tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-120471962024-03-07T18:03:29.792-05:00View from the deep end of the pool...Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.comBlogger2147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-83570443379980059602020-06-04T08:16:00.001-04:002020-06-04T08:50:43.900-04:00How am Using my Lenses?When I was six years old, I was attending the local elementary school in my neighborhood (back when neighborhood schools were a thing) with my cousin. We walked back and forth to school each day (back when walking 5 or 6 blocks to school was safe and the norm), and there is one of those days seared into my brain that still, 42 years later, has left an indelible mark on my soul. Dare I say, it was a defining, benchmark moment in the shaping of me as a person.<br />
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I was born in 1972, as the Vietnam War was beginning its ugly winding down. In fact, I was three years old, give or take, when it was finally declared Ended (capitalization intended). If you remember your history, many Vietnamese fled Vietnam to make a new life in the US, and in my first grade classroom in small town Michigan, a little boy named Bang was part of one such family. I don't remember if he started with us or not, but I do know that they moved midway through the year. </div>
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On this particular day, my cousin and I had just crossed Maple Street to begin our walk home and encountered two big kids (likely 4th or 5th graders) beating Bang over the head with their lunch boxes. Please keep in mind, in 1977, lunch boxes were metal. Poor Bang was screaming and crying, but the big boys were relentless, shouting ugly names and beating him with those dag-blasted lunch boxes. My cousin and I ran them off. I remember telling them to pick on someone their own size. Then, with our arms around Bang, we walked him right to his doorstep. His mother, not knowing much English, wasn't really sure why her son came home crying with two little white girls accompanying him, but we did our best to explain what had happened. </div>
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I went home absolutely incensed about the whole situation and immediately reported it to my mom. I remember she told me how proud she was that I had stood up for Bang (with probably an admonishment about safety), but then I asked her why they called him such terrible names. She explained to me that these boys likely heard these things from their parents, who were using ugly slurs because they were being ignorant ... that we would not be using those words because Jesus called us to love like He does -- He looks at the soul of man not at his outside appearance.<br />
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Pretty progressive thoughts from a white mother in middle class America at the time, but she was shaped not only by her faith, but also by her father, who was, I am told, the epitome of grace and mercy. My Grandpa Wakeley, who died when I was just three years old, was known to bring home other folks wouldn't dream of bringing home. He fed them at the same table as he fed his family, became their friends, treated them like human beings, something not everyone in their little farming community did. It didn't matter what color they were or what religion they adhered to or what they had done in their lives, he was, apparently, a good judge of character and knew inherently, that each of these men just needed to be treated with dignity and love. He liked people regardless of race or class or societal "importance."</div>
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My mother recently told me a story about him pulling her aside and telling her that the little Jewish boy in her school was to be treated with kindness and compassion. She could and would play with him despite the fact that no one else in the community would. They just weren't going to treat people that way. Those same words were spoken to me many, many times during my childhood.<br />
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This was my very first exposure to racism.</div>
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As a newly minted teacher, I became friends with a girl who taught next door to me. She is a fun-loving woman who loves to laugh. In fact, her laughter is infectious, which is one of the many things I love about her! We became fast friends and spent countless late nights working at school, sharing ideas, chatting about our students, doing what teachers do. One such late night work session, we decided to drive to the Jackson Meijer to do some grocery shopping. I don't remember a lot about that night other than we shared a shopping cart, and knowing us, laughed constantly throughout the store. </div>
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When we got to the check out lane, I suggested we change positions in the line because she had less items in the cart than me, and hers were all up at the front. The lady in front on us had her purse in the child's seat of her cart, and was, generally, not paying a lick of attention to it. Honestly, if I'd wanted to, I probably could have reached into that purse and grabbed her wallet without her ever knowing. </div>
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We switched positions, still talking about school, and I happened to notice the lady's sideways glance at my friend before she grabbed her purse and clutched it tight to her person. I was dumbfounded. The action certainly didn't go unnoticed by my friend, who, rightfully so, vocalized her frustration over having such things happen to her all the time. My friend is black. I think I probably apologized to her for that happening, but I never said anything to the woman who perpetuated that stereotype against my friend. </div>
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About that same time, one of my dearest high school friends came to visit me. We had a agreed that he would get lunch the next day and bring it to school to have lunch with me before he headed out to go back to Atlanta. He came at the agreed upon time, and when I came back from taking my kids to lunch, he informed me that the office secretary almost wouldn't let him come down to have lunch. When my friend showed up with lunch, she told him to leave the lunch, and she would call me to let me know it had been delivered. It took him a bit to explain to her that he wasn't DELIVERING the lunch, he was sharing it with me before she'd let him come down to my room. I was mortified and told him, because I'd specifically told her he would be coming. </div>
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"Eh! No big deal! I'm Asian. Everyone always mistakes me for the food delivery guy. It happens all the time."</div>
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My final incident that has shaped my view on race came from my first year of teaching. I was in the classroom of a colleague, who happened to be a woman of color, and she was telling me about a family wedding she had been to the weekend prior in Southfield, Michigan. My Michigan peeps might know where I am going with this. Following the description of the wedding, I sat through a ten-minute monologue about how Southfield had gone to hell and a hand basket since folks from the Middle East had "infiltrated" the area, and she tacked on some of the most inflammatory, degrading descriptors for Middle Easterners I think I've ever heard. I was so shocked that, sadly, I did nothing to defend them during that conversation. It is one of life's big regrets. </div>
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So, why am I writing all of these instances down in print? </div>
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Well, it's not to give you a shining example of me as some neutral entity in this whole race conversation, because please know, I am not perfect in this whole thing. I have sad things that have been inflammatory, I am relatively sure. I am certain I have fallen into to stereotypical behavior. I don't think there is a one of us out there that hasn't. I would bet my life on that one.<br />
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It's also most certainly not one of those "I'm color blind ... I don't see color ... I have friends of different races" arguments. These were blatant and ugly and I'm not all together sure I did much to stop these incidents or change the perpetrators' minds. </div>
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Here is what I can tell you: Each of these life moments have caused me to stop and check myself ... to check my biases ... to check my heart, y'all. And shouldn't that be something we ALL do no matter who we are or where we come from? </div>
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My high school history teacher once said, "Not a one of us is unbiased. We all approach life with a bunch of baggage lugged behind us packed by our various life experiences. It is how we unpack those experiences and what lens we use to measure future experiences with that is most important." </div>
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And ain't that the truth? Each one of the experiences I wrote about, I use to measure my heart temperature and my thought process when I am navigating this world. Some days, I am better at it than others, but I think that could be said of all of us. </div>
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But those lenses are like the fine tuning lenses. Those, I use after my biggest lens, the one that brings EVERYTHING into perspective. My biggest lens, the one which every thing else is filtered through, is my faith in the One, true God. I don't know where you are in your faith journey, and you might disagree with me on the use of this lens. That's okay. We can agree to disagree. But for me, the filter that should always guide my reactions to people and situations should start at God.<br />
