Tag Archives: sharing

14

Jun. ’13

Writing Scared

writing

A few months ago, I decided to enter a writing contest.  It was my first ever.  At the time, I was unsure which of my writings to enter, but I knew I wanted it to be one of the blog entries I had written since starting this public blog in February.  So, I put out a “feeler” on Facebook.  I got a lot of replies (thank you if you were one of them!), and it ended up being a resounding vote for an entry I wrote entitled “Scars.”  (See link below.  I’ll post links to each of the blogs I mention at the end of this article if you’d like to check them out.)

Now, I like “Scars,” too.  It’s personal.  It’s about overcoming the bad times and coming out victorious in the end.  What’s not to like about that concept, right?  It’s one of those “feel-good” pieces that I like to write sometimes.  I hope they help others, and sometimes I even go back and read them to help myself too.  I think those kinds of writings are important.  A vast majority of people could probably relate, so I thought I might have a good chance of appealing to what I assumed were probably “scarred” judges overseeing the contest.

So, “Scars” it was.

I had it all printed out and ready to send in to the contest.  Even had it in the envelope and sealed.  Very first writing contest, here I come.

And then, at the last minute, I did what I’m best known for in my life.

I changed my mind.

Just before mailing it out, I made what I assumed would end up being a bad judgment call on my part.  I pulled “Scars” out of the envelope, and I replaced it with “Fully Dressed.”

“Fully Dressed” is something I struggled with writing.  In it, I basically shine a spotlight on my insecurities.  One insecurity in particular.  And do you have any idea how hard that is to do?  I mean, it’s hard to admit your insecurities even to yourself, but to broadcast them to the public??  I’m always nervous just before I hit the little “Publish” button on my blog page, but I remember that one vividly.  It was a special kind of nervous.  My hands were shaking and I felt like I was going to be sick.

Now, reading it, you might not see all of that.  You might not think it’s all that big of a deal at all.  But trust me, to me it was.  I was verbalizing something that I don’t like to let show.  I was admitting a fault in myself.  Admitting that I let something get to me.  Really get to me.  And through the writing, I managed to process those feelings, and come to something that resembled a conclusion.  The thoughts I had about the issue flowed through my fingers in a way that I didn’t even know they could.  Suddenly, as I wrote, I started to stand up to myself.  I defended myself, to myself. 

And that felt good.

Remembering all those emotions that flowed through me as I wrote and posted that entry, I decided to take a deep breath and send my writing even further out in the world.  I entered it into the contest, hoping that maybe someone somewhere might see herself in my writing and know that she isn’t the only one who has ever felt that way.  Would it win?  Eh, probably not.  But the courage it took to send it was gratification enough.

So.  Fast forward to yesterday.

I got home last night and checked my mail.  Inside was an envelope from the writing committee overseeing the contest.

“Dear Melissa,

Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that your entry entitled “Fully Dressed” in the Creative Writing Contest of the 2013 Wytheville Chautauqua Festival has won First Place in the Adult Essay category…”

Wow.  Just wow.

It went on to give specifics about the date and time of the awards ceremony and explained that I am to read the entry in front of all who attend(Yikes!), and asked me to provide a brief biography about who I am and why I like to write.

Why I like to write?  Well, that’s easy.

This.

This is why.

Not because I get an award.  Not because I get recognition.  Not because I get to get in front of a room full of people and read my winning piece out loud.  (Oh no, definitely not because of that – just the thought terrifies me!)  No, it’s not for any of those reasons.

It’s because someone somewhere understood.

Someone gets it.

Someone gets me.

***

“Writing is painting your deepest thoughts, fears, insecurities, sadness, happiness, and everything else in between, onto a canvas of words – and then, turning it around to face the world, hoping someone sees that canvas as a mirror.”
– Melissa Caudill

***

Referenced Blog Links

Scars:  https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/scars/

Fully Dressed: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/11/fully-dressed/

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29

May. ’13

Good stuff

receiptblog

Two separate receipts – each with a $100 tip.

