This I Knead

 I don't know about you but I sure do know about me;  I've caught a case of fearful hope. It's not like I'd planned it. It simply occurred to me -  that is to say, it came rather surprisingly. With tinges of colour. With flurries of shade. I'd caught a case of fearful hope. Yet, searching for salvation or attempting to run free did nothing but bring it all closer to me. I don't know about you but I know about me; I've caught a case of fearful hope. So, now that you know, now; now, I'd beg you to help, now;  save for deafening you as I frantically yelp! NOW! I've said it all don't think me a dope. I've caught a case of fearful hope. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

 Today is the first day that I am working with the creative team from RLabs . This marks my beginnings on a journey to become a beacon of trust and hope for my community. To take it into the lingo of my blog, this is me adding the yeast to my dough. Why yeast? Well, like most things that are good for you, yeast is not particularly great tasting on its own but it joins a confection of ingredients to make for a beauty filled symphony of taste. This experience with RLabs is not going to be surface value fun, it will be tough, I know this, I expect this, I want this. I know that I am going to be challenged to think in different ways and see things with a different set of tinted glasses, but I am no way intimidated by this. The yeast to this recipe- I think I'm making some pizzas- is the thing that will not be known when my friends are all feasting. I know that after all of this, no one will look at me and say: "My gosh! Brent   and Christine did a great job training

When a friend of mine, Lame, chose to ask for the most precious gift for her birthday, I was inspired to make this. I am a spiritually visual person and I believe that more than what we taste, feel or hear, the greatest impacts on our lives are made by what we see. As one of her poet friends, I sent this through as part of what will become her poetry anthology. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead. Share With Me.

No way out, but in. (It's a pun.) Is your promiscuity getting you all knotted up?  Whether it's with humans, food, or with your words, most of your promiscuity is a survival trait of lonely souls. There are elements of life that we tend to feel are too much to handle so we find securities. For some that security comes in the form of bulky arms or a heaving breast. For some this security comes in wolfing down and inhaling the formula to indigestion, heartburn and obesity. For some this security comes from filling the world with words. The latter tend to be the most popular and we veil ourselves as poets, politicians, artists, but never as lonely liars. I happen to be one of these promiscuous people, I whore myself through language. My linguistic freedom may be misconstrued as informedness, intelligence, aptitude or being articulate, but in it's truest form it is the child of loneliness. Loneliness is not the evil here, it is a fundamental part of the human conditi

Much like anyone who is trying to develop a new habit, a new recipe you could say, I approached this process with the wrong mentality. When your batch of croissants loses its fluffiness and sweetness quickly, you don't simply make a new one, you examine your recipe and see where you can improve it. It's all well and good to want to do things differently but if you just want to lessen your procrastination time rather than improving your productivity levels, you are in for a big surprise. I could have hopped on my proverbial high horse and lied saying I have changed my ways, but this is not what I need. i have fallen off the wagon a bit. The ideas still keep flooding in and some are developed enough for me to actualise this very moment, but I have ultimately run into my first hurdle. as I nurse my aching gums, I invite you to indulge in a story in progress "Venom".  What I am going for with Venom  is to get back into the swing of telling stories but finding

“It’s impossible to maintain any significant level of embarrassment for a long period of time. You simply succumb.” That phrase played through his mind like the echo of waves in a shoreline cave. Each time he heard it it would layer upon itself enveloping its own beginnings and ends. Would he believe it though? It had been too long since he had the kind of mind that was willing to believe, he was now simply going through the motions of a prescribed coping mechanism. Four months prior to finding himself sitting on the edge of an icy bench clothed in ice, Marcus was a negligible speck on the University of Wisconsin campus. A native of the state of New York, he didn’t care much for notoriety or popularity. To be completely honest he just couldn’t be classified as anything but Marcus. The political science student attended his lectures religiously and when he wasn’t studying he’d be found seated behind a computer in the student resource centre where he volunteered. This sense of comf

Stepping into the kitchen to find the tools to write a letter was a quizzing experience. I must say that in this day and age of emailing and text messaging, it is rather difficult to write letters. I found myself having to find ways of expressing my feelings through words rather than emoticons and abbreviations. Writing the letter felt like a good way to get into this blogging experience. I found ways of expressing genuine emotion without the frugality of excessive metaphors and sweeping statements. I am rather excited to tackle other forms of writing that I rarely do. I am temporarily filled, and the sweet taste of emotion served as great dessert. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead.

17 September 2013 Dear Betsi, It has been a very long time since I wrote you, but time can’t erase the bond we have. I am doing very well. I just got back from a holiday in Cape Town, I wish you could have been there with me. It was an amazingly refreshing experience for me because it brought me closer to myself and realising what treasures I have in my life. The reason I am writing you this letter is not because we haven’t spoken in a while, but because I would like to let you know one thing; I love you. I guess you know that I love you but I feel you haven’t heard just how much I love you. Since the very first day I saw you I thought you were a spectacular human being. You are beautiful and you have a generous smile. After that day all I had to do was wait for fate to bring us together. You are an amazing friend and an inspiration to me. I have seen you grow through so many situations. I have seen you accomplish so many feats that I knew you were- and still are- c

"I think of myself as something of a connoisseur of procrastination, creative and dogged in my approach to not getting things done."  - Susan Orlean Much like most people I know, I know this is about to cast a damning shadow on the company I keep, I have developed a wonderful knack for procrastination. I had to come down to the diagnosis that, however non-professionally backed it may be, I am daunted by my own genius.  As the Susan Orlean quote above so aptly puts it, I am a connoisseur. One with a refined taste for something. My something happens to be caused by my human condition. The fine placement of being a hippy at heart (#HAH - this will be a trend, I promise), an artist, having an overactive imagination and always setting tasks for myself to do albeit all at once; these are what have helped me refine my procrastination.  I am no stranger to grand tasks but as I found myself reading an entry on askmen.com titled   Top 10: Habits That Make You More

"I am an act of kneading, of uniting and joining that not only has produced both a creature of darkness and a creature of light, but also a creature that questions the definitions of light and dark and gives them new meanings."  - Gloria E. Anzaldúa Let it be known, should the question ever arise, what it is I aim to do here. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead.  Share with me.