I am surrounded by morons. I am 32 years old and I have decided for some unGod known reason that I should go back to college. What the hell was I thinking? Usually, when I hear these stupid ass kids that sit around me with their closed, ignorant minds or their lack of common sense, I roll my eyes and know that there is some intelligence that comes with age. I try to be patient with the little darlings when they don't understand the professor's "big" words, spend their hour texting, don't have a clue about world events, or know what the hell opium is. But today, I had enough. I just had enough. The subject of Thomas Beattie, the FTM who had the baby, came up. There was a picture of him when he was pregnant (and he's pregnant again btw). One stupid ass kid that sits behind me says, "that's not a man. That's a woman. I don't call what it wants to call itself. It's a man."

REALLY???

IT????

In the eyes of the law, in the eyes of Thomas' wife, and in his own heart, soul, and mind- he is a man. He is no longer a woman. He was born female but that doesn't mean that he is still female. He had his breasts removed but kept his female reproductive organs so that he and his wife could have a baby since she is unable to carry for them. He is legally a man. They are legally married. What the hell is so hard to understand about this? He did what few- if any- men would do. He went through pregnancy and childbirth to give his wife a child, to create a family, because she was biologically unable to.

Which begs the question- what is a man? What is a woman?

One of the ignorant kids in my class said that what makes a woman a woman is her ability to carry a baby and that a man isn't able to do that. So I asked, If a woman can't carry a child, does that mean she's not a woman?

"Yes", he said

WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????

God help me if I ever have to have a hysterectomy like some of my loved ones. They'd be surprised to know that they are no longer women apparently. So having a vagina is apparently the only thing that makes a woman a woman. It doesn't matter what you feel like inside. It doesn't matter how you see yourself. All that matters is your reproductive organs are reversed from the male counterparts. Plus, while Thomas may have a uterus, he also has a penis, thanks to hormones. He is a man.

It is small, ignorant minds like these that cause the bullshit that goes on. 50 years ago, I couldn't buy my clothing in the men's department. I could get arrested any day of the week because I don't think I ever have on at least 3 articles of women's clothing. My wife, my friends, my exes would all be arrested and beaten as the butch women they are. Why? Because some small minded hypocrites thought it was "weird", "abnormal", "disgusting". Why do I wear guy's clothing? BECAUSE IT'S MORE FUCKING COMFORTABLE!! Because when I wear women's clothing, I feel very uncomfortable. I don't like how I look, I don't like how I feel in it. I have more confidence in being myself when I put on a polo and pair of cargo pants that I ever did in my life in a *shudder* skirt, dress, or blouse. And fuck heels and the masogonist man who created them. And who are these people to say that this is wrong or disgusting or that he's not who he says he is?? That's the same people who grow up and vote against gay marriage because it's "not right". WHO SAYS IT'S NOT RIGHT?? Interracial relationships were illegal too. But let's go ahead and overlook that because it's "different". It's not different. It's a matter of civil rights.

My wife and I got married in a church by an ordained Pastor. We were surrounded by our loved ones, we said our vows, we exchanged rings, and we went on a honeymoon. We weren't just playing. We are married. Not in the backwards state of Missouri but in the eyes of God and in the eyes of those who love us, we are married. There is no difference in making those judgement calls about Thomas Beattie than there is about those people who have told me, "you're not really gay." "You weren't born gay." "This is disgusting, it's unnatural." How dare anyone think they have the right to say that? And I love that religion was brought into it for their brilliant arguments today. "God doesn't make mistakes." No, He doesn't. Explain hermaphrodites, explain genetic disorders, explain things that 'go wrong' during pregnancy, explain deformities, explain physical disorders. Those are not God's mistakes any more than a person who was unexplainably born into the wrong gender.

You don't live in my heart or in my soul. When I go to Heaven (and I WILL), God will welcome me in. I lived the life I was meant to live, I chose love. I honored Him, my wife, and my family. God have mercy on the souls of the judgemental, bigoted, racist, and homophobic hypocrites. No, you know what? Fuck mercy. Go to Hell.

