Fzzzzt!

Intense Solar Flare activity is having an adverse affect with my computer and internet connection today.

It’s also playing havoc with my typing, although Fingers, my Inner Typist disputes this. He says his tpying is fine.

My Inner Zombie has been quiet for a few days, which is unusual. However, this means that he will be making an appearance very soon… unless he’s hiding from the Solar Radiation.

The news report I read the other day said that the flares weren’t being sent out in the Earth’s direction, but today’s report has said that they are having an effect on communications.

Thomasina, my Inner Woman, is having a terrible time at present. I don’t know exactly what she’s doing, but I keep hearing strange sounds from the back of my mind. A mix between a hair-dryer and a lawn-mower. Very strange. Maybe she’s having the bad hair days since I had my hair cut very short the other week.

My Inner Weatherman is all excited due to the adverse weather we have been experiencing over the past couple of days as well. The South West of England have had snow. We in Cheshire have just had a lot of rain. This must be due to the flares. My Inner Weatherman always tries to find an alternative off-world answer for random weather events.

My Inner Politician (I have no idea where he came from!) and my Inner Leader of the Opposition are bickering about some issue or other to do with Europe. Well, Eurovision anyway. They’re about as political as I am, truth be told.

Tom the Geek, my Inner Geek, is loving all of this. He loves it when the computers don’t work as they should… when pages only half load, or even (gasp) don’t load at all. He’ll instantly reach for the refresh button, or try to reset the modem or router. I don’t think he actually knows what he’s doing – he confuses the heck out of me anyway – which isn’t really that difficult.

As I was typing this, a message box popped up saying I was experiencing very high CPU usage due to my printer settings. The printer isn’t even switched on. And I’m not trying to print anything either. Tom the Geek has advised I switch the printer on and off again for some reason. I’ll not, though, due to the Solar Flare activity, just in case.

An explosion from the back of my mind tells me that Thomasina has also been affected by the Solar Flare… the singeing smell tells me that she’s blown her hair-dryer. Hopefully, she’ll join my Inner Zombie and stay out of sight.

And Fingers, my Inner Typist has just returned to assist with the fnial praagraph of this post. He is feeling the effects of the Solar Flares after all, as he is usually in contact with the communication centre within my mind… only today he can’t get a connection. The lights are on, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone in.

I’ve a sneaky feeling my Inner Aspects may be having a party somewhere, and using the Solar Activity as a cover.

I shall have to activate my Inner Private Eye to investigate this further, but every time I try to do so, all I get is an odd fzzzzt sound.

All lines are engaged.

I shall have to try later.

Here’s hoping that you aren’t being as adversely affected as I am during this current Solar bombardment!

Future…

Through the swirling mists of time
An image begins to appear
An alternative future comes into view
But it isn’t very clear
It’s not entirely set in stone
The way forward has many ways
Depending on the path you choose
Will alter your future days…

Illustration Friday time once more; I’ve not participated in the challenge for the last two weeks, I think, but I decided to have another go this week. The theme is Future. I decided to go for an alternative view of the future… one that we can’t see, but one that someone else can.

Or can she?

If a future is always changing, can anybody really predict what will happen?

Inconsistency as an old art form

I like to think I’m quite good at a lot of things. I actually like to think that I’m extremely good at a lot of things. But, in reality, and if I’m being one hundred per cent honest, I know that I’m not.

Sometimes I’m better than others, sometimes worse. Sometimes I’m so terrible I wonder why I even bothered to start in the first place. And sometimes I wonder if it was me that had actually done what I’d done (for better or for worse, it works either way).

But what, I hear you ask in frustration, are these ‘things’ I’m rabbiting on about? Well, I shall tell you, in a roundabout* way.

Anything I do.

Everything I do.

Writing. Reading. Creating unique pieces of computer art. Communicating. Listening. Remembering. Sleeping. Dreaming. Sneezing.

Everything I do, I’ll do it differently the next time.

I write a good piece… I then write a terrible one (complete with speling errors!).
I read the first so many fabulous chapters of an un-put-downable book, and then forget that I’d even started it.
I flourish and embellish and exaggerate and colour-in some work of art which wouldn’t look out of place in trendy art galleries anywhere around the world, and when I next look at it, it’s as though, well, a strange computer virus has attacked my art software and distorted whatever I have done.
I’ve never been a great communicator, verbally, but sometimes I’m magnificent. I really, truly, deeply am.
I have one good ear and one not so good one (just the two!), so I miss a lot of what I’m being told… and sometimes make up my own words to try to catch up, thus getting other things wrong. Sometimes hilariously so (especially when I’m singing along to a song. Enya’s Orinoco Flow will always contain the line Save the Whale, Save the Whale, Save the Whale, as that is how I first heard it many centuries ago).
I remember that line as it was oh so wrong, but can I remember any others? Nope! The tune, yes… well, most of it. I even forget people who I sit next to at work occasionally. Sigh.
Sometimes, I sleep soundly. Other times, I wake about fifty times during the night. Sometimes, I sleep too heavily and feel dreadful, and other times I love waking and sleeping on and off all night long.
I love my dreams. I remember some, but not all. Sometimes I dream regularly, sometimes I don’t. Currently, I’m somewhat in the middle…
And sneezing… sometimes, I break the sound barrier as I sneeze that loudly… other times, I stifle a little achoo in a corner somewhere.

