Right Brainiac!

Just thought I would pass on some fun opportunities to budding photographers, artists, writers and anyone with a creative niche.

Hallmark.com accepts greeting card submissions every month. Prizes from $250-$500!

GlimmerTrain.com accepts short story submissions for their quarterly publication, every month, stories chosen, pays $700. No entry fee!

Deadlines are coming for Nimrod and Writer's Digest annual competitions.

LOCALLY~ Independence Museum will be holding the annual Verdigris Art Exhibit in April. Entry fees are very low and it's a great display of local talent!

Blue Mountain Publications accepts poetry submissions for their line of greeting cards, every month, free.

If anyone knows anymore, please share! :)

Neodesha Native ~ Grimes Poznik

In between Tulsa, Oklahoma and Wichita, Kansas; just north of the Wilson and Montgomery County lines, lies Neodesha. A small town of around 3000, Neodesha is too small for many. But we can't choose where we are born.

In 1964, it was even smaller. That was the year Grimes Poznik, son to the only Jewish family in Neodesha, graduated high school and left his small but sure beginnings to set out for Cornell College and then, the world!

Over the decades to follow, Grimes took on his authentic Russian name of Poznikov, and would be described as a radical, an artist, a hero and crazy. I first found him in an unlikely place; Neodesha, Kansas. I found, that is, two of his yearbooks from the 7th and 9th grades, his name and address barely legible inside one of the front covers.

I still had no idea who Grimes Poznikov was. His books were actually not the only ones I purchased at the biggest flea market on Main Street. It's been a hobby of mine to pick up identifiable yearbooks, photographs and class rings, for research and useless curiosity. I Googled his name and sixty years of entertaining, enlightening and challenging his world, unfolded on my computer screen.

Grimes was a Bluestreak, as all kids in Neodesha still are. His yearbooks are from 1959 and 1961, when the seventh through twelfth grades were still attending in one building. The pages are decorated with signatures and stories, well wishers who already recognized Grimes' light. He is easy to recognize with his striking features in class and band photos.

Classmates describe Poznik as an oddball, ornery and sweet.

An English teacher recalls his "zany themes." None more zany than the theme he would follow in his future.

An upperclassman writes that she enjoyed babysitting him.

My research would find stories of Grimes' experiences in the San Francisco Bay area, where he performed on the streets of The Fisherman's Wharf and Ghirardelli Square as The Automatic Human Jukebox, with his trumpet, personality and a painted refrigerator box. Staff writer Kevin Fagan of The San Francisco Chronicle told of his elementary teaching, his protests for peace and his homelessness. Cornell alumni Mike Conklin wrote in the Chicago Tribune that Grimes "was a special talent, and we felt lucky to have him in our midst."

It was in the San Diego Union Tribune, where I found his obituary. Dead at 59, of alcohol poisoning. Survived by a sister and brothers, his ashes held by the San Francisco medical examiner, awaiting payment of expenses. He is said to have suffered from mental illness and addiction. He reminds me of so many stories of insanity mirroring genius.

Grimes' sister Jenny still lives in Kansas. She was quoted saying "He did a lot of things for a lot of people. He fought a lot of battles in his own way. He could do anything."

Real Problems

The other night I was listening, as a man told some mutual friends his sad story.

His fiancé had broken up with him, well, taken a break really. But he had moved out, to stay with his parents for the time being. She had cited, as her reason, his recent loss of a job. There were cutbacks, he hadn’t been fired on bad terms or anything. We spent the beginning of our evening trying to cheer him up and I heard bits and pieces along the way. She claimed her need for stability. She gave back the ring. She was thinking about it. He was devastated.

Part joke and part serious, my girlfriend and I stopped at a table of women on our way to the ladies room. We pointed out the sad man and said he was a great guy and a lot of fun if anyone wanted to meet him. I kid you not, in unison, they all said “does he have a job?”

For an evening? For a few laughs? Is a job really necessary? Is that all a man is anymore?

When we returned to the table, sad man was replaced by sad me. I told the table what we’d witnessed and the men nodded their heads in agreement and then they said, “they want someone to take care of them.” In unison! This didn’t shock them at all.

So, fiancé left her man. A man she was going to marry. Because he lost his job. Missy, let me tell you about some real problems.

