Tag Archives: blogging

25

Nov. ’13

Selfies

Selfie:  “A photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website.”

selfie6[Obligatory selfie of me blogging about selfies?  Check!]

Ok, WordPress, get with the program.  Stop giving me the little red underline thingy when I type the word ‘selfie.’  Haven’t you heard?  It’s a word now.  No, it’s not misspelled.  No, I didn’t really mean to type “sulfide” (but hey, thanks for that wonderfully appropriate suggestion…).  No, selfie is now a word.  Really.  Just ask the Oxford Dictionary.

Ok, so, in case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard, ‘selfie’ was chosen as the Word of the Year by the Oxford Dictionary.  I mean, everybody’s saying it, and hey – everybody’s doing it – so we might as well go ahead and recognize it, right?  Makes sense.

So, since this seems to be the ‘trend’ these days, I thought I’d throw my two cents in there on the subject.  I mean, I know I tend to be as quiet as a little church mouse when it comes to having an opinion on things, but I thought I’d break the rules just this once…  (Heh.)

So, when it first crossed my mind to blog about this, I decided to check with other people to see what their first, gut responses were about selfies.  The first person I asked?  “Selfies = wanting attention.”  Well, there ya go.  The next?  “Well, I guess it sort of depends on the context of the photograph, but for the most part I see them as vain.”  Both excellent answers and probably answers that go with the majority.  They were also the answers I’d probably give if I were asked.

Well, that is, if I didn’t take the time to think it through and realize what a hypocrite I am.

Before I started to write this blog, I would have made this statement:  I am the type of person who does not do the selfie thing.  No way.  Not this girl.  Absolutely not.  But then I started looking through my pictures and I noticed something.

Apparently I’m the queen of what I now like to call the “sneaky selfie.”

Yep.  Apparently if I add some humor or a purpose or, best sneaky selfie loophole ever: another person to the picture, then I’m totally absolved of any of the ‘vanity’ accusations, right?

selfie9

Selfie with the boyfriend?  Well, duh.  He’s my honey.  No vanity here.  I’m not trying to say I look good…I’m saying, “look how cute we are together!”  Right?

selfie7

Goofy selfie with my daughter?  No vanity there!  Just being silly.  And someone else is in the picture, so it’s all good.

How about….

selfie10

Duck face with a baby selfie??  Helllo!  No vanity there.  Nothing but cuteness.  Aren’t I adora….*ahhem*…um…isn’t she adorable???

selfie1

Swing selfie?  Well, duh.  Everybody’s doing it! Look how much fun I’m having!  I’m being a kid.  I’m being goofy. Weeee!  (I mean, yeah, my hair looks great, and my eye color is popping, but I hardly even noticed that part….) There’s humor, people.  Totally acceptable.

Oooh, or how about the time I straightened my hair with a new hair straightener and wanted to show the world how good it worked?

selfie11

Nothing wrong with that!  That combined two of the sneaky selfie criterion to a tee.  Humor and purpose.  Totally cool.  And yeah, my hair was looking kinda perfect that day, but that was totally a coincidence.  No vanity here.

Ooooooh.  Or about the theatre sneaky selfies??  Totally acceptable, right?

selfie2 selfie3

Of course!  I’m not me, I’m somebody else!  Duh.  I’m not showing myself off, I’m showing off my love of theatre and costumes.  These pics were totally about the costume/makeup people, not me.  Heavens no.

*sigh*

I’m even sick of looking at my own self at this point, so I’m going to go ahead and stop with the photographic evidence and just get to my point.  Like my two guinea pigs’ answers at the beginning of this story – and, like what my own answer would have been – are you of the “selfies are just vanity” mindset?  Or, to put it quite frankly, are you a hypocrite like me?

What the heck is wrong with it, people?  I mean, it’s such a phenomenon that it has become the word of the year.  The word of the freakin year!  Is it vanity?  Ok, maybe to an extent, it is.  But you know what?

Who the heck cares??

Isn’t it kind of awesome if you think about it?  Whether you’re a flat out selfie poster or a hypocritical sneaky selfie poster like myself, either way I think there’s a deeper meaning behind this trend.  People are starting to…*gasp*…feel good about themselves!  What??  Surely not!  We’re not allowed to do that, right!?

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote what has become a vastly popular article called Get Over It. This was an article in response to one man’s criticism of runners and of what he calls their incessant need to “show off.”  I adamantly defended runners and the fact that they have every right to plaster their 5K, 10K, 13.1 and 26.2 stickers on the back of their cars because it’s something they are proud of.  Something that they not necessarily want other people to see (although if they do, great!), but mostly something that they themselves are proud of and want to display.  I defended that right to no end and broadcasted my opinion that we runners should shout our accomplishments from the rooftops.  And apparently, almost 1600 people have agreed with me because that’s where my stats are right now for this one article.

But if I took those 1600 people, myself included, and asked them what they think about selfies, I wonder what their answer would be?  Same as mine would have been?  Same as my test subjects’ answers were?

I’m guessing probably so.

I sure do need to stop being a hypocrite.  Do you?  If your hair looks good today, if you’re especially proud of your makeup (girls, not guys – oh heck, my readers are super diverse – guys that wear makeup, this goes for you too), or if you’re just feeling especially good about yourself today for no reason at all and you want to snap a new profile pic of yourself?  By all means, selfie it up, people.  We only get one spin at this whole ‘life’ thing, we might as well just live it.  Smile, capture the moment, show it off, and move on.

You won’t be getting any more flack from me.  That’s a promise.

***

“Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings.”
– Samuel Johnson

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

23

Nov. ’13

Family Tree

“I find the family the most mysterious and fascinating institution in the world.”
– Amos Oz

familytree

My family tree is a little lop-sided.

Okay, I guess I should explain what I mean by that.

