Monday, January 26, 2015

Using My Powers for Good....

Does anybody out there understand how hard it is to start writing again after taking a break? I sure do. I don’t even have an excuse. After separating with a company I ADORED working for in August, I decided to go back to writing full time. After five months, my house is clean, carpets shampooed, closets cleaned out and this is the FIRST time I have sat down to do any serious writing…and it’s not even very serious, just me rambling on in my blog (mostly because I am bored out of my mind!).

Don’t get me wrong, I have loved spending time with my family and I can never get enough time with my husband (because he is the most awesome man on the planet). I just don’t feel productive. I miss immersing myself in a job I love. Maybe this isn't the time to start on the fifth revision of my completed manuscript. Maybe I shouldn't start on my exciting memoirs just yet.

I've certainly had time to do a lot of reading, probably a few dozen. Mostly books I wouldn't recommend, although I did get the latest Diana Gabaldon book in her Outlander series, Written in My Own Hearts Blood, for my anniversary (from the fore-mentioned awesome husband) which I devoured, because she is a brilliant writer.

I guess I need to get back out there and find another job I can enjoy and feel like I’m contributing my talents (because let’s face it, I have lots of talents…most of them can even be used for good instead of evil). Perhaps I’ll keep blogging, just so my writing ability doesn't get all rusty and stagnant. Maybe I’ll even find a job that can use my many talents (hopefully not my talent for cleaning, shampooing carpets or organizing closets).

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Update on Living OFF the Internet

I’m a “word girl”, but there just don’t seem to be the right words to express my feelings.  I've been sitting here staring at a blank page trying to figure out just how to convey all of my feelings. The words don’t want to come. Maybe it’s his absence? I miss his solid presence.  Knowing he’ll always be there when I get home from work, or at the very least, shortly after. Knowing that each and every night, I will lie down in the same bed with him, and snuggle close and also knowing that I will wake to his kiss as he leaves for work. 

  (Yeah, he's gonna kill me when he sees I used this picture!)

Our time is spent laughing and talking, often over cooking dinner, doing laundry or even the dishes. We talk about our day, about work, about our kids, his and mine, and about our future. We talk at work at least a dozen times a day. Maybe it’s still new? Maybe that’s part of it, but he understands me. I am who I am and he doesn't mind. He’s unapologetic for who he is. Neither of us is perfect, but the only thing I would change about him is his current absence.
The funny thing is, I sit here and read what I've written and think, “This is just silly. Why should I feel the need to type this?” Well, it’s what I do. I write. I've done it for ages now, and I’m a tad aggravated that it’s this hard for me to do right now. Sure, I’m typing, but I’m just not saying what I’d like to.
I have to stop myself from using a million different cliches. But if I close my eyes, I can see him. His clear blue eyes. His full lips, always ready with a smile. I can see his huge broad shoulders, and be thankful that I haven’t actually had to lean on them often (but I’m glad they’re there all the same). He’s such a big man, so strong, but amazingly gentle and not too tough to shed a tear with me over a tragedy like the tornado that destroyed so many of my childhood memories in May.

There is no easy way to explain my feelings. He’s home. He’s my equal, my partner and sometimes my strength, but mostly, he makes me a better person. Not so much in the less snarky department, more in the “I feel like a grown-up and I’m okay with that” department. Sometimes it’s hard for me not to worry about the future; that things will change. I know they will, but I have to have faith that when they do, it will only be better.
I guess what they say is true. I was finally in a really good place. I was happy with who I was and where I was in my life. And there he was. He wasn't a knight in shining armor, there to rescue me, nor was he in need of rescuing himself.  We were both pretty comfortable in our own skin and it just so happens, that we kinda liked the skin the other wore.

Now here we are, our first time apart in almost 6 months. I have a beautiful ring on my finger, symbolizing  the promise of a future with an honest, hard-working, sensitive, caring and extremely hot man (yeah, I went there, he’s handsome in a not-douchey-way). 
We scrapped our plans for a big wedding when it spun out of control (my fault), and plan on having a very small quiet ceremony the end of the month. Then I get to apply for my first Passport, so I can be ready for our cruise to South America and the Caribbean in April (I am so gonna refrain from watching Titanic for a while). I think our next trip out of the states will definitely be to Scotland after that. Life is good. No life is amazing…but it would sure be a whole lot better if he wasn't on a ship somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean right now. 

