I just noticed that I'm writing 5-10 page snippets from different parts of my character's existence. Almost like snapshots from her life. I know there are major continuity errors that will have to be fixed when all the pieces of the puzzle are put together, but I'm enjoying getting to know her this way. How she reacts in certain situations, how she treats different people, how she speaks....her personaltiy is solidifying before my eyes :-) Or, in my words :-)
I wonder how other authors get to know their characters.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Just got really into a part of a story I'm working on and I realized I have to go back and change everything!!! Okay that's an exaggeration.
The time period is three thousand years ago and I'm writing about a cell she's in and the guard drags her in and out. And I'm trying to decide how she's being kept in there..what action will he take to keep her in there? Did they have iron bars and keys and locks? Doubtful. So I say screw it and keep writing.
Only to realize later that the reason it's been bothering me, is probably because cells back then would have been holes in the ground. Grrr....
Rewriting: the best part of writing :-)
The time period is three thousand years ago and I'm writing about a cell she's in and the guard drags her in and out. And I'm trying to decide how she's being kept in there..what action will he take to keep her in there? Did they have iron bars and keys and locks? Doubtful. So I say screw it and keep writing.
Only to realize later that the reason it's been bothering me, is probably because cells back then would have been holes in the ground. Grrr....
Rewriting: the best part of writing :-)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Musings
It's not the noise.
The incessant noise.
The screams.
It's not the shrieks that keep me awake at night. Those are the sounds of life- of the fight. A tortured fight, true, but a fight. I can hear their gasps, their cries, their moans of pain. But I know when they return to their cells at night, they are thankful to be alive.
It's the silence that scares me. It's the silence that wakes me. It's the silence that pounds in my ears.
The fight is over.
The silence means death has won.
The incessant noise.
The screams.
It's not the shrieks that keep me awake at night. Those are the sounds of life- of the fight. A tortured fight, true, but a fight. I can hear their gasps, their cries, their moans of pain. But I know when they return to their cells at night, they are thankful to be alive.
It's the silence that scares me. It's the silence that wakes me. It's the silence that pounds in my ears.
The fight is over.
The silence means death has won.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
No responsibility?
I was listening to Eminem's interview on 60 Minutes the other day and I found some of his answers slightly ironic.
Anderson Cooper asked him what his response was to parental groups who complain about the effect his lyrics have on children and young adults. Eminem's response was that they need to parent. Sounds great right? But here's what pisses me off.
Can Eminem say whatever he wants? YES. No doubt about it. This is America. I even enjoy his music.
Do some of the parents who complain need to monitor their children more carefully? Yes.
Have rap artists destroyed America's moral fiber? No. Let's not be dramatic :-)
But no responsibility? Just, "Parents need to parent."
I don't buy it.
As a rap artist, I imagine words are your bread and butter. They are your arsenal. You live and breathe them. You manipulate them to create. It's your primary means of expression. Are they powerful? To a rap artist? You bet. Otherwise I'm very confused.
So, I would imagine that rap artists have to admit that their lyrics affect some people, right? That's what they're trying to accomplish. Does Eminem want you to kill your wife and bring your daughter along while you drop her body in the ocean?* I don't think so. But can his only answer be, "Parent."?
I know what you're thinking. Stephanie, it's not Eminem's problem if someone chooses to do that. Okay. I hear you.
So my next issue was, here you have someone whose dad left when he was 6 months old and a mother, he's made very clear in his music, wasn't much of a mother. So when he says parent....what about the kids like you Eminem? Who have no moral guidance? The kids who live on the streets, have parents addicted to drugs, no parents, or parents working 2-3 jobs who can't be around? What about the kids growing up like you did? You're telling me, that when they hear you use the word fag and decide to use it themselves, and they don't have a mom that's going to slap them on the back of the head or explain why that's not okay, that you have NO responsibility?
I don't know about that.
I guess it just bothers me that rappers claim NO responsibility. That there are teenagers growing up now that treat women like objects and whores and think it's okay to call gay people fags or beat them up. That there are girls who think it's okay to be cheated on and treated like dirt. That they think they can do drugs and go to jail and that's okay because one day they might make millions when they sell their album.
Again, has rap destroyed our morality? No. I enjoy rap music and I'm fine. (I think :-))
But I wish they would admit that they might be effecting a few kids out there. Because we know they are. They're effecting a whole culture.
And just because that's the way it's always been, why can't you change it?
Just because we can, does that mean we should?
On a closing note Eminem also said, in response to Anderson Cooper's question about the word fag, that the word was thrown around all the time when he was growing up. That it's a part of "that culture." Okay Eminem, you're 38. You know the word is derogatory and hateful. If you're going to use it, own up to what it is. Don't act like it's not a big deal.
You of all people know how powerful words can be.
* 97 Bonnie and Clyde, Eminem
Anderson Cooper asked him what his response was to parental groups who complain about the effect his lyrics have on children and young adults. Eminem's response was that they need to parent. Sounds great right? But here's what pisses me off.
Can Eminem say whatever he wants? YES. No doubt about it. This is America. I even enjoy his music.
Do some of the parents who complain need to monitor their children more carefully? Yes.
Have rap artists destroyed America's moral fiber? No. Let's not be dramatic :-)
But no responsibility? Just, "Parents need to parent."
I don't buy it.
As a rap artist, I imagine words are your bread and butter. They are your arsenal. You live and breathe them. You manipulate them to create. It's your primary means of expression. Are they powerful? To a rap artist? You bet. Otherwise I'm very confused.
So, I would imagine that rap artists have to admit that their lyrics affect some people, right? That's what they're trying to accomplish. Does Eminem want you to kill your wife and bring your daughter along while you drop her body in the ocean?* I don't think so. But can his only answer be, "Parent."?
I know what you're thinking. Stephanie, it's not Eminem's problem if someone chooses to do that. Okay. I hear you.