Completely inconsistent. But always me.

It’s the core that matters anyway, not the inconsistencies. Well, that’s how I feel about it. Most of the time.

***

This post has been written in response to Sideview’s Weekend Theme, which this week is Inconsistency… *I didn’t participate in last week’s theme, Swings and Roundabouts, so I added a little sideways mention at the beginning there. If you’d like to participate in Sideview’s weekly challenge pop along to her site, and have a look at some other posts written by other bloggers who may not be as inconsistent as me. I.

***

Incidentally, the words Inconsistent and Inconsistency were first used in a decade very close to my heart. Yes, that’s right. Between 1640 and 1650 the word came into existence.

Is it just by chance that I’m as inconsistent as I am, looking at that rather random coincidence of timing? Synchronicities are never far away… and I have found another link to my 1642 Quest… although its meaning is as allusive as with all of the other links I have found. Answers will be along soon, I’m sure of it. I just have to ask the right questions first of all!

I still feel good though, even with all the questions, answers and inconsistencies. And that, as a good core, is all that matters…

Dream Scene

I walked through the clearing and looked ahead… the light was all wrong, and the sky was red… clouds swirled around; a storm on the way, casting animated shadows through the bright day. The breeze was warm, the time was late, there was nothing around me apart from a gate. A gate by itself, no wall or fence, in the middle of a field, this didn’t make sense. But one thing I really need to know: if the gate was open or closed. Do you know?

Reservations

“But we’re booked in!” The man was starting to get agitated.

“Please calm yourself, sir.” The receptionist reasoned. “We have no reservations for the name Jones.”

“My wife made the bookings herself. Here she comes now.”

A small lady walked into the lobby, pushing, pulling and carrying four heavy suitcases. She arrived at the desk.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Jones, you aren’t in the system.” The receptionist confirmed.

“Try the name Smith” she said, grinning devilishly.

***

Another entry for Red’s Flash in the Pan. This time, the word limit is 75, and, according to my word count thingy, I’ve maxed out, and used the full 75 word limit. The theme, as it says on the tin, is Reservations.

Hiding in Plain Sight!

I write occasionally, yet on many occasions, about the Spirit of the Tree.

The faces that appear within the leaves, through the leaves, or created by the patterns of the leaves, is what I call, or class as, the manifestation of the Spirit of the Tree.

He / she / it / they are always visible when looking at either photographs of trees and bushes, or actually looking at the trees and bushes themselves. Sometimes it takes a while for the faces or figures to appear, and at other times they literally leap out, they are so clear.

One of my recent posts about the Spirit of the Tree showed the clear manifestation of a dog’s face, and another Spirit image leaning on the railings. Click here to have a look at that post.

This photo, once again taken using the nifty Google Streetview thingy, actually shows the Spirit walking or floating by:

Can’t see it?

Here’s a close up:

Still no? Here’s the first image again, this time I’ve highlighted where the Spirit is:

The thing is, as soon as you notice the Spirit’s eye, the rest of his figure instantly becomes visible. A ghost-like figure caught twinkling in the sunlight as he meanders by…

Can you see any other faces in this image? The last time I posted about the Spirit, the photo was overflowing with faces! Let me know!

Opportunity Knocked?

The Loch Ness Monster stared at me for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! Tilting its head from one side to the other, as if trying to work me out. At one point, it stretched its long neck forward, as if trying to get a closer look.

Its tongue licked the air, and it constantly blinked its lizard-like eyes. The rest of its body remained underwater, all I could see was its head and neck.

Then I realised I had my camera. I rummaged through my rucksack; finally grabbing it from the very bottom.

When I looked up, the Monster was gone.

***

I was totally lost. I knew where I was generally, of course, Bhutan, at the foot of the Himalayas.

I’d managed to get separated from the rest of the expedition somehow, and couldn’t call for help on my mobile phone… the battery was dead.

I caught sight of someone ahead of me, dashing from the clearing into the trees, so I decided to follow. And then I wished I hadn’t. Ahead of me, looking out from the trees was the Abominable Snowman.

As my camera is on the phone, I couldn’t even take the photo for proof. However, I ran.

***

The sea was calm that night. The sky was cloudy, but not overly so. The Moon shone brightly behind the clouds, casting a nice glow for miles around.

I was alone on the deck. Although I was tired, I couldn’t sleep, hence deciding to take a stroll around the deck. The excursion during the day was long, I presumed the other passengers were well away.

The formation of the brightly coloured lights by the Moon caught my eye first. Then, the gleaming metallic sphere came into view. I tried to get a photo, but all I captured was the Moon.

***

A trio of tall tales for Sideview’s weekend theme this week, which is That Elusive Photograph. I feel I must add: always be prepared to take a photograph, for it just may be the one that the whole world has been searching for…