Wednesday, April 24, 2024
Out In The Country by Three Dog Night
Easy To Be Hard--Three Dog Night
Friday, April 19, 2024
Living a small life
Wednesday, April 17, 2024
Interesting viewpoint from Charles Bukowski
Charles Bukowski wrote this poem about rising early versus sleeping late.....
Throwing Away the Alarm Clock
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise.”
it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
eggs.
my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
wise.
taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.
now, I’m not saying that I’ve conquered
the world but I’ve avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls
and have met some strange, wonderful
people
one of whom
was
myself—someone my father
never
knew.
Thursday, April 11, 2024
Dreaming of the garden
My latest poem--Dreaming of the Garden, copyright 2024 by Paula Mary De Angelis. All rights reserved.
I dreamed of the garden
of its simple beauty
that greets me
when I arrive there
early in the morning
when no one is there
except me
Crocuses and snowdrops
await me
along with honeybees
that have discovered both
buzzing from flower to flower
in the sun that warms them
and me for a few afternoon hours
Yesterday I happened upon
a little robin
singing his heart out
loud and clear and unafraid
to anyone who would listen
I listened
because he had something of importance to tell me
it’s spring and he wants a mate
I dream of my garden
a sanctuary, a place of worship
one with the divine
perhaps by design
miracles happening before
my eyes, wondrous
watching the ground for signs of life
feeling my soul align
with the miracles before me
I sleep and then I dream
of a garden that I create
anew each year
in line with a kind of
divine design
my hands guided by a light
that has been there for centuries
serenity
Tuesday, April 9, 2024
On walking
Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Everyday, I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. But by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. Thus if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.
~Søren Kierkegaard
I try to get out to walk each day, and usually manage a couple of miles a day. I have my favorite routes; one of them is to walk around Sant Hanshaugen park, which is a lovely park not far from where we live. Other routes are along the Akerselva river--both north and south. Sometimes I just walk down to my garden and back; I've taken to having my phone in my pocket as I work in the garden and walk around it. You'd be surprised how much walking I do just in the garden.
My mother was a great walker, and was well-known in Tarrytown for that. Many people used to stop and offer her rides home from the grocery store, but she politely declined. For her, getting out each day for her walk was a lifesaver. It gave her some needed free time, time for herself. I think she must have enjoyed that--getting some free quiet time away from the hustle and bustle of family life. Sometimes she let us children tag along if we begged her long enough, but most times not. And that was ok with us, as she always returned with candy or comic books for us to enjoy.
I haven't always been a walker. I became one in earnest about fifteen years ago, when I decided that having to sit each workday in a shared cramped office was no longer what I wanted to do. I started to end my workdays around 3:30 or 4:00 pm and left work early to walk home. A two-mile walk. I would put my headphones on and listen to music on my phone. Doing this was great training, and started me down the road of wanting to be outdoors whenever I could. It's one of the reasons I dislike winter intensely in this city, as I've written about in previous posts. It's very difficult to get out and walk when the sidewalks are sheets of ice. If they weren't, I might like winter a little more.
Whenever I am on vacation in a new place, I get out and walk around. My husband enjoys this too, so we have explored many new cities this way. As long as I can be mobile, I'm happy. I don't need to ski, go to the gym, or any other such thing. If I can walk each day, I'm happy. I agree with Søren Kierkegaard; I begin to feel ill if I can't get out for my walk. The cure is free--walking. I've become my mother, at least in that respect.
Saturday, March 30, 2024
The daily struggle
Rather apt in these strange times, from Pearls Before Swine. The dilemma--how to remain a decent person in the midst of the idiocy that accosts us each day. Always a struggle.