So my next issue was, here you have someone whose dad left when he was 6 months old and a mother, he's made very clear in his music, wasn't much of a mother. So when he says parent....what about the kids like you Eminem? Who have no moral guidance? The kids who live on the streets, have parents addicted to drugs, no parents, or parents working 2-3 jobs who can't be around? What about the kids growing up like you did? You're telling me, that when they hear you use the word fag and decide to use it themselves, and they don't have a mom that's going to slap them on the back of the head or explain why that's not okay, that you have NO responsibility?
I don't know about that.
I guess it just bothers me that rappers claim NO responsibility. That there are teenagers growing up now that treat women like objects and whores and think it's okay to call gay people fags or beat them up. That there are girls who think it's okay to be cheated on and treated like dirt. That they think they can do drugs and go to jail and that's okay because one day they might make millions when they sell their album.
Again, has rap destroyed our morality? No. I enjoy rap music and I'm fine. (I think :-))
But I wish they would admit that they might be effecting a few kids out there. Because we know they are. They're effecting a whole culture.
And just because that's the way it's always been, why can't you change it?
Just because we can, does that mean we should?
On a closing note Eminem also said, in response to Anderson Cooper's question about the word fag, that the word was thrown around all the time when he was growing up. That it's a part of "that culture." Okay Eminem, you're 38. You know the word is derogatory and hateful. If you're going to use it, own up to what it is. Don't act like it's not a big deal.
You of all people know how powerful words can be.
* 97 Bonnie and Clyde, Eminem
Friday, October 15, 2010
Really Quick
I just thought of this, and it made me laugh again, so I figured I would share.
I have a student this year named Ben, short for Benjamin. One of those kids you get later in the year and you're like, oh crap. Is he going to be a hellion? Is he going to mess up my whole class? If you're a teacher, you know what I'm talking about :-)
So anyway, Ben turned out to be awesome :-) I love his personality and he actually pays attention when I teach (BONUS!).
I was doing FAIR testing, dreaded standardized testing that is far from FAIR, and it was Ben's turn. So he read me the word list that placed him in story to read about ground beetles ( an insect that I now know way more about than I would I ever need to). So Ben is reading about ground beetles and how they use this stinky, hot liquid to frighten enemies by squirting it at them. We both giggled on the word "stinky" (Hello! That's why I teach second grade) but this is a timed test, so I prompted him with a wave of my hand to keep reading.
He comes to the part where they shoot the stinky, hot liquid out of their body, but instead of body, Ben says, "booty."
He stops reading, and the quite hallway that I was testing in suddenly became quieter. His cheeks got so red and he quickly tried to correct himself, only to say it again, at which point I started cracking up. Once I started laughing he relaxed and started smiling.
"It's body," I corrected him, while wiping the tears out of my eyes. I wanted to say that the booty is probably exactly where the liquid exits the body, but of course I didn't :-)
So the poor kid probably lost 10-15 precious seconds on his time for fluency, but hey, that will just make his winter score look even better ;-)
I have a student this year named Ben, short for Benjamin. One of those kids you get later in the year and you're like, oh crap. Is he going to be a hellion? Is he going to mess up my whole class? If you're a teacher, you know what I'm talking about :-)
So anyway, Ben turned out to be awesome :-) I love his personality and he actually pays attention when I teach (BONUS!).
I was doing FAIR testing, dreaded standardized testing that is far from FAIR, and it was Ben's turn. So he read me the word list that placed him in story to read about ground beetles ( an insect that I now know way more about than I would I ever need to). So Ben is reading about ground beetles and how they use this stinky, hot liquid to frighten enemies by squirting it at them. We both giggled on the word "stinky" (Hello! That's why I teach second grade) but this is a timed test, so I prompted him with a wave of my hand to keep reading.
He comes to the part where they shoot the stinky, hot liquid out of their body, but instead of body, Ben says, "booty."
He stops reading, and the quite hallway that I was testing in suddenly became quieter. His cheeks got so red and he quickly tried to correct himself, only to say it again, at which point I started cracking up. Once I started laughing he relaxed and started smiling.
"It's body," I corrected him, while wiping the tears out of my eyes. I wanted to say that the booty is probably exactly where the liquid exits the body, but of course I didn't :-)
So the poor kid probably lost 10-15 precious seconds on his time for fluency, but hey, that will just make his winter score look even better ;-)
Confused
Well, like most of the country, world, universe probably, I'm very stressed. As I sit here typing I have a pain in my chest right where my heart is; like a tightness, and it's weighing heavily on my mind. I feel when I come home after working with children all day I am mentally drained and exhausted- granted, that is normal for a teacher. And it's a good exhaustion: I CHANGED A LIFE TODAY exhaustion. This pain in my chest, the tightness in my shoulders and neck, the random crying, and gaining weight, however, are not normal. That "gift" comes from the "powers that be." The "I've never been a teacher, so I will tell them how to do their jobs" people. Pains in my ever-growing ass.
Anyway, I feel less and less like writing or immersing myself in research for writing. I constantly find myself questioning- well, you had some middle and high school teachers who loved your work, but does that mean you want to be a writer? Does that mean I can write? If I want to write, why am I not writing? (present typing excluded :-)) Which, as you can imagine, leads to more stress on my poor little heart and ENORMOUS brain....just kidding ;-)
I think my first action should be to stop telling people I want to write *looks at the title of her blog and sighs* I think I feel there is an expectation...
And I need to start showing people what I write. I'm so scared of reactions. I will not post my current blogs on Facebook. I'm too scared.
Even as I type my blog, I find myself editing. I love editing my own writing and my children's writing. Finding ways to make it "better." Maybe that's what I want to do....
Can you tell by the randomness of this blog that I'm confused????
Oh well.
Who isn't?