I come from two completely opposite families.  On one side – my mother’s side – you have the big, boisterous family.  My mom is one of 9 biological brothers and sisters and then, later in life, added so many step-siblings to that total that I’ve lost count.  family2bAnd then she herself ended up having five children, of which I’m the oldest, so you can imagine that there weren’t many moments of quiet and solitude in my life while growing up.  When I think of that side of the family – the siblings, the cousins, the aunts, the uncles, etc. – I think of laughter and loudness.  Of drama and emotion.   Of lots and lots of outspoken love and endless support. Variety.  Open-mindedness.  Freedom.

And then.  Well, then there’s my father’s side.

My father is an only child.  His mother, my grandmother, is also an only child.  There are no aunts.  No uncles.  No cousins.  It’s always been…well, just us.  And when I think of that side of the family, the thoughts that pop into my mind couldn’t be more different than when I think of the other.  family5bNo, with this side, I think of calm.  Of quiet.  Of dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s.  Of keeping emotion and drama locked up tight and making sure you don’t stand out.  Blending.  Conforming.  Behaving.

Now, I understand that I have just painted this side in a more negative light, but I really don’t mean to do that.  There are pros and cons of both sides.  For instance, on my mom’s side, it’s a little easy to get lost in the crowd.  No one notices everything you do because they have their eyes on so many others.  There will be weeks, months even, without phone calls.  (But that’s okay, because we all know we’ll pick right back up where we left off whenever we do cross paths again.)

But on my dad’s side?  No, there is no getting lost in the crowd.  You are always thought of.  Missed.  Examined under a microscope.  Expected to pick up the phone and make contact in regular intervals.  You are definitely remembered, never forgotten about, and constantly noticed.

Well, as you can imagine, being someone that comes from such different ends of the spectrum has managed to play with my head a little.  The other day, at the insistence of a bored friend, I took an unofficial online personality test.  As I went through the test answering questions about such things as my preference of being alone or in a crowd, and where I stand when I walk into a crowded room (middle or edge?), I noticed that some of my answers were contradicting each other.  And that seemed odd to me.  Do I like crowds or don’t I?  Do I like being the center of attention or don’t I? Taking this test made me think of another odd inconsistency I’ve noticed in my life.  Any time I’m headed to a large get-together, I dread it and think I’d rather be doing anything else – and then, I get there, and I have a blast.   What the heck is up with that?!

Now that I think about it, I can’t help but realize that these inconsistencies in my personality most likely stem from the two opposing influences I had growing up.  Yeah, yeah, I know – everybody blames everything on their parents [cue the mental image of me lying on a couch in a psychiatrist’s office telling him all about my crazy childhood…].  But seriously, in this case, I think I’m probably on to something.  We are influenced by our family, whether we like it or not.

Which brings me to the real reason I’m writing this blog.

Some of you may have seen the post I wrote about my Grandma a few blogs ago.  Thinking that I had done a good thing by writing it, I sent her a copy.  Now, think back to what I just told you about my two families.  This Grandma?  Well, this is the grandma from my father’s side of the family.  The ‘keep what you think to yourself’ side.  The ‘don’t go airing our business for all the world to see’ side.  The ‘can’t you keep your mouth shut for once?’ side.  And, well, as you can probably guess, Grandma was none too happy with what I wrote about her.

Now, I knew this was a possibility.  I did.  I haven’t been completely blind for the last 35 years.  But I thought that since I was telling about this wonderful thing that she was doing, I hoped that maybe she could see that and realize that others reading her story might actually do some good in the world.  And honestly, I thought that it showed how proud I am of her.  Being that we’re the ‘shhhh…don’t talk about important stuff’ family, I thought this would be a way to show her that I think she’s pretty darn cool.  But, alas.  Nope.  That’s not how she saw it apparently.  She thinks I made her look “mean” and that I shouldn’t be talking about private things in such a public way.

*sigh*

Now, I could pretend that it didn’t bother me.  And I did.  For a while.  But as soon as I hung up the phone, the pretending stopped.  The part of me that is like the other side of the family started to peek through, and immediately the tears started falling.  My boyfriend Richard had overheard the whole thing and immediately came and wrapped me in his big ‘everything’s gonna be okay’ arms and told me how proud he was of me for writing it.  Of course, I was upset and told him that I felt like ‘never writing again,’ etc. etc.  So he suggested an alternative.  Rather than not writing, maybe I should just go write another blog, only this time write it just for myself.  Go back to the private blog world for a bit and write the things that I really feel.  Just vent, get it over with, and then delete it and move on.  No missyspublicjunk this time.  Just write some private junk all for myself and get all that crap out on paper. (Heh…little did he know, he suggested the very thing that I already do about him all the time!  Shhhh.)  So, thinking that was some pretty good advice, I headed to the computer to do just that.

And here I am.

I struggled in my brain with not posting this publicly, but suddenly it occurred to me that I was fighting those opposing forces in my head.  Yes, I could write this privately and make that side of the family (i.e. that side of my personality) happy, or I could stay true to the real me and just go ahead and post it.  And if there’s something I’m learning as I get older, it’s to do that “staying true to the real me” thing a heck of a lot more often than I used to.  And, so far, it’s made for a much happier me in the process.  So, I think I’m going to stick to it.

But, oddly, a funny thing happened as I started writing.  The anger and bitterness that I thought I felt towards my Grandma suddenly started giving way to something else.  Rather than concentrating on the fact that she was upset, I concentrated on the why part.  She said that she thought I made her look ‘mean.’  Mean?  Really?  I went back and reread my blog and I didn’t see that at all.  What I see is not ‘mean.’  What I see is ‘strength.’  At first I thought maybe my writing didn’t convey what I had intended.  But as I read, and reread, I realized that it does.  It doesn’t make her look mean, it makes her look strong.

And suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head.  Maybe ‘strong,’ in her mind, equates to ‘mean’?  My grandmother grew up in a very different time than I did.  She grew up in a time where women were to play their appointed ‘roles’ and nothing more.  She was a wife.  A mother.  A cook.  A housekeeper.  A caregiver.  She played the role of her time perfectly.  She was subservient to her husband.  She never got a drivers license (even though she worked for years) because it was not a woman’s place to drive.  She kept her opinions to herself if they didn’t match the man’s opinion, because it wasn’t her place to speak up.  She was a woman.

