Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Doom is stalking me.

That's what I feel like today. That creepy uneasy feeling that doom is stalking me.   I feel like I've made mistakes that will permanently changes things, and not for the good.   I let my son go out to walk and be with his friends.  He can get access to weed on the outside.  On the inside where I can try to keep him safe, he pushes me to the breaking point, and that is not a safe thing either.  I want him out of our house and in a facility where they can make structure and consequences and he has no one to manipulate and play his little mind games with.

But most importantly I want this feeling of doom hanging over me to lighten up and shift or melt away.

I feel trapped.  I don't see a way out. 


Note to self: don't read Stephen King books when you feel this way.
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