A Lemon Light, Late Night Delight

(lets pretend this is me)

After a french pressed, extra wet coffee and a light load of whites, I move into my NEW morning routine...   [hula] HOOPING.  It's my favorite non-vibrating toy and its FABULOUS!

Its big, bright, sexy and ultra cool. 

I'm not sure if it's the melodic rhythm of the spin, residue from my dream chasing childhood, or a silly sense of aerobic accomplishment.  Whatever it is, its FUN and when it was over, I feel invigorated!  

Watch me move and groove... 

Seven minutes of wild, circular motion is certain to breakdown the fat deposits in my waist, flatten my stomach, and aid in my digestion.... right?

I have lots to learn, but slow and steady, I'm getting the basics down.  Side to side, right foot rock, left foot lean, and one handed twirls.  

Naturally, I hoop to the left.  This makes perfect sense to me.

Competitive to a fault, I've taped these world record numbers on my bathroom mirror...

HULA World Record Facts:  

• Continuous revolutions of a hula hoop - 75 hours
• Greatest number of hula hoops spun simultaneously - 132  
• Fasted time running a mile while spinning a hoop - 7:47 minutes
• Hooping underwater - 2:38 minutes
• Highest hooped -  atop Mt. Kilimanjaro
• Suspended hooping - 41 hoops between shoulders and hips while suspended from wrists

But will my hula hoop deflate along with my giant, rubber, balancing ball?

Will it join a rejected collection of hand weights, exercise bands, and ab rockers?

At least the cat enjoys long walks on the treadmill.

Last Friday, while dining on crab over caesar, and vodka tonic chasers, I ran into my former trainer (aka Hunkie Aussie).   

He looked noticeably uncomfortable.  When I called him on it he replied, "I thought you ...DIED!

No silly, sexy Aussie man, I didn't expire, I simply changed my routine.  I now drink and eat more, exercise less, but hey...did you know I'm writing a BOOK!!!  

Totally unimpressed, he waved his rock hard arm, and bid me goodbye.

"Peak physique won't last forever!" I yelled. 

But surely, the written word will.   Right?

What about YOU?  What are you OR are you NOT doing?  What hides in your closet, under your bed or clutters your garage?   

What motivates YOU?  Where, why, how often, AND how long do you do it?  

OHHH..that sleek and sexy sphere is luring me in... again.  

 My inspiration,  Miss Rosie hoopin' it up with Beats Antique - Burning Man 2009

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy

photo's courtesy of Google Image

for reading and commenting

Raw and Real

Oh how I love rainy Sundays - especially in the early days of spring.

Swaddled in an ice blue cashmere blanket and plushy-pink chenille socks, I sip my coffee slowly and indulge in a bevy of creative endeavors.

My new beau is blogging - reading, writing, commenting.  I have a collection of favorites. Some are visibly seductive, others are wildly entertaining - all are creatively inspirational.

Some snagged me on title alone...

A Gasping Little Voice
Advice and humor from Mr. Condescending
Bacon is my Lover
Doing it with Grace
Sex N Fries
Soul Crayons
Vodka Logic
Confessions of an Unfaithful Widow
The Invisible Seductress
Honest Reflections from a Split Mind
Forever Invictus
It's Kerry's World
Mental Poo
Blissful Babble
Hemp and High Heels
Relatively Unique
SHINY: Large Silver Paper Clips
Solitary in Sanity
Oracles and Archetypes
Write-Brained

Recently, I've stumbled upon bloggers who purge their demons and celebrate their oddities. Bloggers who speak their truth and refuse to hide or compromise.

And once again, I am inspired.

With that in mind, I am setting off on a new adventure... to an intensely therapeutic, solitary space decorated in black velvet curtains, familiar smells, and clammy confessions.

This place of mine will NOT be pretty. There will be no spellcheck, second guessing, or obsessive tweaking. It will be the rawest form of me.

It will have a clever, tell tale title and of course, I will remain 100% anonymous. None of you will recognize me for I have never had the courage to disclose the tainted, torn corners of my soul.

I'm down on my knees, purging and pecking ferociously...

I'll be back but I will never be the same.

today's post inspired by  

Elan @ Honest Reflections from a Split Mind

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy

Down by the River

Yesterday, I witnessed a gruesome murder.  

My sweet baby, Miss Lucy, and I were down by the river when an ominous shadow bled into our path.