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1 Samuel 16:7 ESV<br />
"But the Lord said to Samuel, 'Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart'."<br />
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The question I need to be asking myself daily, hourly, is am I viewing others through my God lens? If not, why? How am I using my lenses? </div>
Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-60227455196196930942020-02-01T12:15:00.000-05:002020-02-01T12:15:23.489-05:00Saturday, February 1, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I just got back from having coffee with a dear, sweet friend. We have a pretty consistent coffee date most Saturday mornings, and I have to tell you, it is an amazing time to just sit and chat and philosophize and dream and complain and vent and discuss and rehash and talk about Jesus and theology and ... man! Everyone needs a girlfriend or two like her. I am so lucky to have a handful of women with whom I can have such conversations.<br />
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After a pretty lengthy coffee sesh this morning, wherein I am relatively sure I twisted her ear nearly off with all sorts of venting (even though I wasn't/am not in a bad mood ... Lord help us all with this menopause stuff!), I was walking back to my car and had a book in the window of our local bookstore grab my attention.<br />
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Now, I don't remember the title of the book; it was the tagline that caught my attention ... "The Art of Cultivating Joy."<br />
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And it IS an art, y'all! And it made me really think critically my entire drive home -- and I took the scenic route so that I could chew on that tagline a bit.<br />
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I have been thinking a lot about cultivating joy lately. Maybe it's because I am 20 days away from 48, and your middle/late ages seem to bring with them this need to shift priorities. And the question continues to be, "Am I cultivating joy?"<br />
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Okay, maybe that's not what my question has been up to that point....maybe, it's because I wasn't exactly sure how to even form the question correctly. Today, however, that book title's tagline put into tangible words what I have been struggling with for a while now .... that being my ability (or complete lack thereof) to cultivate joy for myself and those closest to me.<br />
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I use to think that cultivating joy meant working so hard that others would see my dedication and recognize it. In every single job I've had, I have explored and exploited that theory. The thing of it is, no one really recognized it, and if they did, they never stopped to see what followed that up, which was my completely unhealthy self hiding behind it.<br />
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There was a time I thought cultivating joy meant that all I needed to do was gather a large group of people around me who thought I was wonderful and told me so as much as I possibly needed. The problem with that idea was that all of those accolades were shallow and meaningless. Those people didn't know me, not like I think we all desire to be known and accepted. Oh sure! It's nice to feel validated and appreciated by the people that seem to hold the keys to professional or personal validation, but at what cost? All the shuffling and maneuvering I did only exhausted me more than it provided me joy.<br />
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My sweet friend has chosen a word that she wants to work on this year rather than create a list of resolutions. When I heard her word, I was all, "OOOOOH! I want to steal her word." Intentionality. That is her word. But honestly, it didn't quite seem to fully represent what was rolling in my head. However, Cultivating the Joy," that makes sense to me, and, by default, I suppose there is an intentional piece that naturally accompanies it.<br />
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I found the quote above about a satisfied life the other day, and boy! does it ever tie in with what I have wrestled with over this last month! I want to feel the joy of every day life. I want to find the magic in moments that are not extraordinary by definition, but are so just because it was a moment in time.<br />
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Of course, this is likely going to make some assume the worst of me, and that sort of assumption cannot be avoided. I am willing to live with the fact that some will not see me as dedicated or others will see me as having incorrect priorities or silly dreams or that many will find my life inconsequential. I really am okay with that because joy is a multitude of magical moments that woven together create the fabric of our lives. I would much rather have a life tapestry that is an explosion of chaotic color than something in a monochromatic scale.<br />
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No one else can truly measure my joy. So explosions of chaotic color it is!<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-19691561957424191902020-01-11T18:26:00.002-05:002020-01-11T18:26:58.661-05:00Saturday, January 11, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I received a Victrola for Christmas.<br />
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The last "stereo" I had was from circa 19ReallyLongTimeAgo, and sadly, I had to donate it to the City of Frankfort's solid waste department, and their recycling electronics program, because it had become a serious fire hazard, quite literally.<br />
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It had been a CD/Cassette player with FM/AM radio, complete with speakers, and the CD player had died many moons ago. When I finally got rid of it, it chewed my cassette tapes (yes, I still have cassette tapes ... DON'T JUDGE!), and the radio and speakers only worked intermittently.<br />
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I've been without the ability to play music, save for the Pandora and iHeartRadio options on my TV. So, this replica Victrola was such an awesome gift to me!<br />
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I've been enjoying, all over again, the sound vinyl makes when played. There's something to be said for the digital age, but those crackling sounds on those old records? It's beauty to my ears! Well, and music too!<br />
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Tonight, while I've needed to enjoy some time not running all over creation, I've been feeling a bit stir crazy. So, I decided to figure out how the rudimentary tape deck worked on the Victrola, and I popped in an old accompaniment tape.<br />
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Oh! Y'all! If you are not aware of accompaniment tapes, are you truly a child of the 80s who attended church? It was the era of Special Music at church, where any old person could sing at full force and praise Jesus!<br />
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One of my all-time favorite songs to sing is called BREATH OF HEAVEN, and for more times than I care to count, I have sung this during a Christmas Eve service at an old church back in Michigan. With a lot of these old accompaniment tapes/CDs, the quality of the music is super dated, but I was surprised at how timeless the music sounded.<br />
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It's a haunting melody that carries the listener right into a prayer Mary, the soon to be Mother of Jesus, prays to the Father. She is doubtful He chose correctly ... she is wondering if He made a mistake ... you can feel her fear and doubts.<br />
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Singing the nuances of the song came back to me like riding a bike (let's be honest here, I'm not sure riding an actual bike would come to me so quickly!). And so I started singing the lyrics, trying to put some of the emotion of Mary into that first verse.<br />
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And then the second verse came around, and suddenly, the song started to feel more real to me...relevant. I wonder sometimes what He thinks of the mess I make of things day in and day out....how I react to my kids sometimes .... how I react to my family and friends. I mean, He could have easily chosen someone else to do what I do. So, why me?<br />
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It's a sobering song, and these lyrics rock my world ... they make me stop and think through my life and Mary's life .... how she just took Him at His word, and despite her doubt and lack of confidence, brought the Savior for all mankind into this world.<br />
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It was a great reminder to me this evening ... mere weeks after celebrating His birth.<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-30335448842363878452020-01-04T22:01:00.000-05:002020-01-05T14:39:29.629-05:00Saturday, January 4, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I said goodbye to Christmas.<br />
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I packed it all up today.<br />
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It was drizzly and gray and, at some points, snowy, and it seemed like the perfect time to tear it all down. I fought the tree back into the box (how come it NEVER fits back into the box you pull it out of???). I put away all the decorations, and I marveled at how it all must have multiplied over the last month.<br />