Anyway, I feel less and less like writing or immersing myself in research for writing. I constantly find myself questioning- well, you had some middle and high school teachers who loved your work, but does that mean you want to be a writer? Does that mean I can write? If I want to write, why am I not writing? (present typing excluded :-)) Which, as you can imagine, leads to more stress on my poor little heart and ENORMOUS brain....just kidding ;-)
I think my first action should be to stop telling people I want to write *looks at the title of her blog and sighs* I think I feel there is an expectation...
And I need to start showing people what I write. I'm so scared of reactions. I will not post my current blogs on Facebook. I'm too scared.
Even as I type my blog, I find myself editing. I love editing my own writing and my children's writing. Finding ways to make it "better." Maybe that's what I want to do....
Can you tell by the randomness of this blog that I'm confused????
Oh well.
Who isn't?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Judge Not, Lest...
It's easy to judge based on a moment...but what about all the moments you don't see???
Friday, September 10, 2010
Terrified
My heart is breaking. My Muslim brothers and sisters, I know it was not you. I know you didn't fly those planes. I know you're an American. I know that the community center will be open to people of all colors and creeds. I know that freedom, especially religious freedom, is what this glorious country was founded upon. I don't know why we're forgetting. I'm so sorry we're forgetting.
I know that terrorists flew those planes. I know that extremists have made it so hard for you. You, who would befriend me. You, who would sing with me. You, who believe in America the way I do.
I'm so sorry.
Please don't give up on us. I know they can't see it now, but they will. That they are allowing the terrorists to win. That they are allowing themselves to be terrified. That they are allowing themselves to be changed- to forget what it means to be American.
I would gladly hold your hand. I would gladly sing with you. I am proud that you are my American brothers and sisters. And I know that tomorrow, you will grieve like I do. For our brothers and sisters who perished at the hands of evil.
I know it was not you.
I know that terrorists flew those planes. I know that extremists have made it so hard for you. You, who would befriend me. You, who would sing with me. You, who believe in America the way I do.
I'm so sorry.
Please don't give up on us. I know they can't see it now, but they will. That they are allowing the terrorists to win. That they are allowing themselves to be terrified. That they are allowing themselves to be changed- to forget what it means to be American.
I would gladly hold your hand. I would gladly sing with you. I am proud that you are my American brothers and sisters. And I know that tomorrow, you will grieve like I do. For our brothers and sisters who perished at the hands of evil.
I know it was not you.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Considering Myself Wisdomess
Words are words because they have meaning. Do not doubt your ability to affect others with your words, AND do not judge yourself too harshly for the affect words have on you.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Things that make you go hmmm.....
I was watching The View this morning, :-), and Clay Aiken was their guest co-host. He said something that really made me think, rare for me :-) Evidently they've sent out a survey to people who serve in the military to ask questions about how they would feel about Don't Ask, Don't Tell being repealed. Of course, they went back and forth, but eventually Clay Aiken said something to the effect of, if you had sent out a survey in the 60's to white students asking them if black students should be able to attend their schools (wow, "their" schools) unfortunately the majority probably would have said no. BUT that doesn't make it right. Just because the majority feels a certain way, doesn't mean it's just.
I am not in the military, which I used to think meant I was not entitled to an opinion on this. But would I have stood by and let segregation continue? Or would I have joined the fight to end it? I hope the latter.
And so I say, believing that someone's sexual orientation would effect their ability to serve in the military as much as the color of their skin, that I stand alongside those who feel it should be repealed. Revealing or not revealing your sexual orientation should be your choice. And your ability to serve in the military should be based on just that, your ability.
I am not in the military, which I used to think meant I was not entitled to an opinion on this. But would I have stood by and let segregation continue? Or would I have joined the fight to end it? I hope the latter.
And so I say, believing that someone's sexual orientation would effect their ability to serve in the military as much as the color of their skin, that I stand alongside those who feel it should be repealed. Revealing or not revealing your sexual orientation should be your choice. And your ability to serve in the military should be based on just that, your ability.
Monday, July 12, 2010
To first or to third...that is my current question
So I've had this character in my head for a long time now, and I've always thought of her story from first-person narrative. Naturally, when I begin to write about her, I and we and all the other first-person pronouns come out. But lately when I'm taking random notes or writing a part of her story, third-person has begun to come out. I'm very confused and not sure where I want to take it.
I like the idea that we can hear her thoughts and feelings and opinions. This is all about her and her discoveries and her history. The story is meaningless without her; the story is her. She would be first-person major :-) Meaning she is the main character.
Perhaps I could switch between first and third, if there are scenes I want the reader to know about, but she does not yet or never will...
Hmmm....it's just frustrating because I feel like I should make the decision before I write more, but I feel like I won't know for sure until I write more. I believe that's a catch-22 :-)
I guess I'll just keep writing as it comes and it may be something I have to piece together in the editing process.
I like the idea that we can hear her thoughts and feelings and opinions. This is all about her and her discoveries and her history. The story is meaningless without her; the story is her. She would be first-person major :-) Meaning she is the main character.
Perhaps I could switch between first and third, if there are scenes I want the reader to know about, but she does not yet or never will...
Hmmm....it's just frustrating because I feel like I should make the decision before I write more, but I feel like I won't know for sure until I write more. I believe that's a catch-22 :-)
I guess I'll just keep writing as it comes and it may be something I have to piece together in the editing process.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Love
How can I contain this? How do I keep my chest from breaking open? The pressure, the overwhelming pressure...ironically I feel it will end me. But I know it won't. I know I can handle this. I think I can handle this...
How can the pressure still be building? It's reaching up to my eyes where the tears begin to pour out. It's reaching down into my gut. Pulling at every part of me. My soul. You are altering me completely.
How can I still be breathing? You are filling my heart so completely. There can't be enough room for this. Your face is filling my eyes...your beautiful face. Your angel blue eyes. Just when I think I can take no more I see your love for me in your eyes. I laugh. Pure joy.
