Tag Archives: working

Mystery Questions!

I would like to extend a big thanks to the very funny and lovely Beckie for giving me this award. Thank you! There’s so much to enjoy at her blog ~ quotes, poetry, insights, cute birdie pics, etc. I hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t yet.

Like many bloggers, I’m happy to get noms and awards, and I’ll answer questions as I have time, but I don’t create new questions or tag others. Thanks for understanding!

“The Mystery Blogger Award is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging, and they do it with so much love and passion.”

Wow! 😻 And these are Beckie’s questions.

1. What are your aspirations in life?

– To continue working as much as I can, writing as much as I can, spending time with family as time permits, taking care of health and home, and doing good things.

2. If you had $5000, what charity would you donate it to?

– The SPCA.

3. What is your favorite kind of music to chill out to?

– Oldies rock.

4. How would you rate your experience on WordPress?  1 being lowest, 10 being highest.

– 7

5. Have you gained real friendships through blogging?

– Real meaning in person, no. Real meaning people I chat with via email outside of blogging about other things, yes.

Okay, now I’m going to include questions from Di that she opened up to all. I thought they were good ones, and that’s no surprise as Di is another blogger whose posts I enjoy daily. I hope you’ll go visit if you haven’t already.

1. Are you an only child? If so, do you wish you had siblings? If not, do you wish you were?

– I am the only child of my parents. But I did find out when I was 25 that my mother had another baby, a girl, when she was 20 that she gave up for adoption. I always wished for a sibling, particularly a sister. My mother did not want any contact with her though, so I respected this, until she and my father passed on. Since then, I’ve been trying to find my half-sister, with no luck. It makes me sad because she did reach out to my mother first, and was rebuffed, and now I have no way of finding her, assuming she’s alive.

2. Do you do your main shopping on the internet?

– Everything but groceries.

3. What kind of vehicle do you drive?

– Toyota Corolla.

4. If you were a colour, what would that be?

– Ultraviolet 💜

5. How many awards has your blog been nominated for?

– I haven’t kept count!

~*~

© 2019 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted. Please check out Paula’s books for sale on Amazon.

No Vacancy [musical fiction]

No Vacancy

My daddy was no Elvis, but he sure liked singing along to the King’s music as he wandered from town to town, hitching rides on boxcars, destination Bangor, Maine. Sometimes he’d do a couple hours labor and make enough to buy a cheap motel room, no phone, no pool, no pets, but he had enough for a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of cheap whiskey.

That’s how he met my mom. She worked in the liquor store across the street from that motel in Bangor, and it was the end of her shift. They chatted for a while outside and ended up back in his room.

“You do this a lot?” he asked.

“Only a time or two,” she said.

They had their rendezvous, and he hopped a train the next day. Six weeks later, my mom discovered he had left her a present and tracked him down. She found him at the end of Lonely Street, called her daddy to meet her, and they knocked on his door.

“You’ll marry my daughter or else,” my grandpa said as he waved his gun at my daddy.

“Yes sir,” my daddy said. “Go find a minister and I’ll get dressed.”

But instead of getting dressed, my daddy jumped off the roof, which is why they call it the Heartbreak Hotel.

My mom went back home to her parents, and that’s where I was born, but she was never happy in Maine again. We began to wander like my daddy had, staying for a time in various small towns while Mom found a little work, and then moving on again.

We traveled around the midwest and back; by the time I was in high school we were living off aid because employers didn’t care for my mom’s perfume: eau de booze. That winter of my junior year we were staying at a crappy motel halfway between Erie and Pittsburgh, when one Tuesday I got home from school and couldn’t wake her up. She’d mixed a bottle of sleeping pills with her gin. She was my mother and I loved her, but she put me through hell. I grabbed my things and got out of there before the authorities could take me from the Bittersweet Motel.

Then I began my own journey and some of it’s a bit hazy in my mind right now. I know I headed west; the East Coast had nothing for me but heartache and pain. I can’t remember exactly how long it took me to end up on that desert highway, cool wind in my hair, but the important thing is that I got here. I knew when I saw her in the doorway as the mission bell rang that I had found my way home again.

There’s plenty of room at the Hotel California. They have a nice courtyard where we dance every night. There are mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice… honestly, it’s pretty fancy, and I’ve never received a bill. I’m not sure where my car is though, since I can’t find a door to the outside, but I’ll look again tomorrow. I’m tired now.