Thursday, March 28, 2024
The surreal world we live in
Wednesday, March 27, 2024
Monday, March 25, 2024
Book promotion
It's time again for some book promotion. It's a necessary part of being a writer, whether you've published via a publishing house or gone the self-publishing route. From what I understand, many writers who have published their books via large publishing houses find themselves in the same predicament as me--having to promote their books themselves. Publishing houses require it. So even though some of the downsides of self-publishing are that you have to wear all of the job hats yourself, it heartens me to know that had I published in a traditional fashion, I'd still be expected to promote my books. I've learned quite a bit by publishing my books myself, being responsible for, with some few exceptions--writing, editing, designing a book cover (I've gotten excellent help with that), publishing on a digital platform (the excellent Kindle Direct Publishing platform), book marketing and promotion. I've run ads for my books using Amazon and Facebook; I also have a Books by Paula M De Angelis Facebook page. I've also exhibited one of my books at the international annual Frankfurt Book Fair held in Germany. I have a website as well as this blog, and I use both to give updates about my books.
The first book that I ever published has been the one that has sold the most of all of the books that I've published. The subject matter--passive aggressive leaders--clearly struck a nerve with many readers. It sold very well for a first-time author, from all of the articles I've read about what one can expect to earn from a first book. So that was and still is encouraging.
My Amazon Author Page: Amazon.com: Paula M. De Angelis: books, biography, latest update
My blog: A New Yorker in Oslo (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com)
My website: PM De Angelis - Updates (paulamdeangelis.com)
To my many readers who read this blog each day, thank you for your support. Please check out my books; you won't be disappointed.
Tuesday, March 19, 2024
Tears For Fears - Sowing The Seeds Of Love
Tears For Fears - Shout (Official Music Video)
Friday, March 15, 2024
Trying to understand the mystery of life
Apropos my last post, where I talked about accepting some things in this life (like my faith) that I know I will never understand on this earth; Henry Miller wrote about his way of looking at the world and trying to understand the mystery of life. He came to the conclusion that he would never understand everything, but that didn't stop him from trying. That's a beautiful way of looking at the world.
He wrote:
I have a theory that the moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. I have tried this experiment a thousand times and I have never been disappointed. The more I look at a thing, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I want to see. It is like peeling an onion. There is always another layer, and another, and another. And each layer is more beautiful than the last.
This is the way I look at the world. I don't see it as a collection of objects, but as a vast and mysterious organism. I see the beauty in the smallest things, and I find wonder in the most ordinary events. I am always looking for the hidden meaning, the secret message. I am always trying to understand the mystery of life.
I know that I will never understand everything, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I am content to live in the mystery, to be surrounded by the unknown. I am content to be a seeker, a pilgrim, a traveler on the road to nowhere. ~Henry Miller
(from Henry Miller's book: Black Spring)
Sunday, March 10, 2024
Odds and ends, part two
As I get older, I am more willing to accept that I won't get the answers I seek, particularly where faith is concerned. Faith is a mystery that I will never truly decipher. My faith in God has wavered from time to time up through the years. Ditto for my desire to attend Sunday mass. But I've realized that I won't get firm proof that God exists; he/she is not going to suddenly appear before me (like in the story of doubting Thomas) and convince me that way. So I accept God's existence on faith. Attending mass is similar; I go, no matter how I feel. Ten to fifteen years ago, I often wondered why I should go to mass when so many things seemed to be topsy-turvy in my life and definitely in the world. Not anymore. It's become something I do without thinking about it too much. That works for me. I like being there, being part of something larger than me. Being together with (presumably) like-minded people, in the sense that they are also believers. Even if they aren't, it wouldn't change my wanting to be there. I've realized that I can just offer up who I am on any given day--happy, sad, moody, bored, angry, irritable--and hope that I am acceptable. Being human means being imperfect. That is my reality, even though I try hard each day to be the best version of myself (as Matthew Kelly says).
I watched the film Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret from 2023 last night. It's a touching, funny and sweet story about a twelve-year old girl on the cusp of adolescence, and how she deals with life at home and in school. The film is based on the book of the same name by Judy Blume; I never read it when it was published back in 1970. Margaret is the daughter of an interfaith marriage--Jewish father and Catholic mother, but neither of her parents are religious and they have chosen to raise Margaret without any religious affiliation. She does however hope to eventually find some sort of religion to belong to. She is assigned a school project that allows her to explore different religious beliefs, which she hopes will give her some idea of what religion to eventually embrace. She does talk to God however, telling him about all the things that are happening in her life and sharing her joys as well as disappointments. Abby Ryder Fortson did a wonderful job as Margaret, as did Rachel McAdams as her mother and Kathy Bates as her grandmother.
