Tag Archives: Memories
I’ve been on a minor setback this season as the cold Winter blues and Wet Spring have lost their grip and Summer has claimed my vision with much greenery and birds-a-singing.
I journal, I keep track of my mental comings and goings, and yes, this cycle is right on course. Wintertime, I’m feeling cozy and protected inside. With the only real outdoor activity being shoveling and surviving the drive to and fro, the free time is then on the upswing. My mind ventures forth and reminisces about the times in my teens, when winter meant Holidays, snow days and gatherings of friends and family. Those were great times of reading and roleplaying. AD&D, JRRT, Grenadier figures, bags of dices…paper and pencil, graph paper, late nights. Creating, adventuring, fellowshipping with my friends unto the wee hours of the morn.
Those are the Winter Days of yore though, but I still crave the RPGs, work on them, and read much more in the winter time. It’s how I was raised.
Summertime though, calls me outside to plant, get in the dirt work, on the outdoor stuff (98 Chevy Silverado stuff), garden, cut grass, and embrace the sun. Become Pagan again after months of Christian-based media…settle down with Buddha again, taming the cravings…feeling one with nature, taming the monkeys…feeling one with all, taming Hanuman. With all that pent up get- yo-ass outside energy, my creativity, born in memories and cold isolation, fade.
It is a battle, especially in this beautiful 3-coast state, to set down at the keyboard and type. A battle to sit down and read. A battle to review. Outside calls to damn near 2200 hrs. Bonfires, being by the water, walking trails….ugh, it’s all such innocent temptation.
But soon, I realize that I should not cop-out on my dreams and passions and blame it on everything, including the seasons (I did this about 2 weeks ago). When I create, write, even something as shitty as this, I feel like my real self. You must turn in, struggle a bit and do what will give you a smile in the aftermath, not what gives you instant gratification. We all know how quick that fades.
Struggle. Be. Smile.
The Blurb: It’s the 1950s. There’s always something good on the radio, cherry red Cadillacs cruise the streets and everything is always perfect. Marilyn is still alive and the War is over. America goes to bed, nuclear annihilation postponed another day. Welcome to the American Nightmare.