 

I returned home from my beautiful writing retreat in Vail, Colorado on the 21st (very, very late at night). The entire experience was inspiring, encouraging, and fantastic. I have not been so relaxed, calm, and comfortable in... forever. Okay, ever.
When I arrived in Denver on the 17th (which I thought would NEVER come), I was picked up at the Vail Transportation Center by Cicily (our host), Russ (our award winning author), and Lee Ann (our award winning editor). Russ and Cicily immediately gave me a hug making me feel comfortable instantly. And in true Alabama style, Russ insisted on putting my (gigantic and heavy) bag in the vehicle.
I should add as a side note here that I had an anxiety attack that morning, something most people know I am prone to with my craziness. Reason? Not nervous about flying, I love to fly. However, I am careful about who I am around and get a little freaked out around people I don't know. That's not to say that I don't step out of my comfort zone but I had an attack thinking about the fact that I was going to be hundreds of miles away in a house full of straight people I had never met, unsure of how they would react to a big dyke. But then I met them.
When we got to the lodge, all I could think is, "Are you fucking kidding me with this?" It was like some elaborate fantasy. The room was completely gorgeous. It looked attic style with slanted wood walls (and not wood paneling, ma), beautiful large window, a sculpted metal framed bed, and a door that led out onto my own personal balcony. Add in a walk in closet, the softest damn rug I've ever felt, a leather rocker, and a down comforter and you know I was in heaven.
Preparing for my four+ day stay, I unpacked immediately and made myself at home. I took out my laptop, sat in the rocker and started writing. Then I went downstairs and had some wine, brie, and jelly. Pretty good stuff for a kid from the trailer park. We all got along immediately and had so much to talk about. Our dinner was incredible. Please don't ask what we ate because I'll have to e-mail Cicily and say, What was the menu again? All I remember was stuffed pork roast one night (the first night I think), mashed potatoes with gouda, sweet corn with honey butter, tri-tip steak marinated in apple cider and cooked on the grill, etc, etc, etc. Every single thing Cicily cooked was absolutely phenomenal. You cannot even believe how good. But it wasn't just her cooking in the kitchen. We all milled around with our drinks, taste testing, and talking.
We got in the hot tub that first night about Lee Ann, Cheryl, and I sat long after dinner was over talking. We discovered some serious heartaches in one another's lives. And no one cared that I was gay. In fact, they really were related or close to a gay person. They were all for gay rights. And not the people who say, "I have no problem with gay people. I know...3." They really were genuine.
My days were filled with me waking up early, eating some gourmet breakfast, and sitting in front of the fireplace writing on my laptop. Then I'd go upstairs and write some more in my favorite bedroom- mine. Eat some lunch, write, take a little nap, and write. I went for a walk in the beautiful mountains and found a great creek at to...write. The creative energy that flowed throughout the house was absolutely incredible.
The second evening, we watched a movie based on the Stephen King short story The Secret Room with Johnny Depp. Great movie by the way. With or without margaritas!
The third evening we had our readings. I read a short story that I wrote for my literature class, Under Veiled Protection and I got so much positive feedback and incredible compliments, my head could barely fit through the door.
The fourth evening, I sat down privately for an intuitive reading. It was a surreal experience and really too personal to give a lot of details on.
During my stay, I also met with Russ, Lee Ann, and Lisa (our life coach) to discuss my novel that I had submitted for review. Russ and Lee Ann gave me such great feedback. I heard so many times what a great writer I am and that I will be able to get my book published. They also told me the ways to go about doing that. And that I need to go after the big presses. Yes, I'm THAT good. Wow.
Lisa and I had a great discussion based on where I want my writing career to go and how to achieve that. Every single part of the retreat was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I have not one single complaint or "I wish we could've...". Cicily did an absolutely incredible job and believe it or not, this was her first retreat.
I made lasting friendships with Cicily, Lee Ann, Russ, Suellen, Ted, Cheryl, Lisa, and Tracy. Thank you Cicily for your love, encouragement, and making this happen. Thank you Lee Ann for your Southern sweetness, honest conversation, and inspiration. Thank you Russ for your chivalry, respect, and inspiration. Thank you Suellen and Ted for your friendship and humor. Thank you Lisa for helping me to see what I need to do, your friendship, and your humor. And thank you Tracy for the incredible massage, the friendship, the reading, and for another way to look at things. And thank you Cheryl for your friendship, the excellent conversation, and the humor you brought.
I couldn't have had a better experience if I had planned it myself.

Peace and love,
Angie
 

I am sofa king excited!!! I leave in 2 weeks to go to my writer's retreat in Vail, Colorado! I can't believe it's finally here. I have a lot left to do to prepare now that I'm down to the wire. I have to figure out what clothes to bring. A huge chore for me because I hate it. I can't match clothes and am a total dyke. I know nothing of what looks good except black.
I have to reserve my shuttle and go get a laptop. I have been waiting and waiting for this forever it seems. It's almost here!!! 18 days to go!
 