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The house now seems naked after rooms stuffed with the coziness and warmth of Christmas.<br />
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I know tomorrow I will wake up, come downstairs, look around my house, and be happy about the neat and tidy feel of the place. Heck! My counter top is cleaned off for the first time in who knows how long! <br />
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But for now, I am mourning the passing of another Christmas and trying to get excited about what 2020 has in store for me.<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-30330205650161070122020-01-03T09:51:00.000-05:002020-01-05T10:00:56.002-05:00Friday, January 3, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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2019 ended with its butt in my face.<br />
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I got sick -- contracted The Kid Germs. After all these months of being in the thick of alllll the germs, two days before Christmas Break, I got sick.<br />
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It was my goal to sit and watch Christmas movies wrapped up in a blanket until Christmas Eve. I was looking so forward to Christmas -- the Christmas Eve service at my church, time spent with family, giving the gifts I'd spent time and thought on ...<br />
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Then my Dad had a spell and was sent, by his doctor, to the emergency room two days before Christmas. It wasn't serious ... an A Flutter/A Fib situation, but it landed him in the hospital over night. It was stressful and scary and not at all how I envisioned Christmas playing out.<br />
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But Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were much sweeter with my loved ones all around me, healthy and well. Despite the fact that I couldn't talk due to losing my voice at that point, having my Dad home and my sister and my mom with me made this Christmas so very special.<br />
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Sometimes, when life sticks its butt in your face, it's an opportunity to be grateful for the times where the sun is shining brightly in your eyes.<br />
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2020 is shining brightly, and I hope to hang on to the hopefulness ... even when 2020's butt gets in my face.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-353211456059678162020-01-02T09:43:00.000-05:002020-01-05T10:05:39.217-05:00Thursday, January 2, 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Why has that social media has encouraged over sharing?<br />
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Is it because you have this chasm between you and the people who are reading your posts? So, you feel a lack of embarrassment?<br />
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Is it a generational issue?<br />
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Have we completely lost a sense of decorum? Have we erased all of our social boundaries?<br />
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Personally, I think social boundaries are a good thing, but maybe it's because I am sneaking ever closer to 50 and the decade of the Old Fart.<br />
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Don't get me wrong. Since I hit my 40s, I no longer care as much about nearly all the things, and I have no problems providing my opinion. But I think this year, I need to make sure that I am focusing on the walk and not the proclamation that I am taking the walk in the first place.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-32143872274772398652020-01-01T20:45:00.000-05:002020-01-01T21:41:58.944-05:00Tuesday, December 31, 2019/Wednesday, January 1, 2020<br />
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Happy New Year!!!<br />
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I started off New Year's Eve with a NYE Brunch. What a great idea one of my friends had! I declare it a much needed new tradition, this New Year's Eve Brunch. I heart brunches!<br />
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New Year's Eve night? I cannot hang anymore. I struggled to stay awake the entire evening...I managed to stay awake, but holy moly! It was touch and go for a hot minute.<br />
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Also, I used to be so much cooler. Well, cooler-ish. I use to knew every one who performed on Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve. Performers last night? No clue who most of them were. Welcome to Old Fartdom!<br />
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It's a family tradition to get together on New Year's Eve and eat snack foods and ring in the new year together. I used to be able to eat all things for NYE. Yeaaaahhhh, not any more. This old lady had to swallow a Pepcid before she dug into her New Year's Eve snacks. P.I.T.I.F.U.L.<br />
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Looking back, 2019 started out on a sour note for me, and, to be honest, it has ended on a bit of a sour note as well. But that's life, I suppose. A series of hills and valleys. As much as I hate to say good-bye to the holidays, I am eager to start 2020 as a clean slate of potential just stretched out before me.<br />
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Here is to all the hopes and dreams for 2020. May it be a good year, and I may gracefully traverse its hills and valleys.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-3519724929630976402019-12-30T17:16:00.003-05:002019-12-30T17:16:55.980-05:00Monday, December 30, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And so it begins .... all the flowery crap that people post on social media all about how they are going to check off their Resolution To Do Lists ... blah, blah, blah.<br />
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Oh! I'm sorry. Sounds like I have a bad attitude about it, doesn't it? Well, you would be correct! I do! We all say a bunch of stuff we're going to do, but then life happens. If you're me, life happens, and I spend the rest of my year trying to get on the right side of things after having been turned upside down or inside out or both.<br />
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And lets not forget the hefty helping of guilt I feel for having failed once again, while Sally Sunshine over there is knocking Achieving All Her Resolutions All At Once out of the proverbial park and Danny Determined is taking selfies left and right and posting them for all to see because he has got this goal setting stuff on lock.<br />
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I mean, good for you if you can do that sort of thing. I just know making it public doesn't do me a bit of good. I am still going to fail miserably.<br />
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Not for nothing, but I was guilty of such nonsense in my own past as well. You could comb the archives of this blog to find all sorts of flowery things that I was going to do and never did.<br />
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I'm older and wiser and crabbier and more hermit-like. I've learned a few things.<br />
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<ul>
<li>Comparison is the thief of joy. So, I'm going to work my fat fanny off to make sure I fight the need to compare myself to anyone on social media. Because, let's be honest here, you and I both know that they aren't showing the REAL story. Not one bit of it. </li>
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<ul>
<li>There are a million moments in a day -- give or take -- and I fear I miss a lot of them looking at allllll the perfect lives on social media. So, I'm going to look at a few more sunsets and smell of few more roses and look at a few less of your new outfit/house/car/designer dog/Christmas haul/perfect family photos/fill in the blank. Harsh? Maybe. Ask me if I care. </li>
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<li>Self-care, while quite a buzz word these days, is soooo very important. I need to be more cognizant of it and practice it with a bit more fidelity. </li>
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So, you do you, Boo. Go ahead and make those resolutions, and conquer them ... or not. I don't care. I'll be over here living .... taking each day as it comes, working to be as present as I can be. </div>
Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-35130413648639894372019-12-29T20:28:00.000-05:002019-12-30T17:48:44.360-05:00Sunday, December 29, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Today I did zero things.<br />
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Unless you can count serving in the Cafe at church and actually attending church. If we are counting those, I did two things.<br />
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The rest of the day? I did zero things.<br />
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Lazy has such a negative connotation for me. I am sure if I spent time investigating exactly why, I could come up with some experience in my past. But nevertheless, I find it hard to enjoy my laziness.<br />
<br />
Then I look at these two yahoos, and suddenly I realize that perhaps I need to take a page from their book.<br />
<br />
Maizy and O'Malley play hard. Really hard. Granted, some of that can be attributed to their age. They are only one year old. However, they get up ready to greet the day with what I can only assume is a smile on their little feline faces. They are soooo excited about the little things in life -- things like their morning ritual of Broths for breakfast. You have never heard two kitties meow more than they do. They love to do their favorite things, and they do so with gusto! Watching birds in the morning and afternoon is one of Maizy and O'Malley's absolute favorites.<br />
