Fall on the MS Gulf Coast

Ok, for those who may not know, I live here...

Actually, if you look closely you can see Pascagoula on the far right. Yep, that's where I was born, raised, and currently live.

Not really by choice, but that's another story.

Just because I don't want to live here doesn't mean it isn't a fabulous place to live...it just holds too many questionable memories that I will never be able to release while I'm still here. But I'm trying...and in the meantime, I'm enjoying the hell out of fall. It's my favorite season!!!

Anyway, I'm joining  Mama Kat this week to show all of you just what Fall is like here on the MS Gulf Coast. Despite the oil spill and hurricane troubles that have plagued us the past few years,  (Please notice here that regardless of what the media has said about Katrina hitting New Orleans, it actually hit here. Seriously, I was here. I saw it. Just saying...) we really are still in business down here - And pretty nice to boot.

Wanna see what it's like?

Jealous yet?

You see, fall is when the humidity finally falls into single digits (if you have curly hair this place probably isn't for you.) and the temperature falls into the double digits. it might even get down to a blustery 50 or 40 degrees in December.

How about our mixture of evergreens and actual changing leaves...

or imagine your morning run like this...

You hate me don't you?

Because it doesn't really get cold, we are the south the birds flock to...even with choppy waters.

However, I have to say that this is my favorite...



It's the perfect mixture of woods and water, which is exactly what we are all about down here.



Asking for Favors

So, here's the thing. About a month ago, I ran across a submissions page for a magazine that was specifically looking for short love stories. I thought "Hey I can totally do that" even though I've never written a love story in my life. I mean, I've written around it and in the vicinity of it, but never just something based on it. However, I figured good experience or whatever (ya gotta get a bunch of rejections out of the way in the beginning, ya know) and set off to bang out a paltry 2700 to 3800 words to send in.

I have 2447 words and I'm officially stuck. The first 2000 words flowed like the wine I rewarded myself with when I was finished, but I have fought for those last 447, guys. Fought I tell you.

I'd love for all of you to read this and offer thoughts, ideas, comments, questions, or advice on pieces, parts, the whole, or whatever. If I'm going to submit it I definitely need at least 400 more words, but I'm afraid to start picking at it. (For those who are CSI watchers, you remember the episode with the model who basically picked at her face until she went septic and died? Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.) 

I need fresh eyes and honest (but nice please, I'm a bit sensitive since this is one of the first times anyone has ever read something fictional of mine).

Thanks,

Me

PS- Things I know: it has no real title, the main character should have more background possibly, it's nowhere near reading for submission, and I'm a little nauseous that you guys will read it. Have Fun!

Love Story


I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me, but I swear my heart stopped dead when you walked into the door.


Those were the first words he said to me and when he spoke them as he looked deep into my eyes and brushed his thumb across my right cheekbone. There was an audible sizzle in the air when he touched my face. I heard it-felt it-as did he.

He was exactly the opposite of everything I’d ever found enticing in a man and the exoticism of that was intoxicating. Eyes a warm grey-blue instead of the usual liquid brown that drove my pulse wild, shorn dirty blond hair smattered with grey at the temples instead of the long dark locks of so many previous lovers, even the way he towered over me, instantly making me feel small and fragile was different. I was mesmerized by the sheer size of the hand that has been so close to my face moments before, hands that bore the calluses of hard work and yet the manicure of a professional at the same time. How curious.


I stood staring at this stranger who had spoken to me and touched my without consent, but who spoke so honestly that I didn’t even care. Instantly I knew that I would love this man forever.


And that is exactly why I laughed in his face and told him it was the most ridiculous pick-up line ever created. “So, hot shot, how many girls have gotten to hear that little jewel so far tonight?”


There was a smile on his lips even though his eyes looked hurt. I was satisfied he’d leave me alone for the rest of the night and pass the word about the “bitch in the red dress” so I settled into a corner table, feet up, and ordered my first drink, silently daring anyone to approach me. It was just my way.


