Tag: life

I’m Back

Good morning y’all. It’s 3:30. A good time to write. I have been absent, due to the fact that people were reading this blog.

And AI’s interference. They are demeaning. I get enough of that walking in the street. I don’t need to be bothered, and I don’t want to be told by them about my writing.

I know people are loving it. They’re writing books left and write. This is dangerous. The dumb down of America.

Ok, enough of that.

I am going to have to re-familiarize myself with my blog. An entire gallery widget was removed. And I don’t know what’s happening with my photos, but they keep tagging them screen shot. That might mean that someone has stolen them and it looks like they are the photographer of my photos. That’s what I get for being so damn good.

I am full of complaints.

My family….hahaha. Now that people actually read this shitty blog. I have to think about what I say differently. Yes, I will be censoring my mind. A self monitoring, censor. Not AI coming at me. Go figure. – Me censoring. This is a bold statement I just made and possibly untrue. As some of my stories might be. Not all, but some.

It’s a new start. Difficult, but worth it. Many of the best things in life are earned. Trudging the road to our happy destiny.

Putting this post together is difficult. I have to read. I have to think. It’s good exercise.

By the way. Have you ever tried Pilates?

Noir – are you out there, buddy.

—– add on —- I’m searching for my categories – Dates and years. AI has prompted me to choose The New You. I guess they mean the new me. noOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

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Granny Grunt Goes Fishing

I graduated with a BFA in figure painting in 1996. When I left the university some teachers were complaining that the students wouldn’t even bother to draw. “Why should we? We can just trace.”

I left the convenience of a studio I had created. I walked away from the world I knew to go surfing and to live in CR. There has been one adventure/blustering sand filled, mud slung piece of hell after another. With rays from heaven piercing the clouds, like arrows, to my soul. And now here I am.

Fish Eye. Looking at the big picture.

I’m looking back. It’s hard to believe.

Continue reading Granny Grunt Goes Fishing

What’s next?

I don’t know.

And neither does anyone else.

I have no clear sense of direction. How could I? One does certain things in life, expecting things to occur. The results of your hard work and perseverance. MML That just doesn’t work for me. I truly have to live my life one day at a time.

On the Road Again

It’s 4 in the morning. Once again, I am hitting the road. A ride with a friend, to the airport, to Atlanta, switch luggage. Re-enter the country. On to Jax. Be met by a happy leprechaun who will speak with a brogue and inform us, in a light hearted yet serious manner, the antics, adventures and misadventures, of our island. Amelia.

This has been an extensive stay, here in Surfside, Costa Rica.

I never in my imagination could have come up with the life style that I now lead.

I was taught by the best.

  1. Don’t be in a hurry.
  2. Don’t follow the crowd.
  3. Your health is you wealth.
  4. Love yourself and others.
  5. God is good. God is everywhere.
  6. Pay your bills.
  7. Know you are powerless.
    a. if you don’t think that you are, speak to someone who has lost everything due to catastrophic weather
  8. Don’t worry be happy.
  9. Be clean.
  10. Eat right – sleep good

    Enjoy the trip. We have hurricanes brewing. And coffee. And books. And love.

Annual Blog Check Up

Screenshot

This post is an annual check up of my blog.

Hhhhmmmm. A year ago, I was writing – I felt as if the flesh was being torn from the bones of my soul.

I can read that poem and remember. Oh, it was awful.

I came here to Potrero, thinking I was going to help, the kid, go to the University. Nada, no way Jose. This boy is going to swing a machete the rest of his life. – Okay – that took a while to process – to come down from. What a crock of mierda. – Who knows, the many piles of manure that I have stepped in, have become fertilizer in my life.

Continue reading Annual Blog Check Up

Personal Waste

I do not understand the New Gringos. But I have witnessed it over and over. No desire to assimilate into the culture of the country.

A ride to the beach use to be like a dream and now it’s a nightmare.

I don’t care to elaborate on this freaky manner that tourism and immigration (progress) has caused.

After surviving my life’s traumas I woke up to an unrecognizable world. But I am not “woke”. According to Trump the KKK are good people. Homeless people are sleeping on the sidewalks, dying from phentanol, and some people think all white people are bad and all black people are good.

