Category Archives: Uncategorized

Dedicating work to someone else can give meaning to the work and motivation to the writer by providing answers to the questions:  Whom am I talking to when I write and whom do I want to read my writing?  Today I dedicate my writing to those needing a push, as I do, to be the catalyst, to make things happen and to stay above ground.  There is a saying about letting things fall through the cracks in life, we say it in education as in, “We don’t want any student to fall through the cracks,” and we say it about responsibilities as in, “Don’t let those bills fall through the cracks,” however, lately I prefer to think of pushing up through the cracks and when I saw this stubborn little plant in my driveway, pushing through a crack, beating the odds and surviving, beginning to thrive, I considered it a sign of hope.  Hope that we too can push through our cracks and rise up and thrive.

Battling for nearly a year with those involved in the loan modification of our home, some supporters and others malicious with ulterior motives, waiting, stalling and doing their utmost to postpone long enough to make any workout impossible, has brought out the fighting spirit in me.  I can be smarter, craftier and more determined than they are, like my little plant mascot, I can push up through the deep crevice that has been the past year and a half of my life; hold my stem up tall and spread out my leaves to the waiting sun.  I have plenty of drive, ambition, effort and vision and I can picture what I desire, create a visual, and believe in what is good and right.  Unfortunately, that is not a guarantee for there are those out there that rely on formulas that are not inclusive of human lives and have no belief in karma, what is right, or making the world a more positive, better place.

Like the little plant, that awaits the possibility that some giant will mistake it for a weed and yank it out, or look past it and step on it or refuse to notice it at all, I am at the mercy of a bigger giant which daily tramples on others more frail than itself, flaunting its ability to make judgments that ultimately determine survival or demise.

The exercise is to create a story title by combining a color and a noun, an exercise meant to write a concise piece and to practice eliminating unnecessary words.  Rewriting and editing are hard tools for writers and I am no exception.  I remember as a young writer I never wanted to do the difficult editing, I just wanted to write it perfectly the first time. As I got older, I began to appreciate the opportunity to have a “do over,” a chance to correct and improve.  If only it were that easy in life.  If those opportunities existed, I can think of storylines in my life I would rewrite with abandon.  Of course, the elimination of words is a process that is difficult, we don’t like to eliminate, and we like to acquire:  clothes, people, possessions, and money.  We want more of most things so perhaps the lesson then, is to learn to want less, to say more with fewer words and to live more with less and to need less.  Here is my attempt to reduce.

The Taupe House

The house sits on a slightly raised lot, a bit higher than its neighbor to the west, which gives it a vantage point.  The front yard with its curved driveway and ample parking is small but welcoming and the vines trailing down beside the windows are lush and require frequent trimming.  It is the back yard that acts as a secret fantasyland complete with jungle-like foliage and pool.  The escape from the outside world is treasured.  Golden silence.

Another view and eliminate 20 words…

The Taupe House

I sit proudly on my perch looking down, just a bit, on my neighbors.  I am graced with swiftly growing vines.  My backyard is sheltered and jungle-like with a pool as the centerpiece.  I provide escape, relaxation and privacy.  Golden silence.

Eliminate 20 more words….

The Taupe House

I sit proudly on my perch graced with swiftly growing vines, my backyard sheltered, jungle-like, featuring a pool providing escape, relaxation and privacy.  Golden silence.

The classroom is mostly quiet now, with the exception of the hum of the blessed air conditioner and the occasional ringing of the two bells indicating the necessity of the plant manager.  The chairs are pushed in and the tables almost clear of the materials readied for the new year, a year that will be different, yet the same, as many others.  Right now the playground is waiting patiently for the laughter of children that will fill it next week and the dolls in the playhouse wait patiently in their crib, clothing in tact and the plastic multicultural foods await preparation in the labeled bins.  The smell of fresh, new crayons is in the air and the computers are happily waiting to begin their whir and hum of activity.  For me, even music is not necessary yet; the silence is a giant space, open with possibilities and fresh with optimism.  A bigger class this year, 24 or 25 new little students, some scared, some overly confident, most excited to begin an adventure that will last for the next 13 years.  They enter the institution in the best of possible ways, a soft landing filled with songs, games, colorful paint and new stories told while they sit in squares on a colorful carpet rapt with attention.  Friends wait to be made, blank paper filled with colorful drawings and easels beckon for young artists unhampered by thoughts of how things should be, instead filled with the endless imaginings of how things can be. Soon enough, the rhythm instruments will ting and jingle, sticks will tap and little children will bounce around the room, most unable to sit for long.  They will be introduced to letters sounds, counting songs, The Pledge of Allegiance and happy songs of friendship.  They will make life-long friends here in this safe place and will tell secrets, whisper, and hug with abandon unable to keep from expressing the simple joy of loving a friend or the happiness of running out the door to play.  They will learn to appreciate the stillness of their own breath while in yoga postures stretching their bodies and minds to appreciate the stillness and space that allows for peacefulness.  The silence is space, yet it is full of possibilities, experiences yet unknown and the peace of planning for future memories that will resonate in a happy place contained in the hearts of the future residents of Room K.

