%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  A place for me to write about life and the happenings in my little corner of the world. |
| Shhh....I'm blogging! |
| 3. Do you believe in ghosts? Have you ever had an experience? Yes, I do believe in ghosts mainly because I believe that we are made of energy and energy never stops, it simply changes form. I don’t think that this life is it for us, we move on and change and go into a different form once this lifetime is over. I’ve had a couple of experiences that were a little strange. The most notable one happened when I was in my junior year of college. I went to school at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio which is listed as one of the most haunted places in America. During my time there, I became a Resident Assistant in my residence hall. I lived in Voigt Hall, an all-women’s dormitory. Hung outside the study room off of the lounge was a portrait of Irma Voigt, the woman for whom the hall was named. The RAs and residents would always say ‘hi’ to her as we passed each day. One night, the Assistant Resident Director, Administrative Resident Assistant and the rest of us RAs were in that room for one of our staff meetings. The door was one of those nobs that you had to actually turn and then push the door inward into the room. It didn’t swing on its own. We were all sitting around the table talking when the door opened partially. The 5 of us turned to look because we expected one of the residents to walk in. Nothing happened so we figured that someone had simply opened the door and was standing out in the lobby waiting for one of us. One of the other RAs stood up and started to walk toward the door to lookout. When she was about 15 feet from it, the door shut on its own. If it had been a person doing that, we would have seen them lean in to pull the handle closed. That night confirmed for all of us that our hall was in fact haunted. 7. What do you love about this time of year? What do you hate about this time of year? In general, I am not a fan of winter by any means. I have lived in Ohio my entire life, so I'm over the idea of having four seasons. If I had my way, it would be 72* all year round. Well, maybe I'd throw in a couple of hot days so that my kids could swim. But then again, they do make heaters for pools. And then there's the fact that it gets dark so early. I'd say even more than the cold, I hate it being dark at 6pm. When it's dark my brain wants to sleep, but when the girls have to be at dance or girl scouts or PTO or one of a hundred other places, I have a tough time functioning. But, there are some really nice things about this time of year too. I do love Christmas. I love shopping for gifts for my family. It makes me upset when people harp on the commercialism of Christmas. I mean, I do understand where they're coming from with their rants and complaints. However, the gifts I pick out for my loved ones, I do so with purpose and intention. I love watching their faces light up when they open the gifts I've bought them. I love when I've picked out something for them that I know they will adore. It makes me feel wonderful. Also, I love the lights. I love driving around and seeing all of the decorations on the houses. Sometimes I'll intentionally take the long way home just so that I can see the lights. |
| Today is the last day of September, 2014, and it marks a huge change for my family. I don't think any of us yet realize how massive this change will be. Everything we know, everything we've built, and everyone we love will soon be on the other side of the country. It feels a little strange and a little wrong to say that even though the decision isn't finalized just yet, but sometimes it's important to face the inevitable. We're moving to Seattle. Seeing those words there—staring me down—causing me to face it head on is terrifying. I'm not sure if I'm ready for the actual black and white of the situation. I'm not sure I can make this move. I've grown up in Ohio. I’ve graduated high school and gone to college here. I've been married and had children here. My family lives here. Paul's family lives here. I know that there are Skype and cell phones and email, but those are poor replacements for a mom’s hug. Thanksgiving and Christmas will be extra special this year because they may be the last time we see them all for a bit. Flights are expensive, and driving takes too long. When you have dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and a bird to think about, time is a precious commodity. But time with family is also precious. We already live two hours away from them all, and we don’t get to see any of them nearly as much as we’d like. I have four nephews who hardly know me. I have cousins who I hardly recognize. And I wonder, if they won’t make the two hour drive, how can I expect them to take the five hour flight? It truly makes me sad to think about. Really, though, what will be different about my relationship with them when we move? In order to see anyone in my family, we have to drive to them. How will that change other than the fact that we won’t get to do it as often? My grandmother and mom will still be there when I call. And perhaps I can convince my mom to come out for a couple of weeks. She’s always wanted to see Seattle. This is incentive, right? Paul’s dad wants to buy a camper and tour the country anyway. What better excuse for him and my mother-in-law to do this than visiting us? On the flip side of all this is the opportunity. We will have a whole new part of the country to explore. We will get to experience mountains and sounds and salmon runs. For a little while, we’ll be tourists in a city that we call home. We’ll have a chance to find the house of our dreams as we make the life of our dreams. Paul and I have talked for years about moving to Seattle. It’s always seemed like the place we needed to