Skip to content

Blatherskite

Foolish gibberish

  • AboutI am also known as CraftyMoni elsewhere on the web. I am a Children’s Librarian. I am a photographer. I am a knitter. I am a reader. I am a wannabe poet. I blog. Sometimes I complain. I like to swear. I have a really twisted sense of humor. I think I might be a Zen Buddhist (Still trying to decide). Not a fan of organized religion. I am very liberal and can be vocal about it at times. I’m a daydreamer. Sometimes sassy. I try to be compassionate. I think I’m pretty nice most of the time. You can delve into deeper waters by reading these posts. You can see my photography on my Flickr page. If you like any photos you see there or on this site and would like to buy a print let me know. I would be happy to sell one to you! I blather about library stuff on  Twitter. You will also find me on Google+ and Facebook. Enjoy your visit!  
  • Creative Folio
    • Photography
      • Pinhole
    • Writing
      • Poetry

recent posts

  • Indian Beach, Oregon Coast
  • Sun Flare
  • Oranges
  • Summer Solstice to Winter Solstice 2024
  • Heidelberg

about

I am a Children’s Librarian living in the Portland, Oregon area. When I am not Children’s Librianing I like to play with cameras and film. I also like playing the ukulele, knitting, sketching, and hiking.
  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • On selective memory

    February 13, 2013

    Tell me about a time you were in trouble in class.

    There was a time when I was in elementary school. I think it was 2nd grade? I had a crotchety old teacher. The class was super quiet because the whole class was in trouble. We were supposed to, collectively, all be quiet. All of a sudden Ms. Crotchety looked up from what she was doing and said, “who’s whistling?!?” and to my dismay I realized that I, indeed, was the one whistling. I didn’t even realize I did it. I stopped instantly and I didn’t reveal myself because I didn’t want to get in trouble. But I was so embarrassed. I had no idea I was even doing it.

    Isn’t it funny, the memories you retain?  I wonder why that memory, of all of the things I could remember, sticks. I often wonder why I have no memories of visiting Portland and Mt Hood when I was a kid. I think I must have loved it because I ended up living here. Living here has not triggered any memories of the fun I had here. I vaguely remember being in Portland. I remember one time when we went out for burgers with my cousin in Portland and we sat in a parking lot to eat them. I believe they were Arctic Circle burgers. I remember being in sight of one of the bridges. Was it the Steel Bridge? I don’t know. It might have been. It is a fuzzy memory.

    We used to stay with friends of ours. My memories of them are very patchy. I don’t know where in Portland they lived. It was a beautiful old house though. A big house that had an old laundry chute. There was a day when I went out by myself to a 7 Eleven on the corner and I was walking around the store and the store owner looked at me warily and said, “why aren’t you in school?” Again, I was really embarrassed and I felt really bad, like I was in trouble, even though I did nothing wrong. I was on my spring vacation and I had every right to be there. Again, why am I remembering this particular thing? I even remember the look on the clerk’s face.

    We used to go up to a cabin on Mt. Hood in Rhododendron, which is where I live now. I am all over this area and you’d think that it would trigger a memory of the cabin but it doesn’t. I don’t remember that cabin at all. There is a vague shadowy memory but that’s it. I don’t remember visiting Timberline Lodge at all. There is a photo of me sliding down Palmer Glacier. I don’t remember sliding down Palmer Glacier. I don’t remember visiting Timberline Lodge. And I love Timberline Lodge! How is this lack of memory possible? And what does it mean? Why do I choose to remember one memory over the other? Why do I remember a crotchety old teacher and a cranky shop keeper and not fun, happy memories?

    Mt Hood when I was a kid

    Share this:

    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    Like Loading…
  • Moment of Zen

    February 12, 2013

     

    Share this:

    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    Like Loading…
  • Death, Grief, Love*

    Death, Grief, Love*

    February 11, 2013

    Death is the calm presence of a male nurse in the hospital room at 3 am describing the act: “You take a breath and die.”

    Grief is the dull ache deep inside the soul that is always there, sometimes forgotten, but never ignored when it makes its presence known.

    Love is the compulsion to drive all day, on icy roads, to say goodbye.

    *Another draft I found in the Dashboard. written July 3, 2010. I was really hurting back then. I am better now. 

    Share this:

    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    Like Loading…
  • Tell me about a relationship that ended*

    February 10, 2013
    Impermanence
    Impermanence (Photo credit: Licorice Medusa)

    There are so many sad memories associated with the end of relationships. My experience is that I will hold on until the bitter end. I can’t seem to say goodbye. I have a problem with goodbyes.

    When Doug was breathing his last breath My mom was saying goodbye to him, telling him it was o.k. to go. Giving him permission to go. So he did. He slipped away. And as he slipped away I kept saying, “no” to myself and I even let this thought slip through my lips. I said, “no”  out loud. I couldn’t bear to see him go. But he did anyway.

    I am terrible with goodbyes. I want things to last forever. Maybe this is my koan. Impermanence. I have a difficult time with impermanence, in all of its forms.

    *I found this draft in my WordPress Dashboard.  It is a writing exercise from the book Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg. I realized that exercises from this book might make good blog fodder since this blog is, essentially, one big giant memoir. Good idea? Good idea. 

     

    Share this:

    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    Like Loading…
  • Six Word Saturday

    February 9, 2013

    Better at painting than being president.

    Six Word Saturday

     

    Share this:

    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    • Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
    • Print (Opens in new window) Print
    • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
    • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
    Like Loading…
Previous Page Next Page

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Blatherskite
    • Join 336 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Blatherskite
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
%d