Confidence is a state of mind, and we can’t always see it. I don’t know how to answer this prompt, and I don’t particularly want to. So I’m going to go with Wonder Woman. But it has to be Lynda Carter. I will not be convinced that any other person is WW besides my girl Lynda. My mind is made up.
Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman
She has a lasso, she’s a bad ass with a bad ass costume. I had the WW Underoos when I was little. Anyone remember those? I dressed up like WW for Halloween – you know, the one with the scary plastic mask and flimsy plastic costume? Yeah that was me. I also had a Batgirl bathing suit, but I digress.
This prompt is underwhelming. For those who want to read my poetry, check it out. It’s all here on this blog.
My musical taste is eccentric, just like my personality. The only thing that isn’t my jam is country music. I do like Chris Stapleton, but that is where it ends.
I don’t have a poem to accompany today’s prompt.
I’m going to leave this video and lyrics here. The song sums up my poetry journey so far this year, and I love Jason Mraz’s music.
Details in the Fabric
Jason Mraz
Calm down Deep breaths And get yourself dressed instead Of running around And pulling on your threads saying Breaking yourself up
If it’s a broken part, replace it If it’s a broken arm then brace it If it’s a broken heart then face it
And hold your own Know your name And go your own way
Hold your own Know your name And go your own way And everything will be fine
Hang on Help is on the way Stay strong I’m doing everything
Hold your own Know your name And go your own way
Hold your own Know your name And go your own way
And everything, everything will be fine Everything
Are the details in the fabric Are the things that make you panic Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are the things that make you blow Hell, no reason, go on and scream If you’re shocked it’s just the fault Of faulty manufacturing
Everything will be fine Everything in no time at all Everything
Hold your own And know your name Go your own way
Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name) Are the things that make you panic Are your thoughts results of static cling? (Go your own way)
Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name) Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way) Is it Mother Nature’s sewing machine?
Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name) Hell no reason go on and scream If you’re shocked it’s just the fault (Go your own way) Of faulty manufacturing
Everything will be fine Everything in no time at all Hearts will hold
This is the same capture as the previous post, entitled leaving, except for this is the video that I recorded. I realized later that the video is cooler than the photo. But may have been distracting with a little bit of poetry at the bottom.
Sound up for engine noise and also Jerome, who is the crow that does not like me. Now it’s his season and he’s going to follow and laugh at me when I walk, and basically make my life miserable because I told him he could not put his dried bagels in the birdbath two years ago. Crows have a long memory and hold grudges. Jerome has told his whole family to caw at me. I’m at the local pharmacy, he will show up over there and harass me in the parking lot. His name is Jerome, and you must say it in the way that Elaine said it on Seinfeld.
Me specifically *not* watching Feliciano López play tennis, Cincinnati 2006.
Apart from me rapping Eminem lyrics in my head right now, this feels like a rehash of a former prompt. I’m answering it, but barely.
I like to watch tennis. I can always get engrossed in a good match (see photo above). And no, I do not have anything personal against Feli. He is quite nice. I don’t know why I wasn’t watching he and Rafa play doubles, but I do know someone from Getty Images (?) caught me (not) doing it.
I like to write. Time seems to slip by when I’m in the writing zone. I think most of us here can relate to that.
Have a great day, everyone.
My book LOVE MATCH waiting with good company for an online review, circa 2005.
Outlander is a romance/fantasy series on the Starz cable network and app with a huge dose of history, war, nursing, medicine, herbology, intense relationships, family drama – the list goes on. It’s not strictly fantasy, and it’s not strictly chick flick material – it’s packed with substance, great acting, intricately woven storylines, and an overall captivating experience.
I read the novels in college and waited 142 years for the rights to be optioned. Starz began production in 2013. I was elated. But I was also a little apprehensive, because I had read all of the books to date, and I was worried that the actors chosen for the roles would not match up with the characters I had envisioned in my mind. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about, as the casting has been superb in the series.
Claire, our heroine, portrayed by the super-talented Catriona Balfe, an Irish actress.
If you haven’t read the novels, I would recommend doing the hard work first: read the books before watching the TV series. Everything is more in the novels. Each book is close to 1,000 pages long. There’s much more substance in the books and a great deal more character development. The reason for that is the material has to be truncated to fit into an approximately 47 minute episode each week. And the seasons are short – it varies, but right now we’re in Droughtlander, waiting for the second half of Season Seven to resume. And when I say waiting, I mean waiting for up to a year and a half. But enough about Droughtlander. It’s a sore subject.
I feel sorry for people who only know that the TV series exists and who don’t – or won’t – read the books.
Jamie, our leading male, portrayed by the wonderful Scottish actor, Sam Heughan. He’s either just said, or is about to say, “Je Suis Prest” – Clan Fraser’s motto. I know this because this is one of my favorite scenes.