Well, this woman is now a widow.  She now has no man to take care of her and is forced to do things on her own.  And now, more than ever, I see her spunk shining through.  She is the woman who has to kill snakes when they get too close to the house (see previous blog).  She is the woman who has to fix the plumbing problems when they pop up.  She is the woman who has to be ready, no matter the circumstances, to fend for herself.  She is alone.  And in this loneliness, whether she likes it or not, a strength has developed.  She is tougher.  And that strength, that toughness, is what I was trying to convey in my blog.  And, as evidenced by her discomfort with it, I think I must have succeeded.

So am I sorry I wrote it?  No.  Not one bit.  I meant every word of it.  And will I continue writing what’s on my mind?  You bet I will.  Of course there are some things that will still remain private (I’m not an idiot), but the things like this – this blog that has been stirring inside my mind for the past 24 hours begging to get out – these words will be posted.  They just have to be.  I’m a writer.  I have no choice but to get it out.

I have no choice but to be true to me.

Why?  Because I’m strong.  Just like my grandmother.

megrandma

(Oh, and P.S. – you can bet your patooty that I won’t be sending this one to her.  Rebel?  Maybe.  But death wish?  Nope.)

***

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”
– George Bernard Shaw

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

13

Nov. ’13

Get Over It

“Stand up to your obstacles and do something about them.  You will find that they haven’t half the strength you think they have.”
– Norman Vincent Peale

So, for the past few days I have been sitting here wondering what my next blog topic would be.  My last blog about my dad was pretty heartfelt and emotional, and I wasn’t quite sure how to follow up after that.  How do you switch gears after writing about something so personal and moving?  How was I going to find something else to rival that kind of emotional response to spur me to spill my guts in another blog entry?

And then, (grrrrrrrrr) I saw THIS.   An article called “Ok, You’re a Runner.  Get Over It.”

And I got PISSED.

(Should’ve known it wouldn’t take long to get my blood pumping over something again…)

I can’t even believe I’m lowering myself to post a link to this nonsense, but I didn’t know how else to comment about it without allowing you to take a look for yourself.  In case you don’t want to take the time to read through all the B.S. (for which I don’t blame you one bit and wish I had been smart enough to do the same), let me give you a basic rundown on what Mr. Jerk Face was saying in his rant.  (That is, if I am allowed to use the word rundown.  Because, ya know, it might look like I’m broadcasting that I’m a runner.  And we can’t have that, right, Mr. Jerk Face?)

So, Jerk Face (who has a name, but I don’t care what it is) says, among a bunch of other crap, that runners only run “to be seen.”  Or, in his words:

“There is no more visible form of strenuous exercise than running. When runners are dashing down a street in the middle of town or through a subdivision, they know that every driver, every pedestrian, every leaf-raker and every person idly staring out a window can see them.  These days, people want more than ever to be seen.”

042812101008_edit0Oh, dear God, Jerk Face, do you have any idea how wrong you are?  One of the sole reasons I remained a non-runner for as long as I did (aside from being lazy) is that I did not want to be seen.  It was such a struggle to don those running shorts and t-shirts and go out on public roads and plop my flab up and down for all the world to see.  And I don’t think I’m alone in saying that.  So many of us want to become healthier, but we are embarrassed by how we look in the process.  We see those runner magazines with the tiny little girls with the six-packs stretching their tan legs out as they glide effortlessly across some trail…but what we don’t see is the majority of us who are the ones holding these magazines and poring over these articles and debating whether to get up the courage to take those first steps out the door.  We are the 30-something year-old moms with the stretch marks and love handles squeezing over the top of our spandex.  We are the real women, the imperfect women, who want anything but to be seen.  We are the out of shape, somewhat chubby runners who try to hide in the back of the pack at our first 5k race and pray that our sports bra is tight enough to not cause an embarrassing scene as we waddle down the course.

mebrrrAnd then, ever so slightly, over time, we become the slightly less lumpy, slightly more energized, slightly more confident women who can now run three miles without stopping.  And then, before you know it, we’re the woman who hesitantly clicks the button to sign up for her first half marathon, wondering what on earth she has just done.  And then we become the woman who pours her heart and soul and dedication into pushing and pushing and pushing until she can run 4 miles without stopping.  And then 5.  And then 6, 7, 8….  And with each mile, our pride edges up ever so slightly and little by little we start to realize that we are capable of so much more than we ever thought possible.

And then…we become the woman who has mastered her first half marathon.  Who has put all of her energy into succeeding at something she never thought possible.  We become the woman who purchases her first little oval “13.1” sticker and, with a tear in her eye, places it right there on the back of her car to remind her that she did it.  She did it!  racecollage4And she wants all of the other women out there passing by in their cars to look at that little oval, and then see the normal, every day, non-magazine model driving the car that proudly sports said bumper sticker and see that she looks just like them.  And she wants them to think, “Hey.  If she can do that, maybe I can too.” And before long, we become the women that have inspired others to go out there and get some of this beautiful thing called self-confidence.  This beautiful gift of knowing what it feels like to be proud of yourself.  This beautiful gift of coming out of hiding and showing the world that we are survivors and can do anything we put our minds to.

So, Mr. Jerk Face, to sum it all up – I salute you.  Thank you for writing this article.

Yep, that’s right.  I said, thank you.

Thank you for reminding me that I have a passion.  Because some days I forget.  Some days when I feel tired, or slow, or lazy, I forget that I’m a runner.  ME2And then I see something like what you just wrote…and the intense pride for who I am and what I do swells up inside of me and pushes me forward.  Your article makes me feel more motivated than ever to go tie up my shoelaces and earn more and more of those little stickers to plaster all over the back of my car.  Because you know why?  Not because I’m a bragger.  Not because I’m mean or spiteful.  But because I have succeeded.  I have overcome much more than little puny articles like yours that have tried to stand in my way.  I am a two-time cancer survivor.  I am a divorce survivor.  I am a single mom.  And I am a RUNNER.

And you can bet your sweet ass that I am proud of that fact.  Finally.

