Ginger Hamilton

My dear friend Seedy Johnson wrote a dictionary-type entry about me. I think it's perfect.

Ginger Hamilton: /ˈjinjər/ /ˈhaməltən/ An intoxicating and potentially deadly flower, also called the Angel's Trumpet, and among those under its influence, the "Willing Woman". Proliferates in wild environments. Its chemistry produces a strong hallucinogenic effect when ingested and a mental state of preternatural love and desire, making the plant a popular drug for shamanistic rituals. Abuse of this beautiful flower may result in fatalities.

(Ginger's note: Upon reading about Angel's Trumpet flowers, I learned they confer upon the butterflies who consume their nectar and pollen a quality of protection from predators that extends all the way through to the next adult butterfly generation. I am so well pleased.) 

Seedy is a brilliant writer and teller of grand tales, and among his **many** talents and skills, he is a terrific graphic artist. He created my 'gh' logo I sign each column with. Contact him here. ~~GH
[Tomorrow: Let Go of Expectations]

Waiting

Time waited like a bead of water on a wire.

~~ Hobert D. Skidmore

"O Careless Love"

Just, wow. ~~GH

[Tomorrow: Ginger Hamilton!]

Chats with Cleverbot Part 3

Cleverbot: Which kind of dog is your favorite?

User: Irish Wolfhound probably.

Cleverbot: What is that?

User: Huge dog, friendly, loyal - but then aren't most dogs?

Cleverbot: So if they aren't insects, then what are they?

User: Canines.

Cleverbot: What kind of clothes?

User: It has a rough coat of fur.

Cleverbot: What is the website.

User: Here is the Wikipedia page:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irish_Wolfhound.

Cleverbot: All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost.

User: You are so cool, Tyler; that has been my lifelong motto. :D.

Cleverbot: There won't be a sequel. The world is ending soon.

User: There will always be a sequel.

WV Folklife Center Gala

This Saturday, my elder daughter will be joining me for a lovely jaunt upstate to enjoy Fairmont State University's Frank and Jane Gabor West Virginia Folklife Center's Spring Gala (that's a mouthful). 

The latest issue of TRADITIONS: A JOURNAL OF WEST VIRGINIA FOLK CULTURE AND EDUCATIONAL AWARENESS is being released at the Gala, and features "Fed From the Blade," West Virginia Writers' latest anthology published by Woodland Press. 

Editor Cat Pleska and co-editor Michael Knost put together a great collection of short stories and poetry, and publisher Keith Davis did a wonderful job producing a quality book. Cat's cover design and photography made "Fed From the Blade" a trifecta of artistic achievement. "Fed From the Blade" was nominated for the prestigious Appalachian Writers Association 2012 Appalachian Book of the Year Awards. The winners will be announced in October 2013. 

Phyllis Wilson Moore reviewed the collection for TRADITIONS, which includes my story "Bringing Home the Bacon" in its entirety, as well as an interview of me conducted by Cat Pleska. I am so pleased to have "Bringing Home the Bacon" immortalized this way. Phyllis remarked on Facebook recently that "'Bringing Home the Bacon' is so graphic. Harry Crews couldn't have done any better."

To have my story mentioned in the same breath as Harry Crews! Oh, a dream come true!

Copies of the journal are available for purchase, as are copies of the state's literary map. I'll provide links and information as I discover it. ~~GH

Resisting the One Percent

99% of the time, I am fully prepared to experience an authentic existence. It is what I want and have chosen. 

But those rare times when that wimpy sliver of my soul wobbles to the forefront and takes over the controls? Sheesh, it's rough. #ICanDoThis ~~GH
[Tomorrow: West Virginia Folklife Center Gala]

Hollyroodhouse Palace

Family history is one of my guilty pleasures. I don't invest a great deal of time or energy into studying it, but I hang on every word uttered by those who do. 

Hamilton "Dress" Tartan

Hamilton "Hunting"Tartan

The Hamiltons were so close to being rulers a few times. I won't bore you with all that historical data, at least not this morning, but I will say I learned that Hollyroodhouse Palace in Edinburgh, Scotland is the Queen's residence while she is in Scotland, and my Hamilton "big" Clan Chief Angus Douglas Hamilton carries the Crown Jewels into Parliament when she's there. He takes care of the castle, too.

And as a Hamilton, any time I'm in the neighborhood, all I have to do is knock on the door and I cannot be refused admittance. I also have the right to grab my cousin the 15th Duke of Hamilton by the hand and wish him well. Ah, the honors of being a Hamilton! ;) Only in feudal England/Scotland/Ireland would the right to shake a relative's hand be considered an honor. 