be. And now we have been given the chance to go. Why would we turn it down? I wish I could explain the glow that came from my husband when we were out there. I wish I could explain the light that he emulated after his meeting with the company CEO. I wish I could just take a picture of that for the times when people ask us why we’re moving. I know that just one look at his face will convince them, too. Seattle is opportunity. Seattle is hope. Seattle is a fresh start. This isn’t to say what we have here is bad. It’s not by any stretch of the imagination. We have a pretty good deal going in Ohio. However, we have a chance to make our lives so much better. Paul has a chance to work with a company that does cutting edge technology. And if that one doesn’t work, there are a hundred others with opportunities. He’s outgrown Ohio. It’s as simple as that. He’s not challenged here, and that’s what he needs from a job. But it’s not just for him that we go. Seattle area schools are rated in the top ten in the country. The city is full of art and culture and diversity. My girls can hike the mountains—real mountains—and sail on the sound in the same weekend. We can jaunt up to Canada for a weekend trip. We can eat fresh fish that had been caught that morning. They will experience a whole new way of life. These next few months will be hard. There will be lots of tears and fear. I’m not so naïve that I don’t recognize this. But the trade-off will be worth the effort now. I know in my gut that we move ahead toward something better. I know that we are on the right path. And when the fears invade, this is what I must remember. |
| Tell us about somewhere you went this week. Well, it's Fair week here, so we've spent several days at the county fair. Most of the time we've been in the Dairy Cow barn with the Alpacas. Having never been in 4H myself and my girls only taking still projects last year, this has been a completely different experience for us. I'm so glad that I let my oldest take an animal to the fair. It has been amazing to watch her blossom as she shares with the fair goers facts and tidbits about Alpacas. She has set many ill-informed attendees straight on the fact that they are Alpacas, not Llamas. And that the two animals are very different. She has also clarified to them that, while Alpacas do have the ability to spit, they tend to not do so unprovoked. Spitting is a form of communication to establish dominance or to show extreme displeasure. For the most part, they are very docile animals with incredibly soft fiber. If you ever have the opportunity, I highly recommend petting one. Their softness has to be touched in order to be believed. Having a farm animal at the fair is much different than anything we've ever done. As I said before, the girls have only done still projects in the past. They're fun and nice to see. However, when you have a project that you must come take care of throughout the week, you're more invested in the fair. We've been there more this year than in any of the seven years we've lived in our house. Of course, we haven't moved much from the animal barns. There's really little need for us to. It makes me a little sad, though. I know we're having fun, so how can I be sad? Well, if we move to Seattle, all of this goes away. I'm sure there will be other 4H groups and perhaps we can find other fair projects to take. But they won't be these animals, and they won't be this 4H group. And it won't be at this Midwest county fair. I'm trying to focus on the positives. Whatever choice we make, we win. We either go on a great adventure with a whole new city of people to meet. Or we stay in this fantastic city with tons of wonderful people who we have grown to love. I can't let myself think about either option right now. The only thing we can do is focus on the fair. Judging for the books is tonight and tomorrow is showmanship. I'm so excited for B! |
| Tell us about something this week that made you feel. Did it make you happy? Sad? Angry? Jealous? I notice that my moods and feelings depend a great deal on whether or not I've written creatively that day or not. On the days where I am unable to get any writing done, I feel anxious and incomplete. This week has been filled with a head cold and far too many obligations for one person, but I've written most every day. Yesterday, I did not write anything and the anxiety and panic was almost too much for me. It's funny how a simple thing can change our entire mood. It's like writing is my therapy and, in order to feel balanced, I need it daily. My novel that I shelved at the beginning of summer has been pulled out and I have begun reworking it. I'm still not very far in (only on chapter 2) and it's not even close to a story, but I have been writing on it. I still don't feel like I'm in my groove with it yet, but I'm getting there. I know the story I want to tell - it's sitting at the back of my brain - and I know that I can tell it. At first, I didn't think I was the right person to tell this story. I didn't believe I had the experience needed to share the experiences of these three characters with the world. But, since none of them will let me be to start another novel, I assume that I am the one to tell their tale. They've chosen me and I only hope that I can do them justice. We all have things that we put off for 'one day'. 