Sometimes people think they have uncovered a great secret, and when I don't play into their game they are confused and dumbstruck momentarily. I quite enjoy these instances.
Sweet (and sick) receptionist: Good morning, how can I help you?
Mr. know-it-all: Yeah, I just got off the phone with your customer service department and he informed me that he is located in Phoenix, Arizona.
SR: Yes.
Mr.: So you're admitting that your customer service department is in Phoenix, Arizona?
SR: Yes, that's where our call center is located.
MR.: You mean to tell me that it is in another state?
SR: Would you rather it be in the Dominican Republic like it used to be?
MR.: silence...
SR: If you would like to speak to someone here in Michigan about your bill I can transfer you.
MR.: Are they in Pontiac?
SR: Yes. They are in the next department
MR.: In Pontiac, Michigan?
SR.: Yup.
MR.: Well, I guess.
SR.: Just a moment.
MR.: ....... uh, thanks
It's not a top secret government mission that our call center is located in a different state. Were you expecting me to deny it and try to cover it up? If you were, I'm sorry I disappointed you.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Oh, hello again...
This is the first post in what could be a long series of funny/awkward/ridiculous interactions I've experienced while answering the phone for a local newspaper.
A while back I received a call from one of our semi-regular callers, we'll call him "Rich". He calls pretty frequently to ask if certain things are in the paper that day, because heaven forbid he actually buy a paper and look for himself. His requests are usually about celebrities, and because we are a small midwest newspaper, my answer is usually no.
One day, "Rich" called looking for an article about a famous actor who had died of a heart attack. I glanced through the paper and found that it was actually included.
After explaining to him that he would have to talk to someone in a different department to order a copy of the paper I transferred him to said department.
"Rich" is a nice enough guy. From what I have gathered, he sounds to be somewhere in his 40's and lives with his father I believe. He is always polite and kind to me on the phone (which can be a relief from the angry calls I also receive) and tries to pass along tips of celebrities in case we would like to cover them. But sometimes I get the feeling he may not be all there.
So, after I transferred him to the correct department, I didn't expect to hear from him again until the next celebrity death he would call to report. Boy, was I wrong! Over the course of the next hour I spoke with "Rich" 5 times. The conversations went something like this:
1. He called back to let me know that the woman I had transferred him to had not answered and to ask if he should have left her a message. I told him yes, and transferred him back.
2. Then he called to let me know that he had left a message and to ask if she would call him back. I said yes and let him go.
3. About 15 minutes later he called to inform me that he had not yet spoken with the woman and that he was getting in the shower, in case she called back. I said that he would likely have a missed call or a voicemail if she did. He seemed hesitant, but agreed and hung up.
4. After his shower he called back to check if she had called him while he was in the shower. I informed him that she is in a different part of the building and I had no idea if she had tried to call or not and transferred him back to her.
5. Then he called back to set the record straight that he had gotten a hold of her and was able to order the paper that he was looking for. He thanked me for my help and was happily awaiting his paper.
After this whole fiasco I felt exhausted and as if I needed a nap.
A while back I received a call from one of our semi-regular callers, we'll call him "Rich". He calls pretty frequently to ask if certain things are in the paper that day, because heaven forbid he actually buy a paper and look for himself. His requests are usually about celebrities, and because we are a small midwest newspaper, my answer is usually no.
One day, "Rich" called looking for an article about a famous actor who had died of a heart attack. I glanced through the paper and found that it was actually included.
After explaining to him that he would have to talk to someone in a different department to order a copy of the paper I transferred him to said department.
"Rich" is a nice enough guy. From what I have gathered, he sounds to be somewhere in his 40's and lives with his father I believe. He is always polite and kind to me on the phone (which can be a relief from the angry calls I also receive) and tries to pass along tips of celebrities in case we would like to cover them. But sometimes I get the feeling he may not be all there.
So, after I transferred him to the correct department, I didn't expect to hear from him again until the next celebrity death he would call to report. Boy, was I wrong! Over the course of the next hour I spoke with "Rich" 5 times. The conversations went something like this:
1. He called back to let me know that the woman I had transferred him to had not answered and to ask if he should have left her a message. I told him yes, and transferred him back.
2. Then he called to let me know that he had left a message and to ask if she would call him back. I said yes and let him go.
3. About 15 minutes later he called to inform me that he had not yet spoken with the woman and that he was getting in the shower, in case she called back. I said that he would likely have a missed call or a voicemail if she did. He seemed hesitant, but agreed and hung up.
4. After his shower he called back to check if she had called him while he was in the shower. I informed him that she is in a different part of the building and I had no idea if she had tried to call or not and transferred him back to her.
5. Then he called back to set the record straight that he had gotten a hold of her and was able to order the paper that he was looking for. He thanked me for my help and was happily awaiting his paper.
After this whole fiasco I felt exhausted and as if I needed a nap.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Picking my battles
Can you bring cookies to this event? Can you watch my kids on short notice? Can you stop and pick up this? Can you prepare that? Can you attend this meeting? Can you come to that? Will you cover my shift? Can you come pick me up?
These are just a few of the things that I have been asked this week alone. Don't get my wrong, I enjoy being helpful. But sometimes it gets to be too much. It's easy to be overwhelmed with the needs and wants of those around us.
Had you asked me to do something for you a couple years ago, no matter how last minute it was, I would have completely rearranged my schedule, cut into my sleep time and gone without meals in order to help in whatever way I could. But I have learned over the years that there will always be a need, and I can't always be the one to meet it. I used to feel awful if I had to tell someone no, but now I find it quite liberating! I like to be in control of my time and schedule. I will do what I can for those I love, but I know that sometimes it is best for everyone involved if I decline.
About a year ago, I was asked to babysit for a family that I didn't know very well. Being a single, 20 something girl in a large church leads to many requests to babysit for people that I often don't know at all. (I help out in the nursery a lot, so I know people's kids better than I know the parents.) When I was asked to babysit, I knew right away that I should turn it down. I was tired and cranky and coming down with something. But I needed the money, so I accepted the job. The kids were perfect angels until the moment after their parents pulled out of the driveway, then it was pure frustration. The oldest was running around screaming and tearing things up and pushing his little sister down. The little girl was crying and clearly starved for attention... And I wanted to cry with her! I made dinner, he refused to eat. He went to the bathroom and refused to wipe himself. We brushed our teeth and they both flat out refused. Deciding that brushed teeth was the least of my worries, I put them to bed a little earlier than their parents had suggested. I was so done. I shut their doors and sat down in the living room to cry.
I should have said no. It would have saved a lot of frustration and tears. But I am stubborn. I like a full schedule. I like the thanks for helping out. I like to be the one to save the day or give parents a night out. (Maybe, deep down, I hope that because I babysit so parents can go on dates karma will come back around and give me a babysitter when I'm married and want a date night.)
