Tag Archives: writing

10

Mar. ’13

Landscape

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I went for a walk yesterday and stopped to take a picture of the scene before me.  And yes, I was a little mopey during the walk.  It happens.  It’s not all sunshine and roses with me, people.  I know – shocking.  Anyway, all that kept going through my mind was this beautiful, melancholy poem by Dorothy Parker.  This chick knew her stuff.

And I think she knows my heart.

Landscape
by: Dorothy Parker

Now this must be the sweetest place
From here to heaven’s end;
The field is white and flowering lace,
The birches leap and bend,

The hills, beneath the roving sun,
From green to purple pass,
And little, trifling breezes run
Their fingers through the grass.

So good it is, so gay it is,
So calm it is, and pure.
A one whose eyes may look on this
Must be the happier, sure.

But me- I see it flat and gray
And blurred with misery,
Because a lad a mile away
Has little need of me.

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09

Mar. ’13

Stronger

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This is the back of the shirt that my son and I got at a 5k race we ran in this morning in honor of Leigh Cooper Wallace, a local hero who passed away a few months ago from complications resulting from pneumonia.  As the race director described it, this was a race “in memory of her compassion and generosity, her service to this community, her incredible strength, her support of young athletes, and her encouragement for all people to pursue a healthy lifestyle.”  They put together this first annual race to honor the “incredible example she set, so that we may continue to live life as fully as she did.”

I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Leigh Cooper Wallace personally, but I can’t help but be influenced by the example she set.  She went through a lot in her short lifetime (most notably being that she was a kidnap/rape survivor), and she used her story to teach others to become fighters – to not let circumstances defeat you, no matter how tempting it might be to give up.

I couldn’t help but be aware of the timing of this race for me personally.

Although I am doing great and getting tougher every day, I do still have my moments.  I’ve had a rough couple of months.  I’ve lost more than one friend to various circumstances, including my very best friend who I miss every single day, and that’s not something that is very easy to bounce back from.  But I’ve been trying.  And as part of the trying, I’ve been pushing myself harder with my running.  If you’re not a runner, it’s hard to explain to you what running does to you.  I know there’s something chemical to it – endorphins and whatnot.  But it’s more than that.  So much more.  It’s a way to measure your ability to endure.  To teach yourself not to give up just because things start getting a little tough – but to push through.  Push through.  Even when you think you can’t keep going, you can.  Yes, there are going to be tough spots and yes, you may have to allow yourself to slow down a little to make it.  But you will make it. Push through.  Endure. Stay strong.

So, not only did I proudly run today with those thoughts in my mind, but I managed to achieve my own personal record.  I’m not a fast runner, by any stretch of the imagination, but I was a lot faster today than the old me ever was.  I managed to fall under the 30-minute mark and ran the race in 29:42.  It has been my goal for a very long time to break 30 minutes and I did it today – on one of of the toughest 5k courses I’ve ever run.

So, how about that?  Here I am.  My first race in this “new life” and I’m starting off with a bang.

Turns out I really am stronger than I think.   Thank you for the reminder, Leigh.

***

“As I get older I see that running has changed for me.  What used to be about burning calories is now more about burning up what is false.  Lies I used to tell myself about who I was and what I could do, friendships that cannot withstand hills or miles, the approval I no longer need to seek and solidarity that cannot bear silence.  I run to burn up what I don’t need and ignite what I do.”
~ Kristin Armstrong

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*Note: Here’s a link if you’d like to read more about what an amazing woman Leigh Cooper Wallace was: 

http://www2.wataugademocrat.com/News/story/Local-runner-coach-Leigh-Wallace-dies-id-009923

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

08

Mar. ’13

Scars

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I have scars.  A bunch of them.

The most notable one, though, is this one particular disgusting surgery scar on my stomach.  Oh, it’s hideous, let me tell ya.  It never healed correctly – busted open a few times and had to be reattended to and whatnot.  Anyway, the end result was a discolored, 1/2-inch wide, 8-inch long monstrosity that covers my entire torso.  Ewww.

But you know what’s kinda funny about that?  I barely ever remember that it’s there.

Isn’t that weird?  I have this hideous “thing” that is probably the first thing people’s eyes are drawn to if they see my stomach; and yet I, the person who looks at it everyday, hardly see it anymore.