Creating a character’s depth, by creating a history for the character can not only build the character, but can provide story-lines and future story plots.  Getting to know a character, becoming intimately acquainted with the character, can lead to the discovery of history, secrets, and knowledge of the character’s friends and family.  The Stepping Stones technique, writing the 12 most significant events in a life beginning with birth and ending with the current time, just might provide useful when getting to know myself too.  This blog, being a sort of self-exploration, allows me the luxury to try these writing techniques out using myself as a character guinea pig.  So here goes, the 12 most significant events in my life:

1.  I was born to my loving parents in New York.

2.  My parents divorced and my mother, sister and I moved to Los Angeles (mom’s hometown).  I lost all contact with my father.

3.  Mom got a job at Camp Kinneret and we got to go to summer camp.  I learned to love the outdoors and is spurred my creativity with song and art.

4.  My mother remarried and we got a real father.

5.  My Aunt Joyce died of breast cancer and because our families were so close, this had a huge impact on us all.

6.  Established friendships within my neighborhood and spent lots of time roaming the neighborhood, riding bikes, and in general “hanging out” which provided a lot of freedom.

7.  Met my best friend Sandy in 7^th grade and was lucky enough to know the devotion of a real best friend.  Sandy’s mom remarried and they moved to Hawaii.  Another loss.

8.  Started College at Valley College and became independent and found the love of learning.   Began working and found the freedom of earning some spending money, making new “work friends” and trying out different jobs. Moved away to UCSB and loved the life of a college student living by the beach and trying out all sort of different classes.

9.   Met Gary and began the relationship that became my marriage.

10. Became a mother of three daughters.

11.  Lost both parents.  Dad in 2000, Mom in 2008.

12.  Lived through the hardest period of time in my life and am just beginning to surface.

Well, this exercise was insightful, but I think 12 significant life events is not enough.  I began teaching in 1979 and have had a lot of significant experiences related to teaching for I could not fit in all of the really significant events and didn’t even have space for a huge one, the beginning of my teaching specifically at Topanga, in 1993.  This is an event that really dramatically changed the direction of my life.

So how complicated are characters?  I think I am pretty simple, but perhaps that simplicity has emerged from the complexities of life in general.  This exercise does make me reflect on the real landmarks of my life though and does put into perspective the relatively insignificant little daily annoyances that we generally blow up out of proportion. History is an ever-evolving story because in fact, the events of yesterday become part of your history as soon as you wake up the next morning.  Thinking of life that way, of a revolving series of events and circumstances, some permanent, some a transition is helpful when attempting to look at the big picture.  The big picture made up of lots of little events.

Yesterday I got a spiffy new haircut at a very reasonable price at Fantastic Sam’s and though it is layered and shorter than I had first intended, this morning I woke up feeling fresh, energetic and perky, the only adjective I can think of to describe the feeling.  So maybe significant events can be boiled down to lots of little life-altering events that change your mood, your perspective or your outlook, because, after all, how we approach life in turn influences the significance of our life.

Rituals cause us to pause and consider life for a bit, as punctuation at the end of the sentence causes us to take a brief pause.  The rituals may be simple pauses, like a period at the end of a sentence, or they may be questions, “why is this happening?”  Those pauses usually come with a more somber ritual, acknowledging a passing, or a life transition, such as the loss of a relationship or the change of a job.  The pause of excitement, exclamation, can be found during a pleasurable ritual, a wedding, the birth of a child, an anniversary, the phone call informing you that you have been hired, or your bid for the house was accepted.  Rituals can also be helpful to establish habits, as I am discovering as I develop a few habits I have determined to be for my betterment.

