Living Song

I seem to be in musical mode. This is the second ‘song’ I’ve written since after last night’s yoga class – and not for the first time after yoga. What’s that about? The other one’s a fair bit longer so I’ll save you from that – for the moment! I’m not even sure this one’s finished but I’m hitting publish anyway. While singing. 🙂

What picks me up

When I fall down,

What keeps me going on,

What urges me

In ailing days,

What keeps me fighting strong

Are all the ways

You look at me,

Your face, how it beguiles,

The hopes and dreams

I harbour dear,

Life in all its styles.

What brings me back

When life is tough,

What raises spirits high,

What pulls me through

Adversity,

Many answers why,

But, most of all,

It’s hope, my dear,

Hope and struggling on,

Hope in you

And love all true,

Hope’s my living song.

What fires my flame

In all but name,

What burns behind my smile

Is hope that lives

Eternally,

Keeps me going for miles.

What hope I have

All rests in you,

In love and give and take,

My living song,

The whole day long,

Is hope for its own sake.

 

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Checking Out

You crowd are a bloody disgrace!

You’ve kept me out of my bed when I should’ve been trying to catch up on all the sleep I’m missing due to feckin’ Vitamin D levels in the toilet again.

But do you hear me complaining of aching limbs and sleep deprivation? No. (You would if you were here right enough. #Shut the fuck up, mother!)

I’m heading for the hay having achieved one goal tonight. Yasss! 1000 posts in 16 months. Blogging and depleted Vitamin D was where I came in. I can’t half talk shite. #sooner or later, before, after, whatevers.

I’ll miss you my darlings for all of a month unless my ability to achieve the goal I set tonight is made manifest in the longer one of Nano.

I’m probably talking #shite here. Because, knowing me, I’ll be back before you can say Twitter. And there’s always Facebook if I’m desperate.

I’ve almost finished a bottle of wine. By myself. And I’m feeeeeeling gooood. Hic!

Van Helsing was a wash out, btw. Might salivate over Australia tomorrow. 2000 words allowing. 😉 x

Edit Yass!

post-milestone-1000-1x     🙂

Lovin’ This, btw

I’ve obviously confused WP with Twitter. Why else would I be filling you in on random thoughts? ( And, I ask you, 140 characters and sometimes that amount’s already there if you want to retweet. What’s that about?!) FB’s slightly better but I’m among friends here whereas I don’t know half the feckers who follow me on FB. Mostly, it’s political. I don’t know a fair few feckers here either. But, it feels like home.

So, I was having a night off tonight from all techy, bloggy stuff. Lasted about as long as Brief Encounter. What a movie, bar the jawries in the gubs. So, she’s gone home to hubby and now Bette Midler has got her falsers in and is gonna sing, ‘I put a spell on you’. And Hugh has yet to come. Pardon the expression. So I have that to look forward to.

I’d forgotten that blobbing in front of the telly could be quite so enjoyable. If only I could stop talking.

Thing is, I start Nanowrimo tomorrow. Got to clean out my office now that two further fledglings have flown the coop. Mucky feckers. Seriously. It’ll be thon time tomorrow before I write my first two thousand words.

I don’t see the word count as a problem per se. I have a slightly garrulous gene factor going on here. I’m about 4, I think it is, away from 1000 posts in the time that I’ve been here.  ( 16 months). I wouldn’t normally think that’s a problem. If you’re a talker, you’re a talker. Even if the words are just written.

Factoring in reblogs, I’ve talked for around 900 posts. That’s a rough guess. I can’t be arsed checking.

Soooo,

I’m enjoying the telly, going to continue the dream tomorrow of actually writing and finishing, albeit in rough format, a novel. (I’m not counting the fallow collection I’d be embarrassed to show.)

Lots of words.

As far as I know WP doesn’t have an app or widget to do a word count on accumulated posts. And maybe that’s just as well. Some may have to be categorised as pure shite. Who wants that in their inventory? Not I. At least, not until the final edit. Then god can have a say.

Point of this post? If there is one. Apart from reaching 1000 (including others’ reblogs).

I have a lovely core of followers, a number who bear no significance to the number that shows in stats. What a steaming pile that is in the big pile of shite that statistics is. No offence to carpet salesmen everywhere. Or that ilk.

But those who are here are lovely. They really are. They give me a sort of fuzzy glow. I don’t need accolades from them. I love popping into their lives through this medium. I’ve made connections that matter to me.

Now, one of the things that I’ve noticed – maybe you have too – is that reblogs don’t always do justice to the purpose of the reblog. I mean, do you reblog shite? No, of course not. Not unless it’s your own. But, those faithful, who like the smell of your shite ( is that a fetish, btw?) will still mostly only read your shite rather than someone else’s. I do it too. I followed you. Not who you fancy. Except, I’ve met a fair few worthy bloggers through reading reblogs from those whose opinion and judgement matter to me.