Sometimes your man is working that all important job, falls and is permanently paralyzed. He won’t hug or hold you ever again.
Sometimes you have a heart attack and your man has to sit by your bed and feed you supper.
Sometimes your man is an alcoholic and an addict and beats you black and blue for reminding him.
Sometimes your child is born brain damaged. He never leaves home. He always needs both of you.
Sometimes you get that phone call that your mother has passed away.
Sometimes your daughter is in an accident and twenty minutes later you say goodbye to a helicopter with her in it.

Some people have real problems. Permanent problems that cannot be fixed.

Jobs are easier to come by than a good partner.

What Makes A Widow?

I know you're already thinking, what a question!? Read on...

I have a wonderful friend, more than one actually, whose time is spent reading, reviewing, etc. She reads books, the New York Times and sends me anything of interest. It's like my own little filter!! I love it. She recently sent me a few reviews on Joyce Carol Oates' memoir, A Widow's Story. I've requested it at my library, I haven't read it, this is not a review.

By all accounts, jacket included, this was a moving saga about the desperation and strife of a woman having lost her 45-year companion. Among the reviews I was reading, came a pretty sharp remark from another reader. It stated,
"If she remarried eleven months later, she doesn't know grief!"

The blog was born.

When a person remarries soon after a death, or even a divorce... are they discrediting the previous union? Does it appear they loved the previous partner any less?

I can't decide. I am personally an 'all in' kind of girl. I couldn't breathe after my divorce, so I can't imagine being a widow. I can't imagine getting dressed, or going out or dating by any means, for a long time. I can imagine lines on my face from lying on the grass at the cemetery and having to be forcibly removed by my family and friends.

What about 45 years of companionship? Perhaps one knows that they will never replace that, that having someone else to just spend time, is ok?

Perhaps none of this applies, as she is one woman, with one story and hers is hers alone. She happened to meet someone quickly, they happened to find something in one another, something they needed.

Is there a standard of grief, of time, that applies to everyone?

7 Days

If you ever want to try something, a life change, but you're not sure... try it for 7 days. If it's excrutiating, you'll know what you're up against, but what if it isn't. You might be worrying and doubting your resolve for nothing.

7 DAYS

Seven Days

Four changes, times seven days. Just an experiment.

I became a vegetarian on January 1, 2011, which thus far has been a great experience. Very little going without, with lots of new things introduced into my daily diet. So now that I am comfortable in my new meat-free skin, I need to step it up a little, thanks to mother nature and old man Winter. They are quite a couple!

Four changes; no salt, no butter, no caffeine & more water.
Seven days from today, Wednesday to Wednesday.

(1)Wednesday
Food:
Chocolate chip cookie (I know, but it was early, before I decided to start this. It could have been worse!)
One fried egg with asparagus and mushrooms
Coffee (ok, I haven’t purchased decaf yet, so day one is tainted.)

Creamy Garlic shells
Garlic bread (no butter!!)

(Dinner at Brandon’s)
Spinach/Mushroom Quesadilla (taco size)
Spanish rice

1c smoothie

Zero exercise (s)

(2)Thursday
Oatmeal, w/ cranberries, brown sugar & Brummel & Brown
**Brummel & Brown is a butter-like yogurt, low fat & calorie, zero cholesterol. This is the only butter we use period, but I am still thinking of it as butter and using very little, none when possible.

Coffee

Fettucine Alfredo w/Asparagus

Banana

6 cc cookies, Ugh! Big glass of water

(3)Friday Cookies?
Coffee (Decaf from here on out)
Egg white omelette (spinach, asparagus, cheese, calamata olives)

Dry cereal

Grilled Cheese

Soup

(4)Saturday
Omelette, spinach, olive, sun dried tomatoes, Mushrooms
Coffee

Rice & broccoli

Battered eggplant, rotini, bread
Wine

(5) Sunday
Coffee

Drunk Mushroom Sandwich

Peyton ‘Chopped’ penne pasta with squash

Sm peanut butter milkshake

(6) Monday
Coffee
Fried egg on Pumpernickel

Cherilyn Omelette

Drunk Mushroom Sandwich

*Carb Coma!* Ugh! I deserve no dinner. **Butter**

Diet Lasagna Meal (no meat)
Vegetarian Chili


(7) Tuesday
Coffee & Oatmeal

French Fries & Mashed Potatoes(picking off kids’ plates)

Taco Bell B/C burrito with sour cream

Rice Noodles and veggies

Bowl of frosted flakes

Final Weight, Morning after Day 7
So, complete with cookies and cereal, Taco Bell and no exercise… didn’t do great on the water… but I drink a lot of coffee.
5 pounds lost in 1 week. Not too shabby.

