The Neverending Story

Found on new follower @wallacecass (thankyou) who found it on @dray0308 Dream Big posted by @izzyasabee; thankful it found ME…” Why? No one will understand what you said anyway.” Enjoy

izzyasabee's avatarizzyasabee

“[Studies have] found that people working in creative fields, including dancers, photographers and authors, were 8% more likely to live with bipolar disorder.
Writers were a staggering 121% more likely to suffer from the condition,
and nearly 50% more likely to commit suicide than the general population.”

– From “The dark side of creativity: Depression + anxiety x madness = genius?”
by William Lee Adams

From my own experience, I know that often times, depression and anxiety can go hand in hand with creativity. I have good friends and family members who are artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, actors, directors, and producers. I would say about 75% of them have struggled with some form of mental illness at one time or another.

When creative people are so stressed and busy that they do not take the time to utilize their gifts, it becomes difficult. The other issue is that many people…

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Reblog It #12: How to Gain Free Exposure for Your Blog: Reblogging

OKay, so I re-blogged a re-blog, does that count?  lol! Too much fun today!

 

Reblogged on WordPress.com

Source: Reblog It #12: How to Gain Free Exposure for Your Blog: Reblogging

Dream Big is doing it again!!!

I remember meeting Dream Big in July; one of the many appeals then was that his posts were under 500 words (I go cross-eyed after awhile, especially in class!) Anyway, high fives and pay it forward if your working this weekend.

my twitter: @trudistreasures and @parkerfinance

Personally I need to get some 3D work done today!

Go, forth and post, reblog and all that jazz.

xo

Tru

 

The Invitation

We took a break –
as oft when they came,
they bring delight
’tis the name of the game.

The picnic complete
we pick up our tins~
Sugar now rampant!
and running begins.

Up and down the slide;
on and off the swings.
Me on the side  e’er watchful
alert ~  my thing.

Post picnic ‘glycemic
He glances my way
uh…no one else there
What did you say?

<Blink>

He catches my eye
“chase me”
intent with a dare,
followed by a stare?!

Blue eyes inviting,
What?  You’re asking me??
Would I just  wish
to run with thee?

Grasping the moment,
I throw off my shoes
Much to my surprise,
there went my blues!

“And they’re off!”
Not the horses
of course it’s just us.

Parker Picnic

Blond curly hair and eyes of blue
mirror in my memory; not so long ago…

Just let him beat me

breathe ~ just ~ breathe

oh really you see?
As he would have it,
He let me beat he!

But wait!
There are birds
a bunch of them, see?
Let’s chase them
and catch them
First you, now me.

bird watching

‘Twas just one day
I’ll never forget it.
an afternoon’s sway
with a child at play.
Really there’s no end
to have fun and pretend.

Shaken, not stirred

Good day dear reader,

I’ve had plenty of opportunity this week for several titles during my random thoughts and not so random activity. But first,

“Boomers and Traditionals” – granted, I’ve recently been freed from twenty years in a cubicle, and I declare,  I heard these two words used together for the first time last Thursday! I accepted an invitation to and attended the Women’s Conference “Be Bold and Thrive” held on the USC campus. A terrific full day, with women, chatter, brainstorm and ideas, inspiration and bold coffee. My take-away? Boomers & Traditionals, by golly, that’s us. My partner and I – to the “T.”

Sharing a chuckle with you … shaken, not stirred circled around in my thoughts yesterday when we together began our first attempt to “chalk paint” the baker’s rack in our patio. He, of course had gone into the house for something just after I had opened the can of black paint and began to mix it using the pointy base of a burnt out 1.5 foot solar light. (yes, you read that right, the alleged solar light  hasn’t sat upright in the sun enough to gain it’s solar vita-D battery charge; it was ugly to boot; and I had no other object with which to stir nearby).

Anyway, the paint was really thick and started as a gorgeous fuschia! (stay with me). Stir, stir. “Self, this is pretty and all, but it’s not turning black.”   stir, stir…Hmm.  shaken…”maybe I can get him to shake this as certainly there’s some benefit to”…has it really been that long since I’ve painted? “Ah, Bond. James Bond…the phrase had nothing to do with paint.”

Long story short: upon full execution, the paint was olive green, the quaint old can was black; and I judged a book by it’s color.

Don't judge a book by its color!
Don’t judge a book by its color!