I AM joy

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Originally posted on Doodles Invigorate:


In order to have a good day, it’s necessary to tell bad vibes you will not participate in its antics. True success comes from finding good in bad. No matter what mood is trying to takeover, name yourself joy today! Practice how you will tell negativity to leave and never come back.

joy: (1) A feeling of great happiness. (2) A source or cause of great happiness. Something or someone that gives joy to someone. (3) Success in doing, finding, or getting something. (definition from merriam-webster.com)

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Writers on Writing

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From New York Public Library Blog: Authors share their best writing tips.

Quote of the Day: Michael Crichton

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“We all live every day in virtual environments, defined by our ideas.”
Michael Crichton


A Little More Pretty Boy.

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Pretty is the most laid back dog I ever encountered. However there was an incident when I first met him. He looked me in the eye and started barking. I was scared because he has a very deep voice. If you can imagine Barry White, woof-woofing, that’s Pretty. I’m not trying to put down Barry White, but Barry has a voice most people know.

Anyway, I asked Michael, “Why is he barking at me? I don’t think the likes me.”

Michael says, “He’s barking because you’re in what he considers his part of the couch.”

I looked at Pretty and said, “Look, I’m sitting here. There’s no other place to sit.”

He gave me a look that said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.” Then he turned his back and went to sleep.

This is Pretty Boy

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That’s the name he had on him when he and his sister were left on the steps of the Humane Society. Michael adopted him. I’m afraid of dogs, but I love Pretty. He’s the only dog who has been loving and kind to me. Not all pitbulls are violent, mean,and dangerous. Just look at him all dressed up for Halloween. He’s truly as adorable as he looks.

Poetry: Beyond Harm By Sharon Olds

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“Beyond Harm”
Sharon Olds

A week after my father died
suddenly I understood
his fondness for me was safe—nothing
could touch it. In those last months,
his face would sometimes brighten when I would
enter the room, and his wife said
that once, when he was half asleep,
he smiled when she said my name. He respected
my spunk—when they tied me to the chair, that time,
they were tying up someone he respected, and when
he did not speak, for weeks, I was one of the
beings to whom he was not speaking,
someone with a place in his life. The last
week he even said it, once,
by mistake. I walked into his room, and said “How
are you,” and he said, “I love you
too.” From then on, I had
that word to lose. Right up to the last
moment, I could make some mistake, offend him, and with
one of his old mouths of disgust he could re-
skew my life. I did not think of it,
I was helping to take care of him,
wiping his face and watching him.
But then, a while after he died,
I suddenly thought, with amazement, he will always
love me now, and I laughed—he was dead, dead!

The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens

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“The Snow Man”

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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