Strangely enough “crazy guy”, as I nicknamed him, didn’t leave well enough alone-at least not completely. He nestled himself a bar stool that was near enough to overhear conversation, but far enough that touch wasn’t possible, but purposely in my direct eye line. The rest of the night I watched him talk, laugh, joke, and smile all while carefully meeting my eyes for mere second before resuming his conversation. Puzzling over this enigmatic presence, I began to consider the game that was afoot. Although I’d shut him down once that clearly wasn’t enough, he wanted me to see him as he was. He wanted me to watch his body and his movements to determine for myself whether he was harmless. Unfortunately for both of us, I knew he was harmless when he first stepped into my path


Harmless wasn’t an issue. The fluttering in my chest each time my eyes strayed over to him or I heard his voice over the dim of the room was the problem. I would not encourage this attention.



He had other plans. Each time I came in I felt eyes on my face and found those eyes on me. Caressing me. Challenging me to acknowledge him. He seemed to know my routine after a while and would have a drink waiting on me or send over one of several bottles of water I would always drink during the evening. He was always in my peripheral vision-almost close enough to touch, but far enough that I couldn’t overhear his conversation and he couldn’t hear mine.


Then he learned my name.


From that time drinks or bottles of water were accompanied by silly notes. Some made me laugh, some made me puzzled, but none made me anxious. It was almost seemed like he just wanted a reason to write my name because it would be repeated several times in the span of a few lines. But always I could hear him saying my name in each note, whispered in my ear as though he were passing behind me, hot breath on my neck, and the slightest touch of his hand resting between my shoulder blades. I blamed the chills on burgeoning winter weather, but those words smelled of lie and my friends began to comment on my obvious ardor for my admirer.


Although he never tried to talk to me again after that first night, he made his presence and attention quite clear and waited on me to make the first step towards him. My friends joked that he must have the patience of Job himself, but I saw it as a careful man trying to tame a feral cat into domestication. Sadly for him that was the last thing I was willing to accept. I’d been “tamed” once before and I was damn sure not following that same path again. Lesson learned. It was too bad that he was growing on me.


We had been playing his game for almost two months when I noticed I was taking more care in getting ready for the night. I made sure I didn’t wear the same dress I had worn on previous occasions. Hell, I even bought a new pair of heels that accentuated my calves and actually made my legs look at least two miles longer than they actually were. My earrings dangled and brushed against my neck making my pixie hair look more feminine, more delicate, than normal. I craved his attention, but felt too frightened to make the next move. Here again, I’d wanted no part of the domesticated lifestyle.

I walked in determined to purposefully make eye contact and smile my best and flirtiest smile at him. In fact, I’d decided that perhaps I’d do it each time a drink or a note came my way, even if it meant I was smiling at him a majority of the night. Maybe, just maybe I’d even saunter over for a quiet thank you, but I’d wait to see how the night played out. Life had taught me to be flexible with my plans.


I arrived and met no eyes at the door. I sat and felt no caress. Nothing existed in my peripheral vision except groups of beer guzzling frat boys playing darts. I waited and nothing came my way outside of my own order. Devastation could only be the appropriate word. I was devastated that he wasn’t there to watch over me or to send my quirky notes, plus I couldn’t shoot him my best smile and make him want me more than ever. Most of all I was devastated that I cared about any of that. My friends snickered about my disappointment telling me I should have acted sooner. “That’s what happened when playing hard to get goes on far too long. You blew it girl. Oh, don’t tell us you actually liked the guy? That’s even more pathetic.” Yep, my friends have always been the comforting, supportive type or at least they were until they claimed I was being ridiculous to shun any and all relationships due to one sour one-even if the sour one almost took my life. “Live and move on,” they say. Panic and live in fear, I do.

So, I did what any self-respecting woman who is fighting crushing disappointment and anxiety woman would do, I turned my carefully practiced smile onto the first drunken frat boy who met my eyes. Much like my group, he and his friends were regulars, although that is where all similarities both began and ended. I’d caught his attention on several occasions, but my game of cat and mouse had been much more entertaining than playing enticing for him. He was cute in a plain, white-bread-and-mayonnaise kind of way: brown hair, brown eyes, even tan of someone who plays in the sun, not one who works in the sun. He’ll do to play with for now.