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Pride, Insecurity and Trust

You would think that pride & insecurity wouldn't be a trait shared by one person. Alas, it often is.

Insecurity can poison almost any relationship. Everyone is insecure, but sometimes you have to learn to trust someone in order to conquer that insecurity. That’s where pride rears its ugly head and can completely obliterate that fragile trust, giving even more power to our insecurities.

Speaking on a personal level, I have serious trust issues. It seems anytime I put my trust in someone, they betray that trust. It makes me insecure in my own ability to judge a person. It also hurts. My pride kicks in every so often and I get all filled with bravado and push away the people I love the most.

I previously mentioned The Brain, The Heart & The Libido here. I’m sure anyone can tell you The Libido cares not about pride, insecurity or trust. That would definitely be left for The Heart & The Brain to fight it out.

So here’s an example of that conversation:

The Brain: “I was lied to. Over and over. I trusted this person. I was wrong. Why did I trust them? I shall never forgive them for doing this to me. My pride will not allow it. How can I be so stupid? What makes people think I will just keep forgiving each and every time?”

The Heart: “It’s because of love.”

The Brain: “Love is a poor excuse for being treated like a welcome mat. Stop butting in and trying to control things Heart, you only cause problems. Look at the past 5 years. You've wreaked havoc on our life with all your silly feelings.”

The Heart: “It doesn't matter what you think. It only matters what you feel. In the end, you are fighting a losing battle, because we both know I am stronger than you are. It’s been your over-thinking everything that has caused the problems.”

And the fight continues…there is no right or wrong. In the end, it really isn't The Brain or The Heart that has any control…it’s the person who the fight is over. Unfortunately, they have the power to end this battle. One way or another. It’s too bad their own internal battle with pride, insecurities & trust make this a battle that can’t be won by anyone, unless they learn to conquer their own pride & insecurities and take that leap and learn to trust.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Brilliant Book Covers Lead to Odd Musings...

Ever have one of those conversations that you later look back on and can’t decide if it was either brilliant on both sides, or just plain weird? A while back, I had numerous talks with someone and it was exactly like that. I saw the picture of a book cover that reminded me of it today. It’s just brilliant, in my humble opinion.  

“So, you've read 50 Shades of Grey, now its time to inject a bit of colour and have the time of your life.... read the tongue in cheek adventures of the hapless libido.” 
and pick up a copy of his new book 

You may wonder what kind of bizarre discussion I could have been having after seeing that! Well, the truth is, it was a very odd third person conversation. I referred to three separate entities as though they were actual people. There was The Brain, The Heart and of course, The Libido.

Now, as you can imagine, The Brain was the only reasonable opinion in these conversations and was constantly at odds with ANYTHING The Heart had to add. The Libido was pretty much willing to side with either of them, as long as she thought it would somehow benefit her.

In the end, The Brain won any and all discussions. The Libido pouted but was more than willing to patiently await her next bath or shower (don’t ask). The Heart, well, that poor girl; what can I say? If you’re very quiet late at night, you can hear the slap and scrape of more bricks being added to her already impenetrable wall. She got all worked up over nothing. The really sad part is she almost won all those arguments with The Brain. I suppose it’s a good thing she didn't  A girl can only take so many beatings before she’s not only broken, but ceases to exist.

So as long as there’s a tidy little wall to protect her, there’s still hope that one day, Prince Charming will scale the walls and rescue her from her solitary existence. Corny, huh?

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Warning: Wallowing to Follow...

Sometimes the weight of the world seems to be pressing a bit too hard on my shoulders. When that happens, I withdraw into myself. I become anti-social (far more so than normal) and I retreat from everyone, often using music to wallow in sadness.

I admit to being co-dependent at times. It’s not a trait I like, but I’ll own it. When this melancholy mood hits, I actually miss having someone to be co-dependent with (not enough to actually do anything about being alone, just enough to darken my mood a tad bit more).

I've been in one of those moods lately. They are unhealthy and often self-destructive. I push away people I shouldn't  and long for unhealthy relationships I've ended. I watch stupid sub-titled movies, don’t eat and can’t sleep.