But it was the sound that caught my attention.

The shrill was deafening. 

At first, I thought it was rough, kinky sex, so I stayed out of it. 

After all, who am I to judge.  It's the law of nature and I'm certainly no expert in fowl behavior. 

As much as I tried NOT to watch, I glared at a gang of geese dive-bombing in and out of troubled waters. The lead warrior straddled his opponent, forcing him under the current and against a jetty of rocks that intermittently jut out from crests of frantic waves. 

His unworthy adversary temporarily escapes but is quickly recaptured, this time in a bed of quick sinking marsh.  

Looming above, the wild thug prods and plucks at his victim’s neck - repeatedly, until the only sound is the rush of a murky current. 

Sadly, this goose is cooked. 

What would cause one goose to kill another?   There were no goslings waddling about - it’s way too soon in the season for that.  

Knowing they mate for life makes it even more disturbing. 

Is killing, if not a matter of survival, ever justified?  In animals?  In humans?

There is a lot to learn from the animal kingdom, but today…I’ve got nothing but unanswered questions.  

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy

photo's courtesy of Google Image

My sincerest thanks to those of you who read and comment.  

Pure Imagination

close your eyes, make a wish, count to three...

 

We'll begin with a spin 
Traveling in the world of my creation...

Willy Wonka

 ***

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been visualizing and projecting the success of my bestselling novel as well as my blog.  This bloomed from a book called The Votex, which my dear friend Esmeralda loaned me. 

I'm so entertained by my immediate manifestations.  The messages are very clear and they are everywhere!  

Even in fortune cookies.

I've tucked my fortune into a crystal dish along with a rainbow of marbles - a gift from my good friend (and soul twin) Jack.  Displayed on my night stand, it remains, very close to my dreams.

Today's manifestation is quiet charming and playful. It revealed itself during a Google Image search.

Page one showed a disturbing picture of a woman breast feeding a monkey so, with eyes closed, I click on the progression of random page numbers that stretch across the bottom of the screen.  Its like choosing your fortune from a deck of Tarot cards.

Up pops Monkey Shoulder - Blended Malt Scotch 

 

"Rooted in whisky lore, the brand name Monkey Shoulder is inspired by, and named in honour of, the distillery malt men. These men acquire a stoop, known colloquially as ‘monkey shoulder’, from repeatedly turning the barley by hand…"  

hmm...I don't know WHAT to think of that.  

The UK based designer did a magnificent job creating the visual identity.  Love his attention to detail - how the three pewter monkeys rest confidently at the top.    

"A seamless balance of the unexpected with the familiar..."  
I imagine a famous writers praise for my book will match that line word for word.

"WINNER... WINNER... WINNER... WINNER"  

Not once, but four times!  This "No# 1 Stamp of Achievement" tells me that I AM the clear WINNER!

"Batch 27 ~ Smooth & Rich"  Ahhh...I love the sound of that!   

"27" - this is my son's number.  Seeing it is confirmation that he's watching and guiding, and that we are perfectly aligned. 

Signs from my son started appearing almost immediately after he passed.  Penny's, tail side UP and 27's are his favorites.  

What appears as coincidence to some, is to me, a gift.

I began practicing positive projection back in my early 20's after developed an autoimmune disorder called "Alopecia Areata" (meaning, defused areas of baldness).

My head was 80% bald - with only a bare trace of brow line and a wisp of lashes.  Ironically, all the hair I didn't want remained (enough said).

I searched everywhere for a cure - endocrinologists, dermatologists, acupuncturists, vitamins, herbs - any and all alternative medicines. The only treatment that worked was cortisone but the side effects left me moon faced and 20 lbs heavier.  I progressed to injections - a painful bluster of bee stings in my head and brow.

Eventually I gave up my self inflicted pain and for seven years hid behind a collection of wigs.

Until, I read, "The Power of Positive Thinking" by Norman Vincent Peale.

I began visualizing myself with a full head of hair.  Each morning, in the shower, I'd say...out loud, "I have a full head of beautiful, thick, gorgeous hair."

And yes, you guessed right, I now have a full head of hair (gorgeous - still a work in progress).

As I mature emotionally and progress spiritually, my desires grow richer and deeper.

My current mantra is very specific...

Devine Love and Light surrounds me, fills my body and soul.  All my needs, wants, goals and desires are met - INSTANTANEOUSLY.   

And then I ask for specific things...