'One day I'll take that trip...' or 'One day I'll write that book...' Tell us about something you've put off for 'one day' and why you can't do it now, and if you have any concrete plans in place to actually achieve it...one day. I have always said that some day my writing will be published. I guess in a way it has, but not the way that I want it to be published. Some day I want to see my books on the shelves of the library. Some day I want to search for local authors and find me. Some day I want to open a magazine to find the story that I wrote. In hindsight, I can say the reason that I haven't done this yet is simply that the time has not been right until now. Although, I wish that I had been a little less practical in college and had taken the creative writing class. Or had switched to a magazine or creative writing major. I thought that teaching was the path for me, but now I see that it was simply the path to get me to where I am now. Also, once the girls came, my focus switched completely. For their first few years, I focused completely on raising them. It's not that I'm less focused on them now, but rather that they need me less than they did when they were three and five years old. I think I chose the path I did because it was easy to give up the teaching for my girls. I lost nothing and gained the world. Had I been writing the whole time, I don't think I would have ever given that up. Plus, once I was able to focus on myself again, I could clearly see where my own passions lay. It's hard to head back into the workforce after a nine year hiatus, and so when I did and realized that I needed more schooling to continue the path I was on, it forced me to ask myself what I really wanted. I feel that I am on a clear path to publication now. I work hard every day to improve my writing skills. I take the criticism and feedback I receive from the writers here and I apply it to my work. I've submitted two stories and three poems for publication. Four of them have been rejected, and I'm still waiting to hear about the last one. And, in the mean time, I'm working on more poems and even a novel that I hope to have published next year. I have goals and have a deadline. The hard part is just doing the work. |
| Choose an important person in your life and describe them to us. Not their physical description but their personality and character. How do I describe the most important person in my life? Well he can be the biggest jerk I've ever met, and sometimes I really don't like him. He drives me crazy and gets on my nerves and some days I wish he wasn't such a work-a-holic. But he's also the one person in this world that I can tell all of my secrets to. He's the first one that I want to tell about my good days and my bad. He's my rock and my best friend. And he's smart. Oh my goodness is he smart. I envy him at times. I wish that I had people who sought me out the way that they do him. To his colleagues, he sometimes comes across as arrogant, but he has the skills to back it up. He's very sarcastic and has a quick wit. We play word games with each other and it's great fun for us both. How else to describe him? Well, he spoils me. I'm sure I get my way far more often than I should. Of course, our girls get the same treatment. He can be a stern father, but he's also a very present and involved one. Our goal with them is to raise productive members of society. We expect them to be respectful and obedient. He's more hard on them than I am, and we don't always agree on consequences. But we are a team, and we figure it all out together. He is my partner. He's the soccer coach for our youngest daughter. He's the baton dad making sure our oldest is checked in at her events. And, most times, he's one of the only dads at the baton competition. When the moms commend him on coming, he simply replies, "That's my daughter. Why wouldn't I come?" He's the softball dad pitching the ball to our oldest. He's the chauffeur dad, driving the girls to 4H or school events. He's the husband who doesn't get upset when he comes home to a messy house and a sink full of dishes. He doesn't mind cooking dinner for us. He makes us biscuits and gravy on Saturday mornings and watches Doctor Who marathons with the girls and me. He knows that family is everything and he does everything for us. In short, he's the one person in this whole, crazy world that I want to be with no matter what. Even when I hate him, there's no one else I'd rather be with. Other than the people here on Writing.com, do you ever share your writing with anyone in your life? Tell us about the reactions and feedback you get. I do share my writing with people. Paul is usually the one who gets the brunt of what I've written. Often times, I'll even ask his opinion of a piece before I submit it to a contest here. It's funny, though, because he is a software programmer, so he's very technical minded. Our brains work on very different ends of the spectrum, and to watch him analyze my poetry is an amazing, and sometimes funny, thing to see. In all honesty, the best reaction I've ever received to something I've written was from him. I wrote the flash fiction story
Others I've shown my work to have been nice and a few have even helped me edit the pieces. But they're actually the reason I came to writing.com. I've not been brave enough to seek out a writing group in real life, so everyone who has read something of mine has a vested interest in me. I can't fully trust their reactions because they love me and there's always that lingering doubt that they're trying to spare my feelings. It's of little use to me if I have a piece that needs work, but no one will tell me it needs work. I've been writing since the seventh grade, and I've heard throughout my life that I have a talent with it. But talent will only get a person so far. There are many, many talented and gifted writers who have nothing published. I don't want to be one of them. So, I do share my work with others and I take their praise and let it feed my ego. But, I tend to value the critiques from the writers here just a little more. |
