Monday From Hell

Yesterday, I was so off from centre it wasn't even funny. It all started because I woke up late. I hate waking up late. Not only does it derail my whole day, but it threatens to derail my whole week. The thing is, I don't have an excuse as to why I woke up late. Maybe it was all the long weekend shenanigans and tomfoolery. (I'm a lucky girl and had Friday off)

Anyway, back to the Monday I need not a repeat of. My body naturally roused me at three thirty. When I saw this, I got excited. It meant I still had like forty minutes to sleep! 

"FORTY MINUTES," my body and mind said. "Splendiferous!" 

So, like the normal girl I am, I toddled back to sleep, only to awaken eighty minutes later with the gut feeling of 'something isn't right in the world'. It's because the sky wasn't dark like I'm used to seeing. It was light. Meaning I was late. Ugh. How annoying. Like the diligent, reliable, hard working person I am, I ran around my house, a la chicken with its head cut off, in a desperate attempt to ready myself for work in five minutes. And I did it. 

Even if I didn't wash my face or put on deodorant, I still made it out of the house in record time. (Yes, I did brush my teeth).

Except, I had to go back because I forgot my friend's birthday present. And I forgot to walk my dog. 

I know, I know. How the heck can someone forget to walk their dog? Well, Oliver is lazy. He's actually the epitome of lethargic except for about half an hour a day in which he insists on running around like a maniac. In my defence, he didn't even move from the bed. Clearly I wasn't the only one participating in Snooze-Fest 2012. So, maybe I forgot about him altogether as I kid my madcap dance around the house. 

The point is, I went back. And I swear he groaned when I made him get out from under the warm blankets. Yes, he sleeps under them. He even puts his head on the pillow. I actually woke up to him staring me in the face this morning. Of course, I smiled at him. And yes, I am aware if it had of been a person I would have recoiled or asked, "Why are you staring at me?" 

After I got the gift, and the dog did his morning piddle, I hauled my ass to work. Along route, I noticed a coyote in the ravine by work. I was all, oh, look, a coyote, this morning totally is picking up and I think - My thought was cut off by the four-legged mongrel darting in front of my car and me narrowly avoiding hitting him! Last time I stop to admire nature. 

Even though I was only about fifteen minutes late, my usual parking stall was taken. (Oh, woe is me!) Still, I refused to be discouraged. Up I went, to my desk, where I took a seat and realized, I didn't have any lunch except the cashews and dried mango slices in my purse. Not really a well balanced meal. And of course it was on a day in which I was ravenous. RAVENOUS, I tell you. My stomach literally ate my brain. I mean, that's the only explanation for the ridiculous thoughts and actions that I delivered after arriving at my place of employment. 

Three notable things happened afterwards and here they the sequence of events in which they occurred...

1. Three hours into my shift a friend asked, "What the hell is up with your shirt?" Well, I'd buttoned it wrong. Like completely wrong. Not one button off, but two. TWO! It was lopsided and, as soon as she pointed it out, I realized rather uncomfortable. I fixed this, but it didn't reassure me that a simple act like dressing myself was too difficult to succeed at. I mean, it's not like I haven't been dressing myself for over two decades. In order to feel a bit better about this, I sought solace in knowing at least I had my pants on. 

2. A co-worker asked where my truck was parked. Of course, being the panicky individual I am, I went down to check. Only to remember I am a complete numpty and had to park in a different spot this morning because I was late. Tad bit embarrassing if you think about it. I'm not going to do that, though. I'm just going to move along.

3. Because I am a trooper, I went to the gym when I got home. I really wanted to have a nap. Instead, I ran my three miles, walked my mile cool down, did some pathetic attempts at stretching, lifted a few meagre weights, then slunk back upstairs to my nice, cool condo. Where, despite telling myself over and over not to do it, I laid down in my bed in my stinky gym clothes and fell asleep. Disgusting, right? I know, but I simply couldn't help myself. For the record, I did change my sheets. 

Thankfully, the day ended without too much of a hitch. And I slipped off to slumber around midnight. Still, I'm glad I didn't wake up this morning like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and have to redo Monday. 

I'm hoping the rest of this week goes smoothly.

  

Circles

Sometimes the line I'm walking feels like a circle.

And round and round we go.

I'm not sure how I got in this loop, but I can't help thinking I'm supposed to learn something. Anything.