And you know what you can do?

Get over it.

***

“Press on.  Obstacles are seldom the same size tomorrow as they are today.”
– Robert H. Schuller

Posted by . Categories: Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 45 Comments

08

Nov. ’13

Movie Night

“You know what your problem is, it’s that you haven’t seen enough movies – all of life’s riddles are answered in the movies.”
– Steve Martin

So, last night, I made my honey watch a movie with me.

Ok, I didn’t “make” him.  That’s a total lie.  But it made me sound powerful, right?  Like I’m one of those “I am woman, hear me roar!” types.  I figured that sounded better for the blog than the actual truth.  You know – to help with my whole ‘online persona’ thing I got goin on.  Because honestly?  Well, honestly, it went a little more like this…

Me: “Honey, is there a game on tonight or anything?”
Him: “Well…”
Me: “Oh, ok, never mind.  It’s fine.”
Him: “What were you going to say?”
Me: “Oh, nothing.  It’s fine.  Really.”
Him: (*sigh*) “Melissa.  What. Were. You. Going. To. Say?”
Me: “Welllll….I have this movie I was wanting to watch…”
Him: “Ok, that’s cool.”
Me: “Are you sure?  We can watch the game if you want.  It’s fine.”
Him: “No, let’s watch the movie.”
Me:  “But it’s kind of a chick movie…are you sure?”
Him: “Yep. Let’s watch the movie.”
Me: “If you were really wanting to watch the game….”
Him: “Melissa.  Go. Get. The. Movie.”

(See how this works?  I laid down the law, right? I’m badass.)

Ok, so anyway, back to the topic.

So, we watch the movie and something about it just resonates in me.  I can’t really explain it.  I’m sitting there watching what is supposed to be a comedy (which it was, with some laugh-out-loud moments that you may not want to have your kids around for…), but yet somehow the underlying meaning of the whole thing was just hitting me like a ton of bricks.  And so what do I do?

I cry.

No, I don’t just cry.  I SOB.  The waterworks would. not. stop.  I mean it.  The tears, the hiccups, the snot….we’re talking the whole nine yards, people.  I mean, what the heck was up with that?!  And poor Richard….

Him: “Why are you crying?”
Me: “I’m fine.”
Him: “Is something wrong?”
Me: “No…”  *hysterical sob* “…really, I’m fine…” *hiccup*
Him:  “Melissa, what is wrong?”
Me:  “Nothing!”  *sniff*  “I’m fine!”

(Thank God I don’t date women.  That crap would drive me crazy.)

Ok, so for poor Richard’s sake (and for mine too, I suppose), care to join me as I try to figure out what the heck was going on with me?  (This should be interesting…)

So, the movie is “The Five-Year Engagement.”   Heard of it?  Seen it?  From what I’ve read, the reviews weren’t all that great, but I don’t really understand why.  five year engagementI thought it was a great, real look at a couple trying to figure out what the heck they’re doing together.  What was supposed to be a quick wedding after a short one-year relationship, ends up turning into a five-year long “planning” session that just can’t quite seem to come together.  You know – that pesky little thing called life just kept getting in the way of their plans.  (Pssssh.  That never happens, right??)  What was supposed to be a happy time, ended up turning into a real, gut-wrenching look at the question, “Who the heck are we and is this really what we want?”

Yikes.

Over time, the two are starting to discover that life is taking them in somewhat different directions.  Their best-laid plans of what they thought their future would be aren’t exactly working out like they had hoped.  And as new things enter their lives (job switches, location changes, new ‘acquaintances,’ etc.), they start to feel like they’re no longer compatible.  Like they are totally different people.

Hmmmm.  (Ok, maybe now this is starting to make sense to me….)

So, not to give anything away if you haven’t seen it (which I’m sure it won’t take you long to figure this out as you’re watching it anyway), the two decide the differences are too much and they decide to take a break.  During this break, “Tom” (the main dude) has a somewhat uncomfortable, hilarious discussion with his parents as they divulge tidbits of their relationship from over the years that no child ever wants to hear.  But during the hilarity, a little snippet of wisdom spills out from his mother:  “Your father and I weren’t 100% compatible, heck we weren’t even 60% compatible.  But he’s the love of my life.”

*sniff*

Ok.  I think I’m on to something now.  Let me share with you one of my favorite writing quotes of all time.

“I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
– Flannery O’Connor

This is so incredibly true for me.  Sometimes I’ll just sit down at the computer with a random idea in my head and just let my fingers do the talking.  I’m often just as surprised at what it is here as the readers are.  Somewhere inside of me there is a knowledge that I only know how to tap into while I’m writing.  This time is no exception.  As I sit here and describe this movie to you, this relationship to you, I realize why it touched me so deeply.

It hit home.

Richard and I are very, very much in love.  But buddy, let me tell you something.  We are about as different as night and day.  This second year together has been a trying one for us.  New jobs, moves, you name it…we’ve faced it.  And sometimes, we haven’t done such a great job of dealing with it.  Sometimes we get frustrated and feel like what we want in life and who we are as people are so far apart that they stand no chance of being on the same page.  But then.

Oh, but then.

He looks at me.  I look at him.  And my heart melts.  It really does.  I’m not kidding.  This isn’t one of those sappy love stories (you people know me by now – I tell it like it is, no sugarcoating).  This is a real relationship, filled with hard times left and right, and yet – still.  We look at each other, and those butterflies are still there.  After all this time.  This man is the one I want.  He is truly the one I want.  And you know how that makes me feel?

Friggin scared to death.

Thus, the tears.  The sobs.  The hiccups.  The emotions.

Like the couple in the movie, we don’t know what the heck we’re doing either.  I mean, we are absolutely CLUELESS, people.  Picture someone handing a rare, precious, fragile object to two people – telling them to hold it in their hands and keep it from breaking – and then strapping them into an open-air Jeep and sending them on a 100-mile-an-hour cross country trek across boulders and ravines.  Yeah.  That.