I am reminded constantly to update my blog. I delete the reminders as if I didn't see them and continue on. The thing is, I want to write in my blog more than I do but I refuse to write meaningless garbage to appease the reminders.

But today I gave in.

So what am I going to write about? I've been thinking about it a lot so today's blog is going to be about legalizing marijuana.

Okay so typically when someone says something about this topic it's because they are a big toker who just wants to benefit from a law being passed in their favor. And while it's true that I am a big toker who would like to benefit from a law being passed in my favor, that is not where my stance stems from.

I have bipolar II disorder. For those unfamiliar, it basically means that without medication I can't have "normal" moods and reactions to things like other people. I have horrendous mood swings that can be set off by the smallest item. Before meds, I would verbally kill anyone in my path. There were times I got physical as well, though I never truly hurt anyone doing it. I didn't care what I said or what I did. I was justified, I was right. They were wrong. And while I knew that I couldn't physically attack someone because I'm just not a fighter anymore like that, I knew that I could get the better of anyone with words. Yeah, call it my gift.

But I digress.

I have Bipolar II disorder and I'm a weed smoker. Not an occasional, pass-me-the-joint at a party, but when you pour yourself a cup of coffee or light a cigarette after awakening, I light a joint. Now, I don't do this every day. I couldn't. I have three kids of which I have no intention of them doing my secret.

Why? If I think it should be legalized, why should I care if they know?

Because I'm divorced, lesbian, have bipolar. Their father is a homophobic, redneck, violent bigot who would love to take my kids away. And why shouldn't he? Because I'm a good mother. I get my kids ready for school every morning, go to class myself, go to work, come home, fix dinner, take care of the kids, take care of the animals, and stress over bills. I love my kids unconditionally, I don't let them play Grand Theft Auto and we have a rule that you don't go to anyone's house without me meeting the parents.

But after they go to bed... and are asleep...

I smoke out. I have incense, Febreeze, a fan, the whole works. And there are nights when my wife is at work and I'm home taking care of three very active boys whose main purpose in life is to piss off one of their brothers. My angels are 12, 9, and 6. Any wonder why I'm a toker? And on those nights, which are about 5 a week, I lock myself in the bathroom, cover all openings, turn on the fan, and spray air freshener as I smoke and pee.

It's not that I can't deal with my kids without being buzzed. It's that I am actually better at times. I have a better attention span with them, a longer temper, and laugh easier. I don't stress as much and rules are enforced much easier. And for the record, I don't get stoned and pass out when my kids are home- ever.

You know those old commercials, it'd take 400 boxes of your crappy cereal to equal the benefits of Total. Well that's how weed is for me. I already take Effexor and Lamictal for my disorder. Weed enhances their effects or has replaced them on the rare occasions that I wasn't able to get my meds (due to a weekend).
I have acid reflux. I take no meds for it. Weed cures the nausea.
I was bulimic back in the day and still have those urges at times. Weed takes that away.
I have trouble getting to sleep. Weed is my sleeping pill.
I have anxiety attacks. Weed takes that away.

It's an herbal medication for me. It's no different than taking St. John's Wort except that it has many more benefits that actually work.

And anyone who wants to argue the inhalation and danger to your lungs... it is less dangerous than nicotine. And there are 97% less cases of people getting lung cancer from smoking a joint as opposed to smoking a cigarette. Plus how good do you think it is on your body to take 1 pill for depression, 1 pill for anxiety, 1 pill for bipolar management, 1 pill for acid reflux, 1 pill for ulcers, 1 pill for back pain (I have a degenerative muscle disease), and then thrown in a Midol, Tylenol, or other simple over the counter medication. Do you think that helps your body to do that? To fill your system with government manufactured medication? Marijuana is all natural, good for the environment, and has no waste. No butts in an ashtray. We smoke the whole joint.

And there have been studies done to show the effects that marijuana has on someone bipolar. The effects and results were positive in nearly all cases.

I am 32, make excellent grades in college as I study for my BA, I pay bills, I pay taxes, and I take care of my family. I've never been in trouble (knock on wood) for drugs, never done anything stupid while high from weed, and am a responsible citizen. I am a functioning weed smoker. How is it any different from someone having a beer when he comes home? Except mine doesn't lead to violence, doesn't destroy your liver, and doesn't kill people. You don't hear of someone getting high and killing the person who questioned their skills at playing pool. We are a mellow group. We are not violent. The only difference is you can get yours from a Mini Mart and I can only get mine from a friend.