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Those kitties love hard too. They follow me around, and each other, all over the house. I am their favorite person, and, if I'm being honest here, they are my favorites, too. Their sibling bond is so much fun to watch! They pick and tease and argue and love each other so well.<br />
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Maizy and O'Malley take time to be lazy. They sleep .... A LOT ... but they only do so after they've played and loved with all they have in them. That lazy sleep? It's a reward for their hard work.<br />
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So, what's my take away? I guess if I am working hard, playing hard, and loving hard, then it's perfectly okay to be lazy.<br />
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The question is, have I play/loved/worked hard?<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-84977559801936251042019-12-28T21:17:00.000-05:002019-12-30T17:28:44.591-05:00Saturday, December 28, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Christmas in the Bluegrass is slowly fading, and, as I sit here and reflect on today, I suppose that could be a great analogy for why I get so blue the closer I get to January. Beyond the crash after the HIGH of the holidays is the realization (now that I am considered middle aged) that time is passing quickly by. I look at people I love and wonder how much longer I have with them -- I don't like to dwell on that question too long.<br />
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I look at my life and wonder if I could have made better decisions in my life. Would I have ended up enjoying an entirely different view, figuratively speaking? <br />
<br />
Then I see a literal view like this, and I am certainly reminded that life is pretty sweet from this vantage point.<br />
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There is this juxtaposition between savoring the sweetness of life and wondering about the future that causes me to feel a sense of sadness and excitement and anxiety all at once, and maybe that is why I don't crave the fresh new start that everyone else does the day after Christmas. Maybe that is why I spend the week between Christmas and New Years trying to hang on to every last moment.<br />
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Today, I spent with my family. We shopped and wandered and laughed and really just hung in that sweet spot of Family. The older I get the more I bask in these moments and seek them out whenever I can.<br />
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And that is okay. That is fine. Just fine.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-44219853255168762582019-12-27T10:30:00.000-05:002019-12-27T10:30:00.152-05:00Friday, December 27, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
This picture of O'Malley I took early this morning perfectly symbolizes life right now. Just chill and easy ... no thoughts about TO DO LISTS ... no concerns ... no worries about a messy house ... no worries. Period.<br />
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Okay, the worries about a messy house aren't true. I have been low-key stressed about my messy house. Not enough to do anything about it up to this point. Although, I think today is the day I am going to get it together and make it look like some one actually cares about cleanliness around here.<br />
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I'm not going to lie. I LOVE my breaks! Not because I look forward to doing nothing, but rather, it gives me the opportunity to sit back and recharge. I get the chance to feel human again, and boy! Have I ever needed it this go around!<br />
<br />
The sickness was pretty consistent in my room most of second quarter, but it managed to build quite a head of steam and knock a good portion of my kids out at some point during those last weeks before Christmas break. I was feeling pretty good about the fact that I had not contracted any of there yucky germs .... until that last Thursday. That last Thursday, it hit me head on, and I was a fevered, exhausted mess. I worked the last day of school because hello! Last day before Christmas break ... and classroom parties ... and a walking field trip to the Nutcracker ... and chaos and craziness. But I parked it in my Lazy Boy the rest of the weekend, and I slept and lazed and used A LOT of Kleenex.<br />
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So, yeah. I'm not worrying about ANYTHING. I might have carried this attitude a bit too far because about an hour ago I realized I have no more clean underwear. Gonna need to rectify that situation very soon.<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-81390212781896658132019-12-26T20:30:00.000-05:002019-12-27T11:19:13.876-05:00Thursday, December 26, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ahhhh....the day after Christmas! The glow and magic of the day is still lingering, and every thing in the world still seems so lovely and pure. Until your neighbor across the street unceremoniously rips down all vestiges of Christmas and goes on with life. </div>
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Is it just me? Or is there a rapid move for most folks to move on with life. Like, "Yep! Magic is over! Next!" </div>
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Maybe if they hadn't put their Christmas stuff up during Halloween ... </div>
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But speaking of magic, Maizy and O'Malley aren't sure what to think of the box from where music is floating. My sister and I did a bit of antiquing yesterday, and I found a couple of old records. In the video above, you will notice I am playing one of those records on my Victrola. They are both puzzled and a bit fearful. </div>
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<br />
This poor tree is still hanging in after being treated like a jungle gym for the last three weeks. I'm going to make it hang in a few more days ... at least through the New Year. I'd love to make it to Twelfth Night (Epiphany), but I am not sure if the kittens can manage to keep it upright until then. We shall see...Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-15414796325962757002019-12-25T22:59:00.000-05:002019-12-27T11:18:37.041-05:00Wednesday, December 25, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!<br />
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I have been sick. So, I didn't get to do all the normal Christmas things I like to do, namely attending my church's Christmas Eve service. In fact, I had almost no voice today! It wasn't above a whisper much of the day. I'm sure this thrilled my family ever so much!<br />
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It didn't matter. We still managed to have a wonderful day. This year, in particular, it seems so sweet and wonderful. Everything I got was something I love so very much. However, it was being with my family that was the sweetest part of the day for me.<br />
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The other sweet part of the season, and, let's be honest here, the most important part, is that celebration of the birth of our Savior!<br />
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The Catholic church in town does this fantastic display each Christmas. They attach Advent Candles to their fence each Advent Sunday. Then, a day or two ahead of Christmas, the Creche appears with a lone shepherd and a lamb. On Christmas Eve, Mary and Joseph are placed in the Creche, and then, on Christmas morn, the baby Jesus appears in the manager, and from afar, you can see the Wise Men making their way to the baby Jesus. Once Epiphany occurs, the Wise men will have made it all the way to the stable.<br />
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I just love how they tell the Christmas story for all of Frankfort to see. It is the best thing that has ever happened to the world, that baby's arrival!<br />
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I don't know if you have a lot or a little under your tree....or if you even have a tree. But you have a Jesus who is wanting a real relationship with you. He is waiting.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-14350846323152169962019-12-12T20:07:00.000-05:002019-12-12T20:09:07.801-05:00A Looooooong Hiatus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a while since I've been on here ... like almost a full year.<br />
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I wished I could say there was some amazing reason...something truly exotic that has caused me to press pause on my writing.<br />
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Sadly, there hasn't been. I just haven't felt like it. Period.<br />
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I wonder if all artists have these seasons? Surely that silence is part of the process, right? Because I have been hounded and dogged and nagged and cajoled about my writing, and to be quite honest, I just haven't felt like it. I haven't felt like I've had anything to say ... or that it was important enough to any body to care to read ... or that anything I had to say had relevance. I. Just. Haven't. Felt. Like. It.<br />
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Until recently ... recently, I have had a myriad of things run through my mind, which, I suppose, is a sign that it's time to get back to the job of writing.<br />
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So, I pose this question? Okay, more like a two questions....<br />
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<ul>