Yoga has saved me.  That is not a dramatic statement; it really has changed my life.  I have learned, through yoga, to calm down, to find a space that is comfortable and breathe.  It reminds me that the current “crisis” might just not be so important or cause for hysterics and when I relax in restorative yoga, I have 90 minutes to myself to breathe.  The ritual of yoga is one that has allowed me to stretch, to relax and to focus on breathing instead of the many other things I have to do.  During yoga class there have been times, many this past year, when tears have streamed down my face during shavasana and the relief was almost too much to bear.

The ritual of cardio exercise is an existing desire but slowing becoming a ritual.  Getting out or to the gym, beginning slowly but working up to that heavenly sweat and the pumping of my own heart, feels at once challenging and effortless.  When I first tried the elliptical exercise I could barely continue for 12 minutes, now after the requisite 30 minutes I could easily continue for another 30 and just put myself in the zone of exercise, dripping with contentment.

The ritual of reading in place of watching television is a happy ritual that I once possessed and am now enticing back into my life.  I have created a cozy little reading corner with a comfy chair, an ottoman, a corner table and a reading light, where I can gaze out the window, pondering my book or put up my feet and even doze contentedly between chapters.  I have another stack of books by my bedside and have now established the ritual of reading a chapter before bed, relinquishing the white noise of late night television.

The ritual of writing, of course the grandest ritual of all my newly established habits sits atop my collection of newfound favorites.  Writing, the instruments:  paper, pens, computer, the memorabilia I gaze at while writing, the photos of my mom and dad with me when I moved to college, my lovely Dalmatian and cute Sonny the mutt, my family complete with mom and dad at Nicole’s culmination from 5^th grade a month before my dad passed, and my endless notes scribbled with ideas.  Ideas that now seem to come from nowhere, and everywhere and must be quickly written before they fly away and I lose them forever.  I can corral the ideas and make them conform to my page, encasing them in a tidy package that can be opened by my readers.  My readers!

It might be due to my obsession with cakes lately; decorating cakes, studying cakes, mixing cakes from scratch, perusing the baking isle at Ralph’s for new and interesting cake mixes, but it suddenly occurred to me that cake is really symbolic of life.  First of all, there are all of the ingredients.  The quality of the ingredients influences the quality of the cake so it is important to look for that special vanilla (especially if you are making a white cake and then you must use clear vanilla in order to maintain the integrity of the cake’s color).  The flour should be unbleached because why not get as much nutrition out of the flower as possible and the sugar, finely sifted so the batter will not be clumpy and the eggs fresh, very fresh.  The proper ingredients are the bases for the cake, but the blending of ingredients and the order in which they are blended is equally important.

Blending cannot be done too quickly or at a speed too high.  The ingredients must fold together properly with the wet ingredients being blended first.  There is chemistry involved and it always surprises me when science sneaks into my life because I never really studied science per say, yet it just keeps popping up in unexpected places.

At last, ta-da, the frosting, ahhh the fluffy, fluffy frosting, the sweetness, the topping that something extra that makes the cake cry out “Eat me!”  Life should be sweet, and colorful and expressive and frosting is also useful for filling in the cracks of life.  Relationships that expire, jobs that don’t pan out, and people suddenly absent from your life, frosting helps to fill in those gaps, those little cracks where the cake dips, having stuck a little bit to the pan and with a little frosting, they will never know that there are crevices underneath the surface.  Presentation is everything, I like to say, and it does help with cakes as with other objects of life such as houses, and people.  A well-presented cake, complete with flowers, decorative icing and a pleasing design, can be the “ahhh” factor needed for that satisfied smile to appear.

Life is full of lessons and cake decorating is too.  There are little tricks one learns along the way, that make it a bit easier, such as freezing the cake for a bit before putting the final frosting on top of the crumb coat in order to provide a more workable surface, or putting the flowers in the freezer so they can “set.”  There are the boarders, “shells” or “stars” that finish of the edge of the cake and connect it beautifully to its base and of course the fate accompli is the edible glitter, which does nothing but add beauty.

My life is like a cake, complete with trial and error, frosting-filled gaps and goodness inside and though it isn’t always picture-perfect, in its own way, it always tastes the way it is supposed to, and there is always plenty for everyone who wants to bring a plate, a fork and cut off a slice.

A beautiful cake and a beautiful life.