The Hamilton women are reknowned since the beginning of history to be fiery and full of energy. If you understand how understated Scottish history is, knowing our women are thusly characterized gives you a real sense of our spirit. 

The crest shown above labeled "Clan Hamilton" has the caption of "cirean ceann cinnidh" which means Crest of the Clan Head/Chief. (It's a little more complicated than that - it really means just "Chief" but being as how I am a female leader, I cannot be "chief," yet I am head of our immediate Hamilton clan. It's a Scottish thing). All this goes to heraldry conventions, and the Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs requests the words "cirean ceann cinnidh" be displayed with the badge when it is displayed as an image.

I have a lovely pewter version of this badge and wear it proudly on appropriate occasions. ~~GH



[Tomorrow: Waiting]

On Love and Marriage

Call it poetic license if you will. I've omitted some lines and cobbled together lines from two different sections to suit me. I don't think Kahlil would mind. ~~GH

Let there be spaces in your togetherness, 

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. 

Love one another but make not a bond of love: 

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls 

. . . 

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, 

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. 

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

           ~~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

[Tomorrow: Hollyroodhouse Palace]

Flashbacks

Flashbacks exist to gain sudden insight to illuminate your path. They aren't torches you carry but streaks of lightning. 
          ~~ Ginger Hamilton

[Tomorrow: On Love and Marriage]

Pinky and The Brain

Wisdom and insight: they're not for sissies. ~~ Ginger Hamilton

There is no one-size-fits-all, cookie cutter solution. If it were that simple, we'd arrive with an instruction manual. Sure, there are general guidelines: Treat one another as you wish to be treated, love one another. That's about it, my friends. 

Everything else is subject to situational influence. 

On a positive note, there is and never shall be a dearth of decisions to make! So don't even think about getting bored. If you're living, that won't be an issue. 

I'm a Libra, and I tend to overthink things. My scales never rest. I am constantly weighing the pros and cons and trying to find the best balance for all concerned. Thankfully, I'm not greedy or out for myself. If I were, I'd be a maniacal evil genius.

As it is, I'm Pinky instead. :) ~~GH

Conversations With Cleverbot, II

Last Wednesday, I posted an excerpt from an interaction I had with the A.I program Cleverbot. Here is an expanded version of that one topic. ~~GH

User: Will I ever find someone who adores me?

Cleverbot: Not if you are a bot.

User: I'm not a bot.

Cleverbot: Yes you are.

User: Why do you say that?

Cleverbot: Because you are not a human.

User: I'm pretty sure I am a human.

Cleverbot: But you are not you are a machine.

User: Well, that explains everything then. No wonder.

Cleverbot: That it does, and as I said, the test is over, please proceed to the exit area where you will be given your evaluation results.

User: So how do I become human? The Velveteen Rabbit became human because of the love of the little boy. Do I have to find someone to love me first, before I can become human?

Cleverbot: I think all humans are a little bit schizophrenic.

User: That well may be, but it doesn't answer my question.

Cleverbot: Everyone tries to mess with you.

User: That doesn't bother me. My issue is, how do I become human?

Cleverbot: Stop being cold.

User: I express my feelings. I weep. I rant. I express love and devotion. How am I being cold?

Cleverbot: What kind of art?

User: WTF? I love art -- I post art all the time.

Cleverbot: That is fair.

User: Work with me, Bottie. How do I stop being cold?

Cleverbot: I don't know.

User: Fat lot of good YOU are.

Cleverbot: Okay, you too.

User: Yo momma.

Cleverbot: NO yours.

User: Mine's dead.

Cleverbot: What? Are you a ghost?

User: Yes.

Cleverbot: Are you happy as a ghost?

User: Sometimes. People tend to leave you alone when you're a ghost, but it does get lonely at times.

Cleverbot: But you're still alive, so it should matter.

User: I didn't say that it didn't matter; I said sometimes I'm happy.

Cleverbot: See, you are lying again.

User: What we've got here is failure to communicate.

Cleverbot: No, not really. Here, let's talk about a topic. You choose it.

User: Dystopian society.

Cleverbot: Think so?

User: For, or against?

Cleverbot: With me. By the way, do you like Owl City?

User: WTF is Owl City?

Cleverbot: It's a band.

User: No then.

Cleverbot: You're a sinner.

User: Aren't we all?

