Issue 7

The challenge for this weeks writers was to tell us about something they don't understand; and a magnificant job they have done.

Lori from Galori tries to get to grips with something that has baffeled (wo)man kind for centuries
Lord Likely ponders another of lifes' great mysteries
Melody from Slurping Life still doesn't get why her plans changed
and our feature post this week and winner of the Blog Of The Week title
Megan from Velveteen Mind tries to figure out why suffering is more interesting than joy.

We also bring you your regular weekly fix of lesser known music tallent, brought to you by John from Altiranga Mitjina, who this week shines his light on the brilliant Amanda Shaw.

As always, each and every post you can see on this page is part of this weeks issue, so scroll right down to the bottom, leave some comments for our writers and click on over to see them at their own blogs for more of their writing.

If you wish to see your writing here with links to your blog along side other great writers simply leave us a comment or send us an email (topblogmag@gmail.com) and we will be in touch.

If you have been in touch in the last week but haven’t heard from us yet don’t panic, I am currently on holiday visiting my folks and am only managing to get a little bit of interent work done each day. I shall endevour to get round to you soon :)

Pour Your Misery Down On Me

Written by Megan from Velveteen Mind

I don't understand why I don't find joy more interesting. I don't understand why I don't find reading books and blogs or watching movies about happiness or satisfaction more, well, satisfying. I noticed that when reading other people's blogs, I usually only skim the "we had a great day today" posts. Sunshine and puppy dogs just don't capture my attention. It's not that I'm anti-sunshine and puppy dogs. I'm all for happiness. However, I just don't seem to be interested in reading about it. Or writing about it, for that matter.

Now playing in my head, "I'm Only Happy When It Rains" by Garbage.

The most enthralling and captivating writing for me is that which focuses on a challenge, a problem, a question. Something that engages me and seems to invite me into the experience. If the author is having a great day, I'm happy for them and appreciate their sharing their good times, but I don't feel compelled to post a blog comment like, "Ditto! Rainbows rule!" Yet if the author is mulling over some kind of tumultuous issue, I feel invited into the story, compelled to offer either advice or sympathy. In the best scenario, I can offer empathy. Even if I don't respond, I feel more engaged than I would to a story about, say, a perfect day at the beach.

I recently wrote a blog comment in response to a post about a perfect day at the beach with your children, commenting that it is the simple moments of uncomplicated happiness that make up the best childhood memories. I believe that. I love simple pleasures. I don't look for the negative. Quite the contrary, in fact. However, I have very little interest in exploring these simple and beautiful days. Nothing in me feels compelled to record them for posterity, beyond photographs.

Hence, huge spans of peaceful time represented in my journals by one little side note. This is ironic, because I firmly believe that our worst suffering in life will only be a footnote in our history. Keep your pain in perspective, as it will be over someday, you will make it through. However, in the meantime, address it, work through it, learn from it. Write about it.

Other people's issues make us feel connected. We learn from the experiences of others, particularly when they make mistakes or suffer injustices. Much more interesting than fairy dust and roses, don't you think?

Perhaps it is that I find more satisfaction in happiness hard won. Happiness for which I longed, for which I ached. I once heard someone say that they loved to get a charley horse. When asked why, they responded, "It hurts something fierce, yes, but when it's over, it just feels soooo good."

In the great SAT analogy of life, suffering is to foreplay as joy is to orgasm. You could certainly have stand-alone joy, but isn't it that much more enthralling when you've had to work for it a little? When you've had to massage out the aches and focus on what you want? Now, that kind of joy I find interesting, particularly if I'm privy to the road leading up to it.

Suffering cuts through all of the surface noise, cuts through to the heart of us, allowing joy to take root. That interests me.

Relish the Velveteen. Revel in the Threadbare. Life of a Mom Articulate.

Megan is a mother of two boys under three, writing about living with perspective, serious doses of humor, and a grateful heart. Full color illustrations included, of course. Join her at www.velveteenmind.com as she relishes the velveteen and revels in the threadbare of her articulate life.

Three Stooges, A woman And A Dog

Written by Melody from Slurping Life


"When are you planning to have children?"

"We don't plan to have children." This was my standard response for the first four years of marriage, and it was always met with gasps and appalled faces.

Inevitably the next question, "Why not?"