You hear about these kinds of things in the news all the time, right?  Some unsuspecting waitress somewhere is left a large tip from some kind, generous patron.  Pretty cool, huh?

These feel-good stories are always nice reminders that there are good people in the world.  But let’s be honest here.  Sadly, it always seems like these stories are far off somehow…like these ‘good people’ in the world aren’t actually in your world.  Right?  When they are just stories that you hear about or read about, they pretty much rank up there with TV shows or movies or books.  They seem ‘made up’ somehow.  Like fairy tales.  Oh, you know they are true – these things really happened to someone.  But when something doesn’t happen close to home, it’s easy to dismiss it and file it in the “that’s not going to happen to anyone I know” category.  You feel me?

Well, not this time.

The picture I posted above?  These are two receipts that were left on the table for my very-pregnant sister, Cathy.  The “Payton” that the handwritten notes are referring to is my soon-to-be-born niece.

And the story gets even better.

The two kind patrons who left these tips?  They were two young soldiers who had just returned from serving overseas.

Wow.

Cathy was moved to tears when she saw this much-needed selfless gift that was left behind for her.  And, frankly, so was I.

I’m not really sure what else I can add to this story.  I think the receipts speak for themselves – they are their own story.  Their own proof that goodness and kindness still exist in this world.  The handwriting, the celebration of a new life, the true generosity (growing up a military brat, I know personally that soldiers don’t easily have $100 bucks laying around to give away), the display of human kindness, of human togetherness….Wow.  Just wow.

I don’t know about you, but this was something I think I needed to see.

Thank you, soldiers.

***

“For it is in giving that we receive.”
-Francis of Assisi

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05

Apr. ’13

Just Like That…Again

A few weeks ago, I was the first to arrive at an accident.  Click here to read the blog I wrote about it.

And then today, on my way home from work in the ice and snow, this happened to me:

carbooboocollage

These pictures were taken at the place where the car was towed, not at the scene.  Had they been taken at the scene, the car wouldn’t be sitting right side up.  And it wouldn’t be on level ground.  It would be down over a bank.

But let me back up a little.

If you haven’t read my old blog entry, what I’m about to say probably won’t have as much of an effect.  As for me, the one who was there – the effect is surreal.  I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it.

So, I was on my way home from work today.  I left early so that I could take my son to a doctor’s appointment (which ended up being canceled due to the weather – go figure).  The weather was getting pretty rough, but I’ve driven in this stuff a million times.  When you live an hour one-way from where you work, traveling is not a big deal.  I’ve driven through it all.  I’m not saying I’m careless…I know when to slow down and when to take it easy.  But I’ve never been one to shy away from driving somewhere because of road conditions.  So, off I went.

The roads were horrible.  I hadn’t seen them like this in a while.  It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly.  I hadn’t heard anything forecasted like this and wasn’t really ready for how quickly the road conditions changed.   And – just like that – I lost control.

Everything is really a blur to tell you the truth.  The EMT workers explained to me (like I heard them to do the woman in my previous blog a few weeks ago) that it’s not uncommon for you to lose your memory temporarily after something like this.  All I remember is losing control of the car.  I vaguely remember being upside down more than once (I’m told now that the car probably flipped twice on the way down the bank), and I remember opening my eyes after it was all over.  I remember looking around the car and realizing that everything was everywhere.  Stuff I didn’t even know I had in the car was now laying on the seat beside me, in the floorboard, in my lap, etc.  I began to frantically search for my phone.  I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do when I found it.  I just wasn’t thinking straight.  I tried to open my car door and, of course, it wouldn’t open.  The car was tilted on its side and I was stuck.  When I finally was able to find my phone in the middle of the clutter, my first call was not to 911 like any sane person would have done, but it was to Richard.  (I pause here to reflect on how different that call would have been a month ago.  Just one short month ago when Richard and I weren’t even talking and were trying to live our lives pretending the other didn’t exist.  Would he have still been the one I called?  Strangely, I’m certain he would have been.  But I digress…)  So, I called Richard and tried to frantically tell him what happened.  Before I could even get out one garbled sentence, I heard a voice from outside the car.  I turned around and realized for the first time that there was no back window anymore on my car.  An elderly man was calling to me from the outside asking if I was ok.