Peace.
 

It's funny how one act of inconsiderateness (is that a word) can all of a sudden throw you into the past. I work in an office with 8 other women. We all work pretty close together both in proximity and in our line of work as home visitors.

Before I say what happened, let's break down who I work with and a brief description.

Janis- 60s, not assertive, very nice, doesn't make waves

Tearany- 24, pretty nice, assertive, "cute", athletic,blond, mom of 3

Carrol- 61, very assertive, speaks what she has to say, sticks up for the underdog, conservative

Amanda- 34, mom of 3, big partier on the weekends, "attrative", thin, blond and brunette

Annie- 25, mom of 3, attractive, funny, blond, larger build, big gossiper, hates confrontation

Gina- 25, no kids, comes from money, married money. "beautiful", parties on the weekends with Amanda, thin

Lisa- 38, 2 kids, new kid on the block so she follows Annie.

Laura- 27, 2 step kids, comes from money, married money. Very judgemental and snobbish. Very confrontational, rude. "Pretty", thin.

(The "quotes" above are due to the fact that this is a societal impression not my opinion.)

And then there's me.

I am 32, have three kids, and am a big ol dyke. I am not perceived to be one of the "beautiful people" especially in the straight world. I'm 5'5, did not come from money and have worked hard for everything I've got, far from thin. I have hips, boobs, and an ass. In my world, other lesbians think I'm hot or sexy however. I am far from judgemental, nice to those I work with, friendly, helpful, and always there for people. I don't gossip, I don't talk bad about anyone, and I don't relish OR avoid confrontation.

So why am I made to be the outsider? I'm a good person, a good friend, a good wife and mother, and a good person to have on your side.

So here's the deal, they all went out to lunch and I was not invited. When I say all, I mean all. They all left without even so much as telling me what restaurant they were going to. I don't know why. I haven't done anything that would cause me to be left out like that. I have a good time talking to them and typically I go with them when everyone goes out to lunch. They don't invite me out on the weekends and now they outwardly snubbed me. I even asked (once I realized everyone was getting ready to go) where they were going (still not aware that it was everyone who had been invited but me). I got a very vague, "I dunno to get something to eat." It was Tearany's last day so everyone took her out. Everyone but me.

It's not like this is the first time this has happened but today was so blatant that it hurt. Plus to invite everyone but me was ballsy at best.

I'm sick of trying to prove myself. I felt like I was that outcasted kid in high school again. Here is this clique it's no different than Baldwin or Liberty High. I have the jock, the snobs, the follower, the partier, the comedian, and the one rich bitch who everyone falls all over to be like.

I'm not in high school and yes I know that I didn't take the job to make friends. And yes I know that they are petty and immature. And yes I realize they are selfish and self centered.

It doesn't make it hurt less though. It doesn't make my work environment less sucky.
 