~*~

This post was inspired by Jim @ Mindlovemisery along with the following songs:

“King of the Road” by Roger Miller

“Third Rate Romance” by Sammy Kershaw

“Heartbreak Hotel” by Elvis Presley

“Bittersweet Motel” by Phish

“Hotel California” by the Eagles

~*~

© 2019 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted. Please check out Paula’s books for sale on Amazon.

Update on the Thing

I don’t want to keep naming THEM, in case new people don’t know what’s what and go visit, thus generating more traffic to the Bad Place. Those who know will know. You know?

So, the thieves are now linking back to me at the end of each of my posts with my blog name and Paula Light, naming me as the source of the post. It’s like a reblog in that way, except still hostile because generally reblogs are occasional when something is of particular interest, not lifting every post.

I think I’m going to be done with this mess. I’m so stressed out as it is I can’t allow these jerkfaces to dominate my mind any longer. I have three audiobooks in production right now! My throat hurts, my head aches, my toe throbs, work awaits, chores languish, writing beckons, events glare… it’s ridonkulous.

I suggest you do what I did though, if you are not being credited as the source of your own posts and given a clickable link back at the Bad Place. Contact Digital Ocean and fill out their DCMA form via the front page menu.

Then try to put it out of your mind forever.

Aflame [flash 225]

aflame

As the rest of the team began gathering up their belongings, Lori couldn’t resist toasting one last marshmallow over the dwindling bonfire.

“Hey, Lori.” Dave, her supervisor, touched her shoulder. “Having fun on your first company retreat?”

Lori nodded as she prepared her s’more, layering the gooey marshmallow over half a chocolate bar between two graham crackers. She offered half of it to Dave.

“It’s been a great experience,” she said.

“Thanks, looks delicious!” Dave bit into the s’more. “Mhrhtsfrfrst like that flmnshnt.”

“I’m sorry?” Lori laughed.

Dave swallowed and smiled. “Sorry. I said, my heart’s on fire for you just like that flaming sunset.”

Lori dropped her treat. “What? I mean, no. You can’t say that!”

“Why? It’s a line from a song that was just on.” He grinned. “Now you’ll have to make another s’more.”

Lori didn’t believe him about the song. “I think everyone is leaving now, so I should help clean up.”

Dave tried to grab Lori’s arm as she walked past, but she was agile and avoided him. When she found her backpack, he said, “It’s not that complicated to do well here and get a raise, if you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” said Sylvia, the CEO, who had come up behind them. “Dave, you’re fired. I’m tired of your shenanigans. Also, I’m divorcing you.”

~*~

The Daily Echo

PFF4: Ommmm

Welcome to my Friday Flashback! This post originally appeared here on June 29, 2011, and my feelings haven’t changed. It’s great to zone out with a repetitive yet productive task to get centered. This week I also had a bunch of shredding to do, so the post is timely as well.

The Zen of Shredding

Sometimes when I’m upset, nothing beats a repetitive task that (1) is a little bit physical, and (2) makes a moderate amount of noise. So yesterday I shredded paper all day, which was great. Shred shred shred. Just feed the sheets in, not too many, maybe 8 at a time … zaLOOP, keep them going in, left hand, right hand. Soon the red light comes on indicating “basket full.”

Get a big trash bag. Unplug shredder. Pull out basket. Hold trash bag open with one hand … plunge other hand into slightly warm mass of crinkly confetti, scoop into bag, handful by handful. Pull individual paper pieces from blades (my favorite part). Slide basket back into machine. Plug in. Turn on. Tune out.

Drip in a little oil.

Start over again.

~*~

Please check out my book Going Dark, free on a special promotion right now! No worries if you don’t have a Kindle ~ you can download a Kindle app for phone or tablet, easy peasy. Don’t forget to review my book after you read it. Thanks a million!

The Analyst [flash 150]

“A boa constrictor wrapped around your boss’s head?” She made a note on the chart. “And what else do you see?”

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Swirls of color rushed through his mind forming brief images and breaking apart again. Then he gazed at the poster once more. “A bonfire. A bonfire of charge cards.”

She bent her head and wrote something. “Very interesting. Anything else?”