I was actually shocked that anyone was there.  When I lost control of the car, I was on a road where there was no traffic.  And after looking around me, I realized that I had gone down over a steep bank and could not be seen from the road.  I asked him how he knew I was there and he said he and his son were passing by and saw my tire tracks in the ice and snow and saw the broken fence.  They pulled over and looked down the bank and saw my car and didn’t hesitate to climb down the bank and come to me.  They helped me out of the car through the only door that would open – the passenger side.  Once I got out of the car, I realized that I wasn’t exactly as ok as I thought I was.  The world was spinning and I got the first sensations of a headache.  The man and his son helped me climb the bank up to the road and get into a truck (their truck?  I’m not even sure).  Eventually people started arriving and the rest is pretty much a blur.  As I began to calm down, I realized my head really really hurt.  At some point a woman got into the truck and began talking to me.  I’m still not sure who she was or why she was there…except that I think I heard her say she lived down the road.  And at one point while she was talking to me, I looked down and realized something that brought a flood of memories back to me.  I was holding her hand.  Holding her hand.  Just like the woman in my last blog held mine.

At this point, I finally started to cry.  In fact, I sobbed.  Through my incoherence and tears, I tried to explain to her how very grateful I was that she, and all of the other people were there.  I finally knew how the woman in the white car felt.  I was now the woman in the white car.  And I was the one in need of the kindness of strangers.

Richard soon arrived and I don’t remember much after that.  He took over with all the details (talking to the police officer, gathering my things, etc.) and I was whisked away in an ambulance due to the nice size knots forming on my noggin.  After a painful ambulance ride, a million questions, and a CT scan, it was deemed that my mother had always been right…I really am hard-headed.  This exceptionally thick skull of mine finally served its purpose and kept everything inside safe.  I was going to be ok.

Now, ready for the good part?

As they were rolling me into the hospital, all I could think about was “Denise.”  The woman in the wreck a few weeks ago. I was pretty sure her name was Denise.  And I remembered her saying she worked at this hospital.  This hospital.  So, I asked for her.  The technician who was working on me at the time said that yes, he did know her, and was she a friend of mine?  I didn’t really know how to answer that or explain why I was asking about her.  So I didn’t.  I just said, “this happened to her.”

And a few minutes later, there she was.

It was surreal.  There I lay on the stretcher, the same way she laid just a few short weeks ago, and now it was her by my side.  She remembered me – of course she remembered me – and again, she held my hand.  We talked and talked.  She told me how she was doing (oh how many times I wondered that) and told me that she thought of me many times and wondered who I was and why I had stopped for her that day.  I told her how much I now realized what she had went through and how grateful I was that our paths had crossed again in this fateful, ironic way.  While the doctors and nurses swirled around us, we just talked.  Just like old friends.  Old friends whose paths had crossed at a time when they needed to.  And were now crossing again – for the same reason.

I’m not even sure how to put into words what I’m trying to say here with this blog.  The girl who is always so full of words is finally somewhat speechless.  There’s a lesson to be learned here and I’m grasping trying to figure out what it is.  Perhaps my head will be a little clearer tomorrow when it doesn’t hurt quite so much.  But for tonight, through the pain, this is all I know to tell you.  Everything – everything – happens for a reason.  What you sow, you will reap.  Reach out and help someone when you can, because next time it might be you that needs the help.

Next time, you might be the woman in the white car.

***

“There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…”
– John Lennon

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02

Apr. ’13

10 Miles….

“Believe that you can run farther or faster. Believe that you’re young enough, old enough, strong enough, and so on to accomplish everything you want to do. Don’t let worn-out beliefs stop you from moving beyond yourself.”
– John Bingham

Ok. Today is the day that I’m supposed to run 10 miles.