<li>Do you feel respected? </li>
<li>And what does that look like? </li>
</ul>
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I feel like I am a pretty keen observer of the stuff around me, and most of the time, I can read a room well. However, when it comes to respect, I feel as though I just don't know what it means to be respected any more. </div>
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Don't get me wrong. I KNOW the definition of respect. I guess what I am mulling over is the fact that I FEEL like our world is changing that definition into something that is a shell of its former self. </div>
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Does that make sense? I feel like I'm rambling. Raise your hand if you are tracking with me. </div>
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In terms of social media, respect appears to be the number of LIKES one gets as if those likes give you street cred or something. </div>
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Respect is found in the number of times someone comments on a staged photo or how many times you get your "friends" to say some glorifying comment that paints you in a positive light. It's called giving love. But really? Is it love? </div>
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If this is respect, then it seems to be an awful surface version of itself and not at all palatable, in my mind. Does no one crave anything deeper any more? </div>
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Is respect paid to the hard worker that never toots his or her own horn?? Or is respect given to those that always look for the flashiest outcome, the best result? Is it given to the person that admits failure but has learned from those errors? Or is it bestowed upon the one who is willing to "fudge the results" to paint themselves in a better light?</div>
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Is it just me? Or does it sometimes feel like we are traveling a dirt path that leads to absolutely no where? Or maybe it's just my View from the Deep End of the Pool ....</div>
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-47090422579993774422019-01-08T15:56:00.000-05:002019-01-08T15:56:07.534-05:00LET THE EXHAUSTION BEGIN!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't know what it is.<br />
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Perhaps it's psychological...or mental...or environmental....or all of the above.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is, I can sleep like a baby during my breaks. However, once school starts back again, I can't sleep through the night to save my everlasting life!<br />
<br />
I have been back to school for four days now, and y'all! I don't think I've slept through the night once! I mean, what even!?<br />
<br />
I wouldn't worry too much about it except this morning, my exhaustion threatened to upset the delicate balance of my life.<br />
<br />
How you ask?<br />
<br />
I poured creamer in my water bottle!! I mean, who does that?<br />
<br />
To make matters worse, I have become a truly OLD LADY -- every day at about 7:15 p.m, I start nodding off like an old geezer, nearly giving myself whiplash. That doesn't end until sometime after 9:30 p.m., when I drag my tired butt off to bed, only to wake up in the early morning hours by the call of nature.<br />
<br />
These late 40s! No one told me it would be like this. No one warned me. Why not?<br />
<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-50360599021267015652019-01-07T17:44:00.001-05:002019-01-07T17:44:29.694-05:00ORGANIZING MY CRAPMy sister passed a link onto me over Christmas Break. It was a link to an article about the Netflix series TIDYING UP. This series follows organizational guru Marie Kondo as she helps people get their houses whipped into organizational shape.<br />
<br />
I have needed a boost in my organizational mojo. I have hit a moment in time where walking into a room and attempting to deal with the clutter has all sorts of overwhelming feelings attached to it. In other words, I take one look and hightail it the heck out of that room.<br />
<br />
But desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I plunked down and binged watched four episodes.<br />
<br />
Now, full disclosure, Marie Kondo does some interesting things in each show. First of all, she greets each families' house and listens to it. Listen, I've been living in this house for 8 plus years. I am not introducing myself to my house. If it doesn't know me by now, it's not going to help to introduce myself to it now.<br />
<br />
She also suggests that before you give away or throw away an item, you thank it for serving you well. Yeaaaaahhhhhh, I'm not doing that either. If that makes me uncooperative, then fine. I am uncooperative.<br />
<br />
Marie suggests starting with clothes first, and she asks that everyone pull every last piece of clothing you own out of your closet, drawers, bins, and baskets, and she asks that you create a mountain on your bed.<br />
<br />
This mountain forces you to take each piece of clothing in your hands and examine it. If the piece of clothing sparks joy, you keep it. If it doesn't, you get rid of it.<br />
<br />
I figured I could do this. I also figured it would stress me out.<br />
<br />
Both proved to be true.<br />
<br />
My mountain of clothes was both overwhelming and embarrassing. I mean, why have I kept sooooo many clothes for so long????<br />
<br />
I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say, I ended up with two garbage bags full of clothes to take to consignment or Goodwill as well as two small Kroger bags.<br />
<br />
Y'all!<br />
<br />
From there, I went to TJ MAXX and dropped $30 on fridge containers to organize my refrigerator because I swear I am so over wasting money on groceries that get lost in the back of the refrigerator, never to be seen again.<br />
<br />
I am now on the warpath to get the rest of my kitchen organized. In particular, I want to get my drawers organized and my giant cabinet full of baking goods. There will be dry goods canisters purchased, and I will be organizing my life into oblivion.<br />
<br />
There will be the organization of the sock drawer ... the organization of the linen closet ... and, Lord, help me, the organization of my office.<br />
<br />
My goal is to have a tidy, neat home that I would not be embarrassed to have people come to ... a girl can hope, right!? <br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-19943795268671755672018-12-30T13:50:00.001-05:002018-12-30T13:50:07.272-05:00HAPPY NEW YEAR ... a couple of days early<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've long ago decided that New Years Resolutions are just not my jam. They do not work for me. I would make them. I would write them down. Then, I would ignore them. Every. Single. Year. A public exercise in futility. <br />
<br />
A couple of years ago, I decided, why bother attempting to make something that isn't going to happen? And then, why be arrogant enough to splash it on social media for everyone to see and scoff at because, let's be honest here, anyone who knows me well, knows I am NOT going to do any of those things I haughtily wrote down.<br />
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Never the less, I can't help, as the year rapidly draws to a close, but think about things that I might be willing to undertake in the brand new year. It is, after all, a clean slate. What is it that I could do with that clean slate?<br />
<br />
I was talking with a friend a month or so ago, and I was bemoaning to her that social media was becoming a bit of a problem for me. And it wasn't even the amount of time that I spent on social media. The problem that had arisen was the complete and utter feeling of annoyance and disgust at the drivel I saw on there regularly. I am not talking an inconvenience sort of annoyance. No. I am talking full-on, "give me something to slap them about their head and face" kind of annoyance. She asked me why I felt like what someone else posted should affect me in such a way. My answer? "Because they are self-centered, and they expect us all to acknowledge that the world revolves around them ... AND IT DOESN'T." So, why not stop looking at it, was her reply.<br />
<br />
Why not, indeed!<br />
<br />
I think the first thing I would like to be aware of in the new year is how my actions affect others ... or don't affect others and make decisions accordingly. Let me explain ...<br />
<br />
I use this venue to ruminate and cogitate and, yes, vent, but it isn't for my own glorification or edification. I am not searching for people to validate me on here. Rather, I am looking to hone my craft ... that of writing, specifically non-fiction writing as that has always been the weaker of the two writing crafts for me. A writer needs outlets for writing. This is mine. And I will be the first to admit that I've ignored this outlet (as others) for some time now. However, a goal of mine is to really up the output of writing that occurs this coming year. Whether that is looking for forums that pay for my writing or finally getting a novel finished and published or continuing to ruminate on here ... whatever it is, I need to do more of it.<br />
<br />
It also means that whatever I post on social media will continue to be something I feel like people might be interested in ... like funny anecdotes about my crazy, hum-drum life ... or a struggle that is real and hits home for many ... a short piece that resonates ... or a link to something I might have seen or something I've written on here.<br />
<br />
What you will not see is a blow-by-blow detailed account of my life. My life is my life. Not yours. What I do daily isn't something you care to know about or I care to share. Not unless it is funny, and I think someone else might find humor in it as well.<br />