It seems I’m a tad whiny as well (sorry for stating the obvious). I think this particular lapse is caused by multiple things. The first was my birthday. How I hate them. Next we have the terrifying life change I’m currently in the middle of implementing. Quitting a full-time job to go back to school is scary on so many levels. Then we have Valentine’s Day….society’s way of celebrating couples (I am currently not one half of a couple equation) and a commercialized holiday I usually dread (second only to my birthday). Which brings me to the loss of my dearest friend; I can’t seem to come to grips with that. Factor in my kids seem to be growing up and needing me less and less and I realize I’m lonely. And sad.

Oh yeah, I’m a big fat whiner all right. I really don’t like myself when I get this way.  

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Dead though you may be, forgotten NEVER...

Over the years, friends come and go. You have those who you can go ages without talking to, and a phone call wipes away the months or even years, almost instantly.

There are people that come into our lives that we find an immediate connection with. Sometimes those friendships “stick”, often, they don’t.

On the rare occasion, we find a friend who we open ourselves up to. It’s never an immediate thing. Often over years, but at some point, we realize they are the only person in our life we can tell everything to. All of our deep dark secrets; they won’t judge, because they've done the same.

Something happened today and I realized I had no one I was willing to tell. It saddened me. I've always thought of myself as an open book. I hide very little. I was very wrong about that. I have the outer me, that is most definitely an open book, then I have the inner me. The one I've really only ever showed one person. Now that person is forever gone. So I find the inner me angry and mourning that loss, once again.

So what do I do? I write. Do I write about what I am still unwilling to share with anyone? Of course not. I write to help me understand and to grieve the loss of an irreplaceable person and friend. Dead though you may be, forgotten NEVER...

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Ginger Work of Fiction...Optional Hot Guy Included

Being a ginger and suffering the inane “Gingers have no souls” jokes was only slightly annoying growing up. Now, it seemed the universe had a warped sense of humor, or at the very least was sympathetic to our plight. During the Time of Darkness, it was discovered only humans with red hair pigments were inedible. Go figure? I never seemed to have that problem with any of my old boyfriends, may they rest in peace (or pieces, depending).

I had been “elected” from my district to attend the Summoning Conference, but in reality, it was more like drawing the short straw. I guess my lack of filter had ruffled a few more feathers than I realized. Sitting in the back of the limo, my companions seemed a bit more nervous than I was. The silence was thick with tension. The man to my right kept humming, a grating tuneless sound that made me want to backhand him. The woman to my left kept fidgeting with the bag in her lap. I sighed, closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trying to breathe deep and relax.

The council would be awaiting our arrival. Many days of preparation had been spent, not just feeding me information the district elders thought I may need, but on my appearance. My long unruly hair was tightly bound and secured, covered by a small hat with a netted veil. It irritatingly tickled the bridge of my nose and I had to fight the constant urge not to scratch at it. I loved the black pheasant shirt that rested just off my shoulders with the long flowing skirt, though. The emerald steel-boned corset that I was forced to wear over it, however, I was not a fan of. And the make-up; good lord, I doubt I’d ever worn quite so much. I felt like a Thanksgiving turkey ready for the table, which, under the circumstances, wasn't exactly the best analogy.

The car came to a sudden halt, and I lifted my head trying to see out the blackened windows. The fidgeter next to me let out a small squeal when the door was opened abruptly. She was frozen in place and no one else seemed willing to say anything or move. I sighed and grabbed my own bag off the floor, wasting no time climbing unceremoniously over her to exit the interior, meeting the dark night outside. I took a deep breath and looked around. We were parked in front of an impressive Gothic structure and I smirked. 

“Something amusing?”

I slowly turned my head at the sound of the baritone voice. Aside from the fact that he was clearly dead, he was breathtakingly beautiful, spoke with a lovely English accent and was big. Very big.

I cocked an eyebrow, which only made the veil shift and tickle my nose again. I stuck out my lower lip, blowing at the offending shear material; it fluttered slightly, before settling back in place, which made me even more annoyed. Me and annoyed don’t usually end well.

“A counsel of the undead, holding their Summoning Conference in a Gothic cathedral? What could be more amusing?” I stated, tilting my head and staring up at the man, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Which, in hindsight, pretty much violated rule #1 the elders had given me, “Never look the undead in the eye, and always, always answer their questions respectfully and demurely”. Yeah, apparently that wasn't gonna happen. I was so screwed.