I give up. I surrender. It’s best for me to work to have a good day and be kind to the people in front of me.

To provide details of the misery I have created for myself, would be stirring the cauldron. I can’t straighten this world out. Kimberly and Kristy are behaving like mean girls, but chances are they are oblivious to their ignorance. And Ellen can remember when. I do too. The change is horrific. The people on the beach are being bull dozed over. Pura vida.

I know my heart. I am not greedy or jealous of anyone. I don’t even understand those two character defects at the moment. I can’t imagine being angry at some poor woman trying to feed her kids. Or hurt some child; not wanting them to experience a lunch, in the school hours. I’m not fearful. That’s the worst. And the best.

The answer is meditation.

Aesthetic

Self Portrait

This screen shot of my media pics, at a glance, are the most representative of my life at this moment.

I am taken back again. Over and over. Never disappointed at the changes in our lives; our world.

I came to Costa Rica to be an aesthetic and live with the Indians. That happened and it didn’t happen.

God gives and God takes away…I am not God.

I have a brain. I will assume that you have one as well. Artificial Intelligence is bizarre to say the least. No vision, no artistry, no spiritual connection.

Artificial

Burglars, Racism and WTF is Ornithology

As Talwan rants on his dead stacks, I am in the jungle experiencing life. I guess Tal uses 5 syllable words to impress students. Yeah he knows what a verb is. Good Lord. The pendulum swings. The dog barks. The cock crows. The monkeys howls. And in the meantime, apartheid raises its ugly head.

As I passed the pool, young kids were taking their diving instruction. I thought, is there some way to correct this problem? I paid for a Nicaraguan youth to have diving lessons with this group. The South African leader shuffled him into Cepia. I lost my 300 dollars. Would he have done that to a white child here. What! No Way! But a Nicaraguan is viewed as less than. Someone to be a mule. Carry a load.

It’s difficult to go up against. It can be strenuous and energy depleting work. But it’s also its own reward.

I did what I could. I let it go. I place it in the hands of the historians.

I am from Jacksonville FL. A place known for its mean and racial attitude. Past and present. But I don’t mind what anyone says. It is better now.

Yes, it was a conundrum. A terrible, horrible, vile existence in the south. But not all white people were bad and all black people lovely minstrels.

How’s that for a vocabulary. Nouns, verbs, predicates. Mercy me. I think I’ll write a song.

Burglars – people have been stealing since the beginning. We have break-ins here in Costa Rica all of the time. But somehow it’s suppose to be different here. Come to think of it. It is different here.

Pura vida.

Be a beautiful bird watcher.

As you soak in the beautiful colors. The vultures are behind you, sucking up your sh*t, amigo.

Pura vida.

The words are the same. The meaning different.

Costa Rica Life: Confronting a Burglar Without Borders

I opened my eyes to an unreal and dreaded scene. My mind was saying no, this is not happening. It is happening. Damn it – this is real. My husband was halfway across the room, machete in hand. My dog was perched at my feet, muscles pumped and barking ferociously.

A drug addicted young man, probably illegal, had opened our door and was coming into our house. A crime of opportunity. The door had been left unlocked.

He ran. But he didn’t get far.

Living in Costa Rica is a game of life. A gamble. Different. Either you can adapt or you can’t. Either you live scared or you don’t.

We’re fortunate he didn’t have a gun. He was a desperate, high, kid – someone that three weeks ago, my husband had bought food for. He had been in front of the grocery store; begging. And now he was helping himself to our space. Our home.

Since this “shitty blog” is my journal, I feel the need to document. I also feel the need to write more. But I also have to clean my burlap ceiling.

Come on down to Costa Rica….catch a fish…catch a burglar.

The boat could sink – you could get hurt.

I have to go. I have to clean my ceiling.

Creating a Fairy Tale Home: Embracing Innovation and Independence

We are working to make our home, a home again. Years ago we purchased this corner lot. It was God given. We shared it with another family, but now we are on our own. I am becoming innovative.

I always work to make my places look Fairy Tale. Who needs other’s reality when I can create my own.

I live on the edge of Mordor.

I am surrounded by traveling leprechauns and immigrant ghosts.

Together we live our best lives.