Challenging My Writing Self - Day 3

Turning Off But Still Tuned In

Something happened on my way to the daily writing challenge

I saw something; I read something that just put me

OFF.

I won't reveal what it was but I'm going off on my own.

Following the inspiration site is

HISTORY

Yet I'm thankful for the inspiration I gained from that first visit.

I've simply learned once again that some things are best pursued

ALONE

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Random Olympic Thought

I'm exasperated with all the constant picking at women - questioning the validity of their gender classification (hurtful and humiliating), the upkeep of black hair (stupid), the whole general view of women not as accomplished athletes but objects lacking in meeting some artificial standard of womanliness. Yes, there is drug use but the range of feminine appearance is so huge. They should be honored, not critiqued. I'll never forget South Africa's Caster Semenya  four years ago being called a genetic man and being forced to endure genetic testing to prove her femaleness. Disgusting.  And in the end, all her chromosomes were just right.

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Looking Down

Garages

I remember years ago living above a garage. I was newly separated and on my way to a divorce. It didn't mean anything to me at the time but the reality of living over a garage, when you feel your life crumbling around you, is fraught with symbolism. After all, what is a garage but a place for the storage of objects that are not useful, are unwanted but for whatever reason, cannot be discarded yet.

When I left that garage apartment I moved to another garage in another town. My single room apartment over a two car detached garage held all my worldly possessions on the garage level. The room above held what bit of furniture I had. A tiny studio kitchen was tucked into the corner. A Murphy bed came down at night.

The view from my bed was the canopy of majestic pine trees that sheltered the house. They were such a comfort during that confusing time of my life. At night they were black shadows against a blue/black night sky, the stars bright and hard, no city light drowning their brilliance.

But, whatever comfort I might have received from the night sky, my heart and mind were closed to its healing power.  After all, I was living above the wreckage and remains of the past three years of my life and still not quite understanding what had happened.

In time, I moved again. This time, not to a garage.