That’s us trying to keep our relationship going in this crazy world.  And if I were a betting woman, I’d say that probably pretty aptly describes each and every one of your relationships too.  Am I right?  This crap ain’t easy, man.  Trying to blend your life with another person – another person who has their own thoughts, their own habits, their own ways of doing things – just can’t be expected to be easy.  But you figure it out.  Why?

Love.  That’s why.

Another quote from the movie:

“I don’t think we can figure out all of our problems before we get married, but I promise you that I will just love you every step of the way.”

That’s all we can do, right?  Just love each other through the mess.  Cry when we have to.  Scream when we need to.  And then…

merich2

Hold on tight and laugh and smile through all those great times that remind you why you’re still hanging on.  They are worth it.

So very very worth it.

***

“I believe that two people are connected at the heart, and it doesn’t matter what you do, or who you are or where you live; there are no boundaries or barriers if two people are destined to be together.”
– Julia Roberts

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 7 Comments

05

Nov. ’13

Writing

“I must write it all out, at any cost.  Writing is thinking.  It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.”
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Ok, I better stick to this thankful list kick while I’m still in the mood.

This blog is dedicated to writing.

Oh my gosh, am I thankful for writing.  Not only my own, but others’ as well.  I can’t even begin to explain what therapy exists for me in picking up a book to read or picking up a pen to write.  writingblogOh, who am I kidding – no one uses pens anymore.  Maybe I should say grabbing a keyboard and hearing the clicks.  Yeah, that sounds a bit more truthful.  Some of my earliest memories involved hiding out in my room and writing.  Either in a journal, or in a trapper keeper (remember those! Gosh, I’m old…) where I would stash all my poetry.  Unfortunately in all my many moves growing up as an Army brat, that Trapper Keeper got misplaced.  It’s crazy to think of all the hundreds of 12-year-old girl poems that are floating around out there somewhere.  I’m sure they were masterful works of art, mind you.  I mean, New Kids on the Block was a pretty deep subject, ya know.  Duh!

And not only would I retreat to my room to write, but I would also read.  I couldn’t read enough.  You would never see me without a book in my hand (and I’m proud to say, that hasn’t changed much).  Escaping my world and delving into someone else’s was better than any therapy that money could buy.  My therapy would cost me about $5 a session (if it was a paperback, a little more for a hard cover).  Hey, and the session was totally free if I rented my therapist from the local library.  And what brilliant, effective therapy it was.  And still is.

My now-famous friend Zoe (from my previous blogs) sent me a quote one day that made her think of me.  It goes like this:

“Writers are like other people, except for at least one important difference. Other people have daily thoughts and feelings, notice this sky or that smell, but they don’t do much about it. All those thoughts, feelings, sensations, and opinions pass through them like the air they breathe. Not writers. Writers react.”
– Ralph Fletcher

That is it exactly.  I always felt like I was a little weird.  A little different than others because of the fact that I felt things so deeply.  Nothing was insignificant in my life – everything had some kind of deeper meaning.  And eventually, as I grew older, I finally figured out what to do about that.  Put it on paper.  I think that’s what writing is all about.  Those feelings and emotions that well up inside of you need somewhere to go.  It happens to all of us, and we all find ways to deal with it.  Some with writing.  Some with exercise.  Some with music.  Some with art.  Theatre.  Dance.  The list goes on and on.  And then, sadly, there are those who haven’t found a way to express all that is inside of them.  So they suppress instead of express.  Drugs.  Alcohol.  Promiscuity.  Etc.

Oh, I don’t know – maybe I’m full of crap.  But I kinda don’t think so.  I think we all have the same feelings and emotions inside of us at any given time.  What differentiates us from each other, is what we decide to do with them.

time concept, selective focus point, special toned photo f/xSo, will my writing matter someday?  Oh, I don’t know.  I’d like to think so.  So far, this year alone, I have managed to win a writing contest (what I said must have mattered to some judge somewhere); get published in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book (a book that is intended to out to millions of readers with positive messages about how to live life to the fullest); and have a small quote published in Guideposts magazine (again, a “pick-me-up” type of publication).  This first year of going public with my writing has given me a pretty good boost.  Maybe it’s beginners’ luck, or maybe it’s the start to something big.  Who knows?  Either way, I know that writing saves me.  I don’t mean that in some drama queen “I’d die without it” kind of way.  I mean it just like I said.  It saves me.  It saves my sanity.  It saves me from feeling like I’m all alone (thanks to you readers who continue to comment telling me how much something I’ve said makes you think of you or your current situation).  And most importantly, it saves me from holding all of these jumbled thoughts and words inside of me.  Thank God I’ve found a way to get it all out there.

So, thank you, Writing.  You are on my thankful list.  Thank you for the gift you’ve given to me, and to others, to somehow change the world.  Even if that world may just be our own.

***

“Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.”
– Gloria Steinem

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04

Nov. ’13

Bus Driver

Ok, I lied.

Remember Friday when I said I was going to do the daily “what I’m thankful for” thing during the month of November?  Well.  I guess that’s not happening.

Here we are – November 4th – and I have written a grand total of….ONE blog.  Crap.

It’s not that I’m not thankful for things.  I am.  It’s just that I don’t like forcing myself to write.  Telling myself to write every day makes it feel like a chore.  And for me, writing cannot turn into a chore.  It’s one of my only escapes from life’s many other chores as it is.  And besides, I’ve been grumpy as crap over the past few days, so forcing myself to write about what I’m thankful for during my current mindset would have been about as productive as the time I tried to give my cat a bath.

catbath

Get my drift?

So, I skipped a few days.  And I’m probably going to be skipping a few more if I’m going to just be quite honest with you.  I’m just a tad too much of a cynic to come up with a cutesy thankful blog every single day, anyway.  Again, it’s not that I’m not thankful for things.  I just don’t feel like being forced to vomit sunshine and roses every day for a month.  Because some days just aren’t conducive to that kind of…um…’product.’

But, even with that being said, I do, however, want to give a shout out to someone I noticed over the weekend.