I think I'm going completely insane. I've feared going insane for years and years and I think it's finally happening. Michelle thinks that I'm just cycling but I'm not. That isn't it. I miss the kids so much and want them home but then when they are home things are so tense around here because she just snaps so quick. I have tried to talk to her about it but it doesn't make any difference. She is going to continue to be the way she is. When they aren't here, things are okay with us. With the exception of the past week we haven't fought at all.
Everything just seems so dark and I'm tired. There isn't anything I want to do. I do everything I'm supposed to do but it doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything.
I go and work out which I love to do but I have to force myself to leave the house and the only reason I even do it now is because I've lost about 10 pounds and don't want to re-gain that and it's probably my imagination but my arms look thinner.
I write. That's my passion but lately I can't even do that. I have stories in my head of what I want to write but actually doing it is another story. I'm just too tired.
I clean the house and I cooked Michelle three, four? different meals and saved them all in containers for her to take to work so she wouldn't be hungry. Has she brought ANY of them? No. My work was for nothing.
I take care of the animals.
I don't want to have another baby any more. Not like I had a big choice there.
I go back to classes on the 25th and I'm not even looking forward to that.
I'm supposed to be going to Mississippi in Sept and normally I'd be planning the vacation and unable to stop thinking about it. But I just don't feel like it.
I love smoking weed but haven't even done that for weeks now. I have stopped asking people for it or trying to buy any. I just don't feel like it.
I have salvia to smoke if I want to but I haven't even smoked that for several weeks now.
No food sounds good to me and I love to eat.
I don't want alcohol.
Even cutting myself is too much of an effort right now. And that was one of my coping mechanisms back in the day.
I have no sex drive. Zero. I hate that because sex was a big part of who I was. Finally Michelle has a sex drive and now I don't.
I don't feel like talking to anyone or being around anyone.
I keep doing all the things that therapists over the years have told me to do. "Do the things you enjoy even if you don't feel like it." So I do. It doesn't help. It's not changing anything. It's not lifting anything.
I'm mad at Michelle and I don't even know why. I feel like there is something she isn't telling me or something that she's doing. That's insane because she's never been anything but trustworthy. I don't know where this feeling stems from.
Everything is just so dark to me. I live in a world that I don't belong in. I'm an outsider. I've always been an outsider. There's no way to change that. I try to fit in places but I'm always just going to be "the poor kid" or invisible. It wasn't even so much that I was picked on in school, years ago. It's that I was just not seen. I was invisible at home. No matter how many times I sat silently screaming for help and begging someone to notice me, no one ever did.
I'm just tired. I'm tired of living 32 years in a bipolar world. I'm tired of being an outcast. I'm tired of explaining myself. I'm tired of being invisible. I'm tired of being insane and trying to fake sanity. I identify more with the world of the mentally ill than I do with the world in which I reside.
Every suggestion given to me is moot. I've already done that. I've already tried that. I keep trying. I am only living second by second now. I am on the edge of a cliff holding on by only one strand of hair. I can feel myself slipping from it but it takes so much strength to just hold it. I just don't have that strength anymore. I want a new world. I want a new life. I want to feel peace.
I'm not discontent anymore. I'm not dissatisfied any more as Michelle thinks. There's nothing to be discontent about. I only want to be with her, I'm content with the boys, I don't want to move any more, I don't want to change jobs, I dont' even want to change to a different vehicle. All the major aspects of my life are covered and logically and emotionally I'm fine with them. I just don't want to do this any more. I'm tired of crying all the time. I'm tired of not keeping food down. I'm tired of just wanting to sleep. I'm tired of everything being such an effort. I'm tired of not having inner peace. I've searched for it for years and never found it. Maybe I was kidding myself. Maybe for people like me, it doesnt' exist. Maybe that's a luxury left for the ones who weren't cursed with emotional disturbances. How do you fix a problem when you aren't sure what the problem is? There's nothing left to fix. Michelle is financially stable now. She is gainfully employed and her truck is in good working condition. She'll be able to have all rules the ways she wants them and I'm sure James will still let her see the boys because he knows between the two of us, she's the sane one. It's not even necessarily that I want to die, I just want to cease to exist. I want to have never existed in the first place. Like my dream with Ashley Dawn. She was there and then she was gone. I didn't wonder where she went, it was just something accepted. I only hold on to that strand because of the boys. I don't want them to be upset or hurt. But at the same time, I have to wonder what's better having me for a mother or having a chance at a life without insanity? They may not realize the depth of my mindsets but just like I did with my own mom, at some point they are going to see that I'm not like other people. My mom always was just the way she was. It wasn't something out of the ordinary for her to scream at us, hit us, or ignore me. I grew up just knowing that being gay was horrible, crying signified weakness, you didn't discuss suicide or tell anyone how you felt, if you close your eyes to problems they go away, and there is no such thing as unconditional love. I didn't fit in with those beliefs at all. I never knew just how crazy she was until I was an adult and would in conversation just talking tell someone something that my mom had said or done. The look on their faces was what made me realize my childhood was not normal. She was not normal. I'm not normal. I don't even know what it'd be like to be normal. I just want peace. That's all. I just want peace.
 

You know... it's fine if you don't agree with what I write or polls I create. But don't assume to know something you don't. And if it's so immoral to you then why open it anyway? That's the problem with shit today. People take everything so fucking seriously. It's just not that big of a deal. I guess with age comes wisdom and I can only hope you are still a child that has not gained wisdom yet. All the shit that you are taught to believe isn't always the gospel. It's time people grew up and formed their own unique opinions instead of being sheep. It's a lot more fun being a black sheep than it is being in the herd.

Grow up.
 

You should totally check out this site and consider joining me in October for a writing retreat. It's in Vail, Colorado at a secluded, all inclusive, luxurious mountain lodge. I am so excited (as I think everyone knows) and there is space available.