So, I guess this is an invitation.

If I already follow you or you follow me and I don’t follow you. (And I know there’s a fair few of those. Sorry, but I can’t keep up!) Or, if you think you’d like to introduce yourself to my peeps (‘cos chances are, if they like my shit they’ll like yours), I’d rather see my blog in use than let it fall into disrepair.

I have my fingers crossed that I can do 2000 a day before I allow myself the pleasure of blogging here. They’re not crossed because I’m lying- we don’t do that here- not the lying, the fingers crossed for that purpose. Fingers crossed here is for luck. And I guess I’ll need my share of that to achieve the aim. Live the dream. Gene factor included.

I won’t blog here unless I’ve done the equivalent of 2000 words a day. I figure that’s motivation for me. Carrots and sticks in operation.

If you’d like to meet my lovely people and put your words to them I’m one email away. And my blog is yours. Unless I write 2000 words a day. Which case, tough shit. 😉

Now, I think I have four more posts to go before the 1000. Is that embarrassing? I need someone to tell me this shit! It’s 8pm and fifty- two minutes. I’m going for four more then silence unless….

your words or mine…

Selfish, I guess.

Motivational, definitely.

A possibility to meet lovely new bloggers who have inspired me to just do it.

And maybe a bit of giving back for what I have received here. You bless my soul with your words and encouragement. No matter the numbers here, it may be that someone of those who encourage me may encourage you. And you might just do the same for them.

Mi casa es su casa. scottishmomus@outlook.com

140 characters! Don’t make me laugh! 🙂

One proviso. Don’t depress the fuck out of my peeps! Even pain has hope. I like humour. Love. Sensuality. Hope. Poetry. Myths. Aw, feck it, if you don’t know what I like by now you must be a stranger here. In which case, welcome. To the possibility of dreams.

Get in quick! I may be inundated from 1333 followers….ghosts in the night of all that’s yet to be holy.

 

Motivation II

Why do I gotta do homework,

Why do I gotta do chores,

Why do I gotta do what you ask,

Why do I gotta? I’m bored.

Voice of children all ask this,

But, owning up here, it’s me!

Why do I gotta do stuff that is pressing?

I’d rather be writing for free!

Stew’s bubbling away as I write this,

Tatties all peeled for the pot,

Uniforms ready to start back,

Doing stuff I’d rather not.

It’s terrible, this strange obsession

That has me right by the throat,

Throttling desire from everything else,

Pulling priorities apart.

Sod it! The tatties are pending,

Rumblings are heard all around,

Dinner is just one more distraction

From computer keys I’d rather pound.

It’s really too bad this fixation,

Doesn’t pay any bills,

I’d be working at what needs no encouragement, though

The fridge would be empty – they’d kill!

I’m really a part of the problem,

Well maybe the whole of it – they’re vexed –

Nought can compare to the feelings I get

While writing – well, maybe, sex!

But I can’t do that when I’m cooking,

Certainly not when the kids are around,

So writing it is – it’s orgasmic

And I don’t even make a sound.

So, yeah, I gotta make dinners,

I gotta get chores all done,

Gotta to do homework but then, oh boy,

I’m gonna have me some fun.

I mean writing.

Get your heads outta the gutter!

Tatties are boiled. 🙂

The Meaningful Key

Minus mic,

his voice still carried,

barely and with just enough humour

to detect genuine humility

and passion.

He spoke

of early sadness,

not being good enough

and

finding meaning.

He spoke

of childhood,

of family split

and dodging school

to fail.

He spoke

of finding

worth in himself

through purpose

and work

and sharing

a shed

with rats,

cockroaches,

scary spiders

and other youths

in a far-off land

where native children

were taught in awe and desperation,

drinking thirstily,

desperate for education.

He spoke

of forgiving himself

and his mum,

of whispered prayer

to find strength.

He spoke

of changes

in direction

to aspire

to doctor dream,

of local service

then returning

to Africa,

giving back

what he had found.

He spoke

of waiting soon

his first child –

to spontaneous applause

at his awed thrill.

His face lit

the stage.

A lad, I thought,

of tender years

for nothing

marred

his glowing face.

But experience

lent truth

to his age

and joy in life.

From sad and broken beginnings,

he spoke,

while I choked back tears

at radiant happiness

and a voice

that spoke

to youths

and adults alike.

He spoke

of finding

the meaningful key.

Education

Climbthetreecartoonhttp://weknowmemes.com/2011/10/the-educational-system-comic/

Not being a conspiracy theorist, I cannot say, categorically, that there is a plot afoot to keep the general populace in widespread ignorance by dumbing down the curriculum.

Neither can I say, with any real evidence, that current methodology and practice within establishments (from primary through to secondary and beyond) is designed to ensure minimum love of education and a destruction of motivation within students and teachers.

