And on the 13th of April She Rose...

Friday the 13th has always brought me good luck. Yesterday was no exception.

Those of you who have nothing better to do regularly read the stuff I post here know that I do something called Blogworld Saturday. Not this week, though (nor next week). Sorry about that. For the benefit of those who don't know, Saturdays I usually write a blog entry about posts written by other bloggers over the past week or two, posts that I especially like for some reason. I think it's a nice way to share some really good posts, and several of you have agreed with me.

I found myself on the receiving end of this yesterday when New Yorker Judd Corizan (who works in the publishing industry) and creator of The Rising Blogger, let me know that the post below this one was chosen to receive his site's first award. His site recognizes individual posts, not whole blogs:

"We award your “POSTS” not your blogs."

Also:

"The Rising Blogger will award blog authors with potential...awarding blogs that are insightful, creative, interesting and original."

http://therisingblogger.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-am-woman-see-me-blog.html

It sort of felt like having a stranger approach you on a busy street and hear him tell you that out of the multitude of smiles he saw that day, he thought yours was the best. It was an unexpected but most encouraging experience. Yet humbling too, in a way.

So many thanks, Judd, for the uplifting review and for choosing one of my posts to be The Rising Blogger's first awardee. You certainly raised this blogger's self-esteem a few notches (though she can't quite get over a feeling of bashfulness and is resisting the urge to veil her face once again).

Where's My Life Jacket?

I know the ocean.

I can hardly help it, living as I am in a country made up of more than 7,000 islands. Beaches have been a fixture in my life, as they have been and are for so many Filipinos. So I know the ocean.

Wait, I take that back. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that it's a familiar presence, one whose moods and appearance change on a regular basis.

The same ocean can look and feel different in any given location at any given time. Variations in the water's azures and aquamarines; waves that either roar tumultuously or lap playfully at one's feet on the shore. It's full of strange creatures, its depth in certain areas is unfathomable. It's full of both beauty and tragedy.

I've swum in it, but never too far out and never when I'm uncertain of my footing. And I've never gone too far out alone. So no, though the sea is a familiar presence, I'm afraid I must admit I don't know it as intimately as I would want to.

What I'm trying to say (and failing dismally) is that I'll be attempting to swim out to a different part of the ocean that I've been swimming in all my life. To explore the unfamiliar places within the familiar. To improve my swimming technique or heck, even learn new styles. To examine the patterns of the waves and learn from them, though I'm sure to inadvertently swallow a mouthful or two of seawater when I least expect it. I'm apprehensive yet excited.

Since I'm going to be Out There you might not find me that often Over Here or over at Your Place in the coming weeks. My apologies.

It's just that I should stop being too comfortable in the shallows. Time to stop just gazing at the horizon. Time to get up, brush the sand off this fat ass and get more than just my feet wet. Time to take a deep breath and venture farther out.


Smart alecks (you know who you are) shouldn't take everything in this post literally. Just saying. :-)

Literary sextuplets

This is being pegged as a meme, but it's so much more damned seductive than your regular meme. I first read it on one of Turnbaby's posts last week (she got it from Miss Nancy Pants) and lots of other people have done it since then.

This is the nitty-gritty of the whole thing:

A writer's meme.

Ernest Hemingway said the best thing he ever wrote was a six-word story. It is this:

For sale--
Baby shoes.
Never used.

My challenge to you, Dear Readers and Writers, is to come up with your own six-word story. That's all. Six words. How hard could that be? It'll only take a minute.

Remember that the six words are supposed to make up a whole story. I think Hemingway was nuts; a genius, but nuts all the same. This is a lot harder than it seems to be. A story usually has to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

I think what's fun about this writer's meme is the implied beginning, middle, and end. It isn't mental spoon-feeding; you know there's a story in there somewhere, and it's up to you to find out what it is. As with many short stories, remember that what's written is just the tip of the iceberg, that there are usually layers upon layers of meaning underneath it all. Meaning that is subject to each reader's thinking processes. The provocative, evocative parts lie dormant beneath the surface...to be kissed to a glorious awakening by a vibrant imagination.

So, here are the six-word "stories" I came up with:

I can still drive, okay? Cheers!

Need you ask? I'm all yours.

No, don't ask.
Just do it.

It wasn't funny, I know. Sorry.

Hi! How are you?
Oh.
Goodbye.

Game over.
Did I win?
Or lose?

I'm dream-weaving.
You're not in it.

Lipstick and blood -- which is which?

Karma chameleon time.
Dance, you bastard.

Ouch! You promised it wouldn't hurt.

Slowly, gently, please?
I'm still sore

Dawn's here.
Sleep, love.
You're exhausted.

Manic Monday #9: Snap

Snap is this week's theme word for Morgen's Manic Monday. Other forms of the word can also be used, hokay?