I brushed past his shoulder on my way towards the bathrooms and glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was watching me. Sure enough he was, so I toned down my smile to something as more feral, more dangerous, more me. He followed instantly as I knew he would. He caught up to me, inwardly congratulating himself; I could tell. Little did he know that I was caught only because I chose to be; he had no choice in the matter. His hands slid up my arms and I could feel the length of his body against the back of mine. I knew there were only mere second to make the choice: continue on this path or abandon it completely. The smell of his cologne mixed with beer and sweat clogged my nose and anxiety clenched my heart. “Abandon this ruse now,” my brain screamed and my body instantly stepped away. “I never said you could touch me,” I hissed turning around to view his alcohol bloated face slowly fading and being replaced by a face much more menacing. I face I knew well and would never let hurt me again.


“Stupid bitch! How dare you play coy with me?” His words were slightly slurred and spittle sprayed from his harsh, indignant mouth. I simply smiled as one would smile at an angry child, “Now, did you really think anything was going to happen when you walked back here? You were merely a point that I believe has been made.”

His hands grabbed the tops of my arms. I hadn’t noticed how massive they were; I’d been too busy looking at the overindulged physique. I’m usually not so sloppy when choosing my play-toys, but my discontent distracted me. His words became harsher but my mind had already separated from my body, calming me, and assessing weaknesses for escape when another pair of hands only vaguely familiar to me grabbed frat boy’s throat. “You need to leave the lady alone,” whispered the darkness because my champion’s face was shielded by shadow.

I didn’t wait to see what happened next or even thank my defender before escaping out the back door. Gulping the night air, I became to feel my senses return to me and evaluate how stupid and dangerous my actions had been. What had I been thing? Why had I made such a mistake? He was the reason. It was his fault and I would tell him the next time I saw him-whenever that would be. That thought faded from my mind as my shivers began and a low and angry voice demanded my attention, “What the fuck was that?”

My shivers turned to electric pulses at the sound of his voice. I turned to see my hero, my champion, was my guy. The guy who I’d been playing cat and mouse with these last two months, the guy that I thought had abandoned the chase. He was here and standing in front of me-and incidentally quite angry. But I’d seen anger before. This anger was more a mixture of hurt and confusion, not pure rage, not hate; so, I unleashed the full force of myself on him.


One step. Two steps.

I touched his face tentatively, wondering if he would flinch or turn away. When he didn’t, I reached up and softly, carefully laid my lips against his. His surprise at the chaste kiss lasted less than a second as he pulled my body flush against his and deepened the kiss. Coming up for air, but still allowing him to cradle my body against his I looked up and whispered, “You weren’t here.”

He looked at me strangely, but I continued spilling my thoughts, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt, so I wouldn’t lose whatever moxy it was that kept the words flowing through me, “I had prepared for tonight. I was counting on it. I had made my decision or at least as much of a decision about you as I was prepared to make tonight and you weren’t here. I couldn’t swallow the feeling of regret. The feeling I had lost my chance; so, I decided to play a game.”


His grip loosened on me for a second and I thought he would walk away, but instead he tightened his grip and buried his face into the crook of my neck. “A game? A game? Leading men into a dark corner of a bar is a game to you?” He stared at me in disbelieve, possibly thinking he was also apart of the game, but he wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t.

“No, garnering attention was the game. Smiling and flirting and having him follow me like a puppy was the game. Had you not distracted me so completely I would have known he was the wrong choice. I would have known he could overpower me.”

“So, you are blaming this on me?”

“Damn right!” I stared deep into his eyes. In for a penny, in for a pound, my mom always said. “I was angry and hurt that you moved on and needed something to regain the power you took from me. I needed it back. You don’t understand.”