I also watched the film Dog from 2022 with Channing Tatum the other night--also very good. He played a former Army Ranger suffering from PTSD who wants to return to military duty but whose superiors deny him that chance due to his condition. However, he agrees to bring his former partner's dog Lulu to his funeral (he has committed suicide) as part of a deal for him to return to active duty. Lulu is anxiety-ridden and aggressive (suffering from a kind of PTSD too) and destined for eventual euthanization, and the trip from Oregon to Arizona is fraught with different problems and troubles along the way. It's a beautiful story about the bond that forms between man and dog, and how they both save each other.
I've spent the past four days without tv news of any kind to invade my life. Bliss. I don't want to know what's going on in the world because I know it's the same old, same old--wars, aggression, conflicts, shootings, murders, political divisiveness--the list is long. And the news media love reporting it all; sometimes I get the feeling that 'the worse, the better'. I know that's cynical, but hey, the news media are cynical institutions. You get back what you give.
I haven't been on social media much either. Also bliss. I don't really miss it. As I've written about before, I'd remove myself from most of it if it wasn't for the fact that friends in the US still use it. It's a way of staying in touch with them, although these days we mostly chat via Messenger and WhatsApp.
Tuesday, March 5, 2024
The scowlers
I could have entitled this post The Scowls. The furious looks. The dissatisfied men. Two angry men--Donald Trump and Tucker Carlson. Because they are angry. But why are they angry? What do they have to be angry about? They are two very wealthy men. They are privileged. They live in a rareified atmosphere that few will ever experience. They don't have to get their hands dirty. They can do what they want when they want. Tucker Carlson once worked for Fox News until he cost them more than they could reasonably defend. Ah yes, Donald Trump--well, what is there to say? He speaks for the common man, Donald Trump does. He knows what it's like to walk into a grocery store and pay through the nose for food. He knows what it's like to struggle to pay a mortgage. He knows what it's like to be a common everyday man or woman.
I am simultaneously fascinated and repelled by their public displays of anger. Who are these men fooling? Certainly not me. When I look at these photos, I have to laugh. Can you imagine having to live with them? Wake up with them each day, looking at their sour pusses? Dealing with their feigned anger? Heaven forbid. And yet, people are drawn in by their theatrics. They believe their empty promises and lies.
These two men come to mind whenever I need good examples of grumpy old men and scowlers. They've perfected the art of scowling. I'm not sure if Trump's scowling will net him a second term. Carlson has more to scowl about after his embarrassing interview with Putin and his debacle at Fox. But why doesn't their wealth make them smile? Since they're all about the money, I would have thought their money would have made them happy, much like Scrooge and Scrooge McDuck.
Perpetually-angry people bring to mind the Aesop fable The Boy Who Cried Wolf. The shepherd boy kept 'crying wolf' (lying) about a wolf attacking his sheep, and the townspeople always rushed to help him. But when he cried wolf once too often, they got tired of his false alarms. One day a wolf really did show up to attack and devour the sheep and the townspeople ignored his cries for help. Perpetually-angry people should realize that their constant yelling will make others lose interest and sympathy. Maybe some people like listening to the same manic complaining every day, but most of us don't. We learn to ignore them and their anger. As a friend of mine used to say to her husband (now ex-husband) when he yelled at her for trivial reasons--'I don't hear you any better when you yell'. I feel the same way. If you raise your voice to me, I quietly consider my options. I can tune you out while you're yelling; I'm a master at it from my schooldays. Or I can leave the room. I simply don't want to hear what you have to say. And that includes angry politicians and tv personalities and their nonsense.
The Spinners--It's a Shame
I saw the movie The Holiday again recently, and one of the main characters had this song as his cell phone ringtone. I grew up with this mu...