STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WRITING

BOOOOOM!!!

If and when ever you read the introduction to this blog, you'll see that I wondered if I could get 365 thoughts in one year.  As a matter of fact, I got so many thoughts so far this year that I can't begin to calculate how many more I have lost than those that I actually captured.  It is the usual story of the challenge of standing at the starting line and wondering if reaching the end is possible.  This initial phobia can be rather difficult to conquer.  But, as a matter of fact, it has not been difficult.  It has been more difficult trying to keep the product within some sort of logically bounded territory.  I have constantly told myself that the autobiographical nature of the product should never be abandoned.  So, that means that I have to abide by some self-imposed rules.  For a character like me that is not easy to do.  I therefore get around that difficulty by maintaining other blogs that serve as pressure relievers when the boundaries are starting to squeeze a little too tightly.  That hasn't happened too often, so things have been rather smooth and slippery.  I have tried to maintain the "Grant, Data, Warrant" model in the production of the articles.  Sometimes it works, sometimes my affinity for the digression and the embroidery is too demanding and off I go... I read the thing the next day and I say to myself, "Well, the humor is not in the way it was said, it's more in the way it was written."  Oh, yeah, I know it happens.
This is a strange feeling for me, the discipline I mean.  Since I was 12 years old I have been writing and speaking in public. Most of the time I do it extemporaneously, without notes and many times without a written outline.  I always have one in my head, but hey, everyone knows what stream of consciousness does to you when a good line swishes by and your synapses grab it.  You just have to use it.  When I first started, I figured that things would just come and roll out.  Like in the featured picture. Just sit down and whooosh! 700 words and off to bed with you.  Actually, most days it's like that.  Some are not.  But over all it is fun, and it is, believe it or not, instructive too.  For instance, I have learned to stay away from foul language, except in Latin, as you know.  But then again, everybody knows that foul language is one the the first double standards that children discover as they are growing up.  But I think I have been quite restrained in that area.  The other area I have been carefully monitoring is the "no-no" duo, "Politics and Religion."  I have three other outlets for that, but I decided that this was not the place for that kind of stuff.  Not that I don't have thoughts and convictions about them, but just that if anyone wants to sniff around with that, they can ask me and I'll tell them.  The important thing is that the audiences for those outlets know where to find them.  I have mentioned them here a time or two and the links are listed off to the side.  Actually, if truth were told, some of the greatest gems are in my old E-mails.  Some of them are sparkling jewels of who I really am!
Finally, I have generally been rather modest.  I have one article that I wrote several years ago about a mother who was bringing her daughter to church for first communion.  The mother and the daughter were dressed in equally stunning white dresses.  One was 10 years old or so and the mother was, of course, somewhat older.  The mother was somewhat less than appropriately dressed for church, and I write about it.  In polite terms, of course.  I was thinking of putting it here, but the Voice from the Kitchen is dead set against it.   So, if you want to see it, click around a bit.  You'll find it.  By the way, The Voice from the Kitchen has about 36 more days of left to her half-life.  After that I will abide by her wish to use her real name for ever more.  
So, you see,  this is a reporting of what goes on in my coconut with regards to this effort of mine.  I can therefore confess that it is nothing but an authentic, unvarnished, secular, but polite part of me.  One that my children will be able to show to their children, on the off chance that they generate any.