Muse Wars - The Memories.

Lori @ RRSAHM has taken me back in time to a happier world. A group of us joined together in creative writing challenges. Muse Wars. The before, as she aptly calls it. Before I lost Wise Woman, before her own personal tragedy with the loss of Tony, before the pain of the recent.

The early, 2010, first run days were far more successful than my later attempts to revive the group. And nowadays, the Write on Wednesday group has superseded our small, intimate bunch of compatriots.

But, here, on a day where distractions call me away from the pain of the now, I give you Muse Wars:

2010:
Challenge 1: Walking Away
Challenge 2: Look Not In My Eyes For Fear
Challenge 3: Seasons of Love
Challenge 4: The Things We Do For Love
Challenge 5: Storm in a B Cup
Challenge 6: The Sunset
Challenge 7: Beam Me Up Scotty
2011:
Challenge 1: Eyes of a Gypsy, Soul of a Wife
 
Miscellaneous: Many Coloured Love (not completed)
 
So, if you are up for some light, short story reading and relaxation - go for it.
 
I miss Muse Wars, *sigh*. I miss a lot of things, especially the people who are gone.
 

How Do You Say Goodbye?

 My mobile rang this morning. Not that early, but still earlyish for Boxing Day. Undecided whether to answer it I glanced at the name and pushed the answer button with a "Helloooo gorgeous!"

I expected it to be my friend of twenty-three years, instead it was her husband. "I'm sorry mate, I have some bad news. She's gone."

She's gone.

My friend, my mate, my loyal, wonderful, kind, generous, loving friend. Gone.

Now I need to sit and write once more for her. Not the speech for her wedding, not the one for her first divorce. The one for her funeral. The last of 1001 nights tales is going to be one of truth and love. I am going to bring her into our hearts, not that she ever left. And I will try not to cry. For her. I will laugh and rejoice in her life, and keep my sadness far away.

Lisa 1996

Because there will be two little girls sitting in that church, watching, trusting, hurting. Needing to see and feel their Mum through my words.

I love you Lise, I will miss you every day of my life.

Hornet's Nest - Or How Nuffnang Stuffed Up Big Time

I am a tiny little fish in a very big pond of Aussie bloggers. This year, my voice has been even smaller as I struggle to post in this busy world.

But over at Digital Parents a large hornet's nest is opening up and spilling forth multiple Mummy bloggers buzzing with ire, as some of our most proficient and well known big fish bloggers are leaping vocally out of the Australian territorial pool.
"Why?" I hear you ask.

Well you see in the blogosphere there is a large commercial presence that goes under the name Nuffnang. You see their banner on many a blog, and also the multiple ads that go hand in hand with said banner. I am not a commercial blogger, but that is a whole other post.

Now Nuffnang run annual awards. Many of the more well known bloggers are nominated in lots of various categories. The most influential blogger being one of the biggies.

And, in my opinion, they stuffed it. They chose a blog I decline to link, for I will not be responsible for boosting traffic to such a site. I find this person blatantly offensive, racist and sick in her rants. I will not term them posts for, from what I have seen, they do not deserve to be categorised as such. I would not even compare her writing to the scribblings of a child, they lack any style and the content is... well, vomit-worthy.

If this is what they consider the best of the Asia Pacific region then I must admit I am proud to not be affiliated with Nuffnang.

Oh, and the best bit? They chose to blatantly ignore their own TERMS AND CONDITIONS by choosing this blog as the winner! Commercial whoring at its finest!

Thank you DP for revealing this travesty.

Boy, am I grateful to be a little fish at this point!

My Weekend Ungrateful...

Do you remember the days when you were young and you were the last one sitting, waiting to be picked? Be it sport, or debating, fun or competition, how many of you can still recall that horrific hard, solid lump of sadness in the pit of your stomach as the last to pick goes "I guess you are on our team then..."

Frday my heart broke a little. Friday I had to let go of a another slice of my preconceptions. Friday I watched my son in that very position at a school excursion.

I am struggling to think of the greatness of this week as those horrible memories flood back over and over again. I need to remember they are MY scars, not his, and hope that times like this are not forming their own deep within my wonderful son.

For whilst his buddies ran around the theme park, having fun, laughing, for the most of it my son remained with me. Forgotten by his peers.

If his best mate C had been there, this would never have happened. But he does not go to this school.

My child's achievements are incredible. His last report card of Grade 7 was flooded with A's in achievement and behaviour, the comments were wonderful, positive, even a little awe flowed through the words.

His book is looking more and more like it WILL be published - he is 13... who manages to get a book published at 13???

He is happy, settled in his own skin, content to be him... because to be him is pretty awesome!

I need to realise that this pain and anger and frustration is my own, born of my emotions and feelings. Hell, I do realise it BUT it is so damn hard not to let it flow onto his situation.

I need to remember my ending... the fact that those kids in primary school who always picked me last were the very ones who clamoured for me to be their first choice in high school as both my athletic and academic abilities soared.

I need to listen to my son, who when asked if he felt left out or lonely replied "Why would I Mum? I love being with you, we laugh so much and have such fun."

My scars, not his. I love you Boy 1, and really am trying to let your generousity of spirit flow into my essence... but whilst it is still slowly permeating I will  hide my tears.

This is my weekend really wish I was grateful.

Sorry.