Music video #3 of good music from Youtube. I like sharing these, and this particular song meant so much to me as a parent when Rod Stewart released it. The words resonate, and nostalgia hits hard whenever I hear it now.
Forever Young, performed by Rod Stewart; songwriters: Bob Dylan, Jim Cregan, Kevin Savigar, Rod Stewart
My new "hiatus" is allowing a little freedom to post at random, whatever and whenever I feel. Sharing another great song from a while ago.
Music, lyrics...all complete. Use your imagination with the amazing intro...it tells so many stories. What do you see?
Eye in the Sky by The Alan Parsons Project.
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.
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.
My best girl, Lily. July 3, 2008 - December 11, 2021. Over thirteen years, full of love and happiness. I miss her so.
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.
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.
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| Tattered Cover Book Signing |
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.
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.
I know this small post won't gain much attention in the big picture of things since the world's eyes and ears are on Taylor Swift...