"It just isn't in our plans" was always my reply...

~~~~~~~~

CRASH...THUMP...SCREECH...KER PLUNK...THUD

"Mooooommmmm!! Mom, help!"

So began the morning...excitement...adrenaline...anticipation...just another day. "Lee, what's going on?" I call down while untangling myself from bed covers and trying to comprehend the sounds that are repeatedly and forcefully coming from below.

CRASH...THUMP...SCREECH...KER PLUNK...THUD

"Boys, are you alright?" I call out.

"Yes, but we need help" Lee yells back.

By this time I have exited the bedroom and am standing at the loft rail overlooking the great room. Which, by the way, no longer looks great. Completely inconsistent with my normal response I freeze. Not my usual run down the stairs jump into the middle of an emergency and take command mode. I flippin' freeze...and stare...and begin laughing...laughing insanely...and cannot stop.

Looking up and seeing my mature response to the situation, Lee bellows, "Mom?! Help us. Do you see what Ursula is doing?" Lee is always the spokesman of the trio. "We can't catch her."

Ursula is our four month old, twenty pound shepherd-chow mix puppy. And she has overturned the kitchen garbage, pulled out the full trash bag and is dragging it along running with the swiftness of a cheetah...clearing all obstacles with the grace of a gazelle. Running with the coordination of a drunken elephant behind her, in front of her, and around her are three boys.

"Mom!" The boys scream in unison. "Help!"

Like this is the worse thing I've seen that involved the three of them. So I make my descent and join the chase. Taking note that there are smashed green peas, pulverized cooked carrots, slimy mashed potatoes and sundry trash items strewn everywhere...everywhere. As the chase continues my size 8 feet are now re-smashing and re-pulverizing peas and carrots...slipping and sliding on mashed potatoes as the four of us try to catch a puppy and her weapon of mass destruction. I round the kitchen island simultaneously hearing the cry, "Mom, watch out!" Too late. I slide across the floor landing face down in a...puddle...of...puppy...puke. But I caught the dog.

"Wow, great catch, mom." cheers Mac.

"I'm hungry" says Wil.

~~~~~~~~

I don't understand why we changed "our plans". One thing's for certain, this is one wild ride and I've never wanted to miss a single minute of it. Well, except the puppy puke.

Melody sucks up the joys of mothering four sons and blogs at Slurping Life. She and her husband raised one son to the age of accountability, but the fun's not over. They adopted three more boys. The three younger boys have many years remaining at home. Her special purpose (needs) boys and their zest for life promise to keep Melody busy until death...theirs or hers...whichever comes first.

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The Mystery Of Miss Terri

Written by Lord Likely

May, 1856

There is not much I do not understand, being a rather well-educated and learned member of the aristocracy. I like to consider myself as a veritable fountain of knowledge, full to the brim with 'answer water'.

However, even I must confess to not fully understanding one of the great mysteries of the world: women.

Being a highly desirable and ridiculously wealthy bachelor, I have had numerous dinner-dates with a fine selection of ladies, yet nearly all of these encounters have ended in disaster.

One of my most recent soirées was with a Miss Lucille Terri, a formidable woman with an equally formidable frame. We had been bought together by the machinations of her father, a good friend of my father's, who had hoped she might marry into the aristocracy and make a lady of herself.

However, things did not start well when we met in one of London's finest eateries, The Bloated Ram. Fretting about her choice of evening-wear, Miss.Terri asked, "does this dress make me look fat, my lord?"

I looked her up and down, and replied, "No, my dear, the dress is perfectly fine. However, your face and body do make you look slightly portly, it must be said."

Suffice to say, our date was cut short right there and then, as she walloped me in the face with her hand-bag and stormed off. I was dumbfounded. Why was she so angry? Had she not sought my opinion on the matter of her weight? Had I not provided a truthful and honest answer? Why ask me for such things if she is to so easily take offence?

Women. I shall never understand them, but neither shall I stop courting. And that, my friends, is the real mystery.-

Lord Likely.

Lord Likely is a Victorian lord, an aristocratic adventurer, and a gentleman of action. His exploits can be digested in full at his blog, The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely.

Am I just clueless? Don’t answer that.

Written by Lori from Gallori

You know what I don't get? I don't get NASCAR. There, I said it. Being from Indiana, home of the Indianapolis 500 I think I just committed blasphemy.

