I Only Have Eyes for You

 When a beautiful song that was before your time makes you listen...and daydream, and appreciate its simplistic message and artistry. Of new love, or old; or infatuation or devotion. Hopefulness. Innocence. Confessions. Soul Mate. Twin Flame. Devotion. Withstanding the test of time. 

Every time I hear it, I listen as if it's the first time I have. I imagine the visuals...black and white, opening or closing a film, or transitioning between scenes. It tells so many stories. Listening allows me to see them. 

I Only Have Eyes for You by The Flamingos. 

Hiatus

     
      For ten years, this blog has been under a deadline. I made a commitment over a decade ago to approach posts at least monthly, and that’s a long time and a lot of dedication in finding words to share. It has also become a challenge that I can no longer maintain, so it is time for a change in direction.

For a while, I considered deleting the blog entirely after the start of this year. I reached a personal milestone of blogging for ten years, so shouldn’t that be enough? Time to move on, forget, and start something fresh? I’d grown tired physically and emotionally, with too many other things demanding my attention. And as I’ve written here before, the Internet World isn’t always a pleasant place to be. 

Then there is the “borrowing” that subtly (and often blatantly) occurs.  If you don’t know the meaning of the words Intellectual Property, then please look up the definition. Theft is theft, whether it’s the pick-up truck stolen from the owner’s driveway, or the photograph or story idea stolen from a person’s blog or website (or Facebook page). Copyright protects just like the lock on that truck, but things still get stolen. And for those who say I shouldn’t post something online if I don’t want it taken by someone, then I’d respond with perhaps you shouldn’t park that pick-up truck in your driveway, or on a public street or parking lot if you don’t want the same fate. 

When I was a kid, I learned the hard (and humiliating) way about plagiarism. I got “called out” for something I had made my own. Other than it being youthful stupidity on my part, there was no excuse for it. I’d been lazy and didn’t take it seriously at the time. I needed the embarrassment to learn a lesson, and it has stayed with me ever since. From that point on, I never claimed anyone else’s work as my own.  

In 2014, I published Daniel’s Esperanza and shared the book cover on my Facebook page. Within seconds, a Facebook friend shared the image. Done the right way, I would’ve been grateful and appreciative. But it wasn’t.  She had cropped the title and the byline out, and simply shared the image which was that of a wild horse, offering no explanation of where she got it, what it was for, or who took the photograph.  I owned the copyright to that image because I took the photo; it also came from a copyrighted book. She ignored all of my attempts at getting her to at least state where the image came from; eventually, she simply did the “unfriending” thing. I was shocked with the whole experience because it was someone I actually knew. 

Facebook forced her to remove the photo, but not until I proved the photo belonged to me. It was an inconvenient, time-consuming nuisance, and so unnecessary. It’s sort of like where the burden of proof falls in most cases. The years and work it takes to create, from idea to work to completion, not to mention your own personal cost, to simply have someone snatch it away and claim it. It’s discouraging when it happens. However, I appreciate it very much when people share what I’ve created while attributing it to me. There’s a difference.  Something similar happened with my book, Williamsburg Hill, but it dealt with the storyline and not the cover, and it wasn’t on Facebook, but with a literary agent.

As for the available content here: this is a public blog and it’s free.  Anyone can read the posts and no money is made on it.  Any references I’ve made to other artists’ work, I’ve given the appropriate credit to it.  I’ve never attempted to sell any of it.  While I’m not aware I’ve violated anyone’s copyrighted work, I won’t say my copyright has been honored in the same way.  It hasn’t been, and that’s the biggest obstacle in continuing this blog in the same manner it started. It’s also the greatest frustration. The content here isn’t up for grabs. Credit, appreciation, acknowledgment…do the right thing, sort of like that ‘do unto others’ thing. 

So instead of deleting the blog, at least for now, I’m posting when I feel like it. No deadlines. There won’t always be monthly posts, or there could be. Whatever happens is the new approach. Breathing room, a break, time off.  

As always, thanks to those readers…the loyal, regular ones, and those who drop in and visit every once in a while. It's appreciated. 

 

Rainbow Bridge

 My best girl, Lily.  July 3, 2008 - December 11, 2021.  Over thirteen years, full of love and happiness.  I miss her so. 