It's strange when all your surroundings are familiar, the same, but you feel out of place.

Out of time.

Still, I walk.

This journey is endless.

Direction-less at times.

Surprising because nothing ever really changes.

Yet, one foot goes in front of the other.

Footprints in the sand, earth, snow, wet paint.

Follow through.

I have it.

Except, the solution to the problem wasn't the answer I first thought it was.

Can't push to go faster. Can't force steadiness.

Listening to heartbeats, words on quivering lips, and silence.

I will find my way.

But we may not make it together.

Our hands might slip.

And our paths may fork.

But we will find our homes.

They will be safe.

Trust me.

The Curse of Being Creative

Sometimes it is hard being creative.

I know that sounds odd. The implication being that creativeness is at times a burden, but it would be a lie to say she isn't. For as freeing and calming as she can be, she is also a tempestuous bitch who refuses to be ignored and has a thirst that refuses to be quenched. She is demanding and cruel, callous and flippant. This whole writing business is a roller coaster ride. And yes, that is a cliché, but for good reason. Each and every day I am whipped through peaks and valleys, both my own and others.

One friend is telling me the great feedback she got from a contest and the other has wrapped herself into a broody tizzy over her lack of putting words on virtual paper. It's almost like manic depression. Incredible highs, the lowest of lows, and this eerie calm in between. Is being creative like a mental illness? We cannot deny how many artists, writers and musicians struggle with depression, mania, drugs and through it all there is still an irrefutable desire to create something amazing. To get the ideas out of their heads. Can people be driven mad by their imaginations?

Lately, I've noticed a definite battle existing in the creative types I rub shoulders with. They want to stay true to their art and they understand it makes no sense to put pressure on themselves, but they still stress and toil and fret over what is essentially beyond their control. Even though there is no point, we catalogue what we are doing, compare it to others and hum and haw over the quality and quantity of the work we are producing.

And it seems to be we are very rarely content.

Is this the curse of the creatives?

To constantly pine and worry and struggle to create something we are happy with, something the world can be happy with? Because it really is a vicious cycle. Even when we create something we love, that love shifts over time. I look at it like a bottle of water with a hole in the bottom. Except, instead of water, our bottles are being filled with creative awesomeness. No matter how much we invent, or pen, or draw, or draft, or edit, we are constantly thinking of what's next. New ideas spring forth. We are always trying to fill our creative bottle. And I am beginning to wonder, will we ever be satisfied?

Now, I know this isn't everyone. And when I say, will we ever be satisfied? I am really asking, will I ever be satisfied? Or will my good friends who I see sword fighting the dragon of disenchantment day after day ever be satisfied?

First, I think a lot of the creatives I know are really hard on themselves. And I know for a fact I am extremely hard on myself. Last month I felt like I was going stir crazy because I wasn't writing a novel. I set myself this goal that I had to complete editing From The Fallen before I started writing a new book. (I'm not finished editing.) It was driving me mental. It really was. And yet, I did write nearly fifty thousand words in short stories.Not to mention, I read a bucket load of work by other people and tried to offer help, though I don't know how helpful I was in the end.  Still, I wasn't satisfied, because I didn't have something bigger on the go.

The point being, even though I was creating, editing, helping others, I was still unsatisfied. And I have to admit, there is always a hint of being dissatisfied inside me. Is it because I hate my work? No. Is it because I am being lazy? No. Is it because I think other people are more talented? Not necessarily, though many are.

It is because I think I can do better. I want to do better. I want to learn, grow, spread my wings and fly and all that other crap people always talk about when they discuss bettering themselves. But, and here is the but, not everyone is like me. Or us, if you, yourself, is a creative. It's almost as though we hold ourselves to a different standard, that it is hard to please ourselves.

And then there is a moment where we sit back and think, "What's the point?"

Of course, that is a loaded question. The point, for me at least, is that I have to create and write and be creative because it is essentially who I am. If I didn't do it, who would I be? Though it doesn't define me it is a key part of my personality and life. It fills me up. It is my purpose.

It is so easy to simply say, don't be negative, keep positive and don't worry. But every so often it is completely impossible to do just that. Sometimes the road seems long. And it is exhausting to constantly be crafting, thinking, brainstorming, mulling. How does one simply relax into life when their brain never shuts off?