What the crap? TEN miles??

I’m not feeling extremely positive about this right at the moment. After all, I struggled with just 3 yesterday. It’s amazing how different some running days are from others. Those runs fall into that whole “momma said there’d be days like this” category, I suppose. So, after having such a crappy running day yesterday, my mind is screaming at me that I’m just not ready for this 10-miler and maybe I should skip it. Maybe I should just wait and do a few more short runs and try the longer run later. Maybe it’s not time for me to step it up just yet and I should hold back a little. Maybe this. Maybe that. Excuse. Excuse. Excuse.

But then I remember something.

I’m not a quitter.

I’m just not.  In other non-running areas of my life, I’ve always been very determined to see things through.  My mom has always told me that determination is one of my finest qualities.  (Although, I’m certain it’s also been the culprit of some of my downfalls at times…but we’re not talking about that right now…)  Point is, if I can be determined in other areas of my life, I can be determined in this one too.

I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this.

Every increase in mileage in my training plan has caused this same fear in me.  I remember when I did 5 miles for the first time.  All I could think of was how I barely made it to 5, now how was I going to do 6?  Then I did 6 miles, and had the same thought about 7. And so on. And every time, I stepped up to the challenge. Every time. Today will be no different.

longrunpic2

Today, after a long, tedious workday, I am going to put my running shoes on, and I’m heading out the door.  I’m going to get my playlist ready to play the strongest, most powerful running music I can find, I’m going to bring along my nifty little water bottle that straps to my hand, I’m going to clear my mind of any of life’s annoyances that might be bothering me, and I’m going to run 10 miles.  That’s just all there is to it.

Oh, and besides, I have a fail-proof plan.  I know I can run 5 miles.  There’s no question about that.  So, I’m just going to run 5 miles away from my car.  Then I have no choice but to come 5 miles back or I can’t go home.  See?  I’m a genius.

Ok, people.  Today is the day I become a double-digit runner.  Let’s do this.

longrun4

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01

Apr. ’13

April Fool

“‘Cause I’ve seen it all come and go before
I’m sure I’ll see it all again
But if I thought for one instant it might be love
 I’d be the first one jumpin’ in…”
– Diamond Rio lyrics (“Here I Go”)

Ok.  So, a little over a month ago, I wrote a blog about how I was going to take the whole year of 2013 off from dating and relationships.  (Here’s the link if you’re interested.) Well, I figure there’s no better time than April Fool’s Day to update my readers on how that little notion has played out.  Why April Fool’s Day?  Well.  I’m pretty sure this day was designed for fools like me.  So since this is my own personal day, I figured I can confess a few things and you guys might go a little easier on me.

So with that preamble, I’m sure you know what I’m about to confess.  Turns out, I wasn’t so great at that whole idea.  But that’s ok.

And here’s why.

I heard some Alabama song lyrics again a while back and they really got to me.  It’s a song called Lady Down on Love.  Here are the lyrics:

“She’s got her freedom
But she’d rather be bound
To a man who would love her
And never let her down.”
– Alabama

That’s so me.  It really is.  Yes, I had my freedom.  And yes, I was enjoying it to an extent.  I have learned more about myself in these past three months than I may ever have before – and the only reason for that is that I just finally took the time to actually do it.  And one of the biggest things that I’ve learned, and that I’ve come to accept, is that I really am a pretty positive person.  I just am.  I’m a glass half full kinda gal.  Yes,  I do get my feelings hurt at times, I do get let down when things don’t go my way, I do cry, I do get sad – I’m not saying I’m immune to all of that.  But it’s all temporary.  Once it passes, I get back up on that horse and I know that better things are around the corner.  I really would “rather be bound,” so to speak.  So, with this being the case, I tend to remain open to any possibilities. Including the fact that if something real came along, I wasn’t going to turn it away just because I said in some blog that I would.

Well, something real did come along.  Again.

Actually, it never left.