I have learned that I cannot always do these things. I can't put my mental, emotional, and physical well-being on the line to help someone else all the time. And I have learned that if I say no, someone else will be willing to step in and meet that need just as well as I could have, or usually better. I have learned to pick my battles and that it is perfectly acceptable to say no when I need to.
These are just a few of the things that I have been asked this week alone. Don't get my wrong, I enjoy being helpful. But sometimes it gets to be too much. It's easy to be overwhelmed with the needs and wants of those around us.
Had you asked me to do something for you a couple years ago, no matter how last minute it was, I would have completely rearranged my schedule, cut into my sleep time and gone without meals in order to help in whatever way I could. But I have learned over the years that there will always be a need, and I can't always be the one to meet it. I used to feel awful if I had to tell someone no, but now I find it quite liberating! I like to be in control of my time and schedule. I will do what I can for those I love, but I know that sometimes it is best for everyone involved if I decline.
About a year ago, I was asked to babysit for a family that I didn't know very well. Being a single, 20 something girl in a large church leads to many requests to babysit for people that I often don't know at all. (I help out in the nursery a lot, so I know people's kids better than I know the parents.) When I was asked to babysit, I knew right away that I should turn it down. I was tired and cranky and coming down with something. But I needed the money, so I accepted the job. The kids were perfect angels until the moment after their parents pulled out of the driveway, then it was pure frustration. The oldest was running around screaming and tearing things up and pushing his little sister down. The little girl was crying and clearly starved for attention... And I wanted to cry with her! I made dinner, he refused to eat. He went to the bathroom and refused to wipe himself. We brushed our teeth and they both flat out refused. Deciding that brushed teeth was the least of my worries, I put them to bed a little earlier than their parents had suggested. I was so done. I shut their doors and sat down in the living room to cry.
I should have said no. It would have saved a lot of frustration and tears. But I am stubborn. I like a full schedule. I like the thanks for helping out. I like to be the one to save the day or give parents a night out. (Maybe, deep down, I hope that because I babysit so parents can go on dates karma will come back around and give me a babysitter when I'm married and want a date night.)
I have learned that I cannot always do these things. I can't put my mental, emotional, and physical well-being on the line to help someone else all the time. And I have learned that if I say no, someone else will be willing to step in and meet that need just as well as I could have, or usually better. I have learned to pick my battles and that it is perfectly acceptable to say no when I need to.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Simple acts of kindness
On a cold winter day he made his way to the nearest store and slowly stepped through the doors as they glided open of their own accord. He had dressed deliberately, but secretly, in his finest black pants and gray sweater with the faded green and blue argyle pattern along the buttons. It had always been her favorite. Checking that his hair was laying right in the framed mirror near the front door, he had slipped out as quietly as he could and made his way to the bus stop on the corner.
The clerk, in her official blue vest, watched as he browsed through the selection of bouquets near the produce.
"Can I help you, Sir?" she asked, noting the way he seemed to be carefully examining each bouquet, one at a time.
"What is your favorite flower?" he asked, looking up at the fresh faced young girl.
"I like daisies the best. What kind are you looking for?"
"Stargazer lilies," he said. "Do you have any?"
"Well, there's one in that bouquet, and one in that other one over there with the pink carnations. And one with the white roses, to your right," she said, pointing at each bouquet as she spotted them.
"You don't have one with just stargazer lilies?" he asked.
"I don't think so," she said in an apologetic tone. "Are they for your wife?"
"Yes ma'am. I get her a bouquet of stargazer lilies every year. I usually order them from the florist, but this year we just don't have the money. I was hoping you'd have them," he said, looking slightly discouraged.
"How long have you and your wife been married?"
"67 years come spring," he said smiling at the clerk. "Probably before your parents were even born."
The clerk smiled and nodded.
"We met when I came back from my basic training and I knew I wanted to marry her right then," he said. "She said she'd never marry a military man, but I knew I was going to marry that bright eyed girl." The clerk noticed that as he told their story a single tear had begun to form in the corner of his wrinkled eye and she began to tear up a bit too.
"So how did you win her over?" she asked.
"I wrote her letters the whole time I was gone. At first her responses her friendly, but nothing more. Then, as I told her about the dangers I was facing while in the war-torn country and my belief that God had it all in control, her letters started to read a bit differently. When I finally got leave to come home, she met me at the port with a sign that said, 'I can't imagine life without my military man.' That was 68 years ago today."
By the time he was done telling his story, the clerk knew what she was going to do. She pulled every bouquet the store had that contained a stargazer lily and asked him to wait right there. She ducked behind the counter and began to pull them apart, separating the lilies from the rest of the bouquets. When she had wrapped up the newly formed bouquet, she walked around the counter and handed it to the old gentleman who was standing with his hands in his pockets looking around, enjoying the flower arrangements around him.
"Here you go, Sir," she said with a bright smile.
"Thank you so much. My Joan will love these so much. How much do I owe you?" he asked, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet.
"This bouquet doesn't technically exist, so it's on the house," she said.
All he could say is "God bless you," as the solitary tear finally made its way down his crinkled cheek. He gave her a warm hug and slowly made his way out the front door and boarded the waiting bus.
The clerk, in her official blue vest, watched as he browsed through the selection of bouquets near the produce.
"Can I help you, Sir?" she asked, noting the way he seemed to be carefully examining each bouquet, one at a time.
"What is your favorite flower?" he asked, looking up at the fresh faced young girl.
"I like daisies the best. What kind are you looking for?"
"Stargazer lilies," he said. "Do you have any?"
"Well, there's one in that bouquet, and one in that other one over there with the pink carnations. And one with the white roses, to your right," she said, pointing at each bouquet as she spotted them.
"You don't have one with just stargazer lilies?" he asked.
"I don't think so," she said in an apologetic tone. "Are they for your wife?"
"Yes ma'am. I get her a bouquet of stargazer lilies every year. I usually order them from the florist, but this year we just don't have the money. I was hoping you'd have them," he said, looking slightly discouraged.
"How long have you and your wife been married?"
"67 years come spring," he said smiling at the clerk. "Probably before your parents were even born."
The clerk smiled and nodded.
"We met when I came back from my basic training and I knew I wanted to marry her right then," he said. "She said she'd never marry a military man, but I knew I was going to marry that bright eyed girl." The clerk noticed that as he told their story a single tear had begun to form in the corner of his wrinkled eye and she began to tear up a bit too.
"So how did you win her over?" she asked.
