Once upon a time there was a woman who lived on the still island of Never-Neverland.
(For those of you who are wondering why there is a grown woman in a fictional world of eternal childhood, or perhaps why this creepy woman likes little boys; let me clarify. Scottish writer, J.M. Barrie, created this imaginary, magical island for Peter Pan in the early 1900’s, and it has become a children’s favorite and the perfect name to illustrate this woman’s life.)
Stop disturbing me, I am in the middle of a story….
She attempted at a blog for a few months and finally she came to realize why it was not taking off. It wasn’t because she was not giving it enough time, it was because it’s contents were soporific, vapid, and sadly ordinary. There were 67,165,777 WordPress sites in the world, and that’s not even counting the other free hosting services. When there are that many blogs, each one has to have something unprecedented and exceptional to grab more viewers as they swing by.
Tried as she might, she could not manage to fill her posts with anything worth reading. Her imagination did not exist, and to turn mundane occurrences into fabulous tales would be like spinning straw into gold. Life was monotonous. She agonized over the weekly posts searching for adjectives to add some spice to the bland words. Still, readers were few and she wanted to give up.The only thing that kept her going were the other bloggers who seemed capable in producing pages that were engaging, diverse in story events, beautifully illustrated, and with surprising and controversial reads. They had blogs that appealed to a large variety of viewers and her’s was driving even the smokey few, away in the wind.
Her daily events were far beyond routine, they had become robotic. Mornings, she rolled out of bed, perched her glasses on her nose, and stumbled to the bathroom to wash up. She continued on to each room to dress the groggy children who were rubbing their eyes, and then went to set up their bowls of cereal.
As they sat and crunched their early meal, she lined up their snacks and fruits/vegetables, three of each. Six slices of bread were set up in a row and she smeared on some peanut butter and scooped on some jelly. The picky eater asked for his preferences and she mechanically obeyed. After their bowls were slurped clean, each little man stood with their mouths agape awaiting their syringe filled with liquid vitamin, small amounts splattering on the floor and oozing from their tiny lips.Each backpack got its fill of food and drink and was placed beside the door. The three boys reached their small arms into their coat sleeves and slipped on their hats. She brushed their short hair and they squirmed beneath the tiny yanked knots. They lifted their little hands and waved goodbye and scampered down the front steps as she wished them each a good day at school.
The day whizzed by between the chores, dinner preparations, and TV shows and she went off to pick up the kids. The rambunctious three scurried past her, zipping under her door-holding arms and into the house. The room, that was moments before quiescent, reached a deafening decibel level. And as if they never left, the children immediately shifted back to their preposterous behavioral habits of bouncing off the walls and furniture as she desperately attempted to dodge the airborne ones to place the food on the table.
She plopped the large turkey onto the serving plate along with the side dishes watching each child turn their noses down in disgust. After a few of their shoulder shrugs, she grudgingly tossed some pasta in front of them as the smug grin formed on their faces. They licked their plates without any further complaint.
She let them scream, run freely, and fight all the way to bedtime to release their seemingly endless supply of energy. She then tackled them with their pajamas and somehow all the limbs made it into their destined holes without any harm. They brushed up their teeth and she shooed them off to bed with a goodnight kiss. A couple of whimpers and extra handouts of kisses and they were all finally in a deep slumber. It was 7:00 pm and the night was all hers.
It was time to write a post. But what about? About the daily events? There were hardly any to share. She didn’t meet any peculiar people, wasn’t a bystander at any bizarre happenings, and she didn’t visit any odd whereabouts. There was nothing on that day, and there was surely nothing in the past other than the Never Shay.
Never Shay wasn’t accustomed to adventure or even escaping reality momentarily. Her life was full of Nevers. She NEVER:
Went to a movie theatre (gasp!)
Went to a concert or broadway show
Went to her dream places of Paris, Italy, Scotland, and Sweden
Was part of a college campus
Went on a road trip
Went by the phrase “Just wing it!”
Had a group of friends
and many more… (She just doesn’t want to embarrass herself)
Instead she basically never left her home, studied, wrote lots of poetry, drew many pictures, and watched a lot of movies… She had a few drunken escapades, traveled across the world, went to college, saw the world’s share of doctors, was at the hospital many times as a patient and even as an intern, and finally dropped all of that and got married and had three sons..
Nothing that would make an exciting story. That was basically all there was. There was nothing to write about aside from a bunch of Nevers.
That is my life in Never-Neverland and this nursery rhyme pretty much sums up my days.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
She had so many children, she did not know what to do
She gave them some broth without any bread
She whipp’d all their bums, and sent them to bed (Just by the way, that is the original line to the rhyme)
(Yay! I finally made some pictures with the touchpad.)