The laughter frees my chest. I breathe deeply and throw my arms around your neck.
How can I be so lucky?
I don't care.
You are mine forever.
I will love you longer than forever.
*Words cannot convey my love for my husband :-)*
How can the pressure still be building? It's reaching up to my eyes where the tears begin to pour out. It's reaching down into my gut. Pulling at every part of me. My soul. You are altering me completely.
How can I still be breathing? You are filling my heart so completely. There can't be enough room for this. Your face is filling my eyes...your beautiful face. Your angel blue eyes. Just when I think I can take no more I see your love for me in your eyes. I laugh. Pure joy.
The laughter frees my chest. I breathe deeply and throw my arms around your neck.
How can I be so lucky?
I don't care.
You are mine forever.
I will love you longer than forever.
*Words cannot convey my love for my husband :-)*
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Admiration
As I watched the Neda video, I cried. Bawled actually. She was born the same year I was- almost my same age. But I'm so proud of her and the Iranian people. I don't know who I am, that it should matter if I'm proud, but I am. I'm so proud of them for standing up to their government and I hope that this will not quiet them. I hope they keep fighting. I hope they know how much we're rooting for them.
I will post a picture on nedaspeaks.org. I want them to know that I am one of the millions that is behind them. That I love them even though I don't know them. That I grieve with them for Neda and all those who died and are incarcerated, even though I can't imagine the depths of their pain and despair.
Keep reaching. We are with you.
I will post a picture on nedaspeaks.org. I want them to know that I am one of the millions that is behind them. That I love them even though I don't know them. That I grieve with them for Neda and all those who died and are incarcerated, even though I can't imagine the depths of their pain and despair.
Keep reaching. We are with you.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Don't you want to see the best in me???
"This just in, not everyone you meet will like you. Kelly, people across the nation are shocked and outraged. Can you give us some opinions on the scene?"
"Yes Bob, we're here in front of the Supreme Court where they have just ruled in a controversial 5-4 decision that it is OKAY for people not to like each other. I have with me here Gretta, a dog walker from Tennessee, who is simply appalled. "
Gretta, in her southern drawl: I am in complete shock Kelly. Why wouldn't anyone like me? I mean, sure, I protest outside abortion clinics and if you don't believe what I believe I think you're goin' to hell, but should you really judge me? I mean, I don't judge other people. Facts are just facts."
"I'll leave you all to contemplate the irony there. Back to you Bob."
Poor Gretta. Poor us. The media has really awoken our vicious side. How many adjectives did you just come up with to describe Gretta? So quick to assume the worst of people. So hungry for it, too. When you flip on the television and turn to E! are you waiting to hear if Britney has flipped out again? Do you get excited when a celebrity has used a racial or religious slur and you can talk about them at work the next day?
I think we're all guilty, in some way or another, of the voyeur's pleasure. Watching and waiting for something... Just waiting for some idiot like Gretta to open her big mouth so we can pounce on her and explain to her why she's a moron and set her straight.
I have made a decision, that I know I will struggle to stick to, but darn it I'll try, that I'm going to try and assume the best of people; like Gretta. Gretta believes life begins at conception. Gretta believes that abortion is murder and that she will fight for that child's right to live if no one else will. Gretta loves you and doesn't want you to go to hell, so she will shove her beliefs in your face every damn day in the hopes she can save your soul. She believes it's why she's here. It's her purpose.
Now I might not agree with Gretta's tactics, but I have to look at her deeper reasons. I know she's a working mom, who loves her kids and her husband and volunteers on Sundays at her local homeless shelter after she's attended service at church. I might think she's crazy as a bat, but she's only doing what she thinks is right. (Now if Gretta bombs the abortion clinic, or protests at a gay person's funeral, we've got a whole set of different circumstances on our hands. There will always be extremists, and we can't judge the whole group by the extreme few. Well, you can, but I won't.)
I would want Gretta to look at me and assume the best of me. That, even though I'm a heathen who believes in gay marriage, and although I don't believe in abortion myself, would never take away a woman's right to choose, I'm a good person. And as she put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes to try and rescue my soul and I kindly declined her offer, she knows she tried her best and I know she really loves me. I shake my head a little as I walk away, knowing as obnoxious as I think it is, she really does care about me. She shakes her head behind me; she's worried about me and she won't give up.
Wow, am I in a fantasy world or what??? If we could all agree to disagree and respect each other's views and opinions. Imagine that. Imagine all the people...
And it's okay if Gretta and I don't agree and don't really like one another. I don't shout at her that she's a crazy, homophobic, bible thumper and she doesn't shout at me that I'm a heathenistic lost cause. (Yes, I know heathenistic isn't a word :-))
I guess when someone uses unkind words that hurt me, I don't just want to assume they're a jerk and walk away. Maybe they're very passionate about something and given the chance they would change the way they said it. It will make me feel better at the very least. And I think that's what I'm trying to protect; me. My self esteem.
I'm not good at handling criticism when given in a nonconstructive way. But if you write and put things out there it will happen. I guess I would always want people to take into account that I'm human. I have feelings. I have a husband that I love more than anything. I have a cat named Reeses that will scratch the sh** out of you if you're not careful. I have a house that has lost so much of it's value, I feel stuck for all eternity. I'm just like everyone else.
So please assume the best of me instead of the worse. And I promise I will always try to do the same for you :-)
And for those of you out there, who are so strong that words do not affect you, no matter how brutal, I don't know whether to envy you, or pity you. But I will say that just because you are that strong, don't forget that not all of us are.
*Thank you to my father. Who inspires me to think, to reach for the stars, and challenges my opinions every time we talk :-) And I love him for that.*
"Yes Bob, we're here in front of the Supreme Court where they have just ruled in a controversial 5-4 decision that it is OKAY for people not to like each other. I have with me here Gretta, a dog walker from Tennessee, who is simply appalled. "
Gretta, in her southern drawl: I am in complete shock Kelly. Why wouldn't anyone like me? I mean, sure, I protest outside abortion clinics and if you don't believe what I believe I think you're goin' to hell, but should you really judge me? I mean, I don't judge other people. Facts are just facts."