Love, Perfect Health, Wealth, & Creative Success, flow to me in grand abundance - for I am one with Divine Love and Love is everything.

I'm not big on the word "GOD" (not that there is anything wrong with GOD).  To me, its more of an energy that flows in us, and unites us.    

I recite my mantra in the shower, before I fall asleep, and before I rise.  I particularly enjoy visualizing in the shower. The waters pulse quiets my mind and stimulates my senses.

Most people, despite their confident appearance and strong demeanor, are often scared and doubtful of themselves.   

It starts with a thought, evolves into a feeling and then shakes our confidence to the core.   

But if we change our thoughts, we can change our world.

The possibilities are endless, if only we allow ourselves to dream. 

Why not close your eyes, 

make a wish, 
count to three... 1, 2, 3

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing to it

There is no Life I know
To compare with Pure imagination

Living there you'll be free
If you truly wish to be   - Willy Wonka

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy

photo's courtesy of Google image

My sincerest thanks to all of you who read and comment.  

Its because of YOU that my dreams are a reality.  

The Eve of my Success

Tomorrow is day one of my one on one book development.  I need help pulling it all together besides; I have no idea HOW to write a book. 

I imagine, just like anything else, it begins with a thought.  And so, I will preface day one of my one on one, by mentally creating my book… along with its success.

I am holding my book.  It feels wonderful in the palm of my hand.  I love the jacket design.  I have taught myself how to pose and I am pleased with my airbrushed, bio photo. 

My best selling novel weighs more than my ultra thin notebook. 

From daytime to late night, people enjoy having me as their guest - Matt & Meredith, Oprah, Ellen, Larry, Dave, Jimmy, Jay.  I decline FOX. 

I never say no to an autograph and when I wave, (even in sleeveless) it is with both hands held high.

I just found my favorite pair of jeans...from high school.  They fit me like a glove.

I go for a walk on a turquoise blue beach and meet a spicy man, riding a large white horse ...backwards.  He is holding something in his hand....it is my book.  

I read the rave reviews and blush.  This is better than being pretty, more exciting than new found romance.  

I will never give up my two bedroom Connecticut condo, but enjoy adding penthouse lofts in all our favorite places, once (after intense, leisurely travel) we determine where our favorite places are.  Paris, Galway Bay, New Orleans, Aspen... 

Miss Lucy, our 5 pound shihtzu, is a wonderful travel companion and rests contentedly on my lap - in first class. The cat, on the other hand, is pissed.  Crammed into her cage, under the front seat, at my feet - her heavily medicated glare and loud meoooows are beginning to wear me down.   I will order a glass of well chilled chardonnay.

My daughter Lindsay accompanies me on all my west coast screen play and movie development meetings.  I have no idea HOW to develop a movie. 

Lindsay loves being in California. I, on the other hand, prefer the slow drawl and loud horns of New Orleans - my favorite halfway stop along the way. 

Sandra Bullock clears her schedule, divorces Jesse and agrees to play me.  

When I go to sleep, my book is within arm’s reach.  I dream big dreams knowing that tomorrow too, will be a grand. 

I am grateful for the love of my family and friends.  Mr. Cooked and I are simpatico - a blissful balance of bold and brave, calm and cool.  He is nurturing without stifling or restricting. 

Looking back, I can clearly see the stones that lined my pathway to success... 

A little girls dream. 

An adolescents doubt. 

An adults dismissal. 

A stumble, a loss, many tears. 

A journey outward, a deep look inward. 

A pilgrimage to the desert.

Self imposed assignments.  

A line, a paragraph, a short story, a post, a blog. 

Followers, readers, comments, encouragement.

A book. 

A life lived fully, deliberately.  

My journey continues …

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy

photo's courtesy of Google image

 

My sincerest thanks to all of you who read and comment.  

Its because of YOU that my dreams are a reality.  

LOVE LESSONS

Last night’s, late night, NYC departure brought lessons of love, acceptance and understanding. 

It began at our first Suicide Awareness Prevention Fair (SAPF) committee meeting, followed by a robust, round table dinner. 

Afterwards, I am accompanied back to the train station where, after a nightcap at my favorite Grand Central haunt, I join a compartment full of heavy-eyed, bobble headed strangers on the New Haven, Connecticut line. 

Crouched solo in the back tier of badly weathered seats, I struggle to stay awake and reflect on the microcapsule of brightly kindred souls that empowered my evening. 