<br />
Nor will you see me self-promoting or grandstanding an accomplishment. If I share something about my life it will be something that I want friends and family who live far away to know and celebrate.<br />
<br />
I will attempt not to complain ... I did that A LOT in August and September ... it was not my usual jam, and people called me out on it. Hey! We all have weak moments, but I will not let those weak moments be a crutch. Rather, I want how I travel through those weak moments (gracefully or hanging on my a thread, which ever way I swing) to be a moment where my readers could say:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Shew! I DO NOT want to do what she did! OR</li>
<li>The way she reacted to that situation should be a lesson for me. </li>
</ol>
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I think I will also attempt to set monthly goals for myself ... little things that I feel could be achievable. But once again, you are likely never to know about them or whether or not I've achieved them. Not because I am being secretive, but because, honestly, do you care? Shouldn't we all be about the business of living our lives rather than posting about living our lives (or some self-created version of life, let's be honest here)?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Which brings me to my last point ... through a long process, one thing I've discovered about myself is that above everything else, I value authenticity the most. If you cannot be authentic and honest with me, I literally drop you ... leave you behind. Okay, I'm not saying that leaving you behind is the best way to handle that situation, and I probably need to work some more on myself to make sure that I deal with folks in a better way. However, authenticity will continue to be the thing I value the most in people, which is the other reason why my presence on social media needs to be more intentional. I am sick of the lack of authenticity among people ... or the idea that by shining a beacon upon yourself, you are somehow being authentic, which is not the case at all. </div>
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So, clean slate ... cob webs brushed away ... make way for new revelations and achievements and adventures and LIFE!</div>
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Feel free to join me in being authentic, getting my nose out of my devices, undertaking a passion that you've let fall by the wayside, attempting to better yourself in some way, or just enjoy the small moments that, when put together, make a beautiful life worth living! </div>
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Happy New Year!</div>
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Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-41904362215830821462018-12-30T12:50:00.001-05:002018-12-30T12:54:07.613-05:00GOOD BYE CHRISTMAS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Today, as I was heading to church for cafe duty, I eagerly flipped on Sirius XM, knowing I was on borrowed time for my Christmas music. I will NOT decorate my house before Thanksgiving. I will NOT leave my tree up until February. I will NOT take my tree down the day after Christmas. However, I WILL listen to Christmas music just as soon as the radio programmers decide to play it. I can't help myself.<br />
<br />
So, for the last two months, roughly, I've been listening to all the traditional music on Sirius ... I've been trying to catch all my favorite Christmas movies on TV ... I've been heading to every single Christmas event I can in an attempt to soak up the spirit and magic of the season.<br />
<br />
I don't know ... maybe it's nostalgia, but I remember magic during the Christmases of my youth ... I remember anticipation and eagerness ... I remember the sights and the smells. Every year, as an adult, I attempt to capture that and savor it. That savoring part? It's difficult when you work in a job that requires you to work full steam ahead, fly through a quarter, plan-plan-plan, go from special event to special event, and beg just to hang on until Christmas Break because the kids' excitement might just send you over the edge of sanity into the precipice of insanity!<br />
<br />
I was heartbroken, when upon firing up my vehicle, I didn't hear the anticipated Christmasy notes coming from my radio. Nope. Sirius gave me four extra days to savor, and it was now time to move on ... search 2019 with eager anticipation. Only, I wasn't ready ... I never am.<br />
<br />
And it happens every year ... no matter how hard I try ... I get sad to see the magic end ... I get misty thinking that another Christmas has slipped away ... that another year has come and gone ...<br />
<br />
It's a beautiful, sunny day -- the complete opposite of a cold, winter's day (which is just fine by me, thank you very much), but I have decided that I am going to hang on to my magical, Christmasy feel in my house until Twelfth Night. That I will look to tackle packing up all the beauty of Christmas for another year next weekend ... that my heart cannot take tearing it down now. I need just a few more days to stare longingly at those twinkling, white lights ... and look at all the decorations that have come to mean so much to me. Just a few more days ...<br />
<br />
Then, I think I will be willing and able to look to the new year and let go of the magic once again.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-21089999770254620812018-12-24T23:30:00.001-05:002018-12-24T23:36:41.309-05:00THE MIRACLE OF CHRISTMASThe other day, I found myself in my pajamas in front of the TV being a complete and utter slug. I've had this never-ending cold that just keeps coming back for one more round. It has left me exhausted ... the sort of exhausted that requires so much work just putting one foot in front of the other. So, there I was, a slug on my sofa, flipping channels on my TV until even that took too much work . So, I landed on some TV movie about the birth of Christ.<br />
<br />
Gonna be honest here. I don't usually watch such things. I find them cheesy and theologically incorrect. But I was being a slug. Have I mentioned that? And for whatever reason, I got sucked into it.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was all the actors (all of whom appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent) or perhaps it the setting (looked like they shot the movie on location), but about 30 minutes into the movie I felt this sudden, overwhelming feeling or burden or something ... it occurred to me in such a thick, heavy way just how miraculous this first Christmas was.<br />
<br />
I mean, yes, Jesus' birth WAS a miracle. This fact has not escaped me. I've heard it my entire life. But the magnitude of the miracle ... the realization was overwhelming!<br />
<br />
Let's face it, during the time of His birth, Romans were in power. Lots of stuff have been written about the Romans, but one thing I think we can all agree upon is that they were into conquering and ruling the whole world, which likely meant a certain degree of brutality. So, political climates being what they are, this climate wasn't necessarily pleasant, shall we say.<br />
<br />
Now, if you were a Jew, I can't imagine that this time in history was a fun one. I imagine that Jews were faced with much discrimination due to their religious faith, apart from the fact that they were deemed as the chosen ones of God.<br />
<br />
On top of that, God chose a young virgin who just so happened to be a Jew to carry His son. And here's the thing, He sends an angel to this girl, Mary, to fill her in on all the details. Listen, carrying a child before marriage was tantamount to one of the seven deadly sins, I've got to assume. In this particular film, it was grounds for stoning. I am not sure of the validity of the stoning, but even still, Mary had to have known how this was going to affect her social standing and that of her family's. So, she gets a visit from an angel, who gives her the low down on the next nine months, and instead of throwing an unholy fit, which, I must admit, I might have, Mary accepts the task ... just like that.<br />
<br />
Mary, of course, was betrothed to Joseph, a carpenter, and I am wondering if Joseph flipped his crap when he found out. I mean, who wouldn't, right? But Joseph's a stand up dude, we find out, mainly because when he finds out Mary is pregnant and is all, "DUDE! That ain't my kid!" rather than public ridicule, he decides to divorce her on the down low because he doesn't want to further run her name through the mud.<br />
<br />
Remember, Mary's little "situation" flies in the face of every thing that is held sacred in the Jewish world of marriage.<br />
<br />
This is where things get interesting because an angel comes to Joseph too. The angel lays it all out for Joseph ... how Mary is carrying the Messiah, and He will be the Savior of the world and Joseph and Mary get the honor and privilege of raising Him and somehow, in the midst of that message, Joseph is all, "Okay, I will marry Mary and will raise this kid as my own." Just like that.<br />
<br />
Now, if that weren't miraculous enough, Caesar Augustus orders everyone to their homelands so they can register to be taxed. That means, Joseph has to pack up his now pretty pregnant wife, and haul butt across the desert to Bethlehem. I get the impression that everybody and their brother is traveling for this Roman decree. Thus the reason that when Mary goes into labor in Bethlehem, there isn't any room for them anywhere. So, they've got to cop a squat in a barn, essentially, which is where Mary gives birth.<br />
<br />