“The neighbor’s cat. It’s always digging in our flower garden. Annoying little critter.”

There was a rap tap tap on the office door. “Must be an emergency,” she said.

He shrugged. “They always are.”

The door opened. “Excuse me, but it’s time for Analyst Britney’s ballet lesson.”

Britney jumped out of her chair. “Oh hi, Mommy. We were just about to have a breakthrough!”

He waved them off. “My brain should still be here when you get back. Hopefully.”

~*~

50-Word Thursday

What A Deal [flash 184]

George nodded as Shanna showed him the seashell magnets. “These souvenirs will go like hot cakes now that tourists are flooding the town,” he said. “I’ll take three dozen.”

Shanna smiled. “Thank you, George. We always appreciate your business. I just wish I could unload these pretty silkscreen canoe tee shirts. They only have a slight defect.”

George laughed. “Missy, you have a thing or two to learn about sales! Never point out a defect. Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. What is it?”

Shanna pointed to the edge of the sleeve. “The printer mistakenly got a droplet of blue right here on every shirt. I can give you twenty cents off each.”

“That doesn’t even look like a mistake!” George said. “But since you think it is, how about thirty cents off each, and I’ll take the whole batch?”

“I guess so,” Shanna said.

“Hah.” George grinned. “You’ll learn. Chalk this deal up to your lack of experience.”

*

The moment he had paid and left, Shanna ran into the back and crowed to her boss, “I just sold all those misspelled canoe shirts, wahoo!”

Networking [flash 360]

“Let’s all toast to another great quarter!” Mitch raised his glass. “To Global Imports.”

Wendy smiled and raised her water glass. She was new and hadn’t made a sale yet, but their confidence was infectious.

Bob frowned at her. “You can’t toast with water. It’s bad luck.”

“I don’t drink,” Wendy said. “But I’m really happy to be here at Global, and in fact I have a couple leads to follow up on next–”

“Why don’t you drink?” Larissa asked. “Are you in AA?”

“You can’t ask her that!” Mitch said. “It’s a human rights violation or something.”

But they all stared at her anyway, and Wendy felt obligated to say something. “I’m not an alcoholic,” she said. “But I just don’t feel well when I drink.”

Bob laughed. “You’re obviously not drinking the good stuff! This is top shelf bubbly, Wendy. C’mon, just have half a glass.”

She waved his offer away. “No really. I’d rather not. Thank you though.”

Larissa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. No point in inviting you to come to the picnic on Saturday. People will think you’re weird and snobby if you’re not having beers like the rest of us.”

“Unless you’re pregnant,” Bob said. “Are ya?”

“Bob!” Mitch admonished. “I told you guys ixnay on the personal questions.”

Wendy felt uncomfortable with the group but gamely stayed until they finished the bottle, which was only another few minutes. She walked slowly to her car, wondering what her future was going to be like at Global Imports. Short, most likely.

“Excuse me,” a man said.

Wendy turned around. “Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Tom, and I’d like to give you my card. I know your coworkers and I couldn’t help overhearing a bit of the conversation where they were pressuring you to drink.”

“Oh, well, they were just being friendly.” Wendy didn’t want to badmouth her new company after only a week of work.

“I’m sure. But consider calling me for an interview. We sell non-alcoholic cider and would love to have you aboard, Wendy. Ask for me.” He smiled. “I’ll remember you.”

“The girl who rejected top shelf bubbly.”

“Has a nice ring to it.”

~*~

Fandango’s Flash Fiction 18

Migraine Awareness Month

It’s past the midpoint of June, so I thought I’d mention migraines again. I’m aware of them every month, but it’s nice they get a special one.


Image is from Migraine.com.

I’m one of the “lucky” sufferers, in that I can generally get almost full relief from the standard migraine Rx medication. But the unfortunate part is that I get so many migraines even with twice a day meds as a prophylactic. I also get regular tension and sinus headaches too, plus have chronic tinnitus. It’s a wonder I can ever write a word, but you do get used to things.

I admit it gets me down at times. I’d like to accomplish so much more. I’d like to not feel tired and blah from medication. I wish I could have more energy for writing and playing and exercising and living. But I simply do not. Sometimes just making it through another day at the office is a minor miracle. And we’re not even talking about backaches here, only head pain!