Which, of course, got me to thinking.  (As just about everything seems to do these days…)  Isn’t it strange that I have this glaring obvious scar right there in the mirror that I barely notice, and yet I spend so much time looking at and concentrating on the scars that aren’t so visible?  Those are the ones that I try to “hide.”  The ones that I feel are obvious to the world and that I spend so much senseless time worrying about and trying to gloss over.

But that’s just silly.

“There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature.  A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.” – Harry Crews

It’s those invisible scars that seem to bother us the most, isn’t it?  But like the above quote says, the hurt is over.  It’s over.  Let yourself ponder that for a second.  Yes, the healing process may still be taking place, but the actual hurt – the actual inflicting of pain – is gone.  That step is behind us.  Isn’t that awesome?

I defeated the cancer that caused all of the scars on the outside of my body, so I will also defeat any and everything that comes along and causes the inner scars.  Scars are proof of victory.  I have been victorious before, and I will be victorious now.

And I have a feeling that someone out there reading this right now might have needed to hear this too.  The pain is over, the scars remain – but we are the champions.  Don’t let yourself forget that.

Fight on, my friend.

***

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;
the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
– Khalil Gibran

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07

Mar. ’13

I’m a Brat

“Being raised as a military brat has a way of making things blur together, simply because of how often you have to move. Friends come and go, clothing is packed and unpacked, households are continually purged of unnecessary items, and as a result, not much sticks. It’s hard at times, but it makes a kid strong in ways that most people can’t understand. Teaches them that even though people are left behind, new ones will inevitably take their place; that every place has something good – and bad – to offer. It makes a kid grow up fast.”
– Nicholas Sparks “The Lucky One”

I’m a military brat.

Most people who know me know this about me.  But some of you who have come into my life more recently may not.  (And, oh yeah, all my new blog followers who I don’t know from Adam don’t know that either – Hi Strangers! Sometimes I still forget you’re there.  Thanks for reading!)  My step-dad was in the Army from the time I was 8 years old.  We started moving when I was in the 4th grade and never stopped.  From 4th grade through 12th grade, I attended 8 different schools located in 4 different states and 2 different countries.  I graduated high school in Giessen, Germany with a grand total of 21 other graduates.  (1996, baby. Go Griffins!  Represent!)  Ok, enough of that.

Sometimes I think I forget what a profound effect my childhood had on me.  At the time, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to a person.  Being dragged from here to there – having to say goodbye to friends and family sometimes at the drop of a hat – never feeling ‘stability’ or ‘roots.’  Yes, if you asked my teenage self, I would have told you that I had the worst parents in the world and no one could have had a worse childhood than mine.

Well, that brat grew up.  And now she knows better.

I have something that most people don’t have.  Rather than having one set of roots in one location – I have roots everywhere.  I’ve seen this comic before and it always makes me chuckle:

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I honestly remember when my answer to that question used to be, “I’m from nowhere.”  But I’ve amended that as I have gotten older.  I’m not from “nowhere.”  I’m from “everywhere!”  I have friends scattered all across this world.  Not just this country – this world.  I have links and ties to so many people from so many races, cultures and walks of life that I feel like a chameleon myself at times.  And that’s awesome.

But where am I now? 

Sigh. 

Now I’m stuck in a military brat’s nightmare.  I live in a tiny small town in the middle of nowhere.  Where everyone here has lived here their whole lives and everyone knows everyone and their business and their momma’s business and their second cousin twice-removed’s business.  It’s tough.  And one day I’ll make my escape.  But in the meantime, even though I may stick out like sore thumb and feel like a fish out of water at times, I am safe in the knowledge that who I am has not changed and has not molded to fit my surroundings.  I may be different, but I’m me.  And that won’t change.  And part of being ‘me’ means that I can handle a lot of crap.  People may come and go, but I remain steady.  I remain me. 

Because of my upbringing and my ability to adapt, I have become a pro at handling change.  You want to leave my life?  Go.  I’ll cry for a while, I’m not heartless.  But I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off, and realize that when one leaves, another takes their place.  I’m not saying that some don’t hold special places in your life.  They do.  Some spots are always reserved for certain special people.  But I always know that I’m not going to be alone, and that that empty spot can be smoothed over with the laughter and love from new friends, new places, new activities, etc.  When one thing leaves, another will take its place.  Always. 