Christ's birth had been prophesied for centuries! He was the Savior, Emmanuel, Prince of Peace, Lord of Lords....this kid was going to be the Royalest of the Royals. People had spent centuries imagining how He would come. I'm guessing no one landed on being born in a barn amongst livestock and their poop. I mean, Mary had to lay the kid in a manager with hay. It doesn't get much lowlier than that. So, the Royalest of the Royals was born in a barn, surrounded by animals and hay and no one rolled out one inch of red carpet. No one called the paparazzi. No one made a royal decree.<br />
<br />
Okay, I might not have been completely accurate. An announcement was made, but the invitation to go and visit this new baby was given to the lowliest of lows in the society at that time. Shepherds. Ewww, these guys lived a lonely existence out among some of the dumbest animals that walk the Earth, and yet, God saw fit to send a host of angels to the shepherds that night and announce the Savior's birth.<br />
<br />
And they came. They came to see the Christ child and to worship at his tiny bed filled with hay. And I imagine they were in awe of being some of the first and most honored guests to lay eyes on the Messiah. I can't even imagine.<br />
<br />
About a week later, some fancier guests showed up. Wise men or astrologers from the East. They'd been studying this star and decided to follow it, knowing something important was tied to it. These guys came with fancy pants gifts: Frankincense, gold, and Myrrh. Now, I'm not really sure what Joseph and Mary did with all that stuff. I mean, it would seem more appropriate to bring a package of diapers, but these men also knew that they were laying eyes upon someone special. This child was no ordinary child. He was the Son of God born of flesh.<br />
<br />
As I sit here at my computer, just hours away from the dawning of Christmas morning, I can look out my window and see the nativity scene my neighbor has out on his front lawn. It's festooned in lights, and it looks so pretty in the quiet of the night. And it is so easy, sitting here in my warm house, cozy in my fuzzy pajamas, to sanitize that night ... to soften it up just a bit...to make it fit some sort of romanticized version of a little baby coming to Earth.<br />
<br />
Truth be told, the months leading up to Jesus' birth were gritty and hard, and Mary and Joseph were forced to navigate some pretty heavy, weighty waters. He was born to be the Savior to all ... not a select few, and God perfectly orchestrated the coming of this Messiah to show in living color that He was, indeed, the Lord of Lords and the King of Kings.<br />
<br />
It was a miraculous miracle, redundancy aside, and I, for one, will never look at it in the same way again.<br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-44325848766929464212018-06-28T23:42:00.001-04:002018-06-28T23:42:33.333-04:00I MIGHT BE PART OF AN EPIDEMICThere is so much on Facebook that is complete and utter crap.<br />
<br />
And I'm not even talking about the fake news phenomenon -- unless you count the fake news that your Facebook friends put on posts that make you cringe, blush, and say out loud in Starbucks, "For reals!? You didn't just post that!?!"<br />
<br />
My friends and I have started making a game out of the stuff posted on Facebook. <br />
<br />I really need to stop reading Facebook, because that game is not nice. Not at all. Let me just leave it at that.<br />
<br />
But this morning, I found myself, once again, creeping on Facebook, seeing what every one had done since last I checked ... playing my game again, (it just isn't nice), when I ran across this article.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://curiousmindmagazine.com/it-has-become-epidemic-seeing-so-many-smart-and-attractive-women-being-single/">It Has Become Epidemic Seeing So Many Smart and Attractive Women Being Single</a><br />
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Not going to lie. This title piqued my interest ... and not just because the title seems horribly mangled some how.<br />
<br />
No, I think what caused me to pause on the link was that word EPIDEMIC.<br />
<br />
I have long been single. Not by choice. In my mind's eye, this isn't how I had planned things. I will be honest (and I have been before on this blog) that I never saw myself as a mother. However, I ALWAYS saw myself as a wife. There was never a question on this point. He would be intelligent, successful in whatever it was that he chose to do, and he would share my love of seeing the world ... or at least, our little world here in the US.<br />
<br />
So, this being 46 years old and still single? It's a shock to my old life plan.<br />
<br />
Now whether they mean to or not, people say the absolute ballsiest things. I mean, I honestly don't know where folks get their particular brand of entitlement, but some of the people closest to me have verbalized the following thoughts:<br />
<br />
<i>"Not sure where you went wrong!"</i><br />
<i>"I'm so very puzzled why you are still so single."</i><br />
<i>"Why is it that you are so afraid of settling down?"</i><br />
<i>"What do you say to men that turn them off?"</i><br />
<i>"What is that you do? I mean, you have to be doing something wrong?"</i><br />
<i>"Your face is so pretty..."</i><br />
<i>"But that sense of humor is such a great attribute."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The mind reels that a person wouldn't some how come out of such questioning unscathed. And, in fact, I have pondered often what it is that makes me unmarketable in the marriage game. Heck! At this point, in the dating game. I mean, there HAS to be something wrong with me. These people have all intimated that.<br />
<br />
So, all of that to say, ummm, yeah! Of course, I clicked on the link!<br />
<br />
I won't regurgitate the article. You can click on the link yourself and read it. However, I was fascinated -- and slightly puzzled -- and highly troubled -- by two items from this article, which is the whole purpose of this rambling missive in the first place.<br />
<br />
1.) More and more smart, beautiful girls are single, which is equating to something of an epidemic.<br />
2.) A lot of guys are intimidated by smart, beautiful women.<br />
<br />
Oooooookay, Imma preface this by saying, I am not saying I am beautiful. Girl, please. I am commandeering the Hot Mess Express, and I swear, if this humidity could jack this head of hair up any further, we'd seriously be able to mop floors with it! We won't even discuss my five-minute face, which, for all intents and purposes, is where I attempt to dab make-up in the general area of my face and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
No. What I want to zero in on first is this notion of singlehood as an epidemic. Now, I don't know about you, but when I hear or see the word EPIDEMIC, my mind immediately sees/hears DISEASE. Again, I'm not sure where you fall on that whole context argument, but disease, to me, insinuates there is something terribly wrong ... possibly with no cure in sight.<br />
<br />
This doesn't help this single girl's outlook on her single world, if everyone is viewing my singledom as terminal ... epidemic-like. I mean, does the CDC have a department for this situation?<br />
<br />
The second thing, and the most disturbing, is that the author of the article says that most men are intimidated by smart women. Now, I might laugh this off as all sorts of silliness, if I had not had a married male friend tell me, "The problem is that you are just too smart. Guys are super intimidated by people like you."<br />
<br />
And then he asked me if it was possible to "dumb it down some."<br />
<br />
For reals?!? Dumb it down? What does that even mean? Do I say LIKE with a greater degree of frequency? Do I flip my hair and giggle a lot? <br />
<br />
I don't even know how to dumb it down.<br />
<br />
I brought this up with a good friend of mine earlier this evening over dinner. I said, "All this time I thought it was because I was fat [and that could still be the issue these days], but I am beginning to think that this terminal singlehood that I apparently suffer from is terminal because I am just too smart for my own good."<br />
<br />
Her conclusion? Yep. You're probably correct in your assessment.<br />
<br />
So, here we are ... 2018 ... in a time where we are supposed to be super enlightened about all sorts of things, as well, as super, hyper aware of feminist thought, and I am, as an intelligent woman, being penalized for actually having a brain and using it.<br />
<br />
Hang on. I need to double check my calendar one more time.<br />
<br />
Yep, 2018. That's what it says.<br />
<br />
Y'all! I'm not sure whether to be relieved that at least I can diagnose my problem ...<br />
OR<br />
Be depressed that in all the years of feminist thought and study, we are still trying to make women some how less than they are.<br />
<br />And everyone seems okay with this ... clearly! Because people are now all, "Ooooooh! Wait! I think this may be an epidemic!"<br />
<br />
And I'm just sitting here shaking my head because, at some point, words cease to be useful in this situation. There just aren't words to accurately describe my utter bewilderment at this finding.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-16324012621719414652018-06-25T17:12:00.001-04:002018-06-25T17:12:43.840-04:00STRUGGLING TO LET GO OF THE STRUGGLERainy days are hard for me. I need the sun.<br />
<br />
The dreariness wears on my soul ...<br />
<br />
I feed off the sun and the blue skies. I need that energy.<br />
<br />
The grayness saps my energy. It causes me to be introspective. Where there is no light, I start shedding light on the darkest parts of me ... where the real struggle resides.<br />
<br />
And I find myself asking myself this question:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why is it such a struggle letting go of what I struggle with the most? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I do not like struggle. It causes strife, and I do not like strife. And yet, despite my displeasure for such things, I find myself immersed in the struggle, and I feel powerless to stop it.<br />