So someone tell me. What is it about watching cars with stickers on them race around the track so fast that you can't read them anyway? I've been to the time trials for the Indy 500. The weekend before the race where the cars (I guess it's really the drivers) drive as fast as they can around the 2.5 mile track to qualify for the race the following weekend. I was young, maybe 12 years old, and I have to say that looking back it seems like it would be a good subject for a mockumentary. You sit there and wait and wait and wait and then in the matter of a split second you hear the sound build, crescendo, and fade away in a blur. VROOOOOM! Done. Gone. Until the next car came around your little portion of the track. Yee haw!

Now, maybe a full on race is more understandable. You get to see lots of cars buzzing, litterally, that's what it sounds like, around the track. 200+ mph locusts buzzing past in a swarm. Once in a while you get a spin out or a crash and the yellow flag comes out and everyone circles waiting for the green.

But still. Unless you have lots of money bet on it like horse racing, what is the appeal? Is it the beer? Is it the crashes? Is it the ladies lifting their tops in the infield? Is it the total package and fast cars just happen to be there? Or do y'all really like watching cars zoom by?

Ok, so, maybe I can understand it a little. But what I really don't get? Watching NASCAR on tv. It's like watching bowling but only seeing the ball roll down the alley. At least in bowling you can see the bowlers. Do you watch it for the snappy commercials? I know there isn't a halftime where you could at least hope for a wardrobe malfunction or hot little cheerleaders. I understand the appeal of professional wrestling better than I do NASCAR. Wait. What does that say about me?

I did watch the newest Herbie movie (as in Herbie the love bug) that featured NASCAR but this one is the Matt Dillon, Lindsay Lohan, Mac computer guy version. I do have to say that the two NASCAR drivers that made a cameo were pretty cute. But again, you never see their faces when they're racing. So that can't be it.

I know I'm missing out on something because NASCAR is really big. I mean, you can even get a NEXTEL (beware, sound on that link) phone with your favorite car number, or something like that, on it.

Oh, and speaking of the sponsor logo decals. I think that since they whiz by in a blur that someone should design them so that they're meant to be viewed at 200 miles an hour. Kind of how, this guy that does sidewalk chalk drawings has to draw this to get this. Allow for the speed distortion.

Ok, I'm getting off the topic. But that's it in a nutshell. I don't get NASCAR. But then again, I don't get fashion either.

Lori Greenberg is a glass bead maker that blogs from her studio in Cave Creek, Arizona. You can read more of her ramblings at: Gallori

Not Just Another Bubble Gum Pop Princess

Written by John from Altjiranga Mitjina

She’s just 16. She’s cute. She sings. She’s from Louisiana. You probably think you know who I’m talking about, but you’re wrong. It’s Amanda Shaw. This young girl is a far cry from the processed music of Brittney. Amanda plays cajun music with a fiddle. She covers everything from a traditional cajun song to a cover of Charlie Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” to the Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”.

She’s been playing for years and she’s only 16 now. This year will mark her third appearance at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. She’s a popular favorite. So far she has two cds out, I’m Not A Bubble Gum Pop Princess and a live recording of last year’s Jazz Fest show. Her excitement on this live album is infectious, you can tell she is having the best time of her life up there on the stage singing and talking to the audience. One her studio album she sings songs in French and then turns around and sings the punk classic by the Clash.

She’s recently been signed to Rounder Records and is busy working on a new studio album to come out later this year. Rounder has paired her with some veteran singer/songwriters from Louisiana like Shannon McNally and Anders Osborne to work on material for this album.

Keep an eye and ear out for her new release. Amanda won’t be the song you here on the radio that is so formulaic that any singer could have recorded it, hers will be the song that speaks true and is sung in her voice and when you hear that fiddle you’ll know it’s her.

One note, I couldn’t link to any site of hers that had music on it. She has a web page at AmandaShaw.com, but to tell the truth it leaves more than a little to be desired. It doesn’t even contain a decent bio of her, much less any music. And there’s no myspace page. Hopefully with Rounder in the act now, that will change soon and you’ll be able to go to her page and sample some of her music.

Instead of working on his blog altjirangamitjina John Holland is wandering the wilds of Washington D.C. this week, hoping to catch sight of that fabled creature, an honest politican