I Is Rejuvenated!

It's funny how the warmer weather can have such a profound impact on one's own creativity.

Usually in the fall and winter, my muse, as it applies to my writing, has a tendency to go wandering off to the land that time has forgotten about. Where the air is warm, the breeze is cool and gentle, and life is exceptionally easy and sleazy. Thus, my writing screeches to a halt. Dried up. Dried out. Barren as a blade of grass in the Mojave desert.

But...when the warmer weather hit, that's when things start to heat up.

My muse comes in from the cold, shakes off the aftereffects of sun, wind spray, more sun, more wind, sand, etc. etc. etc. etc.

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Muse steps over and uncorks a high hard one that sends good old G.B. flying out of the chair and face first to the ground. She looks over and after being satisfied with a job well done, sits down in front of the computer and starts to type.

Coming back from the cold, eh?! Where the hell do you get off telling these good people that I'm a slacker?! I'll have you know that I ain't no slacker! Contrary to popular opinion, while you was busy pretending to be the man you ain't, I was busy conjuring up new ideas and fresh approaches to old ideas.

But did you pay attention to me? Hell no! You were busy being the martyr and playing that bullshit "woe is me" persona that fools everyone but me.

During the rant G.B. starts showing signs of life. He grabs hold of the chair and slowly pulls himself up. Muse, suddenly aware of her chair being moved, looks to her left and spies G.B. doing the moving. Narrowing her eyes until they were mere slits, she delivers a hard elbow to his jaw, dislodging him from the chair and knocking him out cold.

Again satisfied at job well done, she turns her attention back to the computer.

Sorry for the interruption, but the f.b.i. guy was trying to butt in again. Now where was I? Oh yeah. I was busy working my tight little ass off coming up with a slew of fresh new ideas that would knock your socks off. But was he paying attention to me and my ideas? Of course not. He would listen to my ideas, then say, "yeah, sure, okay that'll work, thanks." before dismissing me with a wave of his slimy little hand.

This went on for quite a while and each time that he would do it, I would get wetter than a mad hen. Until finally he went to the well one to many times and..."

"No I didn't, sweet thang," said G.B., who had finally regained consciousness.

"Excuse me."

Muse gets up and within the span of thirty seconds was having another knockdown drag out battle with G.B. Punches were thrown, screams could be heard, clothing was torn and rip, then suddenly all becomes very quiet.

Uncomfortably quiet.

Passionately quiet as one could just vaguely hear a few choice words and phrase drifting out from outside the computer desk.

Many minutes later, Muse returned and took a seat in front of the computer. Looking like something the cat dragged in after a passionate night and day of lovemaking, she sighed deeply and lovingly, before viciously attacking the keyboard.

So after he went to the well one too many times, words and passionate...ummm...hostilities were exchanged. Eventually we came to a mutual understanding about what my future will be in this partnership.

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Damn!

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Ummm....well...I leave you with this thought. My main man G.B. has once again found that his creative juices are just bursting at the seams, and he would like to thank yours truly for helping him find the spigot to unleash those juices.

'Cause after all, a muse like myself knows all the moves and has all the weapons at her disposal, in order to make her writer shine like polished gold.

We're Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

After doing a very long self-indulgent countdown to my 1,000 blog post (if you missed it, go to the post dated May 16, 2013 for a re-cap), I'm now back to writing posts for you the reader, instead writing posts for myself to torture others with.

Today, I thought I would bring back kicking and screaming one of my little cyber childrens for your amusement today. Believe me, it was a battle just to grab this little hooligan from where he had taken residence up at. But as they say, everyone has their price, and those mean streets of Connecticut's Gold Coast is no exception. So once I had paid their extortion...ummm....relocation fee, I grabbed the little ingrate, chucked him into the trunk of my very rad Gremlin and hightailed it back to the Mountain.

Once we had gotten back to the Mountain, I told the little ingrate that now was the time to start earning his keep. He protested. I countered with this:

He clutched his ears and screamed, "Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop! I'll do whatever it is that you want me to do! I'll even sing the praises to how great labor unions are! Anything! Just make it stop!"

True story: Now that Jenelle has turned 12, she has developed a major attitude problem (no, really). I decide to up the ante in that if she didn't start to tone down the 'tude, I would buy a Justin Beiber c.d. and play it within earshot.

Jenelle hates Justin Beiber with a passion unmatched for anyone else.

Since I won the battle, and thus the war, today I would like to reintroduce to you that wonderful picture blog of mine, Shooting Suburbia.

Today's picture post is called "Hope Springs Eternal!"

5 Cubed Minus 5 Squared Times 10 Equals 1,000!

The old cliche that every journey and every goal that you undertake always starts by putting one foot in front of the other, most definitely applies to this blog.

Except that this particular journey was started not by me putting one foot in front of the other, but by getting the traditional bum's rush out the front door.

My abnormal journey (yes abnormal) began when I fell victim to the current malady that has infected this country for the past five years back in 2003. In 2002, our state was hemorrhaging red ink, which like today, was due to one party being unable to practice fiscal restraint. So in 2003, I was made redundant.