Did I get headaches from the Coffee? One, first day, none since.
Did I miss salt, butter, etc.? Well, yes, butter, so I cheated, on Carb Coma day, with Brummel&Brown. Still Lost.
Do I feel Great? Cleansed? Healthier? I feel good, like I lost 5 pounds. Nothing more.

Could the five pounds have come off, for any other reason? Well, maybe, but what would that reason be? I will go another week, without a log, just without the fab four and see what happens!

P.S. I am decaf for good in my kitchen. Why not?

The Ex Text

When I hear the squeak of my ex-husband's voice on the phone, I am usually faced with either nausea or the sudden urge to hang up. There is a squeak. Something I hadn't noticed when I thought he was all that and bag of rice cakes.

I say this from distant memory, since we rarely speak. God bless the text message. Occasionally, if we have a whole lot to say, we might pen an email, but I don't hear his voice and don't see his face. The point, we don't fight much, if ever.

The most heated discussions we have had... you guessed it, text! This goes way back, beginning with the mistress texting me some mothering advice. Delete. And I was back to my movie of the week.

So... has texting, emailing, technology in general made it easier to survive a break up? Divorce? Custody arrangements?

There is so much emotion tied into all of these things. Someone yells, you yell back, maybe a plate gets thrown. But I rarely throw my phone. He also doesn't get to see my reaction, I can think, breathe, take a moment. Or I can do nothing. Sometimes nothing is just what a bad situation needs. Delete.

This goes both ways.

So am I emotionally stunted? Am I incapable of one on one exchange? Maybe. No. But this works and the other, has been failing people for years.

Bonus! When we do argue, via text, there is no yelling for our child to hear and maybe, just maybe, we cut out some of the useless insults, since lets face it, it's exhausting on the thumbs and you have a limit on characters! :)

What if we all had a limit on characters? 5000 a day? Think of the hot air we would save, the lectures we wouldn't sit through. Everyone would get to the point! Words would be valuable again!

When you play poker, the best players are void of emotion. Texting removes, for the most part, the emotion from conversation. We can smile and LOL, and exclamation point all day, but that 'in your face,' say-something-we'll-regret, aspect, is gone.

Video phones are out there. Web cams and skype are fairly easy to maneuver. No thanks!~

A Colorful Jacket

I had to write my own bio. There is nothing worse. Someday I will have someone to do these things for me.

Once finished, I thought, well it makes sense that I add this extended about me to my blog.

**
Cherilyn David is a 35-year-old writer and artist living in Southeast Kansas with her teenage daughter. When she isn't writing, her interests include painting, genealogy research, photography and home décor. Cherilyn volunteers at the local library and spends most of her time being a mother and developing her gifts. Cherilyn has a child with special needs and is always learning and becoming more aware of the trials that go along with that journey.

Cherilyn grew up in San Diego and started writing as soon as she learned how her feelings and experiences could be translated onto paper. She is almost finished with a cookbook for couples, slated for May 2011 release, has completed a romance/drama Trying To Love You, has started a long term plan on her memoir By Any Other Name and is self publishing You Come From A Long Line of Strong Women, for her daughter. Cherilyn is the author of Two Sides of Wilde, available at Amazon.com and a memoir, My Daughter Still.

Cherilyn has one self titled blog www.cherilyndavidblog.blogspot.com and participates in another, www.makinghomeworkblog.blogspot.com , dedicated to mothers who work from home. All of Cherilyn's endeavors can be explored at www.cherilyndavid.com .

Cherilyn also submits poetry, articles on various topics to online and traditional magazines and has tried her hand at song writing and a Halloween children's book, Creepy Christina; completed and currently in the illustration stages.

Cherilyn has started and stopped her education over the years, completing more than two years of college as an English Major. She is finally resigned to being a student of life and tries not to worry about the lack of crisp certificates on her walls. There are instead- photographs, mirrors and wine!
**