| Write ten sentences starting with the words 'I wish...' I wish I was a better writer. I hope to have my writing published and make a living from this, but I'm scared that will never happen. I wish I had started sooner to take my writing more seriously. I wonder how much further I would be if I had. I wish I knew how to finish my stories. Finishing the stories has always been the bane of my creativity. I start stories with great potential and then fizzle out a quarter of the way in. I wish I was a better mom. I want to be better for my kids. I wish I didn't let irritations get to me so much. I wish I could be okay with just being a mom and a writer. I think I could be a better mom if I didn't put so much pressure on myself to be everything to everyone. I understand that I can't do it all, at least in my head I do. It's putting that knowledge into practice that gets me. I wish I didn't feel like a cliche. I wish people were nicer to each other. I don't understand why we can't be nice to each other. I wish I was nicer to other people. I need to focus on seeking the good in those around me instead of automatically assuming that they will be bad/mean/negative. I wish I didn't feel like I had to apologize for my presence. I wish I could be unapologetically me. I'm a pretty okay person, really. Or, at least, that's what my husband and kids keep telling me. They say I'm too hard on myself. Sometimes I really think they're right. I wish I could be okay with just being me. |
| The Sunscreen Song tells us to forget the insults and remember the compliments. Tell us about a compliment you received that you remember. Who gave it? Why? What made it so meaningful for you? Compliments can be such fickle things, can't they? I mean, we're told to cherish them and to forget the negative talk, but really, how easy is it to tell someone that their hair looks nice or that you like the shirt their wearing. The ones that are special, the ones that have real clout, are the ones that take effort. And, the funny thing about compliments is that when they're too good, I don't believe them. One that I will treasure always was given to me by a person editing one of my stories. He said "you have the power to birth your characters into life" in regard to his criticism of my main character seeming too flat. I loved it. I cherish it. I try to employ it. I have the power. I have the ability. Yes! I think that's the key for a compliment to work. It first has to be believable to the receiver. I mean, I know what beautiful is, so when my husband tells me that I am, I shrug him off. I don't believe him. But, when I show him a poem I've written or a piece of fiction I've penned and my non-reader husband reads it all the way through, then, that's a huge compliment to me. And, if I can make him do the eye bulge thing and hear him say "wow, you write dark a little too well" or something similar, I feel as if I've won the lottery. My flash fiction entry The office ("Invalid Item"  ) was my tribute to his day at work. Hearing him laugh and exclaim 'yes!' while reading the short fiction was worth more than any contest win could ever be. Those are my greatest compliments. There are always little things that annoy us, but what about the little things that make us smile, please us or give us hope? Tell about some of the wonderful little things that have helped light up your days recently. As a person living with depression and anxiety, it's often easy to fall into a pit of despair. It's easy to look at the negative in the world and think there is no hope. It's easy to let little annoyances ruin an entire day. It's easy while sitting in the library in an attempt to combat writer's block, to allow every ringing phone, talking toddler, and rude sign on cars that drive by influence my mood. It's easy to complain that within the past five minutes, I've been distracted from my writing no less that five times. But, I've never been one for easy. Easy gives me panic attacks and lets me not live my life. Easy makes me a miserable person. Easy is no fun. Instead, I look past the car with the rude sign to the blue sky with the wispy white clouds painted against it. I smile at the toddler who is so excited by his book choice that he just has to shout it to the world. The ringing phone, I have not yet mastered. The best I have accomplished is simply an eye roll and head shake. But, then I move on, because the other thing I've learned is that these little annoyances don't have to ruin my day. I am lucky beyond measure, so what right do I have to be miserable? What gives me hope is this right here, my writing and writing.com. When my girls peek over my shoulder because they want to read the story that Mommy is writing (and some day they will be old enough to do so), I feel hope. When my characters speak to me in a way they talk to no one else, I feel hope. In those fleeting moments when the words pour from my fingers onto the computer screen, I am hopeful. I am hopeful that tomorrow exists and that annoyances are fleeting. I am hopeful that the world is still mostly good, despite what the evening news would have us believe. And, I am definitely hopeful that if I work hard and keep trying, some day my dreams will come true. Every day we have a choice to be annoyed or to be hopeful. I hope that you also choose hopeful. |
| Time has become a precious commodity that we all wish we could have more of. What would you do if you had more time, that you don't currently do? We always hear that time is precious. There's never enough time. Time isn't on our side. And various other idioms that we use to explain why we haven't accomplished everything we want in our lives. But then, I hear other idioms that I'm more inclined to believe. What is important to us, we make time for, what isn't, we make excuses. And, the more you do, the more you do. But, I have kids, so I also understand how fleeting time is. I swear that it was just last week that I gave birth. There's no way that my oldest is ten and traipsing her way through Intermediate School. My youngest can't possibly be heading that same direction in just two short years. And, I swear that I didn't appreciate my twenties enough, so I need to go back there for just a