"I wrote her letters the whole time I was gone. At first her responses her friendly, but nothing more. Then, as I told her about the dangers I was facing while in the war-torn country and my belief that God had it all in control, her letters started to read a bit differently. When I finally got leave to come home, she met me at the port with a sign that said, 'I can't imagine life without my military man.' That was 68 years ago today."
By the time he was done telling his story, the clerk knew what she was going to do. She pulled every bouquet the store had that contained a stargazer lily and asked him to wait right there. She ducked behind the counter and began to pull them apart, separating the lilies from the rest of the bouquets. When she had wrapped up the newly formed bouquet, she walked around the counter and handed it to the old gentleman who was standing with his hands in his pockets looking around, enjoying the flower arrangements around him.
"Here you go, Sir," she said with a bright smile.
"Thank you so much. My Joan will love these so much. How much do I owe you?" he asked, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet.
"This bouquet doesn't technically exist, so it's on the house," she said.
All he could say is "God bless you," as the solitary tear finally made its way down his crinkled cheek. He gave her a warm hug and slowly made his way out the front door and boarded the waiting bus.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The Story of an Hour
The Story of an Hour by Kate Chopin is one of my favorite short stories. It was this story that piqued my interest in literature. The imagery and creative writing is so great. I can't believe that in such a short space so much can be said and felt. I attached it below for your reading pleasure!
"The Story of An Hour"
Kate Chopin (1894)
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death. It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
"Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."
"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of the joy that kills.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Dear people in the Public Relations field
Dear people in the Public Relations field,
I applaud your work in getting the word out about your clients' events, accomplishments and so on. However, PROOFREAD! You may think that you never make a mistake, always have the correct date and format, and never make a typo, but you are wrong in that assumption. There is no shame in proofreading, I promise. No one will look down on you for taking the extra minute to look over your press release to ensure accuracy, they will, however, look down on you for multiple mistakes in your press releases. If you want anyone to take you seriously, proofread!!
Do us all a favor and double check that your day and date match, that your event does not begin at 3:30 a.m. and end at 5 p.m., and, for goodness sake, if you want to send an important press release about the concerning lung cancer epidemic, don't accidentally type "lunch cancer". The serious tone of your writing will take a turn for the worse when the reader begins to giggle upon reading your horrible mistake!
Sincerely,
Ashley
I applaud your work in getting the word out about your clients' events, accomplishments and so on. However, PROOFREAD! You may think that you never make a mistake, always have the correct date and format, and never make a typo, but you are wrong in that assumption. There is no shame in proofreading, I promise. No one will look down on you for taking the extra minute to look over your press release to ensure accuracy, they will, however, look down on you for multiple mistakes in your press releases. If you want anyone to take you seriously, proofread!!
Do us all a favor and double check that your day and date match, that your event does not begin at 3:30 a.m. and end at 5 p.m., and, for goodness sake, if you want to send an important press release about the concerning lung cancer epidemic, don't accidentally type "lunch cancer". The serious tone of your writing will take a turn for the worse when the reader begins to giggle upon reading your horrible mistake!
Sincerely,
Ashley
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Step #1 to getting out of this funk
Last night I sat with my computer on my lap, nestled comfortably in my ugly mustard yellow arm chair, staring at a blank screen. I wanted to write. I had the time and attention span to write. I even had the proper amount of caffeine in my system to write. But I lacked one key factor, I did not have the inspiration to write.
This gray cloud has been hanging over my head for far too long. I want to give it an eviction notice, but I can't find a way to do it. I wish it would go for a walk to get some fresh air, and in its absence I could sneak into it's place and haul all of its belongings to the curb and change the locks. Then maybe I could write again.
I usually find inspiration by writing about a place or experience that is familiar, but right now, I wouldn't even want to skim, let alone read, those familiar experiences myself. My mind and writing have burrowed down to a dark, cynical place deep within me and I don't like it. Nobody wants to read that. Not even my mother, and biggest fan, would make it more than a few pages in that book. People want to read books that make them feel good about themselves, or stories that help them to escape the crap of their own life and lose themselves in a new world that a book creates. Nobody wants to lose themselves in the book that is written from the crappy place I have been mentally lately.
What it comes down to is that I need some new adventures. I need to travel and explore and just do what I love with people that I love to be around and forget my troubles. These adventures don't need to be anything grand. I don't have to go to far away places and do things that I have never done before, though that would be fun too. I want to again fall in love with where I am and who I am with already. It has been too long since I've played the tourist. A small cash flow and this dreaded winter weather haven't helped either.
Maybe this weekend I will take some time for myself. Maybe I will go to a downtown cafe in some other nearby city and just sit and listen to the people around me and write. It will very likely be crappy writing, but at least I will have gotten words on a page, and that is always step #1.
This gray cloud has been hanging over my head for far too long. I want to give it an eviction notice, but I can't find a way to do it. I wish it would go for a walk to get some fresh air, and in its absence I could sneak into it's place and haul all of its belongings to the curb and change the locks. Then maybe I could write again.
I usually find inspiration by writing about a place or experience that is familiar, but right now, I wouldn't even want to skim, let alone read, those familiar experiences myself. My mind and writing have burrowed down to a dark, cynical place deep within me and I don't like it. Nobody wants to read that. Not even my mother, and biggest fan, would make it more than a few pages in that book. People want to read books that make them feel good about themselves, or stories that help them to escape the crap of their own life and lose themselves in a new world that a book creates. Nobody wants to lose themselves in the book that is written from the crappy place I have been mentally lately.
What it comes down to is that I need some new adventures. I need to travel and explore and just do what I love with people that I love to be around and forget my troubles. These adventures don't need to be anything grand. I don't have to go to far away places and do things that I have never done before, though that would be fun too. I want to again fall in love with where I am and who I am with already. It has been too long since I've played the tourist. A small cash flow and this dreaded winter weather haven't helped either.
Maybe this weekend I will take some time for myself. Maybe I will go to a downtown cafe in some other nearby city and just sit and listen to the people around me and write. It will very likely be crappy writing, but at least I will have gotten words on a page, and that is always step #1.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Turning 25
I have been 25 for 3 days now and it is definitely living up to my low
expectations. Friday night, the eve of my birthday, was great! I went to a special dinner with my sister and a good friend of ours and had a great time laughing and eating fondue! Our waiter looked like Justin Long and we did our best to make him feel uncomfortable every time he walked over due to our inability to control the laughter. Tears were running down our faces and sticking to glasses! That was a great way to spend my last night as a 24 year old.
