Posted in everyday living, Your Turn

List, Life, Conundrums

"A Negress" by Thomas Eakins. This i...
“A Negress” by Thomas Eakins. This is one of ten of Eakin’s works that include black persons. Martin A. Berger (2000). Man made: Thomas Eakins and the construction of Gilded Age manhood, 131. University of California Press. He painted the portrait from life while a student at the Beaux-Arts in Paris. Jules Chametzky (1969). Black & white in American culture: an anthology from the Massachusetts review, 276. Univ of Massachusetts Press. References: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Have you ever noticed how much easier it is to list thoughts and not write them out as in, say, a journal? Paragraphs require  coherency, a pinpointing of emotion. Either way, I tend to summarize rather than root around the bottom of a pit. And, yes, I am in one, but I’m uncertain whether it’s a pit of despair, frustration, or depression. I suppose it is a pit of confusion. Yeah, that’s it.

 

Here is a recent post on the sister blog:

 

WE’VE GOT LIST

 

 

 

*How about you? What’s on your list this week? Do share.

 

 

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Author:

2011 Nano winner 2009 special mention in Writer's Journal for "Silent Words" Poet, avid reader, lover of art, average Jane

7 thoughts on “List, Life, Conundrums

  1. Sorry to hear you’re in a pit and I just read the list, so I think I know why…anyway, re: #4, I think it’s best to embrace it, while also taking one more step forward. Then after time, you’ve moved past it and time does heal, I’ve found out. I lost my Mom a little over a year ago and there were days of crying, many of them. Now, I think of her and smile, her memory, her beauty bring me peace. Yes, I miss her, but I now know that in time, grief changes to a new level…hang in there and I’m sending many cyber hugs your way..xo
    Lauren

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    1. Aw,thnk u lauren for such a beautiful comment. I think the hardest part is how he died. He was coming home from fishing, on foot and met up with a train while crossing. I’m okay, I just miss him.

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  2. Ah, the pits! It stinks when we fall into a pit. We can be going along great-strides and a big-old-wet-blanket gets tossed over us, and bam! we are in a funk. I have to wonder if maybe it is our cellular level trying to tell us to stop and smell the roses???

    Sending you cyber hugs and good wishes. (((hugs))) 🙂

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    1. Thank you. I’m fine. Just struggling with grief. I’ve kept myself so occupied that every time it rears its head, I shove it back into the closet. I suppose, eventually, I’ll have to accept and embrace it in order for it to leave me alone :-/

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