bit longer. But, it's not a question of going back, it's a question of time. What would I do with more time? Honestly, I would probably try to squeeze another activity into it. Maybe I'd sleep, I don't ever seem to get enough of that. But, my problem has never been one of time. Yes, I know that I'm busy. Yes, I know that we rush around at times and sometimes I feel as if I need a clone. Organization is where I struggle, though. I have plenty of time to accomplish my tasks. I could have a clean house and have delicious and healthy meals on the table every night if only I learned to plan my days a little better. If I could just turn off the computer for an hour, I'm sure I'd be amazed at what I could accomplish. This month, I'm attempting a time-saving activity for dinner. On Sunday, I prepped enough food for 20 crock pot meals. They're all sitting in either my fridge or my freezer. That has been nice. I don't have to worry about what we're eating that night and I know that my kids aren't going to get McDonalds. I'd love to keep this up and I'm hoping that I am able to. Though not all of the meals have been our favorite, it's nice to know that there's something healthy waiting for us at home. Now, if only I could get better at the 15 minute clean sessions, then I would have it all. And, perhaps with the clutter gone from my schedule, the clutter would also disappear from my brain and the story that is stuck there will finally tumble out? Oh yes, if I had more time, I would definitely use it to write or read. Now, the question is how do I make that time? |
| What are you reading at the moment? How did you choose it, or was it chosen for you? Are you enjoying it? At the moment, I am attempting to slowly read A Shiver of Light by Laurell K Hamilton. It's the latest in her Meredith Gentry Series. For those that don't know, Merry Gentry is a half human fairy princess living in the US. It's a bit True Bloodish, but with fairies. I do enjoy this series. Some of her stuff is a tad bdsm for me, but as a writer who struggles to write sex, I find it fascinating. The book thus far has been fairly tame and is setting up the plot for the story. I am about 1/3 of the way through, so I assume that everything will pick up very soon. I actually found the book by accident. Laurell is one of the few openly pagan authors that I know of and her books frequently reference the Goddess and her Consort. As a non-christian, I appreciate this, especially since fairies are pagan in origin. That is what initially attracted me to the books. The writing style, characters, and story line were what kept me here. I have a tough time with books where the only action is in the bedroom. I love it when authors are able to get me excited about the characters BEFORE they take off their clothes. So yes, this book is good. It's certainly not one that I would let my daughters read for a very long time as her work does get a bit explicit. I am looking forward to finishing it and discovering what happens to Merry and her men. |
Amalie Cantor - We Got This!  wrote a blog post recently about self-identifying as an author. Do you think of yourself as an author? Do you introduce yourself as an author? If not, what do you think it would take before you did? When other people introduce themselves or identify themselves as authors, what do you assume about them?This is a very interesting question for me because, while I do consider myself a writer, I am not an author. A writer is a person who writes. Someone who spends their time creating stories and fabricating worlds or penning poetry. Once a person has been paid for those works, then they are an author. Once I'm paid for any one of my pieces I will become an author. It is a goal that I strive for. As far as introducing myself as an author, I don't. I do hesitantly introduce myself as a writer, though. But, there's still a fear there. I fear they will judge me as lacking. Or worse, that they will ask to read something I've written and will find that lacking. Or maybe it's a fear that they'll love it, but the I won't be able to produce anything else. I think that part of my issue is that this is the job that I love to do. Writing is a part of me. I have to write just like I have to breathe. There's no difference, no distinction of importance. So, yes, there is a worry that someone will tell me that I can't do this and it will destroy me. My author self is still but a fledgling who needs to be nurtured and taught. To cut her off before she fully took flight would be disastrous to us both. Perhaps I just need to follow the advice that Amalie gave to her band students, Fake it, Baby. I post things on here almost daily. Technically, I am a published writer. Do I care that not everyone on here who reads my work loves it? Not really. Should I care more when that person is standing face to face with me? Not really. Does it make me less of a writer when someone criticizes my work? Nope. Will I believe them when they tell me to quit and find a day job? Not one bit. So, ultimately, the real critic I fear is myself, which is rather silly, don't you think? I think that's true for most of us. We are our own worst critics. We have the power to give ourselves the title of writer, author, or even just dabbler. Who will argue with us? When someone introduces themselves as an author, I don't question them. I don't ask for book titles (ok, maybe I do, but only so I can read them because I'm a bit of a book addict). I don't question how much money they've made in their career. Perhaps my own advice to myself should be to treat myself as I do others. And, my advice to you, as you nod your head and think 'I do that to myself, too' is to treat you the way that you would treat an author you met here on WDC or even one you ran into on the street. Be kind. Be supportive. Fake it, Baby! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
.