Migraine is a disability. Not that “normal” headaches can’t be horrible and crushing. I know they can. I had a persistent sinus infection in 2005 with the most horrible accompanying headache and face pain I could barely stand it. But when I finally got the correct antibiotic ~ poof! ~ all gone. But the migraines do not disappear; I only get temporary relief between attacks. But thank science/research/doctors for that relief!

Speaking of doctors, for a long time I didn’t have the proper treatment for migraines, but in the last 20 years I’ve lucked out and found good doctors here in Orange County. In particular, two doctors have given me excellent care and they are primary care physicians not specialists.

Sunglasses are a huge part of my life, unlike so many other things that I’ve had to give up. Bright sunlight is a trigger for me as well as flashing lights, persistent noise, alcohol, smoke, perfume/cologne, harsh odors, etc. Sometimes stress/anxiety will start one, but not always.

I try to keep in mind that others may be also suffering from hidden disabilities when they are slow or make mistakes. It’s doubly difficult because not only am I a naturally impatient person, but often when I’m not feeling well I just want to get home where I can suffer alone. Anything that slows me down enrages me. But anyone else might be in that same boat… not to mention the fact that I too can be spacey and prone to (more) errors when in pain and on meds. Which is… most of the time, lol.

I also try not to get angry when people try to do their “smile and be grateful” thing. Be grateful for chronic pain? Yeah okay. I’m grateful it’s not worse. But that’s bad too, since I’m comparing myself with others and my gratitude is at their expense. I’m terribly sad about all the people who have worse migraines. But maybe that’s how the S&BG types cope with their issues, so okay.

Now, I realize this post is going to generate comments asking me if I’ve tried wacky migraine remedies. Always happens. I try to preempt this by stating I am under good standard medical care and am not a fan of anything off the path. But people will do their thing. 🙄

Okay then. Migraines suck. Bottom line.

Paula’s Friday Flashback

Fandango has yet another great idea! Is there no end to them? (Rhetorical.) He suggests we repost an older post today to give our readers a {{{ fLAsHBacK }}} to days gone bye. Now, I am not following directions precisely (when do I ever?) cuz I used to not only skip bunches of days but also delete posts on whims. Crazy wot? So, this particular post I’m sharing is dated June 6, 2011, which was yesterday. Deal with it!

More on Romance and Porn

Because you are not tired of this topic yet, nope. 🙂

(Look, it was either this or complaining about how my dad can’t handle his banking any longer and now I have to pay his bills on top of all my other monumental burdens like, um, deciding whether to blog or hem my beige pants.)

So this Salon article, which was criticizing a hit piece targeting romance novels, purportedly set out to defend both porn and romance, but did neither very well. Sometimes I wonder why I visit Salon at all; so much of the writing is pure crap.

But that’s not what I’m here to discuss. I followed the link to the KSL article warning women away from the potential addiction of romance novels, which I have to say was much better written than the Salon piece, even if you disagreed with it. I suppose there is a nugget of truth to the idea that if you spend all day every day reading about perfect alpha fantasy men you’ll eventually find your own normal lump of a husband not measuring up in comparison, but most women aren’t going to be consuming romance novels like the way they eat bags of Snickers bars in the closet for Pete’s sake.  (Not SAYIN’ anyone here does that with the Snickers bars, ahem.)

Never mind that in any case. I followed a sidebar link from the KSL piece to Moore to the Point’s romance novel bloggery. Obviously this is a religious dude with an agenda, but so what if he makes a good argument, I say. And I’m saying that.

Both are based on an illusion. Pornography is based on the illusion of a perfectly willing, always aroused partner without the “work” of relational intimacy. Often romance novels or their film equivalents do the same thing for the emotional needs of women that pornography offers for the erotic urges of men.

And in both cases, what the “market” wants is sameness. Men want the illusion of women who look just like women but are, in terms of sexual response, just like men. Women want the illusion of men who are “real” men, but, in terms of a concept of romance, are just like women. In both artificial eros and artificial romance, there is the love of the self, not the mystery of the other.

Ooh. Interesting, no? I think so! Discuss. I have to get ready for work.

~*~

I don’t actually have to get ready for work today, June 7, 2019, cuz I took the day off to celebrate National Donut 🍩 Day!

P.S. My dad passed away March 11, 2013.