My daughter’s school drama club had their annual drama competition on Saturday.  It was in another town – about a two-hour drive – and the team was being transported by bus.  Since they had performed their skit the night before at the school for parents, none of the parents were going along on the Saturday trip.  Except me – the one parent who works in a separate state which kept her from getting to the Friday night performance on time.  So, with the coach’s advance permission, I rode along on the bus with the kids.

Now, believe me when I tell you that there was not a dull moment on that bus ride.  I like to think I’m a pretty young and hip momma, but shew!  I was exhausted before we even got to the competition.  They were great kids, don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mean there was any trouble or anything like that – it was just loud.  LOUD.  And there was so much energy.  Where do they get that from??  I sure do wish I could’ve siphoned some of it into a bottle to take with me to my half marathon in a few days.  Good grief!bus

Well, we got to the competition, and they all performed their little hearts out.  But, sadly, when the results were tallied, not only did they not win, but they actually came in last place. 😦  Talk about a bunch of sad kiddos.  That energy that I mentioned before?  Yeah, it had turned down quite a few notches by the time they all piled back on the bus for the trip home.  While they truly did have a great attitude about the whole thing, the disappointment was evident in all of their faces and body language.  They just couldn’t hide it.

So, we start the much quieter trip home, and someone (in hopes of lifting everyone’s spirits) gets the idea to ask the bus driver if they could play one of their CDs on his stereo system on the bus.  From my safe little seat near the front of the bus (my, how things have changed from when I was a teen myself…), I could see what I expected to be a stern “No, now sit back down and let me drive” from the bus driver.  But, to my surprise, he not only allowed it, but asked them if they wanted him to crank it.  Ha!  What a pointless question – this was a bus full of teenagers.  So, crank it, he did.  Now, we all know the healing power of music, and this was no exception.  As the decibel rose, so did those kids’ spirits.  Before long, there was laughter, singing, and even some “dancing” (at least I think that’s what you call that these days…).  Just like that, the teens’ disappointment was all but forgotten and the bus trip returned to its original state from earlier in the day.  A bus full of happy kids with nothing to worry about except hoping their parents were there at the school to pick them up upon their return.

So, we got back safe and sound (well, maybe our ears were a little worse for wear, but other than that…).  As we were all piling off the bus, myself lagging near the end, I stopped and put my hand on the bus driver’s shoulder and said, “you have the most patience of anyone I’ve ever known.”  His response?  “Nah.  I didn’t mind at all.  They only get to be young once.”

Wow.  Did you hear that?

“They only get to be young once.”

What a guy.  What a philosophy.  What a reminder.

Because of this one man’s positive attitude and flexibility, a potentially depressing bus ride home for a bunch of devastated teenagers turned into the happy, fun-filled trip that it should have been all along.  I wonder if he realizes that?  I wonder if this man knows how contagious his one little attitude ended up being for a busload of kids…and one somewhat grumpy momma?

I hope so.

So, even though I have failed miserably at doing my daily duty of documenting the things I’m thankful for each day, I would still like to add Mr. Bus Driver to the list anyway.  I am thankful for people like him.  People who think of the wellbeing of others before himself.  People who sacrifice a full day of their time to transport a bunch of kids to some event hours away, and then sacrifices his own comfort to be sure they had the best time they possibly could’ve had.  I’d like to think I’d have been the same way if I were him, but I honestly don’t know. I probably would have been tired.  And grumpy.  And ready to go home.  And not willing to listen to the laughter and loud music while I drove all that way after spending an entire day with teenagers.  But see, that’s why I’m not a bus driver.  And that’s why he is.

So, welcome to my small thankful list, bus driver dude.  You made an impact on more people than you probably realized, including myself.  Thank you for being in the right place at the right time.

This blog’s for you.

***

“Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.”
– Winston Churchill

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01

Nov. ’13

November 1

“Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance.”
– Eckhart Tolle

Ok.  I think I’m gonna do it this year.

So, I know you’ve all seen the November challenge on Facebook, right?  No, not the no-shave November thing.  (My boyfriend would probably not be too thrilled if I participated in that.  And besides, I’d have to buy larger shirts to fit my arms in if I didn’t shave for 30 days.  That pit hair is comparable to a Chia Pet when it gets out of control.  Seriously.  Ok, TMI, moving on….)

And no, not the “write a novel in a month” November thing (NaNoWriMo).  Ha!  Like that’s going to happen.  I haven’t written a novel in 35 years so far, so I doubt it’s going to happen in the month of November.

No, what I’m talking about is the 30 Days of Gratitude.  Each day, your status is supposed to be about whatever you’re thankful for that day.  Every November, I see it roll around, and every November, I just read everyone else’s status messages and go about my business without participating.  Well, today, I asked myself a question.  “Self,” I said, (that’s what I like to call myself)…

“What the heck is wrong with you??”

Come on, chick.  You have a bajillion patrillion things to be thankful for.  Why not dedicate a month of blogs to them?

So, here I am.

Now, I’m going to do my best to not make them generic.  No “today I’m thankful for my family” crap.  No, that’s too easy.  These things are going to be specific.  Not just “family,” but which member of the family?  And why?  You know, stuff like that.

So, there’s no time like today to put my money where my mouth is.

Today, November 1, would have been my grandfather, Greene Halsey’s, 86th birthday.

papaw1

So, today, I’m thankful for him.  Thankful that he existed.  Thankful for the family name that he passed down.  Thankful for the red hair that my kids got because of him.  Thankful for the quiet, honorable man that he was.  Thankful for his insistence that my shoes remain spotless (oh, the memories of seeing him endlessly shining all of our shoes until they practically sparkled).  Thankful for the funny things that he would say on the random times that he did decide to speak up.  Thankful for the money he’d always slip me when he thought no one was looking…and thankful for watching him do the same thing with my kids as they got older.  papaw2Thankful for the lesson that you don’t have to be loud and obnoxious to make your mark on the world.  This quiet man managed to leave behind a legacy with very few words, only actions.  The many non-dramatic, sometimes non-noticed, small tokens of the love that he didn’t quite know how to verbalize remain in all of our memories.