Oh, I tried so hard to convince myself it was gone.  I told myself over and over and over again that I was moving on.  That I didn’t need “some guy” and that I was fine alone.  And I would have been too.  I know that now.  But my heart absolutely refused to shut up.  It just wouldn’t listen to me when I was trying to tell it that we didn’t love him anymore.  He was everywhere.  In the songs I heard.  In the books I read.  In the new guys I met (not that there were that many, mind you. But still.)  There he was.  Unfinished business is a tricky little fellow.  It doesn’t go away until it’s dealt with.  No matter how hard you try.

Now, being the open person I am, I would spout out all kinds of details if I sat here at this keyboard long enough and didn’t think it through.  But just because I’m an open book – that doesn’t mean that everyone else is.  So out of respect for the privacy of the people I love, I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty of the hows and whys things happened the way they did.  Not even sure we know the answer to that ourselves to be honest with you.  But the long and the short of it is this – I found my way back to my best friend.  And I’m certain that he found his way back to his too.  It has been a long road, and we’re still walking it, but we finally decided to try walking it together for a change.  No more rushing ahead, no more falling behind…just walking together.  Figuring it out as we go.

We like it better this way.

So, back to the original blog entry.  Honestly – nothing has changed.  I’m still on this “quest for me,” so to speak.  That won’t be changing.  I’m still going to be writing this blog.  I’m still training for my half marathon.  I’m still going to continue acting.  I’m still going to be me.  A stronger, healthier, more self-aware version of me, yes – but still me.  Being in a relationship is not going to change that.  Finally.  I think maybe I’m finally learning to find that balance – that thin line that lies between giving your heart to someone, while at the same time still remembering to retain a big portion for yourself.

This:

saveme

Yeah.  That.

So, there’s my update.  I didn’t exactly do what I set out to do in the way that I set out to do it.  But did I fail?  Heck no.  I’m in love and I’m trying.  There’s definitely no failure in that.

Let’s go find out what the future holds…

***

“To lose balance for love is part of living a balanced life.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert

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26

Mar. ’13

Still Small Voice

naysayerblog1

Sounds so easy, doesn’t it?  Someone belittles you, tells you that you can’t do something or that you won’t succeed…just kick ’em to the curb.  Be done with them!

Yeah, well.  Sometimes it’s not that easy.

Sometimes the person who does that to you is someone that is fully involved in your life.  Someone that you can’t just leave.  Maybe it’s a member of your family.  Maybe it’s a boss at a job that you desperately need.  Maybe it’s an ex-spouse who is the mother/father of your children and has to remain in your life.  Maybe it’s an abusive relationship that you’re not able to get out of just yet for reasons only you know.

And oftentimes, because those are the people that may be around us the most, we think they are the people who know us best.  And we put a lot of weight into what they have to say.  As Kelly Clarkson puts it in her Mr. Know It All song lyrics:

“When somebody tells you something ’bout you
They think that they know you more than you do
So you take it down, another pill to swallow…”

Well, guess what?

They’re WRONG.

That’s it.  Plain and simple.  They are wrong.  No need to ‘swallow that pill.’  Because they are human just like you and I are.  And being human, that means that they are apt to being mistaken.  (Pretty often actually.)   And those times that they are belittling you and telling you what you can and can’t do?  Those are those times.

They don’t know you better than you do.  No one does.  You know your heart.  You know what’s in there – what you feel and don’t feel.  Who are you and aren’t, what you can and can’t do.  You know the you that no one else sees.  The one that you might keep hidden for fear of not being accepted by the people in your life who are impossible to please.  But you know it.  It’s there.  You may keep it hidden well (I’m sure you’ve had years and years of practice), but it’s still there.  No matter how much you allow their words to pile up and form a barrier to hide it behind, the true ‘you’ is still there.  It won’t be defeated.  The still small part of you that still loves yourself keeps it under lock and key where no one can touch it.  And you know that.  Don’t you?