"I'll leave you all to contemplate the irony there. Back to you Bob."
Poor Gretta. Poor us. The media has really awoken our vicious side. How many adjectives did you just come up with to describe Gretta? So quick to assume the worst of people. So hungry for it, too. When you flip on the television and turn to E! are you waiting to hear if Britney has flipped out again? Do you get excited when a celebrity has used a racial or religious slur and you can talk about them at work the next day?
I think we're all guilty, in some way or another, of the voyeur's pleasure. Watching and waiting for something... Just waiting for some idiot like Gretta to open her big mouth so we can pounce on her and explain to her why she's a moron and set her straight.
I have made a decision, that I know I will struggle to stick to, but darn it I'll try, that I'm going to try and assume the best of people; like Gretta. Gretta believes life begins at conception. Gretta believes that abortion is murder and that she will fight for that child's right to live if no one else will. Gretta loves you and doesn't want you to go to hell, so she will shove her beliefs in your face every damn day in the hopes she can save your soul. She believes it's why she's here. It's her purpose.
Now I might not agree with Gretta's tactics, but I have to look at her deeper reasons. I know she's a working mom, who loves her kids and her husband and volunteers on Sundays at her local homeless shelter after she's attended service at church. I might think she's crazy as a bat, but she's only doing what she thinks is right. (Now if Gretta bombs the abortion clinic, or protests at a gay person's funeral, we've got a whole set of different circumstances on our hands. There will always be extremists, and we can't judge the whole group by the extreme few. Well, you can, but I won't.)
I would want Gretta to look at me and assume the best of me. That, even though I'm a heathen who believes in gay marriage, and although I don't believe in abortion myself, would never take away a woman's right to choose, I'm a good person. And as she put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes to try and rescue my soul and I kindly declined her offer, she knows she tried her best and I know she really loves me. I shake my head a little as I walk away, knowing as obnoxious as I think it is, she really does care about me. She shakes her head behind me; she's worried about me and she won't give up.
Wow, am I in a fantasy world or what??? If we could all agree to disagree and respect each other's views and opinions. Imagine that. Imagine all the people...
And it's okay if Gretta and I don't agree and don't really like one another. I don't shout at her that she's a crazy, homophobic, bible thumper and she doesn't shout at me that I'm a heathenistic lost cause. (Yes, I know heathenistic isn't a word :-))
I guess when someone uses unkind words that hurt me, I don't just want to assume they're a jerk and walk away. Maybe they're very passionate about something and given the chance they would change the way they said it. It will make me feel better at the very least. And I think that's what I'm trying to protect; me. My self esteem.
I'm not good at handling criticism when given in a nonconstructive way. But if you write and put things out there it will happen. I guess I would always want people to take into account that I'm human. I have feelings. I have a husband that I love more than anything. I have a cat named Reeses that will scratch the sh** out of you if you're not careful. I have a house that has lost so much of it's value, I feel stuck for all eternity. I'm just like everyone else.
So please assume the best of me instead of the worse. And I promise I will always try to do the same for you :-)
And for those of you out there, who are so strong that words do not affect you, no matter how brutal, I don't know whether to envy you, or pity you. But I will say that just because you are that strong, don't forget that not all of us are.
*Thank you to my father. Who inspires me to think, to reach for the stars, and challenges my opinions every time we talk :-) And I love him for that.*
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Hmmm....
My hands flew to cover my ears as the ripping and tearing noises became worse. I remained crouched in the corner of the cell I'd been thrown into hours before. Had it been hours? I just couldn't be sure. I was filthy and tired and sore from being tossed about. The others around me were not my people, which scared me. Where was my mother? My mother's sister? Where were the other peasants from our village? Our village priest? Anyone...
A tear trickled down my dusty cheek and I quickly wiped it away. No! I would not cry in front of these strangers. Although they were prisoners like me, I would not show weakness. I looked at them more closely then, having been trying to avert my eyes up until this point. A woman and what appeared to be her daughter were in another corner of the cramped cell. They were hanging on to each other for dear life. The daughter was weeping into her mother's shoulder and her fingers were digging into the the woman's dark brown skin. The woman clung to the small girl just as tightly. Her eyes were closed and she was rocking her back and forth, whispering words I could not hear over the horrible sounds. A prayer no doubt. Perhaps that's what I should be doing right now. My eyes continued around the room; all women. All dirty and frightened and prisoners. I pulled my feet closer to me and hugged me knees. Taking my hands away from my ears was painful, but I was getting used to the sounds now. I could decipher screaming and clashing; perhaps metal on metal? It all began to blend together again, into the background, as my eyes began to droop. So tired. I pinched my thigh to stay awake. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and find a way out of here.
A tear trickled down my dusty cheek and I quickly wiped it away. No! I would not cry in front of these strangers. Although they were prisoners like me, I would not show weakness. I looked at them more closely then, having been trying to avert my eyes up until this point. A woman and what appeared to be her daughter were in another corner of the cramped cell. They were hanging on to each other for dear life. The daughter was weeping into her mother's shoulder and her fingers were digging into the the woman's dark brown skin. The woman clung to the small girl just as tightly. Her eyes were closed and she was rocking her back and forth, whispering words I could not hear over the horrible sounds. A prayer no doubt. Perhaps that's what I should be doing right now. My eyes continued around the room; all women. All dirty and frightened and prisoners. I pulled my feet closer to me and hugged me knees. Taking my hands away from my ears was painful, but I was getting used to the sounds now. I could decipher screaming and clashing; perhaps metal on metal? It all began to blend together again, into the background, as my eyes began to droop. So tired. I pinched my thigh to stay awake. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and find a way out of here.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Breakthrough....maybe
I love the show The Biggest Loser and now I also love Losing It with Jillian Michaels. I love seeing the transformations. I love seeing people take control of their lives. I love seeing how happy they are. I cry every single time :-)
But I always hear the same thing, "There's a deeper reason."