He face contorted and I couldn’t figure out if he was about to yell or sigh or call me an idiot; instead he touched my face, much like he did the first time we met and lowered his face to mine. What began as a soft, sweet kiss grew into intensity until I could feel all of the longing and frustration he’d felt over the past two months. His fingers curled into my hair and gently tugged until my neck was laid bared to him and I closed my eyes as his lips and teeth barely ran across my skin-ear to collar bone. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan escaped my lips, surprising me, but motivating him to continue exploring my neck with his lips and my body with his hands. Finally, he found his way back to my lips pouring all of himself into the kiss. I felt something inside me release and I clung to him as though he were the only thing between life and death.

Somehow understanding the meaning of that, he eased the kiss back and whispered, “I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me, but I swear my heart stopped dead when you walked into the door.” His whisper rang in my ears and this time I didn’t laugh because I knew he wasn’t reciting a line; this was a true and honest feeling that he was laying bare to me. He was attempting to begin again before our own game and before my dangerous error. This time I respected it and laid my hand on his chest and looked into his eyes, “I was waiting for you.”

Throwing Myself Under the Bus

Yep, I'm going to do it; you heard it here first. (or at all actually because I don't think my comings and goings are really news worthy-yet (WINKWINK) )

Anyway, I have come to a huge decision and wanted to share it here so I would have people constantly on my ass about it basically. If you have never looked at the pages listed along the top, left side of this page (No the Other Left. Geeze guys!) you should notice a link that is titled What this Girl will Do in a Year.

If you can't see it you are, indeed looking at the wrong side of the page, so look again. Ahh, now we are cooking with gas.

Well, one of the items on that list is to finish my major WIP (work in progress) by Christmas. The idea for this particular piece struck me (damn near literally) while I was attempting the C25K back in Febuary. (No, I didn't finish that either, but it is ALSO on my list. By God, I WILL do it!) However, after working and piddling with it I decided to get super serious this past June. And then I hit a huge block wall...

It's not I ran out of things to say,  I literally hit a section that I couldn't write through, under, over, sidways, beside, or in the general vicinity of and every time I tried I hated it so completely that it began to color the entire work for me. Well, FF I just couldn't have that!  

So, I took some time off to work on other pieces.

Then I did some traveling.

Then I got my classes at JC.

Then T started to school and I thought my time would magically open up...WRONG!

Nope, now MJ makes even more snide comments whenever she sees anyone on a computer. "What? I wasn't saying anything about you?!" Methinks she doth protest too damn much, but that's just me. Patience has never been a virtue of mine (ask any former students, they'll tell ya that's the honest truth.), but I have tried to be as passive as possible (as a gift to my Pop) in expalining that between the writing I'm (attempting), teaching online, grading papers via email, and yes, periodically checking FB to catch up on anything that happens outside the city limits of Pascafuckingoula that the computer is pretty much necessary to my life.

With that being said... have spent less and less time working on anything of substance because I can only throw short snatches of time together to do anything without being made to feel, well, like total shit about it. (I even stopped going to the gym for 2 solid months so I never had to be away from the kids. guess what? No parade...)

The writing has suffered. I have suffered.  

The suffering ends now. Damnit. I WILL finish. I will mark this off my list. It will be something I'm proud of, but I have to stop accepting convenient excuses to put it off.

And how, pray tell, will I accomplish this lofty goal? Besides tell all of you so you can stay on my ass out it, I am actually going to query a few agent. AAKK!!!!! Yep, you read that correctly. I read about a couple of agents that are looking for new blood and thought, "What. The. Hell. Why not?"

Now, I fully intend for those of these nice ladies to read my query letter and first 5-10 pages and basically tell me, "It was nice, but it's me not you." I mean, no one gets a stroke of luck on their first shot. Would it be awesome? Hell yeah, but not exactly practical. that being said I'm sure I will thrown an enormous pity party complete with streamers, confetti, and hats while eating Ben and Jerry's Birthday Cake Ice cream straight out of the carton. Knowing something doesn't make it easier, folks, you know this. Don't judge!

So, that's the big announcement...

I will finish at least a first draft by Christmas AND I will send out 2 query letters so I can get the first of what I'm told will be a string of rejections out of the way.

Wish me luck!!!

This week

I know it's been a while since I last posted, but, in all honesty, I just have not known what to say. I mean there are so many random things going on my my little head that I haven't really been able to focus on any one thing at all.

Seriously, just as a "for example"...

• Tristan's finger decided to become infected again.
• I've been attempting to write little stories of a magazine, but finding it harder than expected.
• I think I've had a headache about every day. (But I think I've found the culprit for that one.)
• I've texted and talked on the phone with the nicest guy pretty much every day for the past few weeks. 
• The library keeps sending me books I put on hold not thinking everything would be ready at once.
•  I have 20 essays to grade each week from my ju-co class in addition to my Phoenix classes.

yep, you totally read that correctly. I have been talking on the phone like a silly teenager these past few weeks-giggling, flirting, talking, and occasionally listening to slience because I have no other idea what to say but just can't hang up the phone. Now, we haven't hit the 3 hour mark again like the first night because he is way too responsible to stay up until 1 in the morning every night, but we probably could.

So, I guess you could say that I've maintained complete distraction for a few weeks now, but I'm not complaining. I mean, I'm still losing weight-dropped another jeans size-but havinte even been able to get to the gym in weeks. *sigh*  I just keep hoping that I make it "tomorrow", whenever that is.

Oh, I've also been trying to figure out the perfect "date" outfit for Saturday. I think I'm so in trouble, but in every imaginable good way. We will just have to see.

Smiles All Around

So, for those that do not follow me on facebook, which means for those who aren't in my immediate family,  I and having the BEST time begin back in the classroom, even if it is only on a part time basis. I swear that it gets  more fun with each class.

But first a bit of back story...the class I'm teaching at the local Community College (MSGCC-JC to be exact) is a short term Comp I & Comp II class. In essence, they will get a year's worth of English in one semester. Tough, but great to get things out of the way. Anyway, the "normal" teacher is out with back surgery. She has been the ONLY person to ever teach these two particular class. EVER!

A majority of the students were expecting her, only to see my smiling face the first day. Needless to say, those expecting her had reservations until about half way through the first class.

That begin said, last night I was told the coolest thing EVER and had to share...I had a student, a returning non-traditional student who had talked to and expected the "other" lady to be exact, told me on her way out of the class that she and another student were discussing me during one of the class breaks. (It's a 5 hour class, we take lots of breaks.) She told me that they were both really glad that I was their teacher and couldn't imagine the other teacher being anywhere as supportive and fun as I am.

Now I tried to be modest and replied, "Well I hope you both still feel that way in December," but inwardly, my faithful few, I was preening like a peacock.

Damn, it's hard to be humble sometimes.

Let's just hope comments like that make their way around campus and land me a permanent position. Fingers cross people. Fingers crossed!!!

Challenge

Ok, so I know I talked about the 50K in 50 days challenge a few months back. Umm, yeah, that totally didn't happen. I got about 12,000 good words in, but life, lack of motivation, fear and time got in the way.

Lame excuse?

Yep, but that can't be helped now. I still plan to finish but I'm giving myself a bit more time.

Why?

Because I think I might have found a way to kinda support myself or at least become well on my way to supporting myself with my writing.

How?

New Love Stories Magazine. That's right; you read it correctly. It's a magazine dedicated to love stories. Although it's not something that I would necessarily read, I plan to write and submit a few stories for publication. I'd only have to write a story between 2,800 to 3,750 words. I think I can certainly knock that out from idea all the way to editing in about a week.

I'll try to keep all of you guys posted on my progress this week, but for now I'm going to work on honing in on just one idea. Wish me luck....

New Beginings with BBQ

So, yesterday was kinda of a downer of a day, as I'm sure you guys realize, but I am newly motivated to get back on the proverbial writing horse.

Why?

Oh, I was invited to a BBQ at my new friend, Karen's blog Down the Mountain by my supper, supportive buddy Jessica. I have made some wonderful new friends that give superior writing tips, advice and inspiration. And you guys know that making new friends is part of my new goals I set. One a month. (Hummm, so would making a bunch of blogging friends count separately or do I just add them together as one friend? )

Even though I'm always a bit shy at first, I decided to  show up with my homemade sangria and a decorative patter of tums (What? There's a lot of food. Someone is bound to have interjection and I want to be prepared.)

I'm hoping all of my new buddies will keep me on the path to rediscovering my voice and keeping my head out of all of my mundane frustrations. After all, I know I'm easier to live with when I write it all out instead of just simmering in my own juices.

Welcome to any new faithfuls!

Shamless Plug

I want to take a moment to plug my friend D's new blog, As Yet Untitled . It is a great first post of a natural writer that has been burried under piles of exhaustion and self depretiation. I would encourage everyone to take a peek and offer words of wisdom and encouragment. Why? Well, because we've been friends forever and I live in constant hope that she will eventually believe in her own wonderfulness (I guess that's a word now) and talent. (Plus, I'm totally mentioned in the post!!)

Oh I KNOW he didn't!

Let me just tell you, my ever loyal FF (faithful few), that I am about as pissed off as I can possible get about right now. In fact, I had to wait an extra hour after finding my "topic" today just so this post would be more than an example of Gangsta Rap-curse words with a bit of non curse words thrown in to almost make a complete thought. OH. MY. GOOD. GRACIOUS. BUT. I. AM. MAD!!!!

You see, I am a teacher. I've taught CCD (Catholic equivalent of Sunday school), high schoolers, adults, and my own children. I have tried to be anything other than a teacher, but have found that I am a teacher.

Why?

Well I have always seen teaching as my personal calling. (I know I usually don't get all "churchy" and choose to keep most of my religious views to myself due to growing up the lone Catholic among Baptists who thought all Catholics were going to Hell because we worship statues and aren't Christian, so hold on cause I mean business!!) No matter what I have ever tried to do in my life I have come back to teacher because I KNOW beyond a shadow that no matter how frustrated I get my frustration lies with "man" and not with the teaching itself.

Ya see, when you are truly called do DO or BE something, you will never find complete fulfillment until you answer that call. Translation, I can do any job I want, but will never find contentment in my soul until I teach.

Don't believe me? Read this...

1 Corinthians 12:28
And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, also those having gifts of healing, those able to help others, those with gifts of administration, and those speaking in different kinds of tongues. 


See? I told you!

So, now I will get to why I'm angry...
"You should have chosen a different career field."

Are you freaking kidding me?????????????????????????????????????????????????????  Seriously! Are you an idiot on purpose or does that shit just come naturally? What a schmo!!

What happened to teaching being an honorable profession that was respected?

I think it started with all of that "Those who can't...Teach" bullshit! I mean WTF people. If I could sucked at what I do then I damn sure couldn't teach it. For example, I suck at math; therefore I do not teach math. However, I am a good writer; therefore I teach writing. See what I mean?!  I do not know who concocted that little jewel of propaganda, but I'd sure like to whoop his/her ass!

I mean, damn, we are begged to become teachers and then allowed to drown in a pit of overwhelming frustration by barley being able to support ourselves (or our families) and pay our students loans and deal with parents who think we are against their children and deal with students who think we are against them and appease administrators who have no idea what we do but are under so much pressure to make numbers that they can't help but make our lives miserable. Did I mention that we are begged to become teachers by the very government that has created all of these stupid-assed state tests that absolutely have no way of assessing  what a student actually knows. How do I know that? BECAUSE I FUCKING WENT TO SCHOOL FOR 5 YEARS AND GOT A MASTER'S DEGREE IN EDUCATION THAT TELLS ME HOW TO ASSESS STUDENTS COMPREHENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! An over-lengthy multiple choice test that lasts between 2 to 4 hours was NOT mentioned in any class I ever had as something positive. Translation: It's a stupid idea that only hurts our students...but I think I'll stop now and give this rant it's own personal post later.

Anyway, I digress so, back to my original topic...It seems that Mr. Taylor has just outlived his usefulness as a public servant. I never minded that he was a Catholic school alum. I never minded that his children all attended Catholic school. However, when MY career and MY calling (as well as that of so many others) is dismissed so completely and so thoughtlessly, I can now see that he has become part of the problem instead part of the solution.

Now, do I know how schools should be funded so teachers can finally receive the paychecks they deserve? Nope. Why? I didn't go to school to figure that out. I went to school to hone my skills as a teacher so I could spread the love of language. Why? Because I love to read and I love to write so I decided to combine my love of those things with my passion and calling for teaching and....Voila!! English teacher!

So, now I am told that I'm at fault for being poorly paid. That I should have chosen better? That I should have ignored my true calling from God and committed my life to another  occupation that would fill my pocketbook, but not my soul? That since I did, in fact, choose to be a teacher I should shut up and deal because "I should have known better"?

Well, guess what, Mr. Taylor? While I knew I would never be rich, I did think that I could support myself and while I never thought I would ever be a single mom of two that needed to live with her parents because it is all but impossible to survive. But I guess THAT'S my fault too.

I know one thing that I will happily take credit for...helping vote you out of office. Maybe they will let you teach at your Alma mater when you come back home.

Gene Taylor, a Representative that my family has voted into office for years and years and years (until now), was asked a question about why teachers were the second lowest paid college degree, but one of the most important. His reply was....

Begining at the Begining Again

Operation Self-Esteem--Day Fucking One.
(Elizabeth Gilbert)

Yep, I think I have finally hit the self-analysis wall. Actually, I slammed into it head first, rubbed up against it like a cat, and just- kept- beating- my- head- against- the- stupid- ass- fucking- wall! So, now hopefully all of that is out of my system for a minute and perhaps, it is time to back off and take stock of life as it stands.

I have a job. It may not start until October, but at least I know that I have one. And that interview really boosted my confidence so I'm willing to look into other options that start before October.

I'm not yet the size I want to be and I didn't meet the goal I set in January; HOWEVER, I am numerous inches smaller in most of the areas I wanted to shrink. I'm also pretty proud of the hourglass figure I've achieved and most of the time I feel very Marilyn.

I may not have completed the C25K, but I've decided to start again since I'm in better shape this time than last time I tried. The treadmill is cleaned off for use (since it's too bleeding hot to do it outside) and I even have an app for that on my phone.

My kids aren't the best behaved in the world, but they are cute, polite, listen relatively well, and will be going back to school soon. Did I mention they are cute? Plus they are gong to be way smarter than me so I totally may need to go back to school just so I can keep up.

I might still be living at home, but when Pop graduates from USM (finally) they are going on some trips so I get a bit of a break. Plus, I never have to pay a babysitter when I go to the gym.

I've decided to eliminate all toxic people from my life as much as possible, and if it isn't possible I can at least limit my exposure and how I allow them to effect me and my life.  First and foremost being my ex-husband because he is officially a guest of the state way up in North Mississippi for the next 15 years. I know it sounds strange, but until everything was final I just had this nagging feeling that he could show up at my door. Now, rationally, I know he had no way to do that, but his bail had been lowered and I just couldn't feel totally safe. Not really. Living with my pop has given me the most solace because he would never be dumb enough to face my Dad after what he did; however, I'm sure he's really pissed at me and bound to get even more pissed. (But that's for a later post)

DB told me last night that I need to talk less, do more. Actually that is a paraphrase, but that was the basic thought. She's right, of course, and not just because she is a physiologist and isnt' her job to be right, but because she's known me forever and knows I need to just get out and DO. Do what? Doesn't matter as long as I just get out and do something! I am gong to start a list of things I really want to do in the next year and hopefully I can get them all checked off by the time my year is up.

Most of all I'm going to give myself a break; I just think it is time. Each day, no matter how hard it gets, I'm going to pay myself on the shoulder and congratulate myself on what I have done up to this point. Yep, actually give myself credit for not crawling into the hole I really REALLY wanted to crawl into last year and floating through life letting everyone else take care of me. Good job, Me!