Saturday I impulsively decided to do a 5k walk with my friend. The night before I had bought new shoes and was starting to get pumped to get outside and be active. Then at 4 a.m. I was pulled out of a dead sleep by a feeling comparable with someone sawing off my left leg. I had the worst charlie horse of my entire life. So when it was time to get up 3 hours later I was not well rested and still very sore. But my stubborn nature forced me out into the cold to prove something to myself. I limped and complained both silently and vocally for the first mile and a half. Then about the 2 mile marker I had forgotten the pain in my left leg (sometimes being replaced by pain in my right ankle) and was enjoying the walk through downtown Holly. When we crossed the finish line I was relieved to sit down and take more meds, but happy that I finished! (I rarely take meds for anything, but on my birthday I didn't want to try to work through the pain like I usually would.)
I went home, took a hot shower, and sat in bed watching a movie for an hour. When I got up to get ready for lunch with some friends, my feet hit the floor and then was shortly followed by the rest of me hitting the floor as my sore legs reminded me of their plight. Luckily my bed caught me and I was able to recover again before my second attempt. Lunch was a great time. I share a birthday with a new friend, so I went to her birthday celebration and we enjoyed it together.
For dinner I was planning to go to On the Border with some friends, not looking forward to their birthday tradition of standing on my chair and dancing in front of the entire restaurant with corona salt and pepper shaker bottles in hand. It seems like a lot of torture for a tiny bowl of ice cream! A few friends from very different corners of my life showed up and I enjoyed myself. I had a new friend from work, a roommate from college, a friend I met while I was in high school, a best friend I've known forever and a friend who I don't see very often from my time working at the church. It was fun to watch so many aspects of my life collide and interact! It was definitely awkward at times, but I think everyone enjoyed themselves. I obliged to dance for ice cream, but refused to stand on my chair. I'm not very shy, but I don't like to be the center of attention!
On Sunday I went to church and then to my parents, where I had to frost my own cake. It seems like as you get older, things are a lot less magical. You lose Santa, the Tooth fairy, birthday surprises and so much more that are replaced by doctor bills, and license renewal fees, and insurance, and frosting your own birthday cake. (a couple years ago I got so fed up with waiting for my family birthday celebration that I ended up making my own cake while home alone in mid-January. Well over a month after my actual birthday! It sucks getting older.) We decorated mom and dad's Christmas tree, and ordered pizza. My parents also try to be really nice and include people in everything, which is fine except on my birthday without asking me about it. So I was a bit annoyed. The pizza was wrong, so the 1 topping that I said I wanted was missing, and I got more annoyed. And then, because I'm an overly emotional girl at times, and because I am not loving being 25 and for so many other reasons, I cried at my birthday celebration. Maybe Lesley Gore could relate when she sang "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."
Then my mom and I had a heart to heart. I expressed that this is not exactly where I would have guessed I would be at 25. Her words of wisdom to me were to join a bowling league, take a photography class or maybe a line dance class... Usually her advice is really insightful and hits home, but I have to admit that advice left me more confused than before.
I'm going to try to be happier about my age and less cynical, but it's not looking likely today! I had very low expectations for this mile marker, and I have to say, so far it is pretty much what I expected.
Saturday I impulsively decided to do a 5k walk with my friend. The night before I had bought new shoes and was starting to get pumped to get outside and be active. Then at 4 a.m. I was pulled out of a dead sleep by a feeling comparable with someone sawing off my left leg. I had the worst charlie horse of my entire life. So when it was time to get up 3 hours later I was not well rested and still very sore. But my stubborn nature forced me out into the cold to prove something to myself. I limped and complained both silently and vocally for the first mile and a half. Then about the 2 mile marker I had forgotten the pain in my left leg (sometimes being replaced by pain in my right ankle) and was enjoying the walk through downtown Holly. When we crossed the finish line I was relieved to sit down and take more meds, but happy that I finished! (I rarely take meds for anything, but on my birthday I didn't want to try to work through the pain like I usually would.)
I went home, took a hot shower, and sat in bed watching a movie for an hour. When I got up to get ready for lunch with some friends, my feet hit the floor and then was shortly followed by the rest of me hitting the floor as my sore legs reminded me of their plight. Luckily my bed caught me and I was able to recover again before my second attempt. Lunch was a great time. I share a birthday with a new friend, so I went to her birthday celebration and we enjoyed it together.
For dinner I was planning to go to On the Border with some friends, not looking forward to their birthday tradition of standing on my chair and dancing in front of the entire restaurant with corona salt and pepper shaker bottles in hand. It seems like a lot of torture for a tiny bowl of ice cream! A few friends from very different corners of my life showed up and I enjoyed myself. I had a new friend from work, a roommate from college, a friend I met while I was in high school, a best friend I've known forever and a friend who I don't see very often from my time working at the church. It was fun to watch so many aspects of my life collide and interact! It was definitely awkward at times, but I think everyone enjoyed themselves. I obliged to dance for ice cream, but refused to stand on my chair. I'm not very shy, but I don't like to be the center of attention!
On Sunday I went to church and then to my parents, where I had to frost my own cake. It seems like as you get older, things are a lot less magical. You lose Santa, the Tooth fairy, birthday surprises and so much more that are replaced by doctor bills, and license renewal fees, and insurance, and frosting your own birthday cake. (a couple years ago I got so fed up with waiting for my family birthday celebration that I ended up making my own cake while home alone in mid-January. Well over a month after my actual birthday! It sucks getting older.) We decorated mom and dad's Christmas tree, and ordered pizza. My parents also try to be really nice and include people in everything, which is fine except on my birthday without asking me about it. So I was a bit annoyed. The pizza was wrong, so the 1 topping that I said I wanted was missing, and I got more annoyed. And then, because I'm an overly emotional girl at times, and because I am not loving being 25 and for so many other reasons, I cried at my birthday celebration. Maybe Lesley Gore could relate when she sang "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."
Then my mom and I had a heart to heart. I expressed that this is not exactly where I would have guessed I would be at 25. Her words of wisdom to me were to join a bowling league, take a photography class or maybe a line dance class... Usually her advice is really insightful and hits home, but I have to admit that advice left me more confused than before.
I'm going to try to be happier about my age and less cynical, but it's not looking likely today! I had very low expectations for this mile marker, and I have to say, so far it is pretty much what I expected.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Ode to 25
I realize that people turn 25 every day, but I only turn 25 once, so let me revel in it for one blog post at least before I get the standard "Think about how old I feel" comments!
Oh, to the year I turn 25. I never thought I would be this old. In just 8 short days, the day of my birth will be upon us. It is sure to be interesting and full of adventure and maybe even a little love along the way. One quarter of a century, what a comforting thought.
Don't get me wrong, there are many things to celebrate about it: lower car insurance, a sense of independence at being in your mid-20s, as well as getting farther and farther from those awkward teen years that I, for one, would like to forget.