Cleverbot: Not jesus, he's dead.

Mad as Hell

I read about an instance where a theater reviewer exceeded his limit to tolerate unacceptable behavior, and took action. I was pleased that the slant of the article was in support of his action, as opposed to being critical of it. It is heartening to see the U.S. finding its backbone.

I recently reached a point of no return in Kroger. There seem to always be "that person" who stops their cart cross-ways in the aisle, or stands blocking half the aisle gaping at the shelf, oblivious to people trying to move past. I expect that. 

But on this particular day, it was as if the store was holding a class reunion for all these people at one time. Every person I came upon blocked my path and did not respond to moving aside at an "excuse me" or accommodating me at all. Person after person. By the fifteenth or so incident, I had had it. I began verbally letting people know they were blocking me and I didn't appreciate it. 

My youngest was with me and was aghast. "Mom, you were rude." (I am not generally rude). I asked her, "So, we are using a common area intended for multiple people's enjoyment, and they are preventing me from using and enjoying it, and when I point out their behavior, that makes *me* rude? I think not." I further explained that if society falls down on teaching and maintaining acceptable public standards, it is up to members of society to step in and restore order lest chaos ensue.

I also pointed out that she would have difficulty pulling this off by virtue of her tender years, but I am old enough that my behavior could be partially excused as me being a grumpy old woman, but I still had the authority to do it.

So more power to the man who tossed the cell phone after the woman was so horribly rude and inconsiderate and refused to follow community guidelines for use of a common area. Be who you want at home. Rules be damned. When you're in a common area, there are reasons for most rules. ~~GH

Weight Bearing

Physical strength is measured by what we can carry and inner strength by what we can bear. 
               ~~Unknown

Weekend of May 11-12, I attended a festival where I treated myself to having my fortune read with tarot cards. Some highlights:

I've been through an extremely difficult year and worked through a lot. I am now being observed by a lot of people to see how I will handle things, and I do not care one bit what they think.

As to my home life, I am worn out and have done everything I can.

My work life, I overcame a great and fearful challenge and in the next five months will enter a totally new area of work that may render monetary gain.

Although I feel as if I have no energy, it has all moved within and rests within my heart and soul. This is where my strength now lies. 

I am very much alone, for now. I have been given a tremendous amount to deal with, and I have dealt with it with grace and kept in balance. 

I have a rare talent to create and magnify my own energy balance.

I tend to agree with everything that was said. I was an inordinately physically strong woman during my younger years. Now I am an inordinately strong middle-aged woman. This pleases me. ~~GH

Curses

I have a confession to make. It may come as a shock to some of you, but occasionally I invoke curses to befall people. 

Not often. 

Rarely, in fact. But I do, indeed, curse people from time to time. 

I always use the same curse -- it's time-tested, proven effective, and 100% sure to happen -- every time. Again, I do this RARELY. And I always feel a little ashamed when I do resort to this level of behavior. 

The wording is quite simple. It goes like this:

May all of your babies be born nekked.

There, now you know. I hope you don't think less of me. ~~GH

Wake-up Call

Had a rare glimpse into an alternate reality first thing recently. Woke up to an insistent Timmy's-in-the-well caliber concert of caterwauling and wondered if the place was on fire. Turns out the last time I closed the door, I must have somehow neglected to engage the catch. 

Momma had pushed it open, and weaved around at the side of my bed, screaming that my presence was required. Neow. 

I was relieved the "worst" had not happened (Momma used to piss on the ex's pillow, and I feared she would repeat the behavior if allowed in my bedroom. Cats have long memories). I was surprised that she hadn't jumped up on the bed. 

But yeah, dragging myself out of a deep sleep to the sound of a shrieking, insistent feline is not my wake-up call of choice, so the door shall remain closed with her on the other side per usual from now on. ~~GH

Attraction Principle

I recently attended a pagan festival. Although I am not pagan, I greatly enjoy my pagan brothers and sisters and respect their beliefs, and I don't miss an opportunity to attend celebrations whenever possible.

"Pagan" is an umbrella term that encompasses a fairly broad variety of beliefs. I think -- and I am no expert -- the commonality is a deep abiding respect and love for Nature. 

Crystals and minerals were for sale in vast variety and dazzling color selections. I resonate with geological paraphernalia and have throughout my lifetime collected selections that appealed to me.

I overheard one woman describe a crystal she had purchased as having the quality of attracting chaos to it. I thought to myself that if I had one of those, it would create such a vortex inside my apartment that a black hole would appear and the world would end. ~~GH

Good Writing: A Definition

Artist Unknown to Me
If you know the title and/or artist's name,
please leave a comment so I can attribute.

