… & then…

           Once again, it’s been far too long since I’ve posted anything here. Not because I haven’t been writing, not the case at all, in fact I’ve been doing more writing in the past few weeks than I did for the month or two prior! But, the writing is just of a different sort, genre, topic… what am I trying to say…. alright it’s “professional” writing- all proper like. I’ve started 2 blogs for work, one being a basic “Insurance for Dummies, or Insurance 101” if you will (Insurance Made Simple(r)), and the other being for work as well, but focused on some of the amazing craft breweries here in the Northwest that also happen to be clients at work (What’s Hopp’ening)! If I haven’t forced you to check either of them out already, you should do so – they’re definitely different than the writing (read: venting) I do here, in my “voice” but works that I’m proud of all the same…

           I’ve also been spending a fair amount of time on my attempt at a historical fiction novel. After much struggling with myself, and Agnes (my inner editor – for more on her check out my earlier blogs) over whether to completely steal the life of an actual person and by doing so have to adjust my entire ficticious world to fit with what is real – or to simply steal a few of his real life tidbits and apply them to a character all my own, in that world of my own creation.

This  has been one of the sticking points that has (sadly) left me completely unproductive for long periods of time… simply sitting at the laptop arguing with myself in my head on what I can & can’t do. It wasn’t until just a few days ago that I had the realization that this is MY story, MY book, MY project, and I can do whatever the hell I want to with it! So, it’s been decided (Agnes be damned) – I’m writing “A Historical Fiction Novel; Loosely based on true events”…*whew* – you have NO idea what a paradigm shifting relief it’s been to have that decided & realized. I feel like I’ve reached the top of my first big mountain peak, am enjoying the view, the moment or two of tranquility and success, and looking out ahead of me at the remainder of the mountain range lying in my path.

And thus I move forward, onto the next comfortable valley before once again facing a challenging peak.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.” Henry David Thoreau


It’s in his kiss… Or is it?

I remember being young, much younger than I am now, and getting absolutely giddy at the thought of receiving my first real kiss. Well, that first kiss came and went, without so much as a firework, or butterfly in sight. Honestly, it was quite a memorable experience, but for all of the wrong reasons. The setting, not a first date, or movie-theater with a boy I’d been passing notes to (circle yes or no), or crushing on from class. But instead, it was at a friends 11th birthday party, yea I know, I started my “research” early.

It was the first, of many, real boy-girl parties I would attend. “Real” meaning that we had finally outgrown running naked through sprinklers together on the neighbors lawn with unabashed enjoyment, overcome our immature fear of invisible yet life threatening cooties, and were starting to realize there was something strangely intriguing, unknown, and tempting about the opposite sex. A few of my friends had older siblings, and had overheard (read: eavesdropped on) stories about what games & frivolities were expected at parties like these, now that we were so much more mature, pin the tale on the donkey and freeze tag just wouldn’t cut it.

After a few minutes of whining and prodding from the birthday girl, her parents decided we weren’t in any immediate danger, and relocated themselves to the kitchen upstairs, no doubt to refill their party cups with spiked punch. As soon as the door closed behind them, we found ourselves being drawn by some yet undiscovered gravitational force into a misshapen circle on the well worn shag carpeted floor, in the dimmest corner of their quasi-finished daylight basement; all eyes nervously watching the partially filled 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper laying precariously in our midst. The walls had been decorated with magazine posters of our favorite boy bands (NKOTB and Hansen *squeal*) and television stars (Devin Sawa, Jared Leto, and Leonardo DiCaprio *swoon*), the ceiling above dripped with colorful streamers, & limp oxygen filled balloons, and our pulses raced with prepubescent hormonal excitement.

Flash forward 5 minutes and don’t blink or you’ll miss my first kiss, with a red headed, freckle faced, annoyingly nerdy boy from school. By todays standards it would have been called a peck, or perhaps just an accidental brushing of his lower lip over my chin, and top lip across my teeth – or rather, my braces. I had been so excited about graduating from the group of “never been kissed losers” to the club of “chicks that’ve been kissed” that while I smiled awkwardly over my recently tightened brackets, he leaned in, and, we missed. Only now, looking back, do I realize what a gigantic moment of embarrassment I sidestepped. My newly blooming love life would have gone up in a poof of smoke right then and there if he had sliced his lip open, or even worse, if he’d been an orthodontia ridden preteen like myself, and our brackets had locked?!?!!? I could be sitting in a convent right now, instead of on a well-worn leather sofa in a local coffee shop. Renewing my vows of chastity and modesty instead of allowing my gaze to rest on the tender lips of the well-dressed civil servant next to me sipping his espresso.

Now, as I prepare to bid adieu to my 20’s, and march steadily, head held high, into my 30’s, I realize that so many of my past relationship attempts have begun with a kiss, much like my first, where for whatever reason, whether it be my smile, his anxiousness, or simply bad timing, we’ve missed. I can honestly say that I have yet to experience a firework lighting, goose-dot creating, toe curling first kiss, and anxiously look forward to the day it happens. Until then though, I’m biding my time, enjoying my solo adventures, and smooching a frog every now and then. I maintain the hope, and faith, that someday, that frog just might be the oddly nerdy prince I’ve been waiting for.

So, there you have it, the embarrassing story of my first kiss that really wasn’t. Your turn now – tell me, what do you remember about your first kiss? Was it a complete disaster, or are you one of the few blessed souls whose first kiss was with their soul mate?