**********

Carl Jung once said something about how great talents are like fruits, dangling from the thinnest of twigs that are easily snapped off. What he meant by that exactly, I'm not sure. One thing I do know is that everybody has a talent, and that no talent is too small to be dismissed or too big to be feared.

Talent reminds me of an excellent book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince. This little prince lived on a small planet all by himself, performing several activities to keep his days and nights busy. One of these was to care for a rose, which he watered and protected from animals by placing it under a glass globe. He loved it very much.

One day he came to Earth and, wandering here and there, came upon a rose garden. The sight of this garden broke his heart for it was full of roses. All along he'd believed that his rose was unique in the whole universe, yet here he looking at hundreds of others. His own wouldn't have stood out from the others if he had happened to bring it along. But, after the initial shock and dismay (and because he was such a wise little prince), he realized something: his rose was unique after all! Throughout the years he had loved it and nurtured it. It was his and his alone. That set it apart from the others.

So it is, I think, with people and their talents. Take, for instance, a painter. It's almost a certainty that there are more critically acclaimed painters than painters who perform their craft in obscurity. But does that mean the unacclaimed painters' work is mediocre? Perhaps to professional critics and such others, it is. Perhaps having their art being labeled "mediocre" is one of the blows that snaps the twig, felling the talent.

Or maybe this scenario. A glass blower is critically acclaimed, his work is popular among many people. He knows he does a good job, but when he sees his glass pieces displayed among many others, he gets this feeling of inadequacy, of mediocrity. I think most people go through this glass blower's predicament at least once; it doesn't matter whether they're writers, composers, athletes, web designers, sculptors, tattoo artists, teachers, etc. A person pours his heart and soul into something, sweats blood and sheds tears over it. After the rush of exhilaration of a job passionately and excellently done, he takes a breath to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Until one day, the composer hears (what he thinks) is a better song; the teacher comes across a fellow educator who makes teaching seem effortless; the writer reads something so well written his stomach clenches in envy. The first flush of achievement is replaced by uncertainty. This niggling demon in the back of his mind shakes his confidence and has him questioning his abilities.

I won't claim that what other people say and think is unimportant because it is, especially if the other people in question are authorities in their fields or if they're people whose opinions matter to you. Validation and approval are flattering and encouraging, but your fulfillment (and mine) shouldn't hinge solely on those.

Ultimately, fulfillment should come from within; self-acknowledgment and self-validation are achieved when you are able to say truthfully that you truly gave it your best, that you couldn't have done any better. Knowing that another person does it better shouldn't deter you from what you love to do. There will always be better -- and worse -- writers, athletes, web designers, musicians, glass blowers. What you do, if you are impassioned, should never be mediocre for you because you love it, you nurture it.

Though there are countless others with similar talents, yours is unique. Because it is yours and yours alone, and nobody else can do it quite the way you do.

Blogworld Saturday

Week's end again
So, Blogworld Saturday.

[Okay, I know that sucked the big one for your six-word story-writing initiative, Turnbaby. I'll try to do better next time.]

Here's a round-up for just some of the many blog posts that I've enjoyed the past couple of weeks. I hope you guys like 'em too.

-Never regret anything that made you smile. This was part of Odat's most recent post. Short, simple, sweet, and true.

-Condescension is such a bitch. I just hate it when people say with utmost authority and conviction what you should or shouldn't be feeling or thinking. Sure, the intention might be good, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. CS described it in a post much more effectively and eloquently than I could ever do.

-Sher acknowledged what it's like to live with a monster known as OCD. Through her stories and her humor, she hopes to bring a measure of comfort to readers who might be in the same boat.

-Migs' otherwise healthy sister sometimes suffers epileptic seizures. Here he gives a touching, touching account (and poignantly written, as always) of just being there for her in one of her darkest hours.

-Wendz admitted that she isn't the most motherly of mothers. But that doesn't mean she doesn't adore her two boys to bits and pieces. I agree with her, it sure is puzzling how some parents seem to have absolutely no love for their kids. Some of Wendz's posts can shock, some can be hilarious. But you can be sure that there's almost always a raw and honest passion running through them.

-Marlayna recently took a road trip with her children to a small town to scout for somewhere to move to. All I can say is that the town she stumbled open seemed to come straight out of a creepy novel...or the unpleasant part of the Twilight Zone.

-Laurzei has such a sweet, heartwarming way with words, as this post shows. I could practically feel what she was feeling when she was writing this; the emotions just reached out and grabbed me.

-I just feel all happy inside when things come to fruition for people I like. For instance, Gale Martin. This talented writer has always been very supportive; she's been a much-appreciated presence in my blog world for so many months now. I'm so glad that good things have been happening both in her professional and personal life.


I'll see you again next week, people. Have a great weekend and a Happy Easter! Don't do anything this weekend that you'll regret next week. :-D