Words Down Pat

Blogging the Blog

Hi there.  I know, I know, it’s been a while since I posted anything.  But I attended the Jubilee Writers’ Conference at the Terrebonne Parish Library on Saturday, and one of the sessions was on blogging.  Sooo, I decided that I should do this more regularly.

Here I am, then, staring at an almost-blank little box that cries out to me for a line or two of little black letters to make it less blank.

In the news this week is the story of some bloggers who blog themselves to death.  Fatal and near fatal heart attacks have been noted from around the country.  Bloggers who spend practically every waking moment keeping up with their blogs are endangering their health, so the article claims.

Round-the-clock Internet activities of any type could be life-threatening, though.  What about the kid who stays up all hours of the night to play video games?  Or the myspace or facebook addict who checks his/her page 15 or 20 times a day to see if there are any new messages?  And then there are those who post their profiles on dating sites and are constantly vigilant for new matches.

Never fear, friends; that’s not me.  Extreme blogging is not a sport I will succumb to any time in the near future.  Extreme anything is, well, too extreme for me.  I prefer moderation or at least management of my time.

Hmm, I haven’t played Peggle Master since last night.

wordsdownpat’s my name, writing’s my game.  (Okay, I know it’s corny, but it’s the best I can do at this point.)
Pat

Fear?

I

fear

nothing

walking alone

on a deserted street

heels click on the pavement

behind me

not my own

spiders in the woodpile

disturbed by activity

scurry in fright

or stand in defiance

their defenses apparent

shadows on the wall

coat draped on a chair

sinister intruder within

tree branches in the wind

lurking voyeur without

broken railing on a bridge

nothing beneath me

that supports

the idea of crossing

car spread-eagled in air

empty house

anticipating an arrival

that never comes

silence spreading

its muffled roar

okay

so I lied

© 10/17/99  Pat Hornsby Crochet

Cliche’ Chatter #1

Cliche # 1: Putting someone in their place.

This one really gets to me for several reasons. The basic thing is that it’s bad grammar. It should read “putting someone in his or her place.” But that would ruin the flow of it, wouldn’t it?

Getting back to the saying itself, you must assume certain things before you can put someone in their (shudder) place. Does that person really have a place? There are homeless people on the streets everywhere, and others who only rent their homes. So doesn’t that make them immune to anyone’s putting them in their place, since they don’t have a place? Furthermore, we have to assume also that the person who is doing the putting actually knows where that person’s place is. Oh, I realize that the “place” is probably not a physical place, but who says it isn’t? Mightn’t that be the origin of the saying?

It could be that way back when (mercy, another cliché) people knew where everyone lived and putting people in their place meant escorting them home safely after a jousting event or an evening sitting out on the veranda watching a meteor shower. It could be a kinder, gentler act than the phrase has come to mean.

We could also look at it from the point of view of the puttee, rather than the putter. I know I would be much more comfortable if someone put me in my own place. That way, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. In relation to the physical idea of “place,” I would be even happier if someone put me there, in my place. And paid the rent too while they’re at it.

I would imagine that this discussion of the cliché has somewhat confused you. Don’t worry; it confuses me too, especially when I have no clue where my place is.

In the beginning…

Not as earth shaking as Genesis, but new beginnings are exciting, and this, my initial post, is definitely that. It’s the starting point of my _serious_ writing career, with all the pitfalls and promontories that come with it. Of course, I’m hoping there will be more hills than valleys, but I’m willing to adventure out nevertheless.

A writing career is a goal, a hope, a fulfillment, and a necessity, all at once. That it is goal and hope is obvious, but the fulfillment and necessity might be more obscure. A career in writing will signal that I am ready (or almost ready) to move on from my teaching career and embrace another. The necessity is that for as long as I can remember, I have been compelled to write–in prose, poetry, and drama. Although I’ve written and been published, I feel I’ve arrived at a place that is both an ending and a beginning.

Thanks to youngest son Brad, computer geek extraordinaire, for setting this site up for me. And future thanks to oldest son and graphic designer Glenn Jr., who I’m sure will tweak the website until one or both of us is satisfied–like that’s going to happen any time soon… Perhaps I should mention my middle son Lee, who didn’t do anything directly to enable this site, unless you count giving me the inspiration to follow my passion in theatre and writing as he did his in music.

Attack with passion, follow through with hard work, and hope for the best: a philosophy that has served me well in the classroom and on the stage. I am confident it will continue to function as I begin, again.