If I could stomp the little demon of doubt to death, I would. But I can't. All I can do is try to offer up words of encouragement to other creatives I see struggling along this road. We should find solace in knowing we are not alone, except this is a very solitary business we are in. So it is a bit strange. Still, we hope no one else ever feels the crushing disappointment that rears its ugly head from time-to-time. And honestly, I think this is often out of our hands. It's just an unaccounted for dip in the roller coaster ride and all we can do is hang on and hope we aren't tossed out of the cart. But it still sucks seeing people I care about upset over something they cannot control. And, even more so, being disillusioned with what I myself am doing.

That said, we write books. And that's pretty fucking cool.

Nipple Flashing & The Trickery Of Nice Weather

Once upon a time, this last weekend, I accidentally flashed my friend a nipple.

Just one. Well, not one friend. Two friends. Maybe three. Kidding. Kidding. One nipple.

There was this whole hammock debacle that lead to a little bit of excitement which had me jumping up and down and ended in my boob falling out of my bathing suit. And it didn't even fall out the proper way. Yes, there is a proper way for boob spillage, over the top. My rebellious breast fell out the bottom. And, I fear, it really wasn't all that attractive. Actually, I'd go so far to say it probably was the worst my right boob has ever looked in this lifetime.

And, I'd like to stress. It wasn't my fault.

I swear.

The bathing suit was too big. Around the back. Too small in the booble region, though. Funny how that works.

Of course, I give my friend credit. He did tell me it was blowing in the wind. So to speak. He didn't have to. I could have been tramping around for hours like that. Exposed. On display. Completely oblivious to my fashion faux pas.

The thing is, due to proper summer etiquette and friend rule #23, I had to flash his girlfriend afterward. Just to even the playing field. To reassure her I wasn't trying to come onto her mate. It's a give and take world, people. Ensure if you give, you give to everyone. Wait a second...that sounds a bit... risqué.

Ahem.

Straight up, I'll tell you. I prefer the season of Autumn to spring and summer mostly because you can remain fully clothed, neck to toes, and there really isn't the fear of accidental flashings. But with the warm weather comes the increased likelihood of wardrobe malfunctions. And devastatingly embarrassing ones too.

See guys, they don't have this problem. They don't fear a boob coming out of a bathing suit top or a labia sneaking out of a bottom. Okay, okay, maybe that last one doesn't happen all that often. For the most part, nothing really hangs. But have you seen the insufficient amount of fabric intended to cover all our lady bits? I mean, I've seen more material on  the outfits the strippers wear at Mugs & Jugs (Yes, that is a strip joint. No, I am not making it up.)

So, ladies be vigilant. Don't make the mistake I have and assume your bathing suit from last year (or five years ago) is going to cut it. Try it on. Do the bounce check. Five jumping jacks and a push up. Before heading to the beach or your friends backyard for some suntanning.

Needless to say, this weekend, I will be heading out to find myself a bathing suit. One that fits and won't further my Little Miss Indecent Exposure reputation. I'm telling you, if my friends gather together to form an intervention about my exhibitionism, I'm going to cry.

All jokes aside, I'm glad this happened with Nick and Rae-Anne. While other people might have harassed me about burning my nipple and hitting on them, these two completely ignored it and didn't rub it in at all. Yeah. Right. I couldn't even type that with a straight face.

In conclusion, remember, with the nice weather comes less clothing and, while this may be great for the guys, the girls have so much more to tend to. And while we are tending to the crops, weeding and such, let's not forget to ensure the uniforms fit and are in working order.

But, as a side note, I am loving the sunshine and warmth.

Wanted

Music Nerd - Animal Adorer - Tree Hugger - Joker - Cake Enthusiast - Non-Smoker - Tea Drinker - Soft Kisser - Ass Slapper - Book Reader - Veggie Eater - Smirk Wearer - Cinema Goer - Big Spoon - Hand Holder - Hair Puller - Fire Starter - Tent Erector - Boat Sailer - Wildflower Picker - Star Gazer - Cartoon Watcher - Midnight Snacker - Bed Maker - Big Dreamer - Flawed Character - Imperfectly Perfect - George Harrison Admirer - Flower Sniffer - Sensitive Soul - Coverse Shoe Wearer - Love Giver - Nature Nut - Big-Picture Believer - World Traveller - Silly Dancer - Hopeless Romantic - Sweet-Nothing Whisperer - Poetry Partisan - Moment Seizer - Patient Lover - Mystery Reveler - