My entire left arm really hurts!
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
|the last time I got to dress up as |
The Cat in the Hat - March 2012
Ai. Um. What if I'm not sure what myself feels like?
Okay, I lie. Well, not lie, but myself is several selves, I think. I feel equally comfortable talking to my Girl Scout group or chatting with mom friends. Discussing Shakespeare is as satisfying to me as reading Dr. Seuss to children.
I feel like a nut.
I suppose you could say that I am most like myself whenever and wherever I am connecting with someone and expressing myself. I am a connector, I think. I seek that lightbulb moment when eyes light up and someone says or thinks "Yes! You get it!" To be understood - felt, validated - is so important in life. Hearing "I see you" like in Avatar. I see you. I see your heart. I see your past. I see your intentions. I see your fears. I see you.
I think expressing myself, whether through talking, writing, or acting, is a big part of connectedness for me. How can I connect with you if I don't show you some part of myself? Vulnerability is a prerequisite of connection. But it takes courage to be vulnerable. What if I'm laughed at? Scorned? Misunderstood? It's a huge risk.
But oh, the payoff when that connection happens!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
How is your writing voice like you? How does your writing voice differ from you?
When given creative license, my writing voice is much like my conversation. My blogging - indeed, the majority of my writing - is intended as a conversation between me and my readers. It is full of half-formed sentences, broken thoughts, opinions, bunny-trails, and questions.
When writing as a professional, my voice is all properness. (Yeah, properness probably isn't a word, but this is me writing, not me writing professionally, so I get to use it. I'm channeling Seuss today, so there.) Proper grammar and sentence structure are used, and all that schooling comes into play. I'm capable of those things; I just prefer not to use them in daily life.
Monday, March 3, 2014
|Me in December of 2013|
- I have a large birthmark on my back between my should blades. It is very faint, though, and I didn't discover it until I was in college and had been tanning. I also have a small one on my right bicep. When I ever get the courage and money to get a tattoo, I want it to be slightly darker than my skin tone so it looks like a birthmark.
- I've had unexplained joint pain since I was a toddler. Episodes involve every joint in the affected limb. The joints do not swell, and cold exacerbates it. I never know which limb will be affected in an episode until it hits, and it sometimes travels from one limb to another during an episode. I've been tested for all the arthritic and rheumatic illnesses and have come up negative for all of them.
- I was in a pageant in high school. It was for Miss Mineola. I placed third out of seven girls. My favorite memory is singing "Pharaoh, Pharaoh" backstage to get us to smile big just before we walked out on stage. I hate looking at pictures of me from it because my blush was a disastrous racing-stripe effect on my cheeks. I loved my dress, though, and still have it.
- I've been referred to as a walking encyclopedia, dictionary, and reference. My brain is full of useless historical and linguistic trivia. I've been known to read the dictionary for fun, and I like to study etymology. I've read the majority of Shakespeare's plays - although I refuse to read Titus Andronicus - and the majority (if not all - I can't remember at the moment) of his sonnets. I was an avid reader in my youth, and actually enjoyed most of the required reading in school. I loathed The Old Man and the Sea; The Grapes of Wrath is an exercise in verbosity. I recommend reading A Separate Peace every ten years, beginning in high school and commencing ten-year intervals at 30.
- I've breastfed children for 5 years and 5 months of my life. Brandon was four months exclusively and supplemented for an additional five. Sarah and Bethany were 13 and 15 months, respectively, and Sam was 28 months. My goal with Brandon was 12 months. I was devastated when he weaned himself at 9 months. My goal was 18 months with the last three. Breastfeeding my children is one of the things that make me the most proud.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
So NaNoWriMo is really inspiring to me and I'm awed by my friends that participate (I'm looking at you, Beanses). I've written a lot of words in my time. I've even been paid for the words I've written. Not so much recently. I've always felt a pride being able to say I'm a writer, but these days I feel like a liar when I say it.
So I just saw something about NaBloPoMo - National Blog Posting Month. I fully understand the concept of do [your chosen vocation] everyday. I even subscribe to The One-Minute Writer. I even read the posts when they come in my inbox. Then I delete them without acting on them, because "I just don't have the time." I know: it's one minute, eejit! I'm just consistently inconsistent. And depressed. And tired. And a mom to a toddler. And, and, and. Ugh.
The theme for this month is self. Seriously, Universe? This is the time you choose to reveal this to me? I know. It's like Idris. "...I always took you where you needed to go." Okay, okay.
Blahblahblah. I'm going to attempt. Yikes.
So, catching up. Weekdays have prompts (see them here). Weekends are for free writing, so I'll use the OMW prompts then.
Today's Writing Prompt: So What Do You Do?
What do you spend most of your time doing - when you're not writing, of course!
I spend most of my time chasing Sam or chauffeuring the top 3. Generally avoiding housework. Trying to figure out when I can go back to bed. Crocheting. Feeling like a failure. As a wife, mom, housekeeper, person. You know, the same as everybody else.
Today's Writing Prompt: Delayed Gratification
What's something good in your life you've had to wait for in order to have?
The biggest thing was kids. We tried for two-and-a-half years to get pregnant with our first child. I thought I was barren. We were discussing if we wanted to get testing done to find out what was going on with whom, if we wanted to foster or adopt, or just get a dog. I remember feeling like that Biblical woman whose name escapes me at the moment.
If only I had known then that the heartbreak I felt then at thinking I was barren and wouldn't have children would feel like a pinprick compared to the daily heartbreak I feel looking at my four children and worrying about their futures. Don't get me wrong. My kids are a good thing. But they are also a hard thing. The days are long; the years are short.
On some completely unrelated notes: Happy Seussday and Texas Independence Day!