Many may see posts of mine without a title. This is deliberate, and here is my reasoning:
When I start to write, I don’t think of a title anymore; I write to express a feeling or thought, and where I start is usually where I’d like the work to begin. Of course, I wasn’t always this way, and I will probably not be for much longer. My old writings would try to encompass a small thought into a larger scene or full-out idea. I feel as though I spent more time trying to stitch around that small thought rather than writing, which may be why I now just forgo the idea of a title or theme.
Titles are meant for works that don’t always fit or fit too well the overall idea of a work (sarcasm/irony vs. natural outcome), and can be wielded with great power to engage the reader. I don’t really believe too many of my works as of late have been in need of a title, as they are small doodles or scribbles, rather than full-out artistic works. I am notorious for (not) finishing a piece and moving to the next, as a sort of, “that’s done; no need to tweak it now; where to next?”
Now, this whole, “no titling!” can drive you/me crazy when working with a site, as you may see by trying to differentiate between titled and untitled posts. WordPress uses the number of a post as a sort of assigned title, but they don’t create links to the posts that are untitled. I will find an answer and update when I have.
Update:
And, just like that, WordPress and their Plugin architecture comes through: Blogger Title Fix by Poco
I’m currently working with porting this site to WordPress, so as to allow better customization and to keep the site current with new technologies.
The preparation for a lifelong journey’s one-momented prefix is very stressful. I never thought we would have to arrange such minor additions or necessities to make the ceremony seamless. That could be a metaphor to describe the emotions, too. From candles, an aisle runner, the floral arrangements, and the dress & tux (which are for our ceremony), to the table favors, the catering, the music, and the seating chart (which are for your celebration of us), this process is as dynamic and fluid as it is streamlined and hackneyed. Enough so that we purchased a planning book, but have done most things without its assistance.
Candi works exclusively with each vendor, which helps in ironing out small details as well as with budgetting. She’s not splurged twice, just once on the cakes, and has met some of the most wonderful people who have worked with us to make the day so special and personal: Dianne Smith of Brookdale Florist, Karen of Karen’s Cakes & Cafe Pharr, and Randy of inFocus Photography.
I really admire and love Candi, and her determination and ability to stay grounded and sane in the most confusing, stress-filled, emotional, and wonderful times has reminded me each day how much and how much more I continue to love her.
as they scatter their steps in a show of play, we wait and love the relaxation of no anticipation. their rule is to thumb at alls commonalities of their specied condition, and we adore them for this. then you cough, finish your work and I laugh to myself in happy bits.
the classifieds are so sad when read from
perspective of intention’s goodwill; “They
need a good, safe home,” rings so softly as
to be passed by reader,
but is the hardest line to write.
standing to vote w/ my baby @ nb mills in nc
“We think space and time are important because that’s the kind of monkeys we are.”
- Terence Rudolph.
link
Gave the kittens a bath each yesterday. Jack clawed and screamed, but Reluctance was calm and kind. Had to re-teach them how to play with our cloth-hangy-thingy. they eventually started pawing with it. they live in the couch, so playing, to them, has been alienated for 3 months. we must develop their sense of pleasure into an active happiness, rather than a fearful tolerance of Kitti.
purple passion plant had grown roots this week, but they buoyed themselves out of, and the leaflets into, the water. had to plant them right away, but the roots were so craned that they couldn’t be in the soil with the leaves above. had to remove one leaf and the bend to put it back into the water to regrow roots. trying to save the split-off leaf, too.
new car .
Sometimes you have to stay tuned in as to not miss anything as anything is what tells you the story; sometimes you have to look away and know you are missing something, something that may change your view, so you know that what you knew and what you will know may be closer than if separated by what you now know, even if you are allknowing.
We are young, you and I;
the epitome of style,
justified by our place
in society’s higher.
We are young, you and I,
and spend many breathings
of our hearts without
seeing one -others’ movings,
though know we are
but voices away,
in feelings of warmth
long past any normal home’s
bedtime.
We are young, you and I,
here to be as fore-thought
memories: the times
in change’s grasp
as seasons looked
from distant past..
and I hold these times,
as real as you,
and know they are
but many in few
fleeted glimpses of
what makes us Us
and who we are
as who we were
before.
Sorry for the disjointed style; it doesn’t flow for me, either. The message is out, though, and I can rework it later.
