Why Blogging Is A Must

adamjasonp:

Proof that writing can be very beneficial. Austin wouldn’t even be writing for The Nite Show if it wasn’t for the mental exercise he employs for his WordPress blog.

Originally posted on The Return of the Modern Philosopher:

JumpstartHappy Saturday, Modern Philosophers!

I thought I’d try something different with this week’s Jump Start Your Brain post.  I know it’s late in the day to give your gray matter a jolt, but I wanted to share some Deep Thoughts that will kick your thought process into high gear despite the hour.

Recently, someone asked me why I “waste my time” blogging when I could be focusing on money making projects like screenplays, books, or a TV show.

I know the person meant well, and I laughed it off with a witty answer, but now I want to take the time to explain why blogging is a must for me.

Blogging gives me focus.  Sure, I don’t make any money from this blog, but it certainly gives my life focus.  I’ve written at least one blog post every day since November 1, 2012.  No matter what kind of day…

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Lasting Impressions

Welcome to another installment of Friday Fiction.  Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, people from all over the globe try, as they may, at writing a three-part short story for a picture prompt before week’s end.  A really short story, at that—no more than a hundred words.  (Quite a challenge to make every word count.)  This week’s prompt photo is from Kent @ wmqcolby.

…Here’s my lovely little tale. ;)

100 words


[kent.jpeg]
Photo Copyright © Kent Bonham

“So you’re a collector?”  Make a good impression, Elyse.  Wow, getting that promotion’s gotten to my head.  I managed to break a smile.

He cocked his head.  “A collector of sorts.”  He smiled back.  “My… you’re beautiful.”

I blushed.  “Uh, I’ve never been to an art gallery before.”

He chuckled.  “Neither have I.”

I thought I hit the jackpot.  He even replaced my worn shoes!

Before long, I saw his place.

“Could I use your bathroom?”

“Last door on the left.”

I snuck into the bedroom.  The door closed behind me.  “Jim?”  I couldn’t find a knob.

“Welcome home, Elyse.”


Click here to add your story or see what others have written for the prompt.

Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s Fictioneers page, stories, and artwork.  You can follow Purple for the prompt each Wednesday.

Tired

Ugh, getting tired so easily these days… I cannot, for the life of me, tolerate certain things anymore.  Well, of course much the same could be said for anyone, aging… But it’s not a normal part of aging to be so…“out of it” like this.

…Life can be such an upward battle.  Oh, well.

Part of the change is good, though.  Any change has to have a good side, right?  Bear with me. Continue reading Tired

Lights in Motion

Welcome to Friday Fic, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt photo is directly from her.

100 words


[hyde-hall-light.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

An odd place for an odd chandelier, I thought.  “You’ve Been Shot”— the title of the new film.  A comedy?

I enter the theater, and attempt to recall who starred.  The movie had already started.  I sat down, empty handed— something about that worried me.

A dramatic scene became real.  Actual people were on the stage now.  Wanting the antagonist to change, I became him, now on the stage in front of an audience, as if in a play.

Intense pain shot through my abdomen.

I woke up to lights in motion blur.  Paramedics were trying to stop the bleeding.


The goal for Friday Fictioneers is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in at most 100 words, based on the prompt photo.  You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to add yours or see what others have written for the prompt.

Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers page, stories, and artwork.  You can follow Purple for the prompt each Wednesday.

Behind These Green Eyes

Originally posted on The many writings of Adinah:

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*Poetic scenes from my journal*

Entry date: May 31st, 2015

Words and picture by me

Look at me, what is it you see?
Because behind THESE green eyes,
Lies a soul that’s been crushed too many times
Within THIS body, broken promises and dreams haunt this mind
NO, things are not always what they seem
THIS soul has taken each blow and hit, you see she’s been told..
She would never amount to anything more, this was it
THIS soul has seen the darkest of places, a WORLD where people wear masks that are faces
We hide behind this skin, never taking the chance to look within
You CAN NOT look upon the surface only
BEYOND, there is always more to the story
We MUST learn to rise above, understand we’ve all walked in HELL
Listen to the stories the other has to TELL

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Audacious Dawn

adamjasonp:

“And accents freckles upon the face of angels…”
Oh, my. :) Lotta <3 here.

Originally posted on The Vision of Poets:

Audacious Dawn

Audacious Dawn

She moved her face directly before my eyes
As if daring me to look directly
Into those of her own…
Dark shades of scarlet flowing in sparkling wisps
With the morning breeze
Surrounding a smile that makes one
Stand in wonder of just what pleasures
The day may bring…
She so willingly offers
The softest of light…
Anointing the darkness that shades
The horizon of so many…
Giving hope that the sun will shine
Its countenance upon them
If only they could breathe a single breath
Within her radiance…
As her delicate essence flows
In the earliest of morn
Her blush of crimson
Gently kissing the songs of sparrows
As they sprinkle the sky
Like freckles upon the face of angels…
Drifting away from my physicality
Into the lure of her sparkling eyes
Time ceases to be…
Where eternity becomes reality…
Enchanting my soul with the very essence

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Shooting the Breeze

Welcome to Friday Fic, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

It’s proof enough how hard it is for me to write for real that nothing came over the past three days, and…well, here’s what did come, today.  Enjoy.

100 words


[kitche-picture-prompt.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Raina Ng

I spared the table the gory details.

Lucy hadn’t a clue.  She tried to lift our spirits, in her way, stating the obvious, and trying too hard at humor.

Frankie removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.  Obviously, he hadn’t enough to drink.  I pictured him ringing her neck, but he saved his energy.  His uncle died, I was ill, but no one wanted to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room.  We weren’t professionals, for certain.

Well, the elephant trumpeted.  Our contacts dropped like flies, and we were likely next.  We ran like there’s no tomorrow.


The goal for Friday Fictioneers is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in at most 100 words, for the prompt photo.  You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to add yours or see what others have written.

Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers page, stories, and artwork.  You can follow Purple for the prompt each Wednesday.

The Steps of the Buddha

adamjasonp:

Food for thought, food for the soul.

Originally posted on Live Love Laugh:


A story is told that, early in his ministry, a delegation of seekers came to Prince Gautama, to sit at his feet and to receive his words of wisdom. They were very impressed by all that the somewhat mysterious young man had to say, until one of them finally asked the prince, “Who are you, anyway? Are you a god?”

“No,” the prince is said to have replied.

“Are you a saint?” asked another.

“No,” the prince replied.

“Are you a prophet?”

“No, not a prophet.”

“Well, then,” all the pilgrims cried at once, “who are you, then?”

And very calmly, the story goes, the Buddha replied: “I am awake.” That’s what the word “Buddha” means, literally: to be awake.

Such was the Buddha’s definition of enlightenment: to be awake—fully, vibrantly awake—to everything that is happening all around you. To be awake to the infinite spiritual potential of each and…

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Flying by…

It’s June.

…And now that I’m back online after being nickled-and-dimed on…data. —I shouldn’t even be talking about data…but the only service with coverage in this remote area…is expensive.  Beyond being pulled away, it’s the reading and the mood swings—er, stress as an introvert, that makes being pulled away from the reading (and making the reading worth it) feel like a vacation.
Continue reading Flying by…

A regular Memorial Day at Back Cove, Portland

If you’ve ever wanted to visit Portland, Maine, you don’t want to miss Back Cove Trail.  It’s a sight in itself, and a place that can easily be taken for granted of, if you live here…like me.

It was the 25th, a.k.a Memorial Day, and I didn’t notice anything to signify the day in particular, besides the fact that it was a national holiday and stores were closed.
Continue reading A regular Memorial Day at Back Cove, Portland