Wordless Wednesday 1/4/17
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Supercize Me
Today’s Daily Post Discover Challenge asks us to celebrate our Superpower.
I don’t generally contemplate superheroes and superpowers. I didn’t read comic books as a kid, and I didn’t play with superpeople action figures.
If there were superhero video games – actually if there were any video games – in those long ago days, I was oblivious to their existence. The only game I knew that employed a joystick was Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots.
I do recall watching Batman and Robin on TV, but the only real superpower they seemed to have was the ability to slide down a fire pole and arrive at the bottom dressed in full crime-fighting regalia. I don’t recall ever seeing how they got back into their civvies after saving Gotham City and returning to the bat cave. Maybe they shinnied back up the pole, gathering back the bits and pieces of clothing from where they had been shucked on the way down.
It would appear that superheroes don’t generally get to choose their special powers. Spiderman was accidentally bitten by a radioactive spider. He may have wanted to grow up to be a human cannonball, but no – the errant arachnid consigned him to scaling walls and spewing dental floss from his palms.
Superman was born with his powers, which weren’t even “super” on his planet of birth; they just appeared so to the non-super types here on Earth. Wonder Woman’s powers were gifts from the Greek gods. I doubt she got to pick her gifts. You know how Greek gods are, always wanting things done their way.
As to my own superpower… well, I have the power to see things that aren’t there. No, I don’t hallucinate. Let me rephrase a bit. You know those intuitive types of people who can see past facades and insincerities? It is often said of them that they see situations and people for what they truly are. I, on the other hand, see things for what they’re not.
It usually starts innocently enough. I’ll be going about my own business when something random unexpectedly catches my eye. A thought bubble appears above my head that says, “Hmmm.” Which is shorthand (or short-brain?) for “That looks interesting. I wonder what I could not do with that.” And then I turn it something it’s not.
My superpower takes hold, and suddenly my paint pants become wall art:
or my yard debris turns into a wood carving:
or a sheet of carbon paper becomes a photo series:
One might think this superpower of mine is not very useful for fighting crime, evil and injustice everywhere. And one would be correct. But it does fight boredom, taking-oneself-too-seriousness and creative block.
I think I should get a costume. And a sidekick. And an alter ego moniker. Hmmm…
Just call me the Hmmm-inator. Or not.
Weekend Coffee Share (1/1/17)
#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.
If we were having egg nog, I’d wish you a hopeful, healthy and safe New Year!
I have issues with wishing for happiness, but perhaps we can postulate that if one has hope, health and a sense of safety, there’s a good chance they can find happiness as well.
Oh, the egg nog ran out last night. No problem, I’ve got coffee brewing as we speak.
If we were having freshly brewed coffee, I’d tell you I’ve vowed to put 2016 behind me come this year. No ruminating on fears, disappointments, anger, sadness and doomsday prophesizing. I’ll try to build on the many, many positive moments of last year.
So here is a partial list of what I am wishing for and anticipating in 2017:
♦ The continued blessing of sharing my life with a loving family, companionable pets, and myriad hand tools and DIY project supplies.
♦ Opportunities to contribute to preserving and expanding the beauty and health of this planet.
♦ Tenacity to hold to an ethical, honorable and selfless ethos, such that our society can rise above the mires of that prior year I said I wouldn’t ruminate upon (hint: 2016).
Oh, alright…
♦ ♦ ♦ I also wish for happiness for all! ♦ ♦ ♦
Welcome to 2017! Let’s make it a year to cherish!
The Daily Post daily prompt: Year
auld lang
year end reflection
long sigh of resignation
hope comes at midnight
The Daily Post daily prompt: Hopeful
Streetwise
pothole oasis
resilient perennial
midst asphalt desert
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Resilient
Strong as Iron
“After arriving from China my dad took a year to save enough money working in San Francisco and he then walked to Astoria.” [ 718 miles ]
“My grandfather brought home salmon cheeks, a delicacy to the Chinese but a waste to the cannery owners.”
“He was a veteran of World War 2 and the Korean war and he filmed breaking stories on the coast for news stations and he was the official photographer for the Miss Oregon pageant.”
“We went to American school in the daytime and Chinese school in the evening.”
“My mother graduated with a college degree but Chinese women seldom had job opportunities so she…”
“Grandma said dad was so sick on the boat from China that he would have been fed to the fish if he had died. Now a seafood lab is named after him for the fish feed that he and his team developed.”
“The tongs formed in the 1870s and grew to as many as nine but began to disappear in the 1930s. Remaining tongs were known more for their…”
“Chinatown was like a playground. We had no…”
These photos were taken at the Garden of Surging Waves, a city park in Astoria, Oregon, which was built to honor and celebrate the Chinese heritage of that area. The Story Screen in these photos is an iron structure that includes the entry gate, and these large panels that tell about the hardships, struggles and contributions of some of the Chinese immigrants in Astoria as well as their descendants who remained in the area and who continue to be vital components in the fabric of the community.
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Resilient
Light Bulb Moment
One of my favorite posts from 2016 was one I wrote for a second blog of mine, Glass Manifestations. I won’t be posting any recap for the year on that site, mostly because I only averaged a little over one post per month (excluding the month I participated in the “A through Z” challenge). I hope to be more active with that blog next year, but in the meantime I wanted to repost this story from April 12, 2016 for my Stanza readers. I hope you enjoy it.
Light Bulb Moment
So I had a “light bulb moment” the other day. You know, that moment when you have a sudden realization, an enlightenment of sorts, when the metaphorical light bulb turns on in your brain and you say, “Aha!”
Oh wait… that’s an “aha moment.” But anyway, that light bulb moment when you are struck with a sudden insight or inspiration that leads you on to new discoveries?
Yeah… that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about a real light bulb. You know… bulbous, light-producing… something that you screw into a socket so that someone doesn’t come along and stick their finger in it. That kind of light bulb.
Okay, on to my moment. I bought a light bulb that is supposed to have a 27 year life span. I can’t remember how much I paid for it. That memory is probably repressed to protect me from the trauma.
Nor can I remember what I was thinking when I decided that I needed this acme of amperage, this wonder of wattage, this lion of lumens.
Perhaps I just felt that, at some point in my dotage, I might want to switch on a lamp, and I could rest in ease knowing that my trusty light bulb would be there waiting to brighten my day. Or night.
So here I was, in possession of this almost ageless light bulb, and – as luck would have it – there was a burnt out bulb in one of my lamps. A perfect opportunity to begin my decades-long relationship with Brighton. (I figured if we were going to be together that long, the light bulb should have a name.)
I pulled Brighton out of my light bulb storage area (I seem to have quite a collection of light bulbs), and began wrestling with the packaging that was doggedly defending Brighton from harm. With a sudden shift of surrender, the packaging gave way, the bulb sprang free…
and began its unstoppable freefall to the hardwood floor.
The bulb crashed to the floor. My dog Chules came running to see what happened. I began to have visions of doggie blood spurting everywhere if Chules stepped on shards of Brighton. In one swift motion, I pushed Chules aside and bent down to assess the damage.
There lay Brighton. In one piece. On the floor. Where he landed after a four foot long plunge.
I tenderly picked Brighton up, held him to my ear, and gently shook him to see if I could hear that tinkling little noise that light bulbs make when their filament has broken. Mind you, with Brighton being the Superbulb that he is, I don’t even know if he has a filament. But I figured no sound is good sound.
I took Brighton to my bulb-less lamp and with trepidation screwed him into the socket. Holding my breath, I reached with quaking hand to flip the switch.
And then there was light!!!! Brighton’s alive! Metaphorically speaking, of course.
As I sit here basking in Brighton’s warm glow, I have every confidence that we will be together for a long, long time.
Hey, wait! Did someone turn out the lights? Brighton…?
Brighton?!?
Look What I Found!
This week’s Discover Challenge at The Daily Post asks us to look back at our blog posts for this past year and find a way to build on or synthesize our best work of 2016.
My best work? Well, having only managed a single post for most of the months this year, the “best” of it becomes a rather short list. Nonetheless, I’ve taken on the challenge of using lines from previous posts to create a “found poem.” Here it is:
Glass Scraps
Things aren’t always what they seem.
You can’t sleep on glass, you know.
Does it matter what smashed it?
I really don’t know how it feels to sleep in a ditch,
having never done so. That I recall.
Chewing on lead… bad idea.
What? You think?
Tell that to your Scrabble companions!
Stuff seems to seek us out at every port,
clinging to us like barnacles on a boat.
Take hostas for example. You know,
those green leafy plants that don’t look like ferns.
They do have a certain je ne sais quoi about them, no?
Or maybe a coagulation of gunked up motor oil
stuck to the floor of a mechanic’s garage.
You know how that is, right?
I never goosed anything, quantum or otherwise.
Since I’m too impatient to do all of that,
that session was cut short once the rock shrapnel
began pummeling the inside lining of my kiln.
Okay, I made that last part up.
This is starting to sound like that twine theory stuff.
Much better than the exploding rock episode.
So what is the significance of all of this?
If you can’t stand the heat,
don’t touch the tip of the soldering iron.
But where’s the fun in that?
If Dart has instilled in you a crippling fear of Tiffany lamp shades,
and since that seemed boring as all get out –
well… his work here is done.
The Daily Post’s Discover Challenge: Retrospective
Wordless Wednesday (Week 52)
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On the Cusp
As one year ends and another queues up for its grand opening, we sometimes find ourselves pin-balling from remembrances of the year(s) gone by, to plans and hopes and dreams for the year(s) ahead. For now I’m indulging myself in parsing the 2016 posts I wrote for the What Rhymes with Stanza blog. Planning for next year’s posts will come soon enough.
Yesterday, I posted a retrospect of 2016 using photos I’d taken throughout the year. Today, I’m taking on a suggestion from The Daily Post’s Discover Challenge which also relates to looking back over the past years’ worth of blogging, only this time with words.
One of the ideas presented in the Challenge was to write a “found poem” using lines from past posts. I’ve only attempted a found poem once before, and determined that it would have perhaps best remained lost.
But, hey… I’ll try anything twice. Hence, a “remix” of some lines taken from poems I wrote in 2016:
On the Cusp
With each passing day the past grows ever longer
even though we already cannot fathom its span.
History will always be defined by the lens
through which each one of us perceives.
You can’t get to where you’re going
until you’ve come from where you came.
It takes but one misstep to reset trajectory.
With each dawning day the present forgives us and
offers a clean slate to create what we choose.
Actions speak louder than words.
Non-action can speak just as loudly.
Leap, simply because you can.
The Daily Post Discover Challenge: Retrospective