I have recently crossed paths with an abused woman.  It has weighed very heavily on my mind.  I’m haunted by the way her eyes look.  So dead, so full of regret and sadness.  And I’m so very very sorry for her.  It’s so easy for people to tell her to leave – to tell her to get out of that situation.  But I don’t know her life.  No one does.  Only she does.  I hope that one day she finds her way out.  In fact, I’m somewhat consumed with hoping for that.  It amazes me that humans can be so cruel to one another.  But in the meantime, until she finds her way, I wish I could tell her this.  I wish I could tell her that I know it’s not easy.  That you can read Mark Twain quotes until you’re blue in the face, but they aren’t going to pave the path out the door.  They just aren’t.  Things just aren’t as easy as they appear from the outside looking in.

But there is something that she can do.  Something that you can do if you’re seeing yourself in what I’m saying.  You can alter that Mark Twain quote a little.  I don’t think he’d mind.  Rather than saying to “keep away” from those people, why don’t we say to “keep YOUR HEART away” from them.  Don’t let what they’re saying penetrate your heart.

As I said, you can’t always keep away from those people.  Life just doesn’t always allow for an easy out.  Sometimes it’s next to impossible.  So do your best to keep that guard on your heart and don’t let those negative words through.  You are your own best friend, ya know.  If you’re not there for you, no one else is going to be.  Stick up for yourself.  Even if it’s just that small little voice inside, let yourself hear it.  Don’t shut it up.  Don’t let them win.  Listen to what it’s saying.  Do you hear that?  Do you hear what it’s trying to tell them?

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re wrong.  You’re wrong.  You’re wrong.”

Keep listening.  Practice hearing it over and over and over again.  Eventually that voice will get louder and louder if you let it.  And before you know it, it will sound almost just as loud as the negative voices coming from the outside.  And then finally, when you’ve practiced enough and you’re fully ready, you’ll see that something amazing has happened.

That voice will be so loud that it drowns out the others.

It can happen.  You just have to let it.

***

“It is the still small voice that the soul heeds,
Not the deafening blasts of doom.”
– William Dean Howells

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21

Mar. ’13

Life With Father

“Choosing to be in the theatre was a way to put my roots down somewhere with other people. It was a way to choose a new family.”
– Juliette Binoche

theatrepic

My next show, Life With Father, opens tomorrow night at Ashe Civic Center in West Jefferson, North Carolina.  And, as usual, the end of this two-month-long process is bittersweet.

In theatre, when the show finally arrives, everyone involved is absolutely exhausted.  If you’re not in theatre, you probably have no clue what goes into creating a show.  There are so many people involved – sometimes twice as many people as you see on the stage are involved off the stage.  Or sometimes even more.  Each person has their “role” to play, so to speak.  And each role is vital. My daughter has been involved with this show as a ‘techie’ and last night backstage at rehearsal, she said, “Wow.  I think I’m learning that the people back here work even harder than the people out there.” 

It’s definitely exhausting, that’s for sure.

But you know what else it is?  Absolutely amazing.

I don’t even know how to describe it to you.  There is just such a ‘bond’ that forms between people when they are working together to create a piece of art.  Because that’s what we’re doing.  Creating art.  And in the process of creating this work of art, we become a family.  Now, this particular piece of artwork may not be a sculpture or a painting, but it’s a work of art nonetheless.  And the difference in our work of art from a sculpture or painting?  Ours disappears.  Yep.  Just like that.  All of our months of hard work and dedication just disappear on the last day of the run.

“We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.”  – Sir Walter Scott

So why do it?  Why put all of your time and energy into something that’s just going to disappear on you?

Because there are some things that come from all that hard work that do not disappear.

As Oscar Wilde puts it, “I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.”  What more can I say than that?  Maybe, just maybe, we might reach someone in that audience.  If one person out there is able to see that something they’ve felt, said, dreamed, or imagined isn’t unique to them, then our job here is done.  That’s what this human experience is all about to me.  Just letting each other know that we’re not alone.  That deep down, we’re all pretty close to being the same.  And what better way to do that, than to get up on a stage and allow someone else’s life to play out before their eyes, and hope that something in what they see might mirror their own?