He left this world in February of 2012, but in the ways that matter, he still remains.

So, for my November month of gratitude, I hereby officially nominate Greene Halsey as the first addition to the list.  Welcome, Pa-paw.

And thank you.

And to the rest of you – here’s my challenge to you.  This year, why don’t you join me?  There’s no reason not to.  If you don’t want to write it, don’t.  No status is needed.  No blog entry is required.  Just force yourself, every day for this one little month in your life, to dedicate each and every day to one specific thing for which you’re thankful.  By the end of this month, I’m betting that you’ll be surprised at just how blessed you really are.  And maybe, just maybe, you won’t stop on November 30.

See you tomorrow.

***

“In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it’s wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray Love

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31

Oct. ’13

Compliments

compliments

“Like most girls, Emily can’t take a compliment.  Around here, if you don’t show outward signs of hating yourself by the 5th grade, everyone calls you conceited.”
– Brian Strause, from the novel Maybe a Miracle

Ok, so am I the only chick on the planet that absolutely can NOT take a compliment?

I saw the above quote in a novel I was reading a while back and it was like a spotlight shown around the sentence with big flashing neon arrows pointing to it saying, “This! This! This!”  One little seemingly innocent sentence tucked away in the middle of a paragraph hidden deep inside a novel seemed to be the answer to this conundrum that had plagued me all my life.  Maybe that’s why I can’t take a compliment?  Maybe it’s just that it has been ingrained in me from an early age not to because I might appear conceited?

Hmmm.  Something to think about.

Are you like me?  Do you get all weird when someone says you look nice?  Do you “pssssssh” it away like I do?  I’d be willing to bet you do.  Well, let me tell ya a story.

This past weekend, I ran a 10K race early Saturday morning.  And, if you don’t mind my saying so, I did pretty darn awesome. mebrrr (Heh…no worries about sounding conceited about that one, huh?)  I didn’t get any medals or place in the coveted top 3 of any of the categories, mind you (in fact, I was dead last in my age group if I’m going to be honest), but ask me if I care?  Go on, ask me.  What’s that?  Do I care?  NOPE!  Because you know why?  The only person I was there to beat was myself.  And not only did I beat myself (not now, secret 12-year-old-boy alter-ego-self, this is not the time to make your childish jokes…let me finish my story…), but I blew my old record away.  I generally run at an 11-12 minute pace (yes, I know, I’m slow), but my average pace for this race was 10:10, with the first 3 miles all being in the 9 minute range.  Dude, I was booking it!  And you know what?  I was pretty darn proud of myself.

So, fast forward a little later in the day.

My boyfriend’s kids were in a play at the local theatre, so I had rushed home after the race, showered, straightened my hair (that’s what I consider “getting dressed up”), and hit the road again to go watch the two back-to-back performances.  Now, as most of you know from my previous blogs, the theatre is my home away from home.  I know so many people there, and most of their kids were going to be in this production.  So, walking into this little mini-reunion, I started running into people I hadn’t seen in a while – at least not since our last production a few months ago. And, in those past few months, I have been training my hind end off this upcoming half marathon next weekend.

I was immediately greeted with compliments.

“Wow, that running is look great on you!”  “You look fantastic!”  “Oh, Melissa, you’re just glowing!”  “Look how toned you’ve gotten.”

It was like a compliment smorgasbord.

And, oddly enough, instead of blushing in embarrassment like I normally would, I just graciously accepted their compliments.  I genuinely thanked them (no ‘psssssssh’es allowed) and let the compliments do their intended job – make me feel good.  Later, I thought about that, and wondered why I didn’t have my normal response.  Why was I able to accept compliments this time with such ease and gratitude?  Before long, it finally dawned on me.

I accepted their compliments….because I believed them.

That was the difference.  running2I have been working hard for the past few months.  I have felt my pants getting a little loose and saw the number on the scale dropping slightly.  Although those things are not at all the purpose for my running, they have been a nice bonus.  And, this particular day, I had put forth a little effort on my hair and makeup, and was probably still riding on the high from my race accomplishment earlier in the day, which probably showed on my face.  I was feeling pretty darn good about myself that day and accepted those compliments with open arms.

Boy, wouldn’t it be nice if every day was like that?

Hey, I have an idea.

Let’s make sure they are.

Let’s all make a silent little promise to ourselves to try to make every single day a day in which you are proud of yourself.  Let’s make every day a day that you believe the compliments that are tossed your way.  Seriously.  Let’s do it, people.  It may not be all that easy at first, but with practice, it may start eventually coming natural to you.  Just like my running.  I didn’t start out with the ability to crank out a 10-minute pace 10K.  It took lots of time and effort and, most importantly, belief in myself.  That’s all we need, right?

Easy peasy.

So, get out there in this big ol’ world and strut your stuff today, why don’t ya?  I mean, you’re looking all good and whatnot, so you might as well, right?  Come on, beautiful people.  We’ve got some work to do!

***

“For once, you believed in yourself. you believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world.”  
– Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon

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30

Oct. ’13

Braggin’ on the Hun

“Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.”
~ Jean Anouilh

Ok, I need to brag on my honey.  [I know, I never do that, right??]

Here he is.  Ain’t he purdy?

richard1

*sigh*

Ok.  This blog is not just about how cute the little booger is, so I’ll get to the point.

Let me just start this out with a simple little 100% true and accurate statement.  I am NOT an easy person to love.  Oh, it’s true.  When I’m mad, I’m FURIOUS.  When I’m upset, I’m DISTRAUGHT.  When I’m a little irked, I’m FULLY ANNOYED.  You get the picture, right?  No little responses to anything – everything is temporarily grandiose.  And, as you might guess, this little teeny tiny eensy weensy flaw sometimes leads to some turbulence in the relationship.  Now, it’s not all me, mind you.  My boyfriend Richard has a teeny tiny little flaw too.  He despises conflict.  (I know, right?  *WEIRDO!*)  And when said conflict arises, his fight or flight response is always…always…’flight.’  Well, for this ‘fighter’ that he’s in love with, that crap just don’t fly.