It’s the military brat creed. 

Hooah.

militarybrat

 

 

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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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05

Mar. ’13

Waiting

(I wrote this years ago, but find it interesting that I feel exactly the same right now.  I guess it’s true that history really does repeat itself .)

waiting

WAITING

I am sitting here.

Alone in the dark with only a small lamp to my left to illuminate the blank pages before me. It is 5:00 a.m.
I like to imagine that I am the only one awake for miles. That the rest of the world is asleep while I sit here with my thoughts.

The rain falls steadily outside my window. The monotonous drip drop, drip drop on the tin roof above my porch should be soothing. Comforting.

But it is not.
For I am not safe.

Safe from physical harm – yes. Safe from the wind and the cold and Dangers that may (or may not) lie outside the locked front door beside me. Safe from all the Dangers that one might see and feel and touch. No, my Fear is something deeper. Unseen. Untouched.

My fear is of Myself.

Why am I so uneasy? Unsatisfied? Why is this seemingly harmless life around me suddenly frightening? What changed? Who is this Stranger creeping her way into my home and into my heart and mind? Who is this woman emerging from the young girl whom I had just recently – finally – come to recognize? What are these feelings I’ve discovered living inside of me? Inside of me! All this time, where have They been?

Where They sitting there laughing hysterically at this young fool pretending to be someone she is not?

Or were They just waiting patiently? Patiently.
For me to be ready.
For Acceptance.
For Realization.

And what do I do now?
What do you do when you are torn between who you are . . . and who you are meant to be?

Are the Answers inside of me?
Were They neighbors to my Feelings?
Will I soon meet Them as well?
Are They, too, waiting? For Acceptance?
For Realization?

For Change?

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04

Mar. ’13

Just Do It

“Either you run the day or the day runs you.”
– Jim Rohn

The following is an excerpt from my personal blog – April 20, 2012:

“So it’s really been on my mind lately to start running.  I don’t know why really. It just seems that I’ve been more aware of runners lately. I see them on the street when I’m on my way to work and the thought crosses my mind, “I wish I was them.” I’m out of shape and lazy..which are probably going to be pretty big obstacles in the way of my becoming a runner. But who knows…maybe I can work on that. The thing that appeals to me most is the peace of mind that runners seem to have. I hear so many of them talk about how it clears your mind and helps you forget about the rest of the world while you’re running. Boy do I need that. Anything that can shut this brain up would be a more than welcome addition to my life…”

Wow.  And here I am beginning my second week of a ten-week training plan for a half marathon two months from today.  Crazy, man.  I’m tellin’ ya.

See?  It all starts with just a little thought. (A little thought that I was lucky enough to have written down to be able to go back and look at.) Just one little inkling of a dream.  And then you take that first step out the door, and suddenly that dream is not only coming true, but it starts snowballing and multiplying into bigger and better dreams.  Not just with running – this applies to anything.  If you really want something – you make it happen.  It’s as easy as that.  It’s not a quick fix and it doesn’t happen overnight.  But it happens – and that first step is saying that you want it.  Like I did.

Is there something you’re thinking of doing?  Something maybe that you need to do?  Some little inkling of a dream in there somewhere?  Write it down.  Do it.  Right now.  Get a pen and a piece of paper and write it down.  Then hide it somewhere.  Put it in your wallet – in the glovebox of your car – in a drawer on your bedside table.  Just do it.

And then tell yourself that you can make it happen.  Tell yourself every single day.  Start taking baby steps and make your way towards it.  Every day take one more step – make one more small change, one more small choice towards making it happen.  Even if it’s just opening that drawer and reading it again as a reminder.  Just tell yourself it’s going to happen, and it will.

And it will change you.  I promise.

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02

Mar. ’13

What if?

bekind

My heart is heavy this morning.

One of my facebook friends (someone who I just had a notable interaction with last week – and who inspired one of my blogs), passed away yesterday.  And from what I understand, she passed away from circumstances (possibly accidental) that resulted in her ending her own life.