What does that mean??? Oprah, Jillian and Bob, you name it, they say it. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!!!
So I used to sit on the couch and say to myself, there is no deeper reason. I'm overweight because I choose to sit on this couch, eat poorly, and not change my habits. Done. End of story. I'm not blaming anyone else. I'm taking responsibility. Pat on the back for me...fatty, I would chide myself in my head.
But I guess if you hear something often enough you start to question yourself: is there a deeper reason? No, no, it's my bad choices, they come from laziness, done. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON! Well, maybe...no, no, no, nothing deep here. Keep on movin'. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!! Okay, I'm questioning Oprah, but I can't find anything. I'm digging, but all I see is this lazy person who won't do anything to change, and frankly, I don't want to look at her all that closely because she's not inspiring and she's still sitting on the damn couch eating ice cream. So you can take your deeper crap and shove it! THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!!! Wow. Okay I hear you. Maybe if I can identify it, I can start to make changes. Maybe....but I always fail. WHAT? WHAT WAS THAT STEPHANIE? I always fail. WHAT?!?!?!? I ALWAYS FAIL! Ah. I see.
Every time I lose weight, I gain it back, and then some. Every time I go to write, I find something else to do. There are always excuses. But there's a deeper reason :-)
No matter how hard I work, my idea of a fabulous body is Shakira and I'll NEVER get there. So what's the point??? HUH JILLIAN? I can't afford a personal trainer and nutritionist and I don't have time to to work out 2 hours a day, six days a week! Jillian whispers to me: you know that's not it Stephanie. You can make better choices, you can work out everyday, and you know how to work out. You have to believe in you or no one else will. You have to know that you CAN achieve that goal if you really want it. Do you want it? Otherwise, stop beating yourself up about it.
Well, let's be realistic. Jillian would yell at me that I would reach that goal :-) But the point is, why not reach for the stars? Why not reach for size 6? Why not reach for publication? I deserve it, if I work hard for it and I want it bad enough. I need to stop being afraid of failure and start living. I need to stop fearing the people I might encounter in my master's courses, who have bachelors in English that I don't have. So what? If they have a love for writing, they probably struggle just like I do and they might really want to help me or have an appreciation for what I do or, at the very least, take no notice of me whatsoever. They have better things to do than laugh at me or worry about my writing. So stop being afraid!
But the voice is still there. The doubt. What if you give up? What if you lose your motivation? What if you fail?
We don't change overnight. Life is a journey and right now I'm on a precarious trek that could fall to either side, but if it falls on the side of success? What if I succeed? I think it might be time to put a sticky note on the bathroom mirror!
What if you succeed?
*Aunt Mimi. You inspire me with your eloquence and your love for the arts; for your bravery in choices you've made in your life and things you've lived through :-) I love you and I love that you believe in me. Thank you.*
But I always hear the same thing, "There's a deeper reason."
What does that mean??? Oprah, Jillian and Bob, you name it, they say it. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!!!
So I used to sit on the couch and say to myself, there is no deeper reason. I'm overweight because I choose to sit on this couch, eat poorly, and not change my habits. Done. End of story. I'm not blaming anyone else. I'm taking responsibility. Pat on the back for me...fatty, I would chide myself in my head.
But I guess if you hear something often enough you start to question yourself: is there a deeper reason? No, no, it's my bad choices, they come from laziness, done. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON! Well, maybe...no, no, no, nothing deep here. Keep on movin'. THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!! Okay, I'm questioning Oprah, but I can't find anything. I'm digging, but all I see is this lazy person who won't do anything to change, and frankly, I don't want to look at her all that closely because she's not inspiring and she's still sitting on the damn couch eating ice cream. So you can take your deeper crap and shove it! THERE'S A DEEPER REASON!!! Wow. Okay I hear you. Maybe if I can identify it, I can start to make changes. Maybe....but I always fail. WHAT? WHAT WAS THAT STEPHANIE? I always fail. WHAT?!?!?!? I ALWAYS FAIL! Ah. I see.
Every time I lose weight, I gain it back, and then some. Every time I go to write, I find something else to do. There are always excuses. But there's a deeper reason :-)
No matter how hard I work, my idea of a fabulous body is Shakira and I'll NEVER get there. So what's the point??? HUH JILLIAN? I can't afford a personal trainer and nutritionist and I don't have time to to work out 2 hours a day, six days a week! Jillian whispers to me: you know that's not it Stephanie. You can make better choices, you can work out everyday, and you know how to work out. You have to believe in you or no one else will. You have to know that you CAN achieve that goal if you really want it. Do you want it? Otherwise, stop beating yourself up about it.
Well, let's be realistic. Jillian would yell at me that I would reach that goal :-) But the point is, why not reach for the stars? Why not reach for size 6? Why not reach for publication? I deserve it, if I work hard for it and I want it bad enough. I need to stop being afraid of failure and start living. I need to stop fearing the people I might encounter in my master's courses, who have bachelors in English that I don't have. So what? If they have a love for writing, they probably struggle just like I do and they might really want to help me or have an appreciation for what I do or, at the very least, take no notice of me whatsoever. They have better things to do than laugh at me or worry about my writing. So stop being afraid!
But the voice is still there. The doubt. What if you give up? What if you lose your motivation? What if you fail?
We don't change overnight. Life is a journey and right now I'm on a precarious trek that could fall to either side, but if it falls on the side of success? What if I succeed? I think it might be time to put a sticky note on the bathroom mirror!
What if you succeed?