You can imagine how our disagreements go.

1. Something happens (Richard’s fault, of course).
2. I get IRATE.
3. I fling accusations and demand responses.
4. Richard runs.
5. I get MORE mad.
6. Richard stays quiet.
7. I get even more dramatic because of the lack of response.
8. He gets even more quiet because of my increased level of crazy.
9. Time passes.
10. I get tired and chill out.
11. He comes out of hiding and remembers that sometimes I’m not crazy.
12. We talk. We kiss. We make up.
13. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Get the picture?  Here, let me give you a literal picture in case my words weren’t clear.

blog

Yep.  That’s us.  Well, sometimes. 

(And honestly, it’s really not all that often.  And heck, while we’re being totally honest here, that dude and chick in the picture need to be switched….) :/

(Ok, one more parenthetical.  If our relationship sounds a little too familiar to you, you may be in a turtle/hailstorm relationship too.  What the heck did she just say?  Here ya go.  Read about it here.  We’re a textbook case, and you may be too.  Pretty fascinating stuff.)

Ok, let’s get back to the bragging I promised at the beginning of this story.

Nope, our relationship is not always sunshine and roses, that’s for sure.  But then again, there are times like the past few days.

As some of you may have read in my last blog, my Alzheimer’s-ridden grandmother had a little mishap at the nursing home, and was found on the floor.  What they thought to be a broken hip from an initial x-ray, ended up being an old injury from before (poor little lady) and she didn’t end up having to have surgery after all, thank goodness.  But before we knew that for sure, we were just told that she was being transported to the medical center in Bristol, Tennessee, and was being prepped for surgery on her frail little 85-year-old hip.  So, naturally, my mom dropped everything and traveled here to come be with her momma.  And, also naturally, I dropped everything to go be with my momma.  I worked it out to miss work on Tuesday, and I left Monday after work to go stay in a hotel with her, at least for the first night, so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

And what did Richard do?

He dropped everything to come be there for me.

He drove me there, stayed with us, drove us everywhere we needed to go while we were there (that’s one thing my mom and I definitely have in common – we hate driving in areas that are unfamiliar to us).  He went and got drinks and coffee for the family as we waited, and sat right there with us as the hours drug on while we waited for news, and listened to my poor little grandma as she moaned in confusion and/or discomfort (it was hard to know which was which).  Without technically being “blood” family, Richard played a role in this just like the rest of us did.  He did everything he could to be there for the one that he loved.  Me.

And boy, did I notice.

My little Richard sure can be hard on himself sometimes. Maybe it’s because he has a fiery redhead fussing at him all the time?  Naaaah.  Surely, that doesn’t have much to do with it….  But, seriously.  I think it’s important to remind him every now and then how very much I notice and appreciate these little things that he does for me.  The past few days would have been a whole different story if I, and my mom, hadn’t had Richard along for the ride.  These “small” things will one day be the big things as we look back over these years we spent together.  I hope that we will be one of the lucky couples that make it to the very end.  And, if (when) we do, I hope we look back on our life and see the moments like yesterday.  Not the fights, not the nights in the ‘doghouse…,’ but the moments like these.  The ones where we sacrificed ourselves to each other during our times of need.  Because that is what love is all about.

This is the “us” that I’ll remember most.

I sure am in love with a great guy.  Thanks for letting me tell you about him.

usblog

***

“The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches but to reveal to him his own.”
– Benjamin Disraeli

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28

Oct. ’13

Maw-Maw’s Smile

 

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”Those with dementia are still people and they still have stories and they still have character and they’re all individuals and they’re all unique.  And they just need to be interacted with on a human level.” 
– Carey Mulligan

My family has just been introduced to the world of Alzheimer’s/dementia for the first time.  My sweet grandmother – a mother of nine and grandmother and great-grandmother to so many that we have lost count – has forgotten who she is.

But we haven’t.

My sister gave birth to twin baby girls earlier this year.  The babies were premature and were very close to not surviving.  But after months of intensive care at the hospital and even more intensive, above-par care from their mommy, they were able to come home.  This past weekend, they made their first trip to see their Great- “Maw-Maw” in her new home in a nursing care facility.

And, let me tell you – it was nothing short of magic.

Some of us in the family had almost forgotten what it felt like to see Maw-Maw truly happy.  Surrounded by new faces in a new environment, anyone would be a little confused at first.  But poor little Maw-Maw can’t seem to break out of the confusion that is plaguing her.  Every few minutes she again asks where she is and why she is there.  She has witnessed many family tragedies in her life, including the most recent loss of her husband, and can’t seem to remember any of them.  Watching her face as she re-learns the family’s sad news over and over again has been very hard on our family, to say the least.  As she hears, yet again, about the losses we’ve suffered for what seems to her to be the ‘first’ time, we too feel the sting all over again.  Her inability to remember translates to our inability to forget.  This sweet little lady who has always managed to see the bright side of things, now seems to have fallen into a darkness that none of the rest of us can understand.  Sadly, this is the truth to Alzheimer’s.

But.

Then, there are moments like this past weekend.

This weekend, the darkness cleared even if just for a few moments.  As Maw-Maw took both of those beautiful twin miracles into her arms, her face lit up.  And there before us was the infamous smile that we had all come to miss so much.  For a few moments, she was yet again our mother.  Our grandmother.  And now, as evidenced by the love in her eyes as she stared down at the new additions to the family, our great-grandmother.  She was back.

And it was beautiful.

I guess that’s the key to dealing with these situations.  Yes, the family is suffering.  Yes, we are going through a hard time and we feel like we’ve lost a loved one, even though she sits right there in front of us.  And yes, most of the time, the circumstances are going to be sad ones.  But there will be silver linings.   There will.  And those are the moments that you have to hold on to with all of your might.  Take snapshots – literally and figuratively.  Remember these moments and cherish the fact that the person you love is still there.  They are still with you.  And for a few brief, shining moments, they are still themselves.   And those moments will be the ones that will serve to help heal you both.

So grateful for one more glimpse of Maw-Maw’s smile.

mawmawssmile

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