(Now, let me just stop here.  I do sometimes think that I shouldn’t blog about something this serious.  But, as I said when I first started this blog and put in my “About My Junk” section that describes this page, this is going to be a “blog about life.”  This is part of life.  And that’s what this entry is going to be about. Life.)

Whether you know a person well or not, when you hear news like this it tends to stop you in your tracks. It makes you look around your own world and ‘take stock,’ so to speak.  It makes you value each and every breath your body is taking in and exhaling out.  It makes you want to grab everyone you love and tell them so.  It makes you want to grab strangers on the street and tell them that they’re loved.  It makes you want to fall down on your knees and thank your God for another day on this earth.

And if it doesn’t make you feel all those things – well, it should.

And you know what else it should make you do?  It should make you be kind to people.  All people.

How do you know that you wouldn’t be that one smiling face that someone would have needed to see – that you wouldn’t hold that one kind word that someone might have needed to hear?

Yesterday I got into an argument with a stranger in the middle of the street. Nope – not kidding.  True story.  It was over who had the right of way when we almost hit each other.  Now, granted – this  person started getting testy with me first (I’m not generally a ‘road rage’ kind of gal), but I could have easily just apologized profusely, smiled, and went on with my day.  But nope.  In typical Melissa fashion, I argued my point and both of us ‘left the scene’ in anger.  And until today, it really hadn’t crossed my mind again.

But now – here it is.

I don’t even know that person!  What if?  You know?  What if that person was just coming home from a funeral?  A chemo treatment?  Taking care of an aging parent?  A dying relative?  What if they had a drug  problem?  An alcohol problem?  What if…

What if they were on their way home to end it all?  What if I could have given the one smile – the one kind word – that would have changed that?

Dramatic?  Maybe.

Maybe not.

What if you, unknowingly, have been the last person someone interacted with before they were gone?  Let that sink in for a minute.

Now, I’m not saying that there should be guilt or that you could have changed anything.  But what if your face – your attitude – was the last display of humanity that someone ever witnessed?

Ouch.

I’m not preaching here.  By no means.  These blog entries are just as much for me as they are for anyone else.  I just know that I need to do better.  Do you?

My heart goes out to the family and friends during this loss.  I know their next few days will be filled with confusion and grief beyond anything they’ve ever known.  I happen to know a little bit about the subject myself.

In closing, I want to post a poem I wrote on another sad March day a few years ago when our family went through this kind of loss.

Poem for Mike
I sat down with pen and paper
To pour out this grief I feel
To try to find the rhyme and reason
And to make this all seem real.
But I just cannot find the words
To move this useless pen
No poem or song could ever explain
Why your life had to end.
What phrase could mend these broken hearts-
What rhyme could make sense of it all?
The pain is too large to comprehend
And my words – they are too small.
I hope you have found that peace, my friend-
That illusion you were seeking to find
While the remaining trudge through the confusion
In this world you’ve left behind.

Hold on to each other tight, folks.  Reach out.  Know what you have.  Look around you – and know it.  Feel it.  Appreciate it.

We truly are the lucky ones.

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01

Mar. ’13

Secret Weapon

“Our running shoes are really erasers. Every step erases a memory of a past failure. Every mile brings us closer to a clean slate. Each foot strike rubs away a word, a look, or an event that led us to believe that success was beyond our grasp.”
– John Bingham 

Today is March 1. The beginning of the dreaded month of March.  *Sigh*

March and I have issues that go way back.  For some reason, it seems that notable negative things always seem to happen in my life in this particular month.  And every year I brace myself once again for what seems to inevitably be in store for me.  And even if nothing in particular ends up happening, the awful month still looms there, filled with unwanted anniversaries from the past.

But not this year.  This year is different.  This year I have a secret weapon.  Or, as John Bingham likes to call them – erasers.

This March, I’m a runner.

I started running in April of last year, so March will be the end of a full year of running.  I hate to sound like I’m patting myself on the back here, but I am so freakin’ proud of me.  As someone who has very little patience, running has taught me that the best things sometimes really do take time.  I, like most people, want what I want and I want it NOW.  That is not an option in running.   Running requires patience.  In fact, it demands it.  It’s an endless process of slow, arduous transformation.  And the more I run, the more I realize that process doesn’t just apply to my leg muscles.  It’s a transformation of your mind.  It’s a realization that you really are capable of great things, if you’ll only put forth the time and effort required.  Little by little, day by day.