In July 2003, I was made non-redundant and eventually made it back to the agency that made me redundant in the first place. In January 2004, I made the fateful decision, although I didn't know it at the time, that eventually got me to where I am today.

I accepted a transfer to another agency.

Fast forward to 2007.

I was roughly one year into my writing journey (although at the time I was a pretty sucky writer), when by happenstance I decided to comment on a news story, which in turn led me to the world of the chat rooms, where I proceeded to spend 3 1/2 turbulent years losing what little sanity I had to begin with and developing full blown paranoia. But this post is not about that.

In 2008, a cyber friend to whom I had reconciled with, suggested that I should move my ramblings over to the blog world. That way, I could still be funny, not worry about censorship issues and most importantly, I could practice my writing.

About my writing: I never did any kind of creative writing until 2006 (age 41). Until then, most of my creativity was verbal and the most writing I ever did were monthly reports and business correspondence.

So on May 24, 2008, I introduced the cyber world to my fractured little mind that is Cedar's Mountain.

About the blog name: It's partial tribute to the mountain I live next to and partial tribute to one of the most divisive chat room personas that was ever created in the latter part of the 2000's.

I will now spare everyone the overly redundant minutia about this blog and my writing that has been covered in more ways than the OJ Simpson car chase, and instead concentrate on writing a free-form monologue that pays tribute to you the reader.

YOU THE READER

When I had first starting writing this blog back in 2008, the only person I wrote it for, was me. I figured that if I had any other people show up to read my ramblings, then it was considered icing on the cake. But after doing a few months of writing for myself, I kind of got tired of writing for myself. So off I went to do the blog surfing that is part and parcel of bringing people to my neck of the woods.

Sure enough, that blog surfing paid off as for the next five years, you have honored my blog by gracing it with your presence, because to be brutally honest, my blog would be nothing without you being here to read my ramblings, to comment on my ramblings, to commiserate, to cajole, and every once in a blue moon, call me on a few of my more provocative posts (Gracias Dave Barber and Lynn).

Only you the reader, has inspired me to be my very best, which at times has been detrimental to my well being, since my high standards have exacted a toll that I'm still paying for today. Nevertheless, no matter what my high standards may have done to me negatively over the years, they are minuscule to what they have done for me on the positive side of the chart.

For if anything, they have made me keep this blog going on consistent basis for almost 5 solid years. Why? Because the one thing I have going for me, and everyone has this trait in them, is my word. I told myself years ago, and I've mentioned on this blog periodically as well, that I don't dare disappoint my readers. My readers have my word that above all they come first in this blog, for without you, then all I'm doing is sucking up space and not making a world of difference to anyone.

You have kept me going through all of my highs and all of my lows. You are what helps me keep going whenever I get down in the dumps, suffer burnout, suffer through doubt and even bouts of self-pity.

In essence, you are my friends. Whether you choose to lurk and read or read and actively comment, I treasure each and everyone of you that stops by to visit Cedar's Mountain.

So to all of my new friends, my old friends and friends that have passed me by, let me reintroduce myself to you.

My name is G.B. Miller and I welcome you to my little slice of heaven located smack dab in the middle of suburbia that is called Cedar's Mountain.

And believe it or not, I really do go out in public like my picture, 'cause you know that the world indeed does revolve around me.

Except when Joanne says otherwise.

Count Your Downs: 900

I thought for the next three weeks or so, I would re-visit some old blog posts of mine and showcase how Cedar's Mountain has evolved over the past 59 months.

I know this sounds a little bit like my new series called "ReDeux!" but this is something so radically different that it will make your head spin, or at the very least, wonder why I wrote some of this stuff in the first place.

One thing that will make this post, which is #999, different from the others, is that I'll be whipping out some tags that have not see any kind of usage since the early days of this blog.

For instance, in celebration of revisiting blog post #900, I dusted off the shelf a very old tag called "Introduction".

Strangely enough, the topic of choice for blog post  #900, which was posted on October 15, 2012 and called "Nine Tenths of 1K", is blog post #900.

That's right boys and girls, the topic of choice for blog post #900 is blog post #900.

I'm not really a superstitious person, but how 'bout for your entertainment, a song from a legendary guitarist who passed away much too soon.

Count Your Downs: 800

I thought for the next three weeks or so, I would re-visit some old blog posts of mine and showcase how Cedar's Mountain has evolved over the past 59 months.

I know this sounds a little bit like my new series called "ReDeux!" but this is something so radically different that it will make your head spin, or at the very least, wonder why I wrote some of this stuff in the first place.

One thing that will make this post, which is #998, different from the others, is that I'll be whipping out some tags that have not see any kind of usage since the early days of this blog.

For instance, in celebration of revisiting blog post #800, I dusted off the shelf a very old tag called "Music".

Unlike the previous seven posts, I really have no good segue to tie into this particular post, as the topic of choice is live music.

So without further ado, please peruse this cool post from March 4, 2012 called "I'm Feeling 619, But I'm Looking 925!"

Please note that there was a contest connected to the title of this post, which was won by Chris LaTray. Hey, I just found my tie in! About a year ago, Chris LaTray released a c.d. with his band American Falcon, called appropriately enough, "American Falcon". Please check it out 'cause it really is a kick ass c.d.