I am very aware how my written words sound to my ear.  It does not matter what it is–a blog, essay, poem, etc.  It always makes a difference when I have read a piece out loud.  That was what was first–the oral tradition.  People did not have books.  They sat around a fire reciting their stories.  When I read things I have written out loud, I find errors.  Sometimes I have deleted a word or the tense is wrong.  Other times a word may not ring true and I have to insert a different one.  Sometimes there are duplication or repetition.  If I don’t want a phrase there, I may have to move it or delete it.  I may not like the cadence or sounds the words make.  It is always easier to find the errors after I have read the piece out loud.

‘Songs To Aging Children Come’  This is the title and a line from an early Joni Mitchell song I heard in the late sixties.  In the song she says in beautiful language and this is a paraphrase:  there is all this beauty around and don’t you see it.  I do.  And she ends the song saying:  ‘songs to aging children come.  This is one’.  Back then and now I identified with the song.  Another line was ‘people hurry by so quickly, don’t they hear the melodies…’

I saw all this beauty around me as a young adult and others were not seeing it.  I could not understand that.  Even today.  I starting writing back then to the present to record this marvelous world before me and slow down my pace so I could capture this beauty.  Then she ends the song:  ‘Songs to aging children come.  This is one.’  I had to grow up and still be child-like so I understood her song perfectly.  I was not all alone.

I have to dress as if this day is important discarding the sweats I usually slip on after I awake and put on clothes I would not mind anyone to see me in.  Despite my depression.  It matters.  Eventually the depression will lift.  And knowing you took the care to really start the day makes a difference, which means showering, putting clean clothing on, brushing your teeth, etc.  All that affects your attitude to face the rest of the day.  Working from the outside in.

‘With whom I can be what I want to be.’ This is a line from a song of a Ian Anderson album (“Benefit”–Jethro Tull).  I understood this line perfectly.  It is important what friends you surround yourself with:  they can either bring you up or down.  It is critical, also, whom you choose as your mate.  He/she can help you be what you ought to be or get in the way.  I could not do all the writing I do had it not been for my wife’s support.  I would not have my web site (siggyscafe.com) or blog (siggyscafe.com/Blog) if it was not for her.  No one can completely fulfill your needs but it is important to be around others as much as you can who support your most important endeavors.  Another words, who let you be who you want to be.  You will be happier in the long run.

In Praise Of Bic Pens

Author: siggy

This is in praise of Bic pens.  I don’t use expensive pens.  I would only lose them.  Bic pens are cheap.  When one does not work, I simply throw it away.  I just make sure the caps are on it when I put one in my pocket.  I have ruined too many pants that way when they leaked.  I store them all over my house.  I don’t like being too far from a pen when the urge strikes to write so I keep my pens in strategic spots in my house.  I get a little bit nervous when my supply of Bic pens dwindle.  My wife, of course, thinks this is all ridiculous.  And criticizes me when I feel compelled to replenish my supply in the nearest Office Max (or Wal Mart).

I am going to keep a writing calendar.  It was my wife’s idea.  Every year we get lots of calendars in the mail we never use.  I will use it in all kinds of ways.  The dates of poetry submissions will be recorded.  I will also put other tasks down revolving around my writing.  The calendar will force me to become more accountable; after all, I don’t want the dates to be blank.  I thought this was a great idea.

Why is it your own “blood” does not validate you?  My writing growing up was always taken for granted by my immediate family–my mom and dad and two sisters.  In the beginning it was my letter writing.  In the sixties I started keeping a journal.  In the late seventies I wrote poetry.  And now I am going on the fifth year of keeping a web site and blog.  Both of my parents are now dead.  I am not sure if my two sisters ever go on my web sites.  They usually don’t comment on them.  My writing is who I am, what is going on which is important to me.

Gratefully my wife cares about my writing, as well as other friends.  I found out I had a talent for making people laugh at open mikes.  And that is a validation of my writing although humor is not the only type of writing I do.  I keep getting hits on my web sites and that is encouraging.  And occasionally I get a poem published in a literary magazine.  I guess we choose our friends.  We can’t choose our family.  Up till his dying day my father who lived until ninety-two was more impressed with money than anything I wrote.  I was a failure in that area.  That still hurts.  Sometimes you have to go outside of your family for validation.  And that was my case.

What would I care about if I go after my wife?  I can’t take my things with me.  I know from dust I come and from dust I return.  So what do I want to leave someone after I die–not much.  The only thing I care about and hope I can leave in good hands is my journals and poetry.  I would like to think at least a poem or two or three would outlive me.  Money can’t buy happiness.  Bill Gates, at one point, was the richest man in the world.  So what does he do but pour billions in a foundation so, maybe, he can make a difference.  Each person wonders if he/she will leave any kind of legacy.  And there are multiple ways of doing that.  It could be the memories your children have of you who in turn impact others.  Memories of you may not die so quickly.  Sometimes anyway.  Many people when they approach the end of their life wonder about the legacy they will leave behind.  At least I do.

If each day is a miracle and I can’t feel that lost in depression, is it really?  I do believe in miracles but I know my moods are deceivers.  Let me consider if each day is not a miracle and isn’t this a slide into oblivion.  Maybe, I can’t trust my feelings (my depression in this case) and choose to believe each day you have on earth is really a miracle and wait until I feel that.  The converse of that belief is futility.  Depressions do come and go.  I just have to ride it out and believe the time I spend here is worthwhile.  That is what I choose to believe.

I have been depressed for awhile.  I know my depression is an indicator.  I know my age has something to do with it:  I will not live another 64 years.  I wonder what I will leave behind.  I certainly can’t take my things with me–my music, my journals, my poems.  I can’t take anything with me.  So what is there?  What is my purpose of living?  It is not the accumulation of my things.  From dust you come and from dust you shall return.  I do hope I leave the world a better place, that some people might mourn me.  And have good memories of me.  The thing about the world it goes on.  Every day someone dies, someone is born.  I am trying to figure out my purpose in the time I have left.  Not that my death is imminent but who knows?  No one can really help me on my journey.  Somehow I have to figure out what I have to do which will give me meaning so I can climb out of my depression.  There is (???are) no easy answers.

Every delusion (or fantasy) of yours has a kernel of truth in it.  You need to examine it, determine the dynamics.  I can’t tell what it is telling about yourself.  Nothing appears from nowhere.  You have to determine what truth it is revealing about yourself.  It is working backwards but after you discover the truth you will understand yourself a little better and know what needs to change.  Your delusions and fantasies are fulfilling a purpose.  Nothing exists in a vacuum.

Things just don’t make you happy.  Even when you have food and shelter and your bills are paid that is not enough.  You have to have a purpose–a reason to get up.  There has to be a focus in your life–something beyond you.  Each person on this earth is here for a reason.  You have to discover your calling, reach out and help others in the process.  Things alone don’t make you happy.  And no one can tell you what you ought to do.  Somehow you have to be quiet enough to hear the “tiny voice” only you can hear.  It is easily covered up.  You have to discover it and follow it.  You will know when you are there peace will reign.