*Aunt Mimi. You inspire me with your eloquence and your love for the arts; for your bravery in choices you've made in your life and things you've lived through :-) I love you and I love that you believe in me. Thank you.*
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Support
I love that I am surrounded by people who want to lift me up and help me reach my goals. I realize that not everyone will enjoy what I write because I may write in a genre that is not their favorite and, let's face it, I may write some stinkers :-) But Stephenie Meyers is laughing all the way to the bank as Stephen King criticizes her writing. I guess what I mean is, someone will always appreciate what you write. Even if it's only one person and that one person is you.
I have to write for me. It would be nice one day if I get published and have fans, but that may never happen, and I will still love to write.
I feel like I'm drawn toward literature that I want to create: trashy fiction :-) I almost feel like that's not good enough. I should aspire to Jane Austen and Maya Angelou, Emily Dickinson and Langston Hughes, but I just don't find that entertaining a lot of the time. Although I did thoroughly enjoy Pride and Prejudice, even though I had to keep putting it down to grab the dictionary. And I know that if I want to be a great writer I need to read, read, and then read some more. But there is an audience for every type of writing.
I love Charliane Harris right now, along with many other vampire writers. I am drawn to fantasy and I think vampires especially, because the idea of living forever appeals to me; at least at this stage of my life. Perhaps something I'll explore in another blog.
In that category I love Anne Rice, Christopher Pike, and Stephenie Meyer. Vastly different, but all focused on the same subject area.
I also started a book club with some friends this year to expose myself to different types of literature. I don't think I latched on to any of the authors, but I enjoyed reading books I wouldn't have picked otherwise. I especially enjoyed hearing different points of view.
I love JK Rowling and hope she will write more. I enjoy Philippa Gregory and Dan Brown because even though they are fiction writers, it feels very real. I think in my own writing I want to include elements of science and actual locations that will make it seem as if it could be possible, or it could have happened that way.
I also think that going back to school will open me up to more literature, that I wouldn't otherwise enjoy, because I enjoy breaking it down and discussing the meaning it holds for others.
I don't know if I feel comfortable labeling writing good or bad. When I grade my own children's writing I tell them the truth. It may have been boring, they could have added more detail, etc., but that doesn't make it bad. I would say, like anything else, there's always room for writing to improve :-)
And I hope, that with the support of many fabulous friends and family members, my writing will continue to grow.
*Thank you Ryan. Your opinion, for some reason :-), means a lot to me and I appreciate your support. And thank you Mike. I have a feeling you will be a big part of my journey; whether you want to be or not ;-)*
I have to write for me. It would be nice one day if I get published and have fans, but that may never happen, and I will still love to write.
I feel like I'm drawn toward literature that I want to create: trashy fiction :-) I almost feel like that's not good enough. I should aspire to Jane Austen and Maya Angelou, Emily Dickinson and Langston Hughes, but I just don't find that entertaining a lot of the time. Although I did thoroughly enjoy Pride and Prejudice, even though I had to keep putting it down to grab the dictionary. And I know that if I want to be a great writer I need to read, read, and then read some more. But there is an audience for every type of writing.
I love Charliane Harris right now, along with many other vampire writers. I am drawn to fantasy and I think vampires especially, because the idea of living forever appeals to me; at least at this stage of my life. Perhaps something I'll explore in another blog.
In that category I love Anne Rice, Christopher Pike, and Stephenie Meyer. Vastly different, but all focused on the same subject area.
I also started a book club with some friends this year to expose myself to different types of literature. I don't think I latched on to any of the authors, but I enjoyed reading books I wouldn't have picked otherwise. I especially enjoyed hearing different points of view.
I love JK Rowling and hope she will write more. I enjoy Philippa Gregory and Dan Brown because even though they are fiction writers, it feels very real. I think in my own writing I want to include elements of science and actual locations that will make it seem as if it could be possible, or it could have happened that way.
I also think that going back to school will open me up to more literature, that I wouldn't otherwise enjoy, because I enjoy breaking it down and discussing the meaning it holds for others.
I don't know if I feel comfortable labeling writing good or bad. When I grade my own children's writing I tell them the truth. It may have been boring, they could have added more detail, etc., but that doesn't make it bad. I would say, like anything else, there's always room for writing to improve :-)
And I hope, that with the support of many fabulous friends and family members, my writing will continue to grow.
*Thank you Ryan. Your opinion, for some reason :-), means a lot to me and I appreciate your support. And thank you Mike. I have a feeling you will be a big part of my journey; whether you want to be or not ;-)*
Monday, June 14, 2010
Fear
So ready to head out to the pool, but dammit I will write everyday!
So I began to question myself about becoming a writer- let me stop myself right there, I AM a writer. A paycheck does not define what you are- okay, so I was questioning my desire. Where was it coming from? Just because I wrote tons in middle school and got praise for it, from peers and teachers, did that mean I loved it? Is this really what I want?
What really forced me to ask myself these questions was going back to school for my masters. Lots of money=is this really what I want to do? I started asking myself, "If you love this so much, why don't you have stories done? Why haven't you been writing everyday? Why isn't going back to school an automatic, if this is...my destiny?" Just kidding :-)
Well I'm still not entirely sure of the answer to all those questions, but my mother, who I consider to be very wisdomess (if Beyonce can add bootylicious, I can add wisdomess), gave me a book. I read the first passage and I felt it was written for me:
"One of the most important tasks in artistic recovery is learning to call things-and ourselves-by the right names. Most of us have spent years using the wrong names for our behaviors. We have wanted to create and we have been unable to create and we have called that inability laziness. That is not merely inaccurate. It is cruel. Accuracy and compassion serve us far better. Blocked artists are not lazy. They are blocked. Do not call the inability to start laziness. Call it fear. "
-Julia Cameron
Mother and Julia, THANK YOU! I know I have a streak of laziness and procrastination, which I'm sure both sides of my family will attest I come by honestly :-), but I also have fear. Who will read what I write? What if they hate it? What if they use cruel words to express their distaste of something I've poured my heart and soul into? Well you know what? SCREW 'EM!