In 8 short days the comments will begin,
"I was married and had 3 kids by 25"
"I was working full time and owned my own home at your age"
and
"You aren't getting any younger"
These people may think they are helpful, they may even mean well in some way, but let me tell you these words make me imagine punching them in the throat! However, I am older and wiser, right? So instead of fantasizing about punching people in the windpipe, I will just smile and say, "Bless your heart" and walk away.
While it may be true that many people are married, with a mortgage and three kids by 25, I am not most people. My father was right when he said "You never do things the easy way do you?"
Every other birthday I've celebrated, people were happy for me and told me how good that year was to them and so on, but this year is different. I have been told by a variety of people in my life that 25 was their worst/hardest/most frustrating year of life... what wonderful words of encouragement to a young heart! I love these people dearly, and I am glad they are honest with me and not getting my hopes up, but I could use some encouragement this year. I already know it's going to be a rough year, you didn't have to tell me that. I am older than anyone in my immediate family was when they got married. In fact, my parents were married (to other people), divorced, and remarried before they hit this wonderful milestone.
Some of my non-church friends have said things like "I don't understand how you're still single, aren't there guys at that big church you go to?" And to that I say "Yeah there are plenty of guys, but there's a reason they're still on the market!"
So I will leave you with these parting words: if you know anyone turning 25 or who has recently turned 25, give them a hug. Chances are they need it!
Oh, to the year I turn 25. I never thought I would be this old. In just 8 short days, the day of my birth will be upon us. It is sure to be interesting and full of adventure and maybe even a little love along the way. One quarter of a century, what a comforting thought.
Don't get me wrong, there are many things to celebrate about it: lower car insurance, a sense of independence at being in your mid-20s, as well as getting farther and farther from those awkward teen years that I, for one, would like to forget.
In 8 short days the comments will begin,
"I was married and had 3 kids by 25"
"I was working full time and owned my own home at your age"
and
"You aren't getting any younger"
These people may think they are helpful, they may even mean well in some way, but let me tell you these words make me imagine punching them in the throat! However, I am older and wiser, right? So instead of fantasizing about punching people in the windpipe, I will just smile and say, "Bless your heart" and walk away.
While it may be true that many people are married, with a mortgage and three kids by 25, I am not most people. My father was right when he said "You never do things the easy way do you?"
Every other birthday I've celebrated, people were happy for me and told me how good that year was to them and so on, but this year is different. I have been told by a variety of people in my life that 25 was their worst/hardest/most frustrating year of life... what wonderful words of encouragement to a young heart! I love these people dearly, and I am glad they are honest with me and not getting my hopes up, but I could use some encouragement this year. I already know it's going to be a rough year, you didn't have to tell me that. I am older than anyone in my immediate family was when they got married. In fact, my parents were married (to other people), divorced, and remarried before they hit this wonderful milestone.
Some of my non-church friends have said things like "I don't understand how you're still single, aren't there guys at that big church you go to?" And to that I say "Yeah there are plenty of guys, but there's a reason they're still on the market!"
So I will leave you with these parting words: if you know anyone turning 25 or who has recently turned 25, give them a hug. Chances are they need it!
Friday, November 16, 2012
Is it possible to run out of words?
Some days I feel like words just flow so freely from my fingertips as I type out dialogue and set up scenes and conflict, but those days are too few and too far between sometimes. Maybe it has something to do with my busy days and short nights to myself. Or maybe my word cup is only filled so full for a certain period of time and I can write and write and write, but when the cup dries up I must wait for something to fill it up again. I wish that I knew what filled up that cup. I wish that I could say "Super-size my cup please and fill it as full as it can go."
I think one of the biggest things that fills up my word cup is the proper amount of sleep. I get less than the recommended number of hours most nights, so that can dry up my words quicker than anything.
I also think that being too busy can suck the words out of my brain. It's not that I don't have a few spare minutes, even sometimes an hour, to write, but when I get a sizable chunk of time to sit at my computer and allow my mind to wander through the story and carefully unfold the plot as I go words tend to flow a lot faster and a lot more cohesively.
Being in public helps too. I can listen to real dialogue and remind myself that people don't talk the way that I write most of the time. And I can watch people interact with each other and their surroundings and try to understand how they navigate through life.
These things really do help my story develop from the feeble meanderings I come up with in my brain and make it into something that people might actually believe.
It's not hard to convince people to stretch their minds around new concepts and things that have never been seen before, after all just last night I was in a sold out theater watching a movie about a sparkly vampire, but if I don't base my story in some sound life models the story holds no weight.
I think one of the biggest things that fills up my word cup is the proper amount of sleep. I get less than the recommended number of hours most nights, so that can dry up my words quicker than anything.
I also think that being too busy can suck the words out of my brain. It's not that I don't have a few spare minutes, even sometimes an hour, to write, but when I get a sizable chunk of time to sit at my computer and allow my mind to wander through the story and carefully unfold the plot as I go words tend to flow a lot faster and a lot more cohesively.
Being in public helps too. I can listen to real dialogue and remind myself that people don't talk the way that I write most of the time. And I can watch people interact with each other and their surroundings and try to understand how they navigate through life.
These things really do help my story develop from the feeble meanderings I come up with in my brain and make it into something that people might actually believe.
It's not hard to convince people to stretch their minds around new concepts and things that have never been seen before, after all just last night I was in a sold out theater watching a movie about a sparkly vampire, but if I don't base my story in some sound life models the story holds no weight.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
How sweet it is...
... to meet goals!
I'll admit, I didn't think I had it in me last night. I had writing to do, reading to do, coffee to drink and food to eat. And above all else, no inspiration. I was stuck in my plot. There was a conflict brewing and the resolutions were not looking promising. One was a repeat of something that happened earlier in the story, and the other option was way too simple. I hate stories when a conflict arises and in less than a chapter it's tied up in a neat little bow and hand delivered straight to the reader. As a reader, I beg for intrigue, surprise and maybe a little bit of dragging the villains name through the muddied waters of the plot.
As is the case for many writers, my characters come to life as I type. They show me who they are and what they are all about, far above anything I might have planned for them. The characters take hold of their own lives and force me to let them live it the way they see fit, and usually that change is better than anything I could have come up with.
So last night, I sat down at my computer at one of my favorite little cafes and quietly asked my group of characters, "What would you do in this situation?" And they came through like I couldn't have imagined. And before I knew it my word count went from 11,011 or 13,108! My goal by Thursday was 13,000, so that put me over by 108 words 2 days before my deadline! My prize? DESSERT!!!
I will continue to write this week. I'm not giving up just yet. Maybe I'll set another goal and push myself to meet it. Small goals are where it's at!