The Looking Glass

 Ten years have passed since I started this blog and as I've written many times here, I never thought it would last very long. Setting goals with respect to it, keeping it eclectic in content with no theme made it more interesting for me (and easier) to continue. However, the biggest encouragement through it all has been the readers. Thank you to those who continue checking in, reading, and having interest in what I write and have to say. That's the greatest motivation of all. 

Regarding 'The Looking Glass'...there's a cartoon that depicts how differently men and women perceive their reflections when looking into a mirror. While it's a generalization and in no way accurately depicts everyone, it is somewhat spot-on.  A woman looking into a mirror focuses on the flaws she sees in herself; the flaws become so emphasized that the image staring back is a negative, ugly caricature.  A man, on the other hand, will gaze at himself, seeing a caricature of Adonis-like perfection. Again, just a generalization, but it does explain how too many women have a negative body image complex, and we unfairly compare ourselves to what we aren't and never will be. 

As women age, the issue stays with us but the comparison shifts to the younger version...what we looked like in our twenties and thirties. We weren't content with our appearances then, yet it's what we long to have on the older model. Rather than being content and happy with what we are, there's comparison that's never achievable.  I know I'll never look like the beautiful Christie Brinkley, but that's okay because I never did in the first place.  However, I should be okay with how I've aged, but that "never quite good enough" is on repeat in my head. We're too tough on ourselves, ladies. 

The selfies I share in this blog are an example: I took them looking into a mirror in front of my Christmas tree. While I think they're better than normal of myself, the lighting is actually terrible. The lights on my tree are not yellow, they're white/clear. Go figure. 

Finally, sharing 'The Looking Glass' below, with more emphasis on memories. So many thanks, yet again, for those who have inspired me the last ten years. The plan is to keep it going, and I hope you continue to read it. Much love and appreciation. 

The Looking Glass

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

 

She was just a girl.  One that stared back at her sixty-year-old image reflected in the looking glass; gone were the age spots and wrinkles, replaced with the wide smile, strong jaw and smooth skin of her early twenties.  She wore the pink Chuck Taylor high-tops she loved, and carried a novel, sketch pad, and camera in her arms. Staples of her life. Was she listening to Train in Vain by The Clash, or Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun? Had she been to class or was she going to class? The image turned her back, glancing over her shoulder at the future, then dissolved.

She was just a girl.

An even younger version appeared, gazing into the glass with wonder and curiosity about life; the future stared back, remembering.  She was awkward and skinny, self-conscious about both; she wrote poems about it and daydreamed.  Head in the clouds, always in the clouds.

  She was just a girl.

Then a jumble of images…Barbie dolls and Dancerina, Tippee Toes and The Muppets, Etch-A-Sketch and Easy Bake Oven, Mood Rings and Class Rings, Tip-It and Operation, Berets and Mortarboards, Close ‘N Play and Transistor Radios, Chrissy and Velvet, Pet Rocks and Toss Across, Baby Beans and Baby Alive, Thumbelina and Baby Tenderlove.

Mousetrap and Viewmaster, Spirograph and Lite-Brite, Barrel of Monkeys and Paper Dolls, Duncan Yo-Yos and Clackers, Peace Signs and Nike Classic Cortez, Love Beads and Puka Shells, Chokers and Neck Scarves, Earth Shoes and Bell Bottoms, Crochet and Macramé, The Hustle and Tetherball, Noxzema and Oil of Olay, Love’s Baby Soft and Avon’s Sweet Honesty, Scrunchies and Fingerless Gloves, Wayfarers and Shoulder Pads.

The looking glass cleared, along with the memories. Six decades stared at her, the mirror no longer reflecting the past.  She was just a girl, but a modified version of her younger self. That girl of ten, and 16, 21 and 30…the same girl at 40, 50 and even 60.  Experienced, but still a little naïve, skeptical and yet hopeful, still full of questions but possessing more answers to life. Always thinking and wondering. Creating.

She was still just a girl. 

What a Year

Tattered Cover Book Signing

As the title of this blog states, what a year. What an f-ing year. To think my January 2021 post was all about being happy that the wicked 2020 was over… That was good and everything, but 2021 socked me, sucker-punched me and almost knocked me out with surprising health issues and potential life changes that I didn’t see coming. 