Two rows ahead, a woman dressed in pink polka dots is tucked into a tight ball, fast asleep.  Her hair is long and lacquered.  Her skirt is short and teased.  Red, fingerless, opera length wool woven gloves, chunky black boots, and non symmetrical face piercings round out her punked out appearance. 

Behind me, wild bouts of gaiety spill in from the caboose. It is William’s 21st birthday and the party is in full swing. 

Some rail riders are annoyed, others are mildly amused. I welcome the ruckus - knowing the celebration of life will curb my urge to snooze.

When the train halts at 125th Street, our first stop along the way, two beefy conductors enter - one from each side, and abruptly instruct a rider to exit the train IMMEDIATELY, or spend the night in jail. 

The empty pocket passenger pleads his case to deaf ears – no one cares that he has lost his ticket and that his only desire is to go home. 

The rider’s refusal to leave, clashes with the conductors threats. It is a “shoot um up” western showdown in the center stage of a jammed tight, late night, commuter train. 

With no clear winner, the conductors exit in unison leaving the late night passengers with nothing to do but wait.

Instinctively, I reach deep into my purse and remember I have no cash. 

Across the aisle and to my right sits a thirty-something, hip and trendy professional in a trim tailored suit, crisp, button down shirt and polished loafers.  Alert and poised, he clutched his Tumi brief case with both hands and gazes apathetically out the window. I am certain HE will not get involved. 

Life is full of wonderful things - IF you can afford them. 

No money, no ride. 

No money, no fancy bag or polished shoes. 

No money, no food. 

No money, no way home. 

No money, no way out. 

After several minutes the compartment doors lock tight and the clack of the track continues. We are all...held hostage.

Caged and enraged, the rider paces the narrow pathway of the cabins car.   He yanks on the door handle, slams his fist against the tempered glass.

“Mother fucker, mother fucker!” yells the rider.

Over a crackled speakers, the conductor announces “5 more minutes!”

Everyone looks down. No one makes a sound until the “antelope” tone of incoming text alerts passengers to the woman, alone, in the back row. 

It is my laid back husband’s - smart, cell phone pecking, “evrythg ok?”

He has intuitively tuning into my uncomfortable ride. 

“Mother FUCKER, MOTHER FUCKER!!!” yells the rider. 

I am certain he is looking at me. 

When the train stops, two burly, plain clothed cops burst in and, with guns drawn, demand the “douche bag” rise from his seat. 

An elbow to his back and a head bunt from the side of a thick, black pistol, propel the rider from the train. 

No one cheers.

I lift my eyes in time to see the lost rider stumble to unfamiliar ground.

I am a coward. We are all cowards.

Why didn’t we choose to help? 

What if I stood up and asked everyone to chip in and help pay his fair? 

What lasting effect would it have had - on the rider, on the passengers, on myself?

What if the rider was a: 

1. Woman

2. Elderly

3. Young

4. Disabled

Would it have mattered if he was white, black, Spanish, or Asian? 

What about the way he was dressed?

What would have prompted someone to get involved? 

WHY DIDN’T WE HELP? 

Not only didn’t we help, we looked away. 

Instead of engaging our hearts - we hid.

Since my son’s death, I have deliberately placed myself on a path of enlightenment. 

I believe we create our own reality and that, no matter how painful, every life experience is an opportunity for growth.

We, as human beings, need to reach out to ALL those who are suffering. 

Right NOW

At this moment

OPEN your heart 

GIVE freely

YOU are LOVE 

WE are LOVE

WE are ONE

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy


photo's courtesy of Google image 

ANTI SOCIAL NETWORKING - CONFESSIONS OF A CRAZED BLOGGER

It’s time I come clean - lay it all out on the line.  My name is Shannon, aka Green Monkey, and I have a Blog Addiction Disorder, which means...I'm BAD.  It's more than a virus, and worse than spam. I am a full blown Blog Aficionado.

I crave followers, fans, comments and tweets. When I get one, its like a shot of adrenaline and I ride that instant gratification high as long as I can.

Currently, I'm in a state of hyper paranoia.  I’m convinced no one is tweeting me, I don’t have enough followers and I’m jonesin' for more fans.

I spend countless hours tweaking and promoting my blog.   I google the words "green" and "monkey" over and over again, so that it will appear higher on the search engine list.  If I'm NOT on page 1 - I'll pout.

