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Once in a while when people ask me how things are going, I answer, “I’m fighting.” They often wonder what. I tell them it’s a battle. That I’m not exactly sure who the monster is or the demons in the war, but that regardless of my surrounding, it’s a battlefield.

I think this afternoon I got some insight into this battle, maybe even a weapon or two. I can now put some faces to my enemy, they all look like me. Steven Pressfield’s, the War of Art, is a blunt kick in the ass as to show who the real demons are. It’s a refreshing word as to the importance and necessity of persistence to our visions and our true selves.

It’s definitely got my brain turning and racing as I look around and see evidence of my losses. As I’m getting closer and closer to the real me, the Resistance ( yes, that’s a capital R) against me, is also increasing. I just need to keep in check with it. I need to look it in the face and keep paddling through it. I need to keep at it regardless of the surroundings. I need to do it, even if I was the last person on earth.

One of my personal battles is with scheduling, as you’ve seen in my previous posts. Yet there was a passage that got me thinking.

Someone once asked Somerset Maugham if he wrote on a schedule or only when struck by inspiration. “I write only when inspiration strikes,” He replied. “Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.”

It makes me question. Maybe it wasn’t that my passion was being killed by the calendar, but as I got closer to what I needed to do, Resistance was fighting harder. I justified and rationalized this whole thing out of the picture. I looked again at the list of Needs, Talents, Passion and Purpose. And there it was, completely overlooked: Sharing, Creating Community.

I know I haven’t spelled out too much of what I’m trying to do in my posts, but essentially it’s an online event calendar. It’s sharing with others information about what’s going on. And in essence creating communities. So how is it that what I’m building isn’t in that?

Those damn sirens of the sea! Causing hallucinations and madness. And they would have gotten away with it if it were for that darn book!

Now this is a nifty idea, instead of using passwords as security, Real User suggests, why not faces? Give it a shot.

Saw this on The Hour last night. Who plays this on the air? I guess George does.

Ah, Valentines day. In waking up this morning I walked to my computer only to find all the bloggers in the world taking a moment in their life to celebrate love and joy. Well, for me I’m going to make a post for us lonely out there.

I get the idea of love, and I sure do appreciate those who have it, but with all the hype and publicity of the day, it’s an amplifier to the fact that this morning when I rolled over in bed, their wasn’t anyone there. It’s a reminder that as I’m talking in my living room, only my cat will meow back. It’s a day, where all the memories of Valentines Day’s past are played in my head and how this year it’s solo. Not a good feeling at first, but like anything else, practice makes perfect. Or is it time heals? So, I make due and try and remind myself that I’m my own Valentine.

I suggest to all those out there who aren’t liking today, to be proud and go to a movie and only buy 1 ticket. Go to dinner and say “for 1″. To have a date with yourself. I think sometimes it’s easy to show someone else how much you love them. But I think the real courage and challenge is to show how much you love yourself. Buy yourself something you want. Do something you’ve always wanted to do. For me, I’ve found I enjoy taking a long walk by myself. I stroll and ponder. I use this time to remind myself about things that I want to accomplish. I ask myself, “if I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, what will make me happy and complete.” I suggest everyone, regardless of companionship status ask themselves this question. So, my jacket and shoes are on, and once I click “publish” for this post, I’m off and walking. Happy Valentines.

When you’ve got lemons you make lemonade. And if you’re Scottish and those royals keep taking the best part of the sheep, you make haggis.
Yes, Robby Burns Day is long gone, yet this weekend at Egmont Marina, it was January 25th. Pipers and fiddles and kilts and beer and haggis, oh my! Everything was there to make a great ceilidh night. And as my tribute, here’s a copy of “Address To A Haggis” by Robert Burns.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they strech an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit!’ hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whissle;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o ‘fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!

I might not have any Scottish blood in my veins but this weekend, I was a Scott!