I have a dream…

Well, I had a dream, last night, or this morning to be more exact. Brace yourselves. I was white water rafting (never gonna happen) in some sort of elaborate indoor waterslide-esque setup (umm…) that was large enough to encompass forests, rapids, falls, wildlife, etc. Still with me? Here’s the kicker, I’m in the back of a raft, my entire family (including the “only on holidays” relatives, and “here’s a fluffy puff paint sweatshirt for your 21st birthday” folks) fills the rest of our barely floating boat. But there I am, clinging NOT to the raft itself but to my cat, Alfie, who is fully equipped with a miniature helmet and life vest.

As should have been expected, at the first sign of turbulence Alfie gets flipped out and into the frigid water (you’d think in an indoor arena they’d pay to heat it) and I, like any reasonable person, jump in after him?!?!  Just as I got hold of him, about the same time I lost feeling in my limbs and started debating on if I really loved said cat enough to die in a manmade rapids scenario – we were both zapped (yes, zapped… it’s a super technical term used quite often these days) into a sterile room with attendants, prepared to coddle, shampoo, fluff, and dry little Alfie, while I, was tossed a hand towel to see to my own impending case of hypothermia.

Once Alfie was back to good, we were zapped back into the raft, where our raft was suddenly surrounded with a flock of rabid ducks. Luckily I woke up before they launched an attack, relieved to find that there were no ducks in bed with me, only my iphone alarmclock. While I haven’t the slightest idea what any of this crazed symbolism means, I have learned my lesson as far as reading NonFiction Disaster books with wine in bed.

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Hitting ReSet…


I can’t remember the last time I was able to take a full hour & escape to the park by myself. Today, I was able to do just that, and those 60 minutes were utter bliss. Somehow the stars & planets aligned perfectly, and I found myself without excuse.

It’s early July and the weather is finally showing signs of summer, 73 degrees, sunshine and a cloudless blue sky. At first I assumed the park must be closed, and the staff had simply forgotten to close the front gate across the long gravel driveway entrance. The parking lot, usually filled with cars, was bare. The fields and picnic tables, usually bustling with children, families, picnics, and animals, were silent. As though the park was mine alone. The silence and space mine for the taking. Choosing my picnic table wisely, close enough to the looming red barn to eavesdrop on its feathered inhabitants but just out of reach of its massive shadow.

Closing my eyes for just a moment, I realized that I’d taken the empty parking lot for granted, I wasn’t alone after all, the park was overflowing with it’s residents and their own daily conversations.  The rustle of the wind through the leaves of the foliage, the incessant clucking of the hens, so like an elderly Jewish woman, anxiously pushing her own life lessons onto anyone who’ll listen, always busy and moving about. The proud crow of the rooster, a college athlete long past his prime but still insistent on announcing his presence for all to hear. The eager duck, testing the water in his small pool, so like a naive child, instructed to use just his toe but unable to control his excitement, running full speed into the water instead; splashing any adults standing near for his protection.

I wonder why I’ve neglected this amazing place for so long. Allowing myself to become so absorbed and overwhelmed with the rush of everyday life that I’ve nearly forgotten the sensation of just being. Sitting still and inviting nature to exist around me, not needing to be in control, but instead relinquishing myself to something greater than I am, than I can ever hope to become. Appreciating the little things. The birds, the sun, the grass, the breeze…

Almost akin to hitting the reset button on one of the many pieces of technology managing my day-to-day life. Seeking out and finding that small button, the one hidden within a crevice in the man made plastic box, using an unwound paperclip to sneakily press and grant myself & the machine 30 seconds of reprieve before returning to whatever menial yet urgent task lies at hand.

I need to do this more often, I tell myself this, just as I have every time before. When I’ve depleted my own reserve of relaxation and peace, and have stumbled back to my roots, to nature for a refreshing reset, a dose of quiet, and a reminder from Mother Nature that she hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s here waiting for me, if I’ll only make time to remember her.

It’s my turn…

As those of you close to me may know, my recent ghostwriting opportunity wasn’t meant to be. Which is a nice way of saying that we went back and forth a few times negotiating numbers and whether I would be able to use the finished product on my resume at all – and in the end, we were unable to come to a mutual decision. I was definitely disappointed that things didn’t work out, but proud of myself for sticking to my guns on the few small things I felt I needed in order to make the project really worth my while.

Within a few days of realizing the ghost writing project wouldn’t be happening, I found myself slightly stumped for a writing project to drown myself in, especially since I’d just spent the last 3 weeks reading up on everything I could as far as fiction writing for dummies, character development, and setting a scene that already exists perfectly inside my head. As fate may have it, I stumbled onto a topic that’s held some intrigue for me since I was much younger, and almost instantly, in my mind, I could see the character that belonged there, her life, her traits, her flaws, her desires, and what would eventually be her demise!

At this point I’m 100’s of pages of notes & research in, and about 500 words deep into chapter 1 of what I feel could be the next big historical fiction novel to hit the shelves! Hopefully sometime soon – say 2013ish, assuming of course that the rest of the book/story tells itself as quickly and painlessly as things have fallen into place thus far. But whatever happens, however far I get, this is MY story – wholly and completely – and it feels EFFING AMAZING!!! 🙂

So, friends, family, and faithful blog stalkers – please accept my apologies in advance if I seem to be distant from the blog – and I do promise I’ll try to keep at least a few posts a month gracing these pages… Wish me luck!

~ m 🙂

A moment of thanks…

I visited with a new client yesterday afternoon and as she told me her story, I realized we have much in common, but really are living in two completely different times. From a young age she’d known that she would pursue a degree and career in journalism. And, after receiving her education, she sought out positions with the local newspapers, realizing quickly that while she possessed the same qualifications as some of her male counterparts, as a woman she would be hired as a “journalist” by title only, and would spend her days fetching coffee, answering the phone, and filling the role of secretary or receptionist, instead of writing the hard hitting news stories she so yearned for. Thus she pursued a career in education, becoming an elementary school teacher, and later a reading specialist.

Flash forward to myself, a single female, 60 years later, who’s decided to press pause on her technical education after receiving her Associates Degree, and instead of pursuing book smarts in the form of an astronomically priced Bachelors Degree, is earning her education through the school of life – working a few months as a freelance reporter for the local newspaper, a monthly columnist for a local entertainment magazine, published in a magazine that holds as an institution in most American homes, and all the while writing whatever I’d like, about whomever I’d like, with the dream of having a book of my own resting on the shelves of a local bookstore.

Thank you, to those that have come before, Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath… Those who faced the struggles they met head on, because of you, I’m able to do me.

~ m

Daydreaming….

“Hope is a waking dream,” so said Aristotle, and I for one, believe he had it right.

I also got an amazing phone call yesterday afternoon. To bring you all up to speed, I recently became gainfully unemployed (end of September) after 11 years of working full time + without a break. So, it’s been a bit of a shock to my system, having so much time for myself, my writing, reading, napping, and focusing on making some serious life changes. I’ve been looking for work over the past month plus, but to use the same line as hundreds of thousands of others, due to the economy, and lack of jobs that I have the knowledge, skillset, and training for – it’s been a little difficult to find something. I’m also being picky, not just taking a job, because it’s offered to me. I don’t want to find myself in another situation where I’m in a dead end job, dreading the office every morning because of one thing or another – I want to hold out a bit and find a position doing something that I can be passionate about, and with a team that I can feel a connection with.

So, as you may have noticed, I love to write… whether it be blogging, journaling, articles for local publications, essays for larger ones, or just doodling on a napkin in a coffee shop. A few months back, the local paper approached me about an interview & column that they wanted to create about me! Regarding my status as a small town local gal, seeking out the limelight of stardom as a writer. Well, yesterday afternoon, that same paper (who did print an amazing article about yours truly) contacted me about an open position they have for a freelance reporter & photographer!!! I meet with the editor tomorrow morning to discuss specifics… But, I really believe that this is the position I’ve been waiting for. And, the timing couldn’t be better. With the track I’m traveling now, towards a healthier, happier, stronger, prouder me… I can now add that I may be working in a position that I’ve always dreamed of!!!

~ m 🙂