Gratitude Dance

This little post is a freebie, in between my regular posts stemming from The Observation Deck.  I woke up thinking of how grateful I am for my family and friends, my sweet dog Charlie, my home, my job, and the last few days of summer.  I stumbled upon this gratitude dance while reading a blog and immediately decided to do the dance and pass it on.  If we all woke up and did a gratitude dance before starting our day, wouldn’t we have a happy world?  Well, at least we could have a happy workplace and a happy home.  I am all about the positive having just purchased two new books for my kindergarteners:  Fill A Bucket-A Guide to Daily Happiness for Young Children, and The Crayon Box That Talked, a book about tolerance and the importance of everyone’s contributions.

I am off to take sweet Charlie to get his teeth cleaned (yes, they do this for dogs to promote good health) and then to bake two cakes in preparation for tomorrow’s cake class.  Tonight is the Hollywood Bowl with my Aunt June.  See what I mean?  I have so much to be grateful for!  Look closely, you will find your own.  Start a Gratitude List and create a new one each day.

The Rockbottom Remainders

What a coincidence that today’s card relates to music and how it can influence writing and the creative flow.  My life is surrounded by music since my entire family is musically inclined and driven by various forces of music:  Gary by the rhythm found in all things, Kimberly working at a recording studio and a fan of bands and singers, a singer herself, Nicole, budding guitarist with her first public performance in two days and her internship at a recording studio for the summer and Danielle, talented on so many instruments including her voice and using music to fuel her passion for dancing.  Where do I fit in to this musical family?  I appreciate music and love many genres of music.  I love exploring new music, but I especially love the stories behind the music, behind the musicians and what motivates the musicians to create the music that we all love.

I decided to take the advice and listen to music while I write tonight and I must admit it is helpful in blocking out the household noises and wrapping me in a world consisting of my chair, the headphones and my laptop.  I am currently listening to Granada Doaba, a compilation of local songs from musicians in Granda, Spain put together by an ethnomusicology student, Canyon Cody, on a Fulbright scholarship in Granda.  It has flamenco and hip-hop flamenco.  It is multicultural fusion and a collaboration of local artists.  Finding a group of similar, motivated artists is a gift and offers an interesting peek into an alternate lifestyle.

Creative people (and who isn’t creative, really) need to find various forms of outlets for their creativity so it can exit the confines of the body and flow out into the world impacting others.  I find it fascinating that The Rock Bottom Remainders band formed by writers Stephen King, Amy Tan, Barbara Kingsolver, Dave Berry and Ridley Pearson allowed these writer/rockers to use another art as a creative form of expression.  I admire these writers and am a big fan in particular, of Amy Tan and Barbara Kingsolver.  I got a ticket to see Barbara Kingsolver speak at the Writer’s Guild in November and am so excited to hear her speak after reading so many of her books.  So the world of music is related to speaking, which is related to characters speaking and thinking and living their lives in the books we read.  My music is the words I hear dancing in my head and demanding to be let out onto the page to play for everyone.

The structure of writing compared to the structure of a building makes me think of some way to create a cozy place, with windows letting in light, revelations, doors to provide security and protectiveness, yet that can be swung open to provide opportunities, rooms to organize the space into an efficient living space, a roof to shelter and a sturdy foundation to keep me grounded.  While creating this blog, this cozy home for my writing, I have the foundation of the blog format, the support of the Observation Deck to create windows from which to view and frame the outside world, my creativity serving as the doors to new opportunities and new viewpoints, and the separate blog entries serving as the rooms of my writing home.

I sit down each evening when the dinner dishes are done, the dog attended to, everyone settled into his or her evening activities, turn on the cooling fan blowing a breeze as I sit pondering the evening’s card at my writing desk.  I read the accompanying description in the booklet, an idea pops into my head and my fingers fly across the keyboard.  I dream of longer stories, of fascinating stories that people are unable or unwilling to put down, even for a moment.  I fantasize about published writing and acceptance letters instead of dismissing emails, and the structure of the blog frames my writing and sells itself.  I am self-published and satisfied to be beginning my adventure.  Thankfully, writing is an activity that can last a lifetime and doesn’t depend on a youthful body, extreme amounts of energy or actually getting hired. It stems from a deeper passion burning within and exiting through my fingertips.

One of the most humbling experiences is being caught in a situation that requires asking for help for at first it feels foreign and slightly shameful to ask for help because we think, “I should be able to do this myself.”  Then when a friend offers to help, to listen or to do a favor, the weight lifted is so immeasurable and the relief so true and genuine, that it makes asking for help in the future a little bit easier.  By asking for help the giver gets to feel needed and important and the receiver feels connected to another human being.  Just knowing that someone out there cares, is sometimes the boost one needs to move forward.