The Wrap-up

So, its the end of this lovely weekend and although I should be in bed, I just can't freaking sleep. I have tried a dozen things to help me sleep, but I draw the line at warm milk. Sorry, if I don't like it cold, I sure at hell won't like it warm. Blech!

Anyway, this is my last ditch effort at sleep. I figure if I can write all of the random craziness in my brain I might, just might be able to get to sleep before my children wake up. OK now, let's start at the beginning...

Friday-massive cleaning tactics because of the Sadler invasion that evening. Picture it, six kids (whose ages range from14 to 2) and three adults in one small house. Fruit-basket-turn-over to be sure, but it was fun- claustrophobic, but fun.

I got to hear an almost play-by-play for a good friend of mine fall in love over the weekend. I'm so excited for her because she deserves to be happy so badly. She would send me random messages about things he would say or do. Totally swoon worthy! Although he has a brother, I'm actually wondering if I can get him cloned. lol  Actually, its the first time a friend of mine found happiness in boyland that I felt not even the smallest pang of envy because I didn't have one too. Maybe I've realized that it will come when it comes, or not. I certainly do not relish the idea of being alone, but I'm not afraid of it anymore. That's a big step for me. I'm letting go of my perceptions of pretty much everything. I'm going to create my own time and space from what works for me and not what is The Status Quo. I can now wrap myself up in the idea of being whole and solid on my own instead of needing another half.

I sometimes, wondering, because in writing it is so hard to detect particular inflections that show up verbally, if people mean comments the way I take them. In a chat it easier because you can ask, but on a random comment...all but impossible. However, I have decided that if it makes me happy to take a comment a particular way, I'm going to do just that because it hurts no one if I do.  So there. 

Today I watched my Brother-in-Law play beaseball with my kids (and his too). He ticked and hugged and even let Cait put bows in his hair and while I loved him for it, it didn't make me sad.  I think that's HUGE  for me. No, no, I know it's HUGE for me. I didn't think of what my kids were missing out on; instead, I simply enjoyed the moment of watching them play and of beign in the background.  (Seriously, by the 100,000th Mommy, you'd have to be deaf not to need a time out. I don't care what anyone says.) 

In the next few weeks, the final push to get whatshisname completely ripped from our lives will be in full effect. He will not have a single right to them AND they will have MY name and not HIS name. We will all have my name. While I am still in contact with his family, because his family didn't fuck everything up he did, I think it's better that the kids do not have that "name" hanging over them forever. Plus, it is be the sweat of MY brow that clothes, feeds, shelters, spoils, loves and discliplines them so they should have MY name. I don't even mind going back to the middle of the alphabet; at least the McCs come before the rest of the Ms.

Ah, so enthused by so little...Oh, I also have written absolutly nothing sice Friday. Nope, not a word, sentence, phrase, nada! Why? Umm, did you read above the vast number of people that were in this house this weekend? Yeah, that's why. I plan on making it up this week and continuing my push to finish. I think I will concentrate on filling in gaps that bother me since I've changed stuff half way in. I have copious notes of changes and additions that keep floating in front of my eyes while I'm writing so I guess I should go ahead and get that done so I can figure out the rest of the story. It's getting pretty good, but I still don't knwo who the bad guy is. There are several contenders who have motive and oppotunity, but I just do not know how it will turn out. I have no idea if that is good or bad either, but it certainly is the way it's going.

Ok, perhaps I can sleep now. I sure hope so since I can feel my eyelids sinking....G'Night!

50,000 in 50 days...Day 1

Faint-and-fucking-fall-out, I got my 1000 words finished! Actually, I wrote 1301 words. And I did that despite changing diapers, filling cups with milk, constantly reminding the kids to stop running and to use inside voices, peal Caitlin off of me when she tried to scale my upper body while I was typing, and that's just part of the fun this morning.

I'm pretty proud of myself and I'm trying to be positive that I can keep up the pace for all 50 days.