I'll admit, I didn't think I had it in me last night. I had writing to do, reading to do, coffee to drink and food to eat. And above all else, no inspiration. I was stuck in my plot. There was a conflict brewing and the resolutions were not looking promising. One was a repeat of something that happened earlier in the story, and the other option was way too simple. I hate stories when a conflict arises and in less than a chapter it's tied up in a neat little bow and hand delivered straight to the reader. As a reader, I beg for intrigue, surprise and maybe a little bit of dragging the villains name through the muddied waters of the plot.
As is the case for many writers, my characters come to life as I type. They show me who they are and what they are all about, far above anything I might have planned for them. The characters take hold of their own lives and force me to let them live it the way they see fit, and usually that change is better than anything I could have come up with.
So last night, I sat down at my computer at one of my favorite little cafes and quietly asked my group of characters, "What would you do in this situation?" And they came through like I couldn't have imagined. And before I knew it my word count went from 11,011 or 13,108! My goal by Thursday was 13,000, so that put me over by 108 words 2 days before my deadline! My prize? DESSERT!!!
I will continue to write this week. I'm not giving up just yet. Maybe I'll set another goal and push myself to meet it. Small goals are where it's at!
Monday, November 12, 2012
The unproductive weekend
The weekend has come and gone and I am left at the same word count I was at on Friday afternoon. I enjoy being busy, but sometimes my need of entertainment and multi-tasking can seriously deprive me of any time to focus on writing something, anything really. I get distracted so easily. Even in the short time that I have been writing this I have checked facebook and looked around multiple times to find out who people are and what they are doing around me. It is a struggle to hold my attention to anything for any length of time.
And there I go again, getting distracted. I need some more coffee or something to hold my attention for more than 5 minutes.
And there I go again, getting distracted. I need some more coffee or something to hold my attention for more than 5 minutes.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Word count goals
Here's the break down of how many words the goal of National Novel Writing Month is on a total basis. The goal is to write 1,667 words a day.
November
1: 1,667
2: 3,334
3: 5,001
4: 6,668
5: 8,335
6: 10,002
7: 11,669
8: 13,336 This is where I'm at and I am shamefully short of that word goal! I will remedy this tonight.
9: 15,003
10: 16,670
11: 18,337
12: 20,004
13: 21,671
14: 23,338
15: 25,005
16: 26,672
17: 28,339
18: 30,006
19: 31,673
20: 33,340
21: 35,007
22: 36,674
23: 38,341
24: 40,008
25: 41,675
26: 43,342
27: 45,009
28: 46,676
29: 48,343
30: 50,010
November
1: 1,667
2: 3,334
3: 5,001
4: 6,668
5: 8,335
6: 10,002
7: 11,669
8: 13,336 This is where I'm at and I am shamefully short of that word goal! I will remedy this tonight.
9: 15,003
10: 16,670
11: 18,337
12: 20,004
13: 21,671
14: 23,338
15: 25,005
16: 26,672
17: 28,339
18: 30,006
19: 31,673
20: 33,340
21: 35,007
22: 36,674
23: 38,341
24: 40,008
25: 41,675
26: 43,342
27: 45,009
28: 46,676
29: 48,343
30: 50,010
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
National Novel Writing Month inspirations: Nov. 7
I am really getting into "NaNoWriMo" so far and loving it! As of the end of the day yesterday I should be at the 10,000 word mark. I am a little short of that mark, but making huge strides to make up for lost time! I am at just over 7,000 words.
Here is a funny antic-dote for your enjoyment from my writing time yesterday:
I went to Starbucks to sit and write yesterday. I love the atmosphere of coffee shops, and they always seem to give me some great inspiration and writing enthusiasm that I don't get as much at home alone. I was there for almost 3 hours. So I was chugging along through some seriously good inspiration, writing some good dialogue, ignoring the people around me when I realized I was making facial expressions that my characters would make while saying the things I was writing! I'm sure my fellow patrons were highly entertained by my looks of confusion, excitement, discomfort and shock as I wrote some intense dialogue between two of my characters!
Am I the only person who visualizes what their characters would look like as they interact with each other or is this something most writers do? Sometimes I feel like a freak for the way I get into what I'm writing. My heart starts to race for them, my stomach drops, and my brain and fingers struggle to keep up with the rapid movement of the characters who come alive in my imagination.
I would love some input from anyone on something. There is a character that I am struggling to name and visualize. She is a harsh, abrupt girl, with a sharp, sarcastic tongue and little regard for the feelings of others. She is calloused and very rough around the edges. She will likely end up either ostracized from a group or she will come to her senses and change. I haven't decided her end yet. What does a girl like that look like to you, and what do you think her name should be? I have her noted as Caroline, but not planning on sticking with that name.
Here is a funny antic-dote for your enjoyment from my writing time yesterday:
I went to Starbucks to sit and write yesterday. I love the atmosphere of coffee shops, and they always seem to give me some great inspiration and writing enthusiasm that I don't get as much at home alone. I was there for almost 3 hours. So I was chugging along through some seriously good inspiration, writing some good dialogue, ignoring the people around me when I realized I was making facial expressions that my characters would make while saying the things I was writing! I'm sure my fellow patrons were highly entertained by my looks of confusion, excitement, discomfort and shock as I wrote some intense dialogue between two of my characters!
Am I the only person who visualizes what their characters would look like as they interact with each other or is this something most writers do? Sometimes I feel like a freak for the way I get into what I'm writing. My heart starts to race for them, my stomach drops, and my brain and fingers struggle to keep up with the rapid movement of the characters who come alive in my imagination.
I would love some input from anyone on something. There is a character that I am struggling to name and visualize. She is a harsh, abrupt girl, with a sharp, sarcastic tongue and little regard for the feelings of others. She is calloused and very rough around the edges. She will likely end up either ostracized from a group or she will come to her senses and change. I haven't decided her end yet. What does a girl like that look like to you, and what do you think her name should be? I have her noted as Caroline, but not planning on sticking with that name.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Progress
Here is an update about how I am doing so far with National Novel Writing Month.
I missed the 1st day, wrote like a mad woman the 2nd day, and haven't written since.
Story of my life...
But, the day I wrote like a mad woman was extremely productive. I am at just over 4,000 words!
Occasionally I will put bits and pieces up here, but probably not often. I am constantly editing in my head and that is not the point of writing a novel in a month. Writers are asked to just write and write and write and not look back. I am NOT good at that at all. If I were to put much of my work here I would be constantly be reading and rereading it and editing and obsessing and driving myself crazy over every little thing. I have a problem. Is there an Anonymous group for constant editors and critics of one's own work? I need a 12 step program here people!
So I can use all the encouragement and coffee that I can get to make it through this month of writing like crazy. I do my best writing in one of 2 places. Sitting in a semi-busy coffee shop with headphones in and moody music playing in my ears where I can watch people interact but not be expected to participate, or in my bedroom, some British movie playing in the background. And there has to be coffee. My mind likes to get sluggish and drowsy when I sit down to write, but coffee cures any of that in a jiffy!
I missed the 1st day, wrote like a mad woman the 2nd day, and haven't written since.
Story of my life...
But, the day I wrote like a mad woman was extremely productive. I am at just over 4,000 words!
Occasionally I will put bits and pieces up here, but probably not often. I am constantly editing in my head and that is not the point of writing a novel in a month. Writers are asked to just write and write and write and not look back. I am NOT good at that at all. If I were to put much of my work here I would be constantly be reading and rereading it and editing and obsessing and driving myself crazy over every little thing. I have a problem. Is there an Anonymous group for constant editors and critics of one's own work? I need a 12 step program here people!
So I can use all the encouragement and coffee that I can get to make it through this month of writing like crazy. I do my best writing in one of 2 places. Sitting in a semi-busy coffee shop with headphones in and moody music playing in my ears where I can watch people interact but not be expected to participate, or in my bedroom, some British movie playing in the background. And there has to be coffee. My mind likes to get sluggish and drowsy when I sit down to write, but coffee cures any of that in a jiffy!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Day 1&2 because I am constantly playing catch up
I started this journey to write a novel in a month. Yesterday was day 1. I was excited because Thursdays are usually one of my least busy days. Little did I know life had a different plan for me. I knew I was meeting with someone at 4 and figured it should only last about an hour or 2. A last minute phone call changed that 4 o'clock meeting to a 7 o'clock ministry event and possibly dinner after. The meeting is for a college ministry that I am getting involved in. I soon realized that I am not in college anymore and I am feeling a bit old! But as it turns out it was great! I met lots of people and am even more excited about this opportunity than I was before.
So because of that I got absolutely no writing done yesterday. The 1,667 daily word challenge has now become a 3,334 challenge for day 2. Lucky for me I will have the house to myself tonight! I plan on running an errand or 2 after work, getting take out and having date night with my laptop and Downton Abbey. Some people listen to music while they write, I listen to late 19th and early 20th century British dramas. To each his own I guess!
I wanted to create a short map of where my story starts and where I hope to have it end, with a few ups and downs along the way. As I have learned through my past writing experience, my characters tend to come alive in my mind somewhere along the way and they rarely follow my script! They prefer to laugh at my plans and promptly make their own way through the story, often ending up at a completely different spot than I intended for them.
I quite prefer my characters to play by their own rules. The stories that I come up with are rarely genius by any means and often sound lame even to me. When the characters take control of their own fictitious lives I am released from the pressure of moving the story along. I can allow them to take credit for success or failure, and that is okay by me!
So because of that I got absolutely no writing done yesterday. The 1,667 daily word challenge has now become a 3,334 challenge for day 2. Lucky for me I will have the house to myself tonight! I plan on running an errand or 2 after work, getting take out and having date night with my laptop and Downton Abbey. Some people listen to music while they write, I listen to late 19th and early 20th century British dramas. To each his own I guess!
I wanted to create a short map of where my story starts and where I hope to have it end, with a few ups and downs along the way. As I have learned through my past writing experience, my characters tend to come alive in my mind somewhere along the way and they rarely follow my script! They prefer to laugh at my plans and promptly make their own way through the story, often ending up at a completely different spot than I intended for them.
I quite prefer my characters to play by their own rules. The stories that I come up with are rarely genius by any means and often sound lame even to me. When the characters take control of their own fictitious lives I am released from the pressure of moving the story along. I can allow them to take credit for success or failure, and that is okay by me!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Novel ideas revisited
I sort of began this journey in February and then life got a little more hectic and my priorities were shaken up a bit and things that had been on my "to do list" were slowly but surely scratched out and forgotten.
Here is a little review of things that I wrote way back when and have long since forgotten but plan to revisit.
Characters:
Melissa
Sadie
Shayla
Jenny
Joan
Tabitha
Callie
Jiuliana
Korey
Paul
Short synopsis:
All the ladies are part of a group that meets weekly. The premise is that they are constantly at each others' throats and there is quite a bit of underlying tension surrounding so many things within the group that Melissa, a newcomer, doesn't quite understand yet but is quickly picking up on. Little does she know she is more connected to the drama than she realizes, having been the reason a certain man broke a certain girl's heart. Though this happened long before Mel was ever around, once she realizes the connection she understands that if it gets out there will be hell to pay and will mean certain social death.
Here is a little review of things that I wrote way back when and have long since forgotten but plan to revisit.
Characters:
Melissa
Sadie
Shayla
Jenny
Joan
Tabitha
Callie
Jiuliana
Korey
Paul
Short synopsis:
All the ladies are part of a group that meets weekly. The premise is that they are constantly at each others' throats and there is quite a bit of underlying tension surrounding so many things within the group that Melissa, a newcomer, doesn't quite understand yet but is quickly picking up on. Little does she know she is more connected to the drama than she realizes, having been the reason a certain man broke a certain girl's heart. Though this happened long before Mel was ever around, once she realizes the connection she understands that if it gets out there will be hell to pay and will mean certain social death.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
I will be victorious
The day after tomorrow, while children across the country are still buzzing from the sugar high that is about to hit them after they have collected their loot and sorted it out on living room rugs in homes all over the US, I will be buzzing for a whole different reason. I decided to participate in National Novel Writing Month. I feel as though I am a glutton for punishment. I work, I volunteer, I am involved in a lot of things that take up a lot of my time, and I have a social life. All of these things could easily stand in my way of finishing a 50k+ word novel. I have been wanting to write a novel for years, but something always gets in the way. That something is usually my own insecurities and the constant editor whispering lies and less than helpful words into my head. But this year I will do my best to cross the finish line victorious!
I will try to share my progress and even throw out some suggestions and ask for opinions and maybe even some feedback along the way. So stay tuned for updates as this creative sprint begins November 1st.
Also, any tips, tricks or ideas/inspiration are always welcome! Please feel free to direct them my way!
I will try to share my progress and even throw out some suggestions and ask for opinions and maybe even some feedback along the way. So stay tuned for updates as this creative sprint begins November 1st.
Also, any tips, tricks or ideas/inspiration are always welcome! Please feel free to direct them my way!
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Inspiration for today
I love Pinterest. It gives me easy access to some awesome quotes. I have always loved quotes as well! So here are some quotes via Pinterest that I found that I wanted to share. There is some great meaning within them that I hope you can appreciate.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Random musings
A coworker of mine is moving to The Big Apple and made a list of things that she will and will not miss about living in Michigan. That got me thinking about what I would and would not miss about my life here. So I decided to do something that I do best and make a list!