Attention grabbing headers, soothing sidebars, buttons, badges, gadgets and widgets.   Formats and photo’s - upload, download, crop, resize, reposition, add text, and adjust the hue.   

I am so focused on my STATs that I hit myself often and watch the counter climb.  Page loads, unique visitors, returning visitors… my mood is in sync with the rise and fall of tri-colored scales.

Facebook, Twitter, Blogfrog, Blissdom, SITS tips, secrets and share fests. 

My site, your site, I’ll follow you if you follow me, one good comment deserves another...

Bloggers that specialize in "Blogging Tips" will tell you to “build and nurture your community" but developing my blog base now overshadows sleep, exercise, sex and any real time/face to face human interaction. (notice I still have time for wine and cheese)

Last week, I cut my hair extra short so I’d spend less time primping and more time posting.

I’ve stopped reading bloggers simply because I enjoy them.  I now read and comment on anyone I think will comment back.  It’s exhausting and half the time... I’M FAKING IT! I’ll read half a post, or reword some else's comments (pure plagiarism).

I feel like I showed up late for a race -  injured and dehydrated, and I'm desperately trying to catch up.  

Blogging...like it or not, is HOT.  Blogging...is BIG business.

There are currently over 10.5 million blogs on wordpress alone and we're all struggling to get "real time."  

The new hype is something called "PuSH" which stands for
Pubsubhubbub, a realtime protocol designed to speed up RSS.  To us Big Time wanttabe bloggers - reading this makes our palms sweat and our hearts palpitate. 

Established, highly read, and closely followed bloggers are the internet junkies version of the ultimate martini.  One Part Vegas Entertainer, two parts Pulitzer Prize winner, and a fresh slice of Hollywood hottie - clinging to the side.

Surprised?  Think I'm delusional?  Well, it is a well googled fact that blogging has out passed Porn, 3 to 1! 

But don't despair, Porn blogging is on the rise (no pun intended).  A site called "Boing Boing" targets "wife swappers, exhibitionists, whores, and people who need to hide their porn."  One word people...BRILLIANT!  

The largest, by far, bloggers are stay at home mommies.  NOT that there is anything wrong with THAT - the LAST thing I want to do is piss these ladies off!  They have both hands on the keyboard and they're holding all the power.  

They blog about everything from poopy pants to party favors.   They are united in weight loss, quilt making, The LORD (yep, even "Mr. Big" is in on it) flower arrangements, recipe's, craft projects, menopause, bankruptcy, divorce, and infertility.  

There are even blogs that rally in support and prayer of the terminally ill, as was the case of  Layla Grace, a two year old little girl who recently passed from Neuroblastoma - a rare cancer that develops from nerve tissue in infants.   Her family chronically her illness and their pain in addition to raising awareness, funding and support.  

Her death was announced in an online Twitter post to 42,000 of her fans. 

A lot of good comes out of blogs - a lot of healing and emotional support.  But, be warned - there are wild packs of trolls who target vulnerable bloggers.  You'll recognize them by their negative comments.  I do my best to ignore them (realizing that they too crave attention) or, if I'm feeling freaky, I'll dowse them in positive, glowing energy.  Hey, trolls move along - go get your own blog!

For many bloggers, their main motivation is making money. This is so NOT me. My master plan is to try and get YOU to read ME.  Ultimately, I want to update my bio to include “published author.”  The way I see it, if it worked for Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote Eat Pray Love and Julie in the movie Julie, Julia then it can work for me too!

This race to become a Big Time Blogger has taken me way off track.  At the start, I was a woman in search of her true voice.  A woman who made the conscious decision to believe in herself.   But lately, I’ve become more focused on getting noticed then being a writer.

It's time to go back to where my dreams began. Back to that moment when, at the age of 12, I stood in front of my dresser mirror and said for the first time, out loud, “I am a writer.”

I am a writer.  I write random thoughts and short stories.  Some are funny, some are sad, some are mildly entertaining and some are masterpieces - if only in my mind. 

I write for the pure pleasure of writing, regardless of whether someone reads it, or comments on it, or publishes me.   I am still, and always will be, a writer. 

***

Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy


photo's courtesy of Google image




To read more about the battle of Layla Grace: laylagrace.org 

Are YOU with me?: Ten Signs That You May Be a Blog Addict 

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Did you know that the Secret Is in The Sauce?