At the end of 2020, I contracted Covid and was quite sick for over three weeks. It left me dealing with some long-hauler issues that have gotten much better, but still linger every once in a while, and followed me into the new year.  Then 2021 brought a series of MRIs, specialists, a lot of pain, cortisone injections, a skin biopsy, bloodwork re-checks, a diagnosis of osteoporosis and small fiber neuropathy. In October, I had my first annual Reclast Infusion for osteoporosis. Both vaccines, plus the booster, and always being masked in public are ways I continue doing my part. Fingers crossed that there are no more challenges, but I won’t assume or take anything for granted. 

Two big (really BIG or B-I-G) anniversaries in 2022…this blog will be a decade old. Then shortly afterward, I will enter the shocking decade, the OMG decade, the ‘I can’t believe it’ decade. Maybe I will have a party, or maybe not. After the last two years, I’m just living with gratitude, and trying to remain focused. Very little surprises me anymore. 

Small trips around Colorado, and then my first air travel in over two years: Thanksgiving in Chicago with family filled in the rest of the year. Many thanks to the Tattered Cover Book Store, one of the best independent book sellers in the country, for the invitation to participate in an in-store book signing in November. It felt as if normalcy is right around the corner. My best girl, Lily, remains part of my life.

Finally, an old friend of mine found a poem that I’d written for a high school publication when I was sixteen-years-old. I’ve been writing and drawing ever since I was old enough to use a pencil, and I’d like to share a bit of my teenaged thoughts below. Since titles and proper names can’t be copyrighted, I’ve done John Lennon no disservice with the title. 

In whatever way you choose to celebrate the season…enjoy the holidays. Put the jobs on the backburner and focus on the people in your life first. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happiest of New Year! Thanks for the reads. 

 

 

Imagine

By Veronica Randolph (©1978 Veronica Randolph)

 

Imagine soaring high into the sky

As a seagull gliding, spreading its wings to fly.

Imagine seeing the waves crashing onto the beach

Feeling the spray

Seeing the stars

Looking close enough to reach.

 

Imagine a seashell buried deep beneath the sand

Being worn away 

As the waters roll onto the land.

Imagine hearing the surf, its mighty great roar

Sometimes thunderous

Still peaceful upon the shore.

 

Imagine every evening

Seeing a different sunset,

Beautiful colors dancing on the sand, warm and wet.

Imagine the cool breeze during the night

With the moon in the sky

Large, friendly and bright.

 

Imagine sleeping, waking

And living by the sea.

      There being a sense of peace

       Feeling free.

       Imagine.

 

 

 

 

  

Upcoming Book Signing

 

I've been invited by the Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver, Colorado to participate in a quick book signing on Sunday, November 28th at 3pm. This will be at the Aspen Grove location. Copies of my books, Williamsburg Hill and Daniel's Esperanza, will be available for purchase. I'm looking forward to getting things going again after this too-long hiatus, and appreciate the invitation from this great bookstore. 

Also, it wouldn't be the holidays with me trying to sell my work in a blog post, so here it goes again. In addition to the appearance on November 28th, my books and photographs/art are always available for purchase either in bookstores, big box retailers that sell books, my websites, or elsewhere online.  Below are some screenshots of recent photos I've added to my Fine Art America page; currently a 20% sale is running on all purchases. Check it out at www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com

Hopefully, all of this will push me into starting (or finally finishing) projects that have been hanging around. It has been tough to get motivated. Which brings up something else. If you enjoy a person's work, then say it, promote it, encourage it, give it open and high reviews, share it. By doing this, more people find out about it, more sales are made, more opportunities happen, and it gives the author (artist, photographer) encouragement and a reason to continue. Writing is a solitary business. Writing a book can take a very long time; getting a book published can take years. Knowing that something you've dedicated this much time to doing is actually getting read can be the instigator for creating the next one. If enough people gave it a public shout-out, the opportunities could be phenomenal...book deals, agents, and/or movie options come to mind. We all need a little help. Be kind. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Keep up with my work here, or on my website at www.veronicabatterson.com.