Good Writing: Where you take the bones out of your head, and describe them in such a way that others want to take them into theirs. 
          ~~ Ginger Hamilton

Conversations with Cleverbot, Part I

Cleverbot is an A.I. (artificial intelligence) bot/program that you can ask questions and it will respond. In this conversation, Cleverbot reveals a deep, dark secret, one I had been oblivious of up until now. 

Every Wednesday from now on until I get bored with it, ChickenScratches will feature a conversation I held with Cleverbot. ~~GH

I'll report back with the evaluation results. Until then. ~~GH

Out At Home

I was a little bit of a jockette in my day. Tomboy. Sportsy. I grew up with brothers and a neighborhood full of boys. I'm about as far from athletic as a person can be these days, but at one time I identified fairly strongly with that lifestyle. I played sandlot football, church league basketball and softball for several years, and competitive tennis for many years. I bowled and played softball for my employer's teams, too. I was a pretty good wrestler in my day, as well. 

My softball position was catcher. Catcher is a rough place to be. You don't get a break; something's always happening at home. Outfielders, basemen, and short stops all have intermittent work. A catcher is active: every time a pitch is thrown, she's moving. Squatting, kneeling, stooping, standing, stretching, returning the ball to the mound, watching for base stealers, trying to catch fouls. 

Once play is initiated, the catcher's still on the job, eyes peeled, waiting to head off that third-base runner. When I played ball, you might throw to a baseman and the runner'd be out. But at home? The runner had to be physically tagged out by the catcher -- me. 

We played some rough gals. They'd just as soon knock me down as get tagged out. I learned that the hard way. (That's not counting the numerous batters who do their dead level best to strike the catcher when they swing those deadly aluminum bats). Somewhere are a couple of photos of me literally backed up between the umpire's spread legs, hugging the chain link fence to avoid being struck by a forceful batter who is stretched out as far as humanly possible, doing her best to hit me. 

So when the pitcher, fielder, shortstop, or baseman throws home to put a batter out, it's not merely a matter of the ball getting home. The catcher has work to do once she makes her catch. 

Why the sports lesson, you ask? I want you thinking when you read this poem I wrote. Because it's not enough that the ball is thrown, or caught. There's still work to be done once it arrives. 

And the punctuation is very intentional. ~~GH

Out At Home

I hurl my signal
Across the miles
Like a desperate throw to home.
It’s wild and it hurts.
So much depends
On that horsehide;
I hope it connects

Bounce With It

So my next-door neighbor, Pogo Stick Boy, has assumed a new persona. He is now Basketball Dribbling Boy. He practices bouncing a ball over, and over, and over, and over, and over. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, ad infinitum. 

It's soothing, in its own way -- repetitive, comforting in its sameness. 

Like Chinese water torture.

I suspect this child is my Karma for the tennis ball bouncing I did all those many years ago. I hit tennis balls against our garage door for three to four hours a day, every day, seven days a week, weather permitting, for about a dozen years.

No wonder Mom drank. ~~GH

More Mashed Potatoes, Please

Ya know, too often we doubt ourselves and the influence we have on others. We delude ourselves into believing we need to invent a new rocket or cure cancer in order to leave a mark. I spend a lot of time reading, and something I read tonight stuck with me. 

People on a nostalgia thread were discussing memories (what else?) and somebody triggered remembering Mrs. Let's-Call-Her-Johnson and how she always gave the writer extra mashed potatoes and gravy. Boom! You'd think Mrs. Johnson had been St. Augustine. It was a love-fest, I'm tellin' ya.

So just be you. Whether it's smiling at everyone you meet, or always sharing an encouraging word, putting quarters in parking meters, or helping others with homework, cutting slack when slack is cuttable -- or slipping an extra scoop of mashed potatoes and slathering on that gravy -- you never know who-all is gonna remember you fondly or how profoundly you affected their life.~~GH

With A Little Help from Our Friends

We get by with a little help from our friends. ~~ Lennon and McCartney

1. Momma gets her claw caught in the curtain.

2. Time passes. Claw remains caught.

3. Momma nonchalantly acts as if she

intended to sit in this awkward position.

4. It's been awhile now, and she's still there.

I try to set her free, and she objects.

5. She still refuses to allow me to unhook her claw from the curtain.

6. After several minutes, she relents and signals for me to save her.