And on that same line of thinking – we also reach each other on the stage.  We are surrounded by other actors, other tech workers, the director, etc., who are all doing exactly what we’re doing.  All putting their heart and soul into creating something that means something to all of us.  We develop trust, camaraderie, patience…and most importantly, love for each other.  It’s a strange paradox – while pretending to be someone else, we manage to deeply get to know each other’s true selves.  Funny how that happens.  And this particular show is even about a family.  The joys, stresses, daily routine, and ins and outs of family life.

While pretending to be a family, we end up becoming one.

So, if you’re local, come out and see what we’ve been working on for the past two months.  (And hey – if you’re not local, come anyway.  It’s worth the drive!)  Without you, there’s not much point in us being up there on that stage.  Come be a part of the show.  Come be a part of our family.

See you there!

***

The following are some links to learn more about the show:
Life With Father article in the Jefferson Post: http://jeffersonpost.com/bookmark/22014480
My MTN interview with Jane Lonon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgkZoP_f7TU&feature=youtu.be

***

“I love acting. It’s so much more real than life.”
– Oscar Wilde

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06

Mar. ’13

1,000 Views

1000blog

My blog hit 1,000 views today.

1,000 views.  Wow.

(Granted, I could have just one fan out there who has read this stuff 1,000 times.  And if so, thank you, crazy person.)

But seriously, I do want to thank each and every one of you who have taken the time to read this mess.  Like Ernest Hemingway put it, “There is nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”  There’s more truth to that than many people may realize. 

A friend of mine recently passed away.  The last conversation I had with her – in fact the very last thing she ever said to me before she passed – was in relation to my blog.  She said, “I admire that you put yourself out there like you do.  I have trouble showing vulnerability like that.”  That has stayed in my mind and I’ve thought about that many times since she has been gone.  I’ve asked myself if this is something that I really should be doing – should I be writing this stuff?  Should I lay my heart out on my sleeve like I do and show people how flawed, sad, happy, terrified, proud, crazy, and just plain human I really am?

And all I keep coming back to is…yes.  Yes, I should. 

Because one thousand views later, I’m thinking there may be something in here that resonates with others too.  Maybe I’m not so different than other people, after all.  Maybe I’m just more willing to put myself on public display.

And I wonder why that is?  What makes me so darn willing to do that?

Maybe it all just comes down to this.  Georgia O’Keefe said it best, I think, when she said, “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life, and I’ve never let it stop me from doing a single thing that I’ve wanted to do.” 

That is me.

I’m a risk taker.  I know that I only get one go-around and I figure I might as well live while I’m here.  If you know me, you know I’m also an actress.  I’ve been regularly acting since I was a teenager.  And in all those years, there has still never been one single opening moment in a show that I haven’t had butterflies in my stomach and felt my hands shaking so bad I was afraid the audience would notice.  And hitting the “publish” button on this blog every time I write something evokes that exact same response.  It’s absolutely terrifying to lay yourself out there for the world to see.  To “bleed” as Hemingway put it.  But it’s necessary.  I can’t rest until I do.  I can’t feel like I’m me until I’ve said what I need to say and allowed this creativity inside me to come out in some form of expression – whether it be in a performance or in written word.  It has to escape.  I have no choice.

And I thank each and every one reading this now for your acceptance of that.  Because, really, without an “audience,” why perform?  Thank you for being there.

And I especially want to send a special shout-out to my biggest fan of all: my mom.  She doesn’t have a computer and has never actually seen this site.  But I print out every single one of them and mail them to her.  And she provides me with such positive feedback that it makes me feel like I can do anything I ever wanted to do.

“The whole motivation for any performer is ‘Look at me, Ma.'” – Lenny Bruce

So, thanks for looking, Ma.

Thank you all.  I look forward to watching this blog continue to grow and expand and hope each of you continue to come along for the ride.  It would be awfully lonely without you.

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