The Playlist of My Youth

One of many albums in my collection

I’ve often written in this blog about the impact music has played in my life, how it fed my imagination and dreams, and its relevance in how I’m able to create. It sets the tone and inspires. My musical discovery began in the same manner as most pre-teens: the extreme dislike of what the older generation of the time favored, and listening to radio stations that reflected my own likes (often when my parents weren’t listening, but much easier to do so when I got my first transistor radio). 

I know most women of my generation rushed to the magazine stands at the local grocery stores looking for the latest issue of Tiger Beat Magazine, which had monthly sensationalistic coverage of the current heartthrobs, with color photo spread accompaniment. So many of those photographs were torn out and taped on my bedroom walls. Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco Family. The Bay City Rollers (which I think is the first time I’d ever seen a kilt, and it was cool. Of course.). Young teens. I was one of them, and it was how I also got to know the music of the time. 

When I was about seventeen, I attended my first concert. Peter Frampton. I’m sure he was featured in those Tiger Beat issues but, by that time, I’d grown out of them.  My tastes were maturing.  Over the years, I would see dozens of artists in concert, some I was fortunate enough to see before they were famous: Cheap Trick, The B52s, R.E.M.... What’s interesting (and wonderful) about my generation is that the great music of that era includes three decades of differing sounds and genres. It endures.

Then MTV launched. I was a communications major (broadcast journalism) when it first aired, and remember sending in an audition tape in hopes of being added as a future VJ (many did). That didn’t happen, of course, but I thought MTV the greatest thing of that time period and watched probably too many music videos at the time.  Many artists of the 1980s owe MTV much in spearheading, if not reinventing, their careers. 

My daughter has some of my albums of that time, or vinyl as it’s called today. She and I were talking about some of her favorites and I told her I’d make a playlist of my own for her. Then I turned to Spotify because you’re able to share a playlist you create with others, but as in most things that involve a password, I couldn’t figure it out because I’m technology-challenged. Oh, well. It takes me a while, and it’s much faster if I just share it here. 

So, I’ve included what I call a playlist of my youth in no particular order. These songs are so relevant to me that every time I listen to them, I’m taken somewhere else…nostalgia does this. This is not a soundtrack of my life (only part of it) because there is so much music that I currently listen to that was created much later, and none of it is listed here. I’ve also not included any tracks by my favorite artists and bands, such as Fleetwood Mac, Eagles (including Glenn Frey and Don Henley solo), U2, Heart, Journey, Elton John, etc. because I like most of the music from these artists. All of this is music of my life. Below are simply individual songs that influenced me in my early years (pre-teen, teen, and early twenties), and I’ve certainly overlooked/forgotten some.  Also, I’m only mentioning the songs and the artists who performed them. If you can figure out Spotify, maybe create your own playlist. I guess I’ll continue using my iPod until it dies. Thanks for reading.

 

For What It’s Worth – Buffalo Springfield

My Back Pages – The Byrds

Get Together – The Youngbloods

In My Life – The Beatles

Drift Away – Dobie Gray

Dance with Me – Orleans 

Coming Around Again – Carly Simon

Will You Love Me Tomorrow? – Carole King

If You Could Read My Mind – Gordon Lightfoot

Alone Again (Naturally) – Gilbert O’Sullivan 

Wedding Song – Noel Paul Stookey

Sentimental Lady – Bob Welch

Sister Golden Hair – America

Ventura Highway – America 

Holiday – Madonna 

Borderline – Madonna

Freedom – George Michael

Father Figure – George Michael

You’re Only Lonely – J.D. Souther

Reminiscing – Little River Band

Just Between You and Me – April Wine 

More than a Feeling – Boston 

Good Times Roll – The Cars

Since You’re Gone – The Cars

How ‘Bout Us – Champaign 

If You Leave Me Now – Chicago 

Just Remember I Love You – Firefall

You Are the Woman – Firefall

Right Down the Line – Gerry Rafferty

Our Lips Are Sealed – The Go-Gos

Rocky Mountain High – John Denver

Imagine – John Lennon 

Lola – The Kinks 

I Melt for You – Modern English

Always Something There to Remind Me – Naked Eyes

Lotta Love – Nicolette Larson

Magic – Olivia Newton-John 

Baby, I Love Your Way – Peter Frampton

Show Me the Way – Peter Frampton

You’re My Best Friend – Queen 

Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds 

Into the Mystic – Van Morrison