“Running is about the slow and painful process of being the best you can be. That’s why the first step out the door is always so hard.  That’s when we choose between settling for average and being a superhero version of ourselves.”
– Martin Dugard

I didn’t realize it at the time, but in April of 2012, I made the choice to be a superhero version of myself.  And I continue to make that choice over and over again every time I lace up.

So, you know what?  Bring it on, silly ol’ March.  There’s nothing you can do to me anymore.  I’m a superhero now.

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“My runs always remind me of what life is; always putting one foot in front of the other, even when I’m exhausted. It’s about running up the hill, however daunting, and congratulating myself for not stopping. Life, like running, is about getting up and pushing on ahead, even if I’ve tripped on a pothole. It’s about keeping the rhythm and setting a pace. It’s about minding my injuries and allowing myself time to heal, but not letting injuries get the best of me. Running is like life; it is a glorious, albeit sometimes painful, act of always moving forward.”
– Luci L. Creery

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28

Feb. ’13

Passion

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“Passion is energy. Feel the power that comes from focusing on what excites you.”
– Oprah Winfrey

Passion.

Don’t you just love that word?  Just saying it makes me happy.

(And no, I’m not getting ready to blog about romantic passion.  Blech.  If you noticed a few blogs ago, I’m checking that crap at the door for a while.)

No, this blog is about the good stuff.  Real passion.  Lasting passion.  The kind that once you truly discover it and recognize it, never ever goes away.  (Quite UN-like romantic passion, actually).  You can silence it at times, maybe even ignore it for a while, but it’s not gone.  Ever.  It’s always there waiting for you to pay attention to it, and to act on it.  And somehow you’re never truly satisfied until you do.

I’m talking about the things that move you.  The things that when you’re doing them, you’re transported away from everything else.  Other problems take a hike, and for a brief moment in time, you are fully and completely…YOU.

About a month ago, when I was going through some of the hardest, darkest times of my recent breakup and accompanying issues, I woke up one morning with an odd thought.  Rather than waking up sad like I had been for the few weeks prior (Man, I was such a big baby…), I actually woke up with a strong motivational thought.  Amid all the sadness and chaos, and seemingly out of nowhere, this thought dawned on me:  I am SO lucky to have passions.  And not even just one.  I act, I run, and I write.  And all three of those things are true passions.  They make me me.  When I’m doing any of them, I’m not worrying about anything else in my life.  I lose myself in them, and yet I find myself at the same time.  Strange how that works.

It’s so important to have those passions and to act on them.  If you’re reading this right now, I know something pops into your mind.  Maybe it’s not the same as mine.  Maybe yours is drawing. Or dancing. Or gardening. Or playing the ukulele – I don’t know.  But whatever it is – DO it!  Lose yourself!

Just do me a favor, okay?

Make sure you don’t fall into the trap that I’ve fallen into many many times in the past – don’t let another person become your passion.  That’s so so dangerous.  A quote by Joseph Addison on that topic:

“Admiration is a very short-lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object.”

Romantic passions are temporary.  You can try with all your heart (trust me, I know), but they aren’t going to fill the void that exists in you for that true passion.  The one that is all about you.  That one that makes you feel complete, without the help of another human being.

Because, you see – the only person that will remain permanently in your life is you.

I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer here with that statement.  Not at all.  Just trying to make you (and me) realize that if you’re going to pour your heart and soul into something…make sure it’s something concrete and stable.  Something that won’t unexpectedly disappear on you.  That can never be another human being.

And hey, I know I don’t know anything.  I’m floating around out here on this sea searching for life rafts just like the rest of you.  But I’ve noticed lately that the life rafts I start clinging to that don’t require the involvement of another person, those are the ones that seem to do the best job of keeping me afloat.  I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I’m discovering that my true refuge – my safe haven, if you will – is me.

And that’s kind of awesome when you think about it.  Because I know I am not going to let me down.

So.  Find your passions and do them.  Save yourself.

Right now.

Go!

***

Next time I’ll be braver
I’ll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet.
– Adele, Turning Tables lyrics

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