Would miss:
~~ My family
I have always been really close to my family. Even when I went away to school I made the 2 hour drive home almost every weekend. And now that my niece and nephew are at fun ages {almost 4 and 7 going on 16} I would miss the time I get to spend just being silly with them and tucking them in some nights. And the way my niece loves me and my nephew tries to avoid goodnight kisses and then runs after me to kiss me when I walk away. They love me and I love them to the moon and back, because the moon is really far away!
~~ My church
As much as the people there drive me batty sometimes, I love it! I have never found a place where I felt more welcome and at home than The River Church in Holly. Nevermind the shameless plug!
~~ My friends
I have always been a bit of a loner, but I have collected a random assortment of close friends in my travels through life that I love dearly. Some I have known most of my days, and others I have met recently, but all of them are so valuable to me and I don't know what I would do being so far away and having to collect more friends in a new place.
~~ Up North
No matter where you live in Michigan's lower peninsula, there is always an "up north" whether it's Bay City or Mackinac there is a place to escape. Michigan has some of the most beautiful scenes that I have ever seen and I would miss them. From the great lakes we are known for to the quiet country towns that no one has ever heard of there is somewhere beautiful just a couple hours drive away.
~~ Being able to use my hand to show where I live
I've been made fun of for answer the "Where are you from?" question by holding up my right hand and pointing to a place a little west of my thumb, but it comes in handy and I love it!
~~ Kid Rock
While I am not the biggest fan of his music, it's kind of cool to be able to say that I live in the same city as someone that famous! Sightings of him in my area are so common now that he rarely gets mobbed by fans. It's pretty likely that if you frequent a couple select restaurants/bars that you'll see him quite often.
~~ Driving
If I moved to a big city I think I would lose my mind not being able to drive. Driving is my therapy sometimes. It is only when I get behind the wheel and let the wind play with my hair on a dark country road that I can truly let go and talk things through just me and Jesus!
Would not miss:
~~ Snow
Driving in it, walking in it, looking at it, knowing that it's falling outside. All of the above. I really don't like snow! Spring comes too late and Fall is too short for me to enjoy winter. I would be content to have snow on Christmas day and have it gone by Dec. 26. End of story.
~~ "The Look"
The look is what people give me when I say I'm from Detroit. {I'm not actually from Detroit but if I said I grew up in Davisburg even many people in Oakland County would have no clue where that is!} The look describes their thoughts of "but she looks like a sweet middle class white girl, how can she be from Detroit?" And that look is further heightened when I say I live half way between Detroit and Flint, both cities ranked in the top 10 {maybe even top 5} most dangerous cities in the country! Again I am a classy, small town, white girl who probably wouldn't last one night in the D or flint for that matter.
~~ Ohio
Driving out of Michigan almost always requires a drive through Ohio, a.k.a. the armpit of America! It's a long, boring drive with nothing to look at except "touchdown Jesus" which burned to the ground 2 years ago. I'm not sad it's gone because it was an awkward site, even for Christians, but it at least gave you something to look at and talk about on a boring drive through the armpit of America!
~~ The UP
I am proud to be a born and bred Michigander, but there are just some things I don't understand! One of those is why the UP is even part of Michigan in the first place. It isn't actually connected and it's closer to Canada and Wisconsin than to us. But nevertheless, it is a part of my home state and I have learned to accept it.
~~ The economy
For obvious reasons.
Would miss:
~~ My family
I have always been really close to my family. Even when I went away to school I made the 2 hour drive home almost every weekend. And now that my niece and nephew are at fun ages {almost 4 and 7 going on 16} I would miss the time I get to spend just being silly with them and tucking them in some nights. And the way my niece loves me and my nephew tries to avoid goodnight kisses and then runs after me to kiss me when I walk away. They love me and I love them to the moon and back, because the moon is really far away!
~~ My church
As much as the people there drive me batty sometimes, I love it! I have never found a place where I felt more welcome and at home than The River Church in Holly. Nevermind the shameless plug!
~~ My friends
I have always been a bit of a loner, but I have collected a random assortment of close friends in my travels through life that I love dearly. Some I have known most of my days, and others I have met recently, but all of them are so valuable to me and I don't know what I would do being so far away and having to collect more friends in a new place.
~~ Up North
No matter where you live in Michigan's lower peninsula, there is always an "up north" whether it's Bay City or Mackinac there is a place to escape. Michigan has some of the most beautiful scenes that I have ever seen and I would miss them. From the great lakes we are known for to the quiet country towns that no one has ever heard of there is somewhere beautiful just a couple hours drive away.
~~ Being able to use my hand to show where I live
I've been made fun of for answer the "Where are you from?" question by holding up my right hand and pointing to a place a little west of my thumb, but it comes in handy and I love it!
~~ Kid Rock
While I am not the biggest fan of his music, it's kind of cool to be able to say that I live in the same city as someone that famous! Sightings of him in my area are so common now that he rarely gets mobbed by fans. It's pretty likely that if you frequent a couple select restaurants/bars that you'll see him quite often.
~~ Driving
If I moved to a big city I think I would lose my mind not being able to drive. Driving is my therapy sometimes. It is only when I get behind the wheel and let the wind play with my hair on a dark country road that I can truly let go and talk things through just me and Jesus!
Would not miss:
~~ Snow
Driving in it, walking in it, looking at it, knowing that it's falling outside. All of the above. I really don't like snow! Spring comes too late and Fall is too short for me to enjoy winter. I would be content to have snow on Christmas day and have it gone by Dec. 26. End of story.
~~ "The Look"
The look is what people give me when I say I'm from Detroit. {I'm not actually from Detroit but if I said I grew up in Davisburg even many people in Oakland County would have no clue where that is!} The look describes their thoughts of "but she looks like a sweet middle class white girl, how can she be from Detroit?" And that look is further heightened when I say I live half way between Detroit and Flint, both cities ranked in the top 10 {maybe even top 5} most dangerous cities in the country! Again I am a classy, small town, white girl who probably wouldn't last one night in the D or flint for that matter.
~~ Ohio
Driving out of Michigan almost always requires a drive through Ohio, a.k.a. the armpit of America! It's a long, boring drive with nothing to look at except "touchdown Jesus" which burned to the ground 2 years ago. I'm not sad it's gone because it was an awkward site, even for Christians, but it at least gave you something to look at and talk about on a boring drive through the armpit of America!
~~ The UP
I am proud to be a born and bred Michigander, but there are just some things I don't understand! One of those is why the UP is even part of Michigan in the first place. It isn't actually connected and it's closer to Canada and Wisconsin than to us. But nevertheless, it is a part of my home state and I have learned to accept it.
~~ The economy
For obvious reasons.
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