This year is the first annual Writing Away Retreat which is really exciting because you know... they always do all the best stuff on the 1st one to make you want to come back! So... come with me. They even do payment plans and hell if I can afford to go, so can you.

And because it is the 1st annual, not enough writers know about it yet. This is why I'm trying to help out by putting my two cents advertising in. I believe this will be a fantabulous experience.

Hope to see you on my flight!

http://www. writingawayretreats. com/ :: GO CHECK IT OUT!
 

It's truly amazing to me at times how much different I am that what I am perceived or even expected to be. Depending upon what circle I am in depends on how I am seen. Keeping in mind of course that I may adapt to a situation but I don't change.
Take my job for example. I am 32. I am not a thin person. I'm not what society considers "beautiful" because I'm not a size 6. Or even an 8, 10, 12, 14, you get the idea. I'm not huge honestly. But I am very aware of the fact that I'm not in shape or small. I work as a home visitor. I see 13 families in their home teaching educational skills for their children and for themselves. I work in my office with allllll women. Not only all women but 80% of them are younger, college graduates, "pretty", small, athletic, "perfect", and most have money and have come from money. None of the above descriptions apply to me. So it only stands to reason that I don't fit in as well as some there. Now you would think that a big ol dyke would love working with so the beautiful people. Not so much. So that's the background. Now then, here's the perceptions that are usually assumed about me. We'll start with my current (and the past employment doesn't vary too far from the current) job:
1. The typical ignorance that I'm usually faced with that because I have children from a past hetero relationship I wasn't born gay. Truth: I was.
2. I wear professional attire to work. Some days this may include a pair of khaki capris and a women's department top (can't bring myself to say blouse) and some days it's a pair of army green slacks and a polo shirt. Because of this, I am perceived as "femme". Truth: At home I wear what I am most comfortable in which is tee shirts and many clothes from the men's section. I feel I look ridiculous in anything else.
3. They see me as a sweet, funny, nice person I'm assuming because I am at work and have to remain professional. Truth: I'm not that nice, way too blunt, and more sarcastic than anything else. I can be very sweet but only when I'm not feeling fucked over by the many people in my life.
4. I'm seen as... how to describe this? I guess meek? Not really meek but maybe a step up from meek. Come on writers, help me out. Truth: With no arrogance intended, I'm one of the strongest people I know. I have my weaknesses no doubt. But I have survived physical, emotional, mental, and sexual abuses. I have overcome alcoholism, drug addictions, and suicidal tendencies. I am the epitome of "been there, done that". Which makes me who I am. No one would have any clue of any of this from looking at me.
5. Because I'm not big on the bragging thing, no one really knows of the multitude of my intelligence. Truth: I don't have my Bachelor's (yet). But I have more life experience than most and a lot of things that are complicated to many come easy to me. I didn't plan it this way it's just the way I was born. 6. The beautiful ones know they are beautiful. Because I'm not society's image of "beautiful" I am considered average at best. Truth: In my LGBT world, I gotta say I'm a hell of a good catch. Without any trying on my part, women fall in love with me. I don't mean for it to happen- this is complete honesty-it just does. Honestly, I'm not sure what they see in me but I've never had a woman (or a man for that matter) that once our relationship was over didn't try to get me to come back. No one from the straight world would see this. They don't understand it. But we have different terms and definitions of beautiful. I am what they are looking for- femmes and butches alike. Don't ask me why- couldn't tell ya. That's just one of the many circles in which I'm perceived to be something I'm not. Don't even get me started on my biological family...
 

Dear Rainbow-Writer,

I'm so sorry I've neglected you the past several weeks. Things have been so busy with the kids and work that I've put you on the back burner. I'm so sorry, I promise to make more time for you. There's so many things I need to do and now with me starting back to school in June I don't know how to get everything done. But one of the most important things to me is you. You are my craft, my muse, the essence of who I am. We are going on the retreat in October and I don't want to be rusty at all when I get there. Perhaps what I could do is set aside a designated time to spend with you every day, or at least every other day. Everyone is just going to have to learn to understand. This is part of who I am and a big part at that. A doctor just doesn't stop performing surgeries because life is busy. A lawyer doesn't cancel his court dates so that he can watch TV. And a writer can't just put her craft on the back burner for the day she has more time available to devote to it. So again, I'm sorry and will fix this mistake. Starting tonight, we will have designated time together.

See you tonight, friend!
Angie