What I can say, with more than a measure of truth, is that all of the above appears to be happening.

And it worries the hell out of me.

Children either unable to read or spell or their capacity to do so measuring well below their intellectual abilities.

Children bored or turned off of education from the earliest years.

Students lacking the desire to embrace education for the sheer joy of it.

There is much more. And there are many more worrying traits that I have observed over a lifetime being involved in education as a student, teacher and parent.

I am embarking on something of an investigation into this on a practical level as well as in theory.

I would be grateful for any input you may have to offer from any perspective regardless of nationality. I am looking at this within the context of Scottish education but keeping an eye open to a wider perspective. I have reason to believe that this is not merely a Scottish issue.

It would be helpful to know where you are from. If possible, could you please state a country in the comments section, as additional information to the first poll, with ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ or other placed beside your nationality.

Thank you for taking part. I’m hoping to get to the bottom of a number of issues and any information will add value to the practical measures I am taking.

miracle-einstein-quoteI believe in miracles.

Hidden Hearts

If hidden heart hides all it holds

And does not so reveal

Its measures of diversity

How may we start to heal?

 

For sexual, sensual, mindful ones

With intellect, emotion

Know that others are created so.

All else is such strange notion.

 

Multi-faceted we all are

And so it’s always been.

We understand in many ways,

That’s how in life we glean

 

The differences and what’s the same,

The choices we all make,

Enlightened by our natures

For God’s and Mankind’s sake.

 

The only fear then is you’ll find

That leaders and some others,

Deny their soul, their unworthiness,

Flaunting self to others

 

As upright, straight, responsible

And caring without sin.

Gie’s a break, you’re human.

Perfection cannot win

 

If viewed by others as corrupt

When history reveals

Little things you’ve said and done

Or gigantic big conceals.

 

We did not ask for leader

With belt of horse-hair bound.

Just honesty, integrity, frailty.

Can one such one be found?

 

In this way, so you may relate

And gather quite a base,

If what we see and what we get

Hides not another face.

 

For power sought for selfish ends,

We may have just forgotten

Suggests another aimless trend.

Intrinsically, they’re rotten.

 

So if you have some cash to spare

And want to create a party,

A gathering of followers

To press your point so smartly

 

Better still than politics,

Just hire a huge, big hall,

Invite, get drunk, reveal the warts.

We’ll all have such a ball.

 

Then in the light of fulsome day

We may not all be tricked

By class of one, not political,

Just a self-motivated prick.

 

At least, we then will all have had

At your expense and call

One night of mediocre recompense

Before being screwed against a wall

 

Of blank distrust, of hardened glare,

Of blind, blighted self-belief.

At least, well, I’m supposing,

That may give citizens some relief.

 

To know that if we put our cross

Next to your little name

And you become a big, fat loss,

We’ve only ourselves to blame.

 

Video reading https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1439057439652761&l=6021737720646894530

Self-taught, Well-taught

Is it the case, do you think, that those things we teach ourselves are often more important to us, and therefore more easily learned, than those lessons we learn elsewhere?

I have read 140 report cards from my own kids’ school lives so far. Only forty-four more to go.

They have varied in degrees of wonderfulness and, sometimes, I’ve shaken my head or my fist!

In those areas where they have real aptitude as well as a ‘good’ teacher, they have applied themselves and done well. In other areas, their responses to negative comments have been, ‘Well, he/she is a crap teacher,’ or ‘I hate that subject. Why do we have to take it?’ or ‘Mr./Mrs. So-and-So was off a lot and we hardly got taught anything, so it’s not really my fault.’

Ahem. Excuses, excuses.

Ok, sometimes, those things are true.

What amazes me, though, is the fact that, when they are interested in something – really interested – nothing prevents them from learning.

So, I have five children who are self-taught in guitar.

Six children who play chess well.

Six children who love dancing and will do so at the drop of a hat.

Seven children who are all adept at making home movies and editing the results to ensure maximum laughter.

Two children who can conjure up and proudly produce family meals that equal mine. (The others can cook but with varying results!)

Seven children who can paint and draw wondrous images.

Three children who compete with themselves for fitness and exercise.

One child who can tell you director, producer, actors and settings of every movie she analyses for fun.

Seven children who can find their way around every games console or computer programme they encounter.

The list goes on.

I don’t have 44 children, however the above reads.

I have seven and the range of their abilities astounds me at times. The most astonishing thing, however, is that those areas where they are self-taught are the ones in which they are really well-taught. Even if there has been some initial instruction. Their desire to do something well in an area they are fascinated by has been the pivotal drive in their successes.

Exam results not withstanding (and they have done well), I wonder what would occur in schools where more child-led learning occurred.

We’re making progress in some ways but I don’t think we’ve gone far enough yet to ensure that motivational learning leads the way.