<br />
What is it deep within my soul that won''t let me just let the struggle go? Why must I cling to it so? What causes me to have such a stronghold on it when it gives me nothing but emotional pain? Is it because I've struggled so long that letting it go means I'm letting a part of myself go? Surely not! I mean, I despise the struggle.<br />
<br />
I look around at people that mill about this world, and I find myself thinking, "they don't struggle -- or maybe they do ... then how do they let go of the struggle?"<br />
<br />
What makes my character one that holds to the struggle and feed off it? Is it impossible to quit it?<br />
<br />
I struggle with letting go of the struggle. Do you? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-63080618063497754572018-06-22T20:13:00.002-04:002018-06-22T20:13:35.692-04:00HOW DID I GET THIS OLD?Y'all, I feel so old.<br />
<br />
Today, I, with the help of my parents, stripped wallpaper. Butt ugly plaid wallpaper.<br />
<br />
Now, absolutely every thing on me hurts. I mean EVERYTHING. I'm not sure how stripping wallpaper causes my body to revolt against me. It's seriously staging a coupe' at this very moment.<br />
<br />
When did I get this old?<br />
<br />
How did I get this old?<br />
<br />
Back when I was younger, I don't remember my back aching when I was bent over for more than five minutes.<br />
<br />
Furthermore, I don't recall my feet hurting after standing for a long period of time.<br />
<br />
And my hands ... they are weak from use ... my neck ... y'all ... that never happened when I was younger.<br />
<br />
When did all this nonsense happen?<br />
<br />
There isn't enough ibuprofen in the world ... nor enough heating pads ... or tubes of Ben-Gay ...<br />
<br />
My mind says that I am 25 years old, with a 25 year old body that can take just about anything I throw at it.<br />
<br />
My body, however, tells me something totally different. I am 46, and I will ache after using muscles that I don't normally use. My back will ache -- my shoulders will ache -- my neck will ache -- oh, and by the way, I'm going to find more crow's feet around my eyes, and five more gray hairs, just for kicks and giggles. .<br />
<br />
I've heard it said that aging isn't for sissies, and whomever said it, they weren't just whistling Dixie! Sadly, I fear I might just be a sissy ...Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-77201687663869030202018-06-21T10:58:00.000-04:002018-06-21T10:58:02.330-04:00ESCAPING<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClUDn1eF8gHZ9MBIzRSUg1PhBSeoTFff4mXsrGdRp9N6yl8MU9KkvI6zDArq1S-WR6zsCW9Rg05DCOFu3tzvu5sgqzCmDFy7LiFGqvow90KfmzSyu079F_fz0aK4UdJ2rT9dr/s1600/escape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClUDn1eF8gHZ9MBIzRSUg1PhBSeoTFff4mXsrGdRp9N6yl8MU9KkvI6zDArq1S-WR6zsCW9Rg05DCOFu3tzvu5sgqzCmDFy7LiFGqvow90KfmzSyu079F_fz0aK4UdJ2rT9dr/s400/escape.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
This photograph appeals to me on so many levels.<br />
<br />
First, as a child, I've always wanted a tree house. I poured over tree house plans that my Dad had picked up somewhere a long the way, and I dreamt of having an escape for my childhood imagination.<br />
<br />However, this also appeals to my adult sensibilities -- the ones that tell me that in order to truly turn it off, I need to escape somewhere.<br />
<br />
What is it that I need to turn off? My teacher brain. That part of my brain that tells me that I have a myriad of things to do, and they must all be done as soon as is humanly possible.<br />
<br />
I am not sure when the last time was that I truly turned my brain off.<br />
<br />
I've just been sitting here staring off into the vacuous space that is my living room and beyond ... nope, I can't think of the last time I've truly just said, "I'm not going to think about school."<br />
<br />
Day trips? Nope. The last few I've been on, I've thought about picking this or that up for my classroom!<br />
<br />
Time spent here at home? Nope. I've looked at books I've brought home from school ... and articles I need to read ... teacher blog posts that I follow (and am woefully behind on) ... professional reading that will keep me busy from now until the end of time ...<br />
<br />
Nope. There isn't any turning it off on the horizon.<br />
<br />
What I need ... what I crave is a place like this ... far, far away, where I can park it with my laptop or a pile of books, and just lose myself in a world not of my making.<br />
<br />
Anyone else feeling the same way right now?Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-40642302736826220952018-06-19T19:04:00.000-04:002018-06-19T19:04:53.481-04:00IN MY OWN HEAD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZsAWLquiI4_S1gwckS3eKerVgKQmvFd8v0XNmD1vQBYlLd3m6RmBaiogrMCMPipAxBeA6AoszJtGbJVf01zUXl8l5Py0qTLfWZrUOjDjWTM2lEOI_yEpfCMLDHzBpeXYyEfK/s1600/head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="498" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZsAWLquiI4_S1gwckS3eKerVgKQmvFd8v0XNmD1vQBYlLd3m6RmBaiogrMCMPipAxBeA6AoszJtGbJVf01zUXl8l5Py0qTLfWZrUOjDjWTM2lEOI_yEpfCMLDHzBpeXYyEfK/s320/head.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Raise your hand if you finish a book series (or just a book) and want to know what happens next?<br />
<br />
Any one?<br />
<br />
Do you binge watch a series on Amazon Prime or Netflix and then "live with the characters in your head" for a while because they are all too good to let go?<br />
<br />
No one?<br />
<br />
I'm the only one?<br />
<br />
I am sealing my fate in the WEIRDO category, aren't I?<br />
<br />
I just finished a series I'd watched two thirds of the way through a million years ago.<br />
<br />
Okay, so not a million years ago, but it seems that way sometimes. I mean, who is this old woman staring back at me in the mirror any way????<br />
<br />
So, I finished this old TV series (on DVD, no less!), and it was a period piece of sorts, and I cannot stop my head from working out the "what's next" scenarios. I have been living with these characters for weeks now, and, now that I've completed the series, I am having a hard time letting them all go because I want to know what happens to them all. I want them all to be okay ... and happy ... and fulfilled.<br />
<br />
And so I create stories in my head of their lives past the series.<br />
<br />
I sound like I need to be institutionalized ... I mean, who does that!?!?!?<br />
<br />
It's okay. I can admit it. It's weird.<br />
<br />
However! I have been reassured as of late that this is all very normal, so there! Writers often create worlds in their minds that quite possibly will find their way onto paper.<br />
<br />
But the stories start in their heads.<br />
<br />
Y'all, I have created entire worlds in my head. And this just didn't happen. I've been doing it since I was a very young child.<br />
<br />
Worlds to solve the problems that in my reality can not seem to be solved. I mean, if the world would just listen to what I have going on in my head!<br />
<br />
There are worlds to escape from stupid people. Y'all, I have such an intolerance for stupid people. I just cannot.<br />
<br />
I have crafted worlds for escape ...<br />
<br />
Worlds where people don't look at the color of your skin or the weight on your body or the age of your life ...<br />
<br />
Escapism? Probably.<br />
<br />
But I'll tell ya one thing and that ain't two, I can control what happens in the worlds in my head. And control is the name of the game. I fight for it constantly. And that can be both a good fight as well as a bad one.<br />
<br />
I can control what the characters say and how they behave and what they think and how they act.<br />
<br />
So, it's sorta like T<u>he Truman Show</u> in my mind...and maybe some day on paper ...<br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12047196.post-59233821367475475722018-06-01T17:51:00.000-04:002018-06-01T17:51:50.157-04:00I HAVE BEEN LAZYI have received a lot of compliments on my hair today.<br />
<br />
"It looks so nice."<br />
<br />
"Did you get it cut recently?"<br />
<br />
"Are you doing something different?"<br />
<br />
Here's the deal. I styled it. I actually took the time to style it ... with the actual APPROPRIATE styling product. That's what I've been doing differently.<br />
<br />
I had gotten to the point in my life where I was air drying my hair and hoping for the best. Problem was, air drying doesn't necessarily equate to A STYLE. In my case, what it resulted in was a giant mass of Hot Mess on the top of my head.<br />
<br />
What point in my life am I referring? The lazy point. I was at the lazy point in my life. The "I'd Rather Look Like a HoBo than Deal" point in my life.<br />
<br />
My laziness has caused me to resort to super short. Only, that really didn't work well for me this go around. My face has gotten rounder ... because I've gotten rounder. 😆<br />
<br />
My laziness has caused me to rely on my 80s "expertise" and take a pile on the mousse-ish products, scrunch, and go approach. I was telling everybody I was going for the messy look. Yeah, all that did was create some build-up, made it look crunchy, and appeared as though something fought in my hair during the night while I slept.<br />
<br />
I finally decided I would shake my morning routine up a bit so that I would actually have enough time to do something with it. And possibly do something with my face as well.<br />
<br />
What do you know? Apparently, when one blocks out a certain amount of time for self grooming, one appears somewhat put together in the mornings. Imagine that!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08453832649615264545noreply@blogger.com0