. I can write up, down, around and through. I can even write pink and orange. Can't rhyme with orange, but then, who can?
I'm in a really good place these days. My mood is up, but not too up. I'm inspired to do things, yet I'm not all racy thoughted. Whatever that means. I'm getting things done, writing to friends, making knew ones. I'm finding my way back into commission. I'm getting closer to recovery.
I guess this means that, if it continues, I will be trying even harder to get a job soon. Maybe something temporary is the way to go. I dunno.
My office window is open. I can hear the neighbor having a telephone conversation. He paces in and out of the house, so I only hear parts of sentences. The rest is just echoing tones. Not meant to follow along while eavesdropping anyway, right? It's rude.
So many distractions in life. That is life. I'm tempted to go get something to drink instead of continue writing. Nothing alcoholic, just some tea or ice water. But that would mean stopping this really astounding riff I'm on about life and writing. I mean, I just know you're transfixed, hanging on my every keystroke. Well, you should be. I know I am.
(Smacks lips. Maybe some lemon in that water?)
I used to have a lot of picture books. I was well read as a child. People took care of me, lavished me in books. Harry the Dog. Clifford the Big Red Dog. Frog and Toad Are Friends. Dr. Seuss. I wrote my first story when I was in the fourth grade. It was a pretty good one too. Toot toot.
That was my own horn.
My sister is even more prolific a reader than I am. She's an English teacher. So she reads a lot. She loved the book "My Cat Likes to Hide in Boxes" when she was young. She had it memorized before she could read and would flip through the pages, telling the story as she went. That little paperback picture book got some miles on it.
My wife is now home. This probably means the end of this exercise is coming soon. She is getting me something to drink, because she is a saint. And she loves me.
I really enjoyed reading The Great Train Robbery in high school. And Terminal Man. And Huck Finn. I even enjoyed reading Exodus by Leon Uris, though it was a stretch for my intellect at the time. But that what learning is all about. Stretching your limits. Pushing on through and making the next phase a little bit better.
Learned about a peace festival in Berkeley next month. Weekend of Sept. 11th. Would like to go but it's expensive. Not sure that this unemployed boy can afford it. Maybe I'll just send my wife. She has a job.
Tonight we celebrate a young man's birthday. Hugh is usually in Japan, where he lives. But he's visiting his Nana (great grandma) and we all get to visit. He loves to play croquet.
So much about life is seemingly mundane and uninteresting. But it's mostly your perspective. It's all relative. If you're feeling good, things tend to be good too. So celebrate when you can. When it feels right. And when it doesn't, celebrate anyway. Might turn things around for you.
I don't know. Sometimes it's out of my control. But it's cyclical. And it passes, be it depression or happiness. We are all riding waves. Better hope you like to surf.
I think I'll try and read "B is for Beer" next. It's a short one, should be easy to get through. Some times you gotta ease off the throttle a bit and let 'er ride. Can't push too hard. Gotta let the river float ya. Go with the current.
I'm pulling out all the stops here today. I've been prompted by the journal jar; I've reminisced about books and learning, writing, and my sister; I've gotten ice tea. I'm moving on down the river.
I forgot to take my pills last night. Had to count them all out for the week today. Now everything I do today becomes suspect because I'm not medication compliant. I'm not really worried. But you should be. That might get some comments on this here blog, alright.
I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna live. I'm gonna read what I want to read and I'm gonna improve my health. I'm gonna eat better. I'm gonna find ways to exercise my body that don't break it down and tax it. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna get better and better at doing what I like to do, and I'm gonna find a way to get things done. I'm gonna find a way to organize the garage. I'm gonna find a way to write my stories. I'm gonna find a way to make more friends and make my blog a more happening place. I will do all of this because I want to and nobody else needs to but me. I want to do it, so I will. And if I don't, so what. Gonna try.
I also enjoyed reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury in high school. And I, Robot by Issac Asimov.
Just so you know.