Sidebar: for anyone who adores costume history as much as I do (and believe me, I do, it was my minor in college), the costumes in this are exquisite. The costumes in Season Two are especially jaw-droppingly beautiful, as the show takes place mostly in France. Please don’t get me started on French fashion. I will blabber on for hours.
My rec: start with the novels, then watch the series. I’ve watched (and read) Outlander *way* more than five times. And they’re worth it.
Tell me, how would a black-cat-having, left-handed person born on Friday the 13th (who walks under ladders and opens umbrellas in the house) accomplish being superstitious?
I am a walking superstition.
Witchy Woman, Eagles (lyrics below)
Witchy Woman
Song by Eagles
Raven hair and ruby lips Sparks fly from her fingertips Echoed voices in the night She’s a restless spirit on an endless flight
Woo-hoo, witchy woman See how high she flies Woo-hoo, witchy woman She got the moon in her eye
She held me spellbound in the night (woo-ooh) Dancing shadows and firelight Crazy laughter in another room (woo-ooh) And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon
Woo-hoo, witchy woman See how high she flies Woo-hoo, witchy woman She got the moon in her eye
Well, I know you want a lover, let me tell you, brother She’s been sleeping in the Devil’s bed And there’s some rumors going ’round, someone’s underground She can rock you in the nighttime ’til your skin turns red
Woo-hoo, witchy woman See how high she flies Woo-hoo, witchy woman She got the moon in her eye
If you’ve been with me for a while, you knew this answer was coming. Why would I compare myself to a cat? Why not?
Here’s what cats and I have in common: When we like you, you will know it. When we don’t like you, you will know it. We don’t give our affections to just anyone, we choose the people who won’t look at us. Duh. We will welcome you after you’ve been away for a long time, but we will not run up to greet you and lick your face. That is uncouth. Instead, we will wait the perfunctory 3 to 5 business days to say hello to you, because you left, and that was not approved.
(I love dogs, have had several, and you guys know that I love my friend Petey. The insinuation of dogs being uncouth is a joke.)
Here are some photos of me training to be a cat:
Introductions are made.The initial phase begins.Phase 2 has been reached.Just two cats chilling in the grass.My transformation into a cat is fully realized. Susie is not impressed.
I heard you turned 100. Happy Birthday! I hope there wasn’t a fire when they lit the candles on the cake. Couldn’t resist sarcasm, but you know that about us. Anyway, I just want to say thanks for everything. I’m sorry about the neck. I tried to tell teenage Amy about this, but she didn’t really listen. She carried that heavy bookbag on her right shoulder for 12 years… I was trying to make her see reason, but she wouldn’t have any of that. You know teenagers. I should apologize for the neck as well. I spent hours with my head down, looking at my phone, using poor posture in front of the laptop, and generally not taking the advice that I gave to teenage Amy. I guess I never learned. I hope that you are a “good” 100. By that I mean I hope you’re still active and enjoying things. I hope you are of sound mind. It would dishearten me to learn otherwise. Please tell me you’re still wearing fedoras and dressing like you want. I hope you have a really cool scooter and that it goes 60 mph. I hope you start foodfights in the cafeteria of the assisted living home. I hope they have really good chocolate milk there. I hope there are no weird men. Ha, who am I kidding?
Thank you for all the years, and I hope that all of the versions of us have made you proud. We’ve done the best we could, haven’t we? We protected little girl Amy with all that we had. We did some bad, we did some good, we loved hard, we laughed hard, we worked hard, sometimes we cried hard, and most of all we lived. We really lived.
I see that lady from Room 3A eyeing the pink wheels on your scooter. You’d better get over there. It looks like she’s messing with your music selection. You let her know that no one changes the song but you.
Love,
Amy
100-year-old Amy gets on her scooter and turns up the volume. She tells the lady from 3A to move, she’s got stuff to do. She peels out, heading off to parts unknown, her speakers blaring “I’m Bad” by LL Cool J.
Poeminspired by one of my favorite songs, and certainly my favorite song by Alanis Morissette (official video below the lyrics):
Uninvited
by Alanis Morissette
Like anyone would be I am flattered by your fascination with me Like any hot-blooded woman I have simply wanted an object to crave But you, you’re not allowed You’re uninvited An unfortunate slight
Must be strangely exciting To watch the stoic squirm Must be somewhat heartening To watch shepherd need shepherd But you you’re not allowed You’re uninvited An unfortunate slight
Like any uncharted territory I must seem greatly intriguing You speak of my love like You have experienced love like mine before But this is not allowed You’re uninvited An unfortunate slight
I don’t think you unworthy I need a moment to deliberate
“It's Amy,” I said. 