No, just kidding :-) I'm still scared, but I have to get over it. Because I do love writing. Right now I am enjoying myself immensely typing something of no consequence. Can you imagine when I begin on the ideas brewing in my brain? Can you imagine when I complete my first work?
I still have doubts that I'll get there, but now I have NO doubt that I want to get there :-)
*I would also like to thank my Aunt Agnes, who reminded me that this is a discipline that deserves my time and effort, although others may not understand that because it isn't a 9-5 job. She inspires me through her own beautiful art and her encouragement to artists who have doubts and fears :-) Thank you Aunt Agnes*
So I began to question myself about becoming a writer- let me stop myself right there, I AM a writer. A paycheck does not define what you are- okay, so I was questioning my desire. Where was it coming from? Just because I wrote tons in middle school and got praise for it, from peers and teachers, did that mean I loved it? Is this really what I want?
What really forced me to ask myself these questions was going back to school for my masters. Lots of money=is this really what I want to do? I started asking myself, "If you love this so much, why don't you have stories done? Why haven't you been writing everyday? Why isn't going back to school an automatic, if this is...my destiny?" Just kidding :-)
Well I'm still not entirely sure of the answer to all those questions, but my mother, who I consider to be very wisdomess (if Beyonce can add bootylicious, I can add wisdomess), gave me a book. I read the first passage and I felt it was written for me:
"One of the most important tasks in artistic recovery is learning to call things-and ourselves-by the right names. Most of us have spent years using the wrong names for our behaviors. We have wanted to create and we have been unable to create and we have called that inability laziness. That is not merely inaccurate. It is cruel. Accuracy and compassion serve us far better. Blocked artists are not lazy. They are blocked. Do not call the inability to start laziness. Call it fear. "
-Julia Cameron
Mother and Julia, THANK YOU! I know I have a streak of laziness and procrastination, which I'm sure both sides of my family will attest I come by honestly :-), but I also have fear. Who will read what I write? What if they hate it? What if they use cruel words to express their distaste of something I've poured my heart and soul into? Well you know what? SCREW 'EM!
No, just kidding :-) I'm still scared, but I have to get over it. Because I do love writing. Right now I am enjoying myself immensely typing something of no consequence. Can you imagine when I begin on the ideas brewing in my brain? Can you imagine when I complete my first work?
I still have doubts that I'll get there, but now I have NO doubt that I want to get there :-)
*I would also like to thank my Aunt Agnes, who reminded me that this is a discipline that deserves my time and effort, although others may not understand that because it isn't a 9-5 job. She inspires me through her own beautiful art and her encouragement to artists who have doubts and fears :-) Thank you Aunt Agnes*
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Is love worth it?
A life lived with love will not be perfect. It will not be without mistakes. It will not be without sorrow. It will not be without anger. It will not be without suffering. But it will have perfect moments. It will have happiness. It will have compassion. It will have heart. It will have everything.
When I wrote this, someone in my family was really frustrating me and I had to remind myself why it was worth caring anymore.Of course love is worth it :-)
Friday, June 11, 2010
Choice vs. Destiny
I used to believe in destiny. I thought it was a very romantic notion; We are destined for each other! Some powerful force in the universe chose us for each other and we will be together for all eternity. I actually used to picture us (humanity) all in heaven- babies on fluffy, white clouds with Father Time and his scroll, sending us down when it was our time, "That one there, with the blond curls. She's next. And that boy there, with the brown skin. Oh, they'll be quite the controversial couple." He would clap his hands together excitedly at the pairing he'd just created: destiny. And we were together there, on those fluffy, white clouds. Us and our destinies. It was all decided... Anyway, I had this whole vision in my pretty little head. But wait a minute...what about my free will?
If you believe in destiny, there's obviously nothing wrong with that. It's a matter of opinion. I was actually quite sad when I moved from destiny to choice. There goes my romantic notion out the window. But then my wedding day happened, and it made all that sadness disappear.
I actually believe that there are probably hundreds of other men I could be compatible with on this earth. I believe the same for my husband; that there are other women he could have made a life with. But that thought doesn't sadden me.
On my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle and looked into my fiance's eyes, I knew I was choosing him and he, likewise, was choosing me. I was his choice! We both could have continued on our journeys and chosen someone else, but we didn't. And no powerful force brought us together. We brought us together.
It was part of the recipe that made my wedding day the best day of my life. How could I be nervous? This was my choice. Nobody elses.
I believe choice is more powerful than destiny. More romantic. Hello there, romantic notion. I'm glad you're back :-)
If you believe in destiny, there's obviously nothing wrong with that. It's a matter of opinion. I was actually quite sad when I moved from destiny to choice. There goes my romantic notion out the window. But then my wedding day happened, and it made all that sadness disappear.
I actually believe that there are probably hundreds of other men I could be compatible with on this earth. I believe the same for my husband; that there are other women he could have made a life with. But that thought doesn't sadden me.
On my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle and looked into my fiance's eyes, I knew I was choosing him and he, likewise, was choosing me. I was his choice! We both could have continued on our journeys and chosen someone else, but we didn't. And no powerful force brought us together. We brought us together.
It was part of the recipe that made my wedding day the best day of my life. How could I be nervous? This was my choice. Nobody elses.
I believe choice is more powerful than destiny. More romantic. Hello there, romantic notion. I'm glad you're back :-)
Day 1
I have no idea what I will say, and I have no idea who would want to read what I have to say, but I guess I have to get over that if I want to be a writer :-) I'm addicted to the happy face. There will be lots of happy faces :-)
*Jessica, thank you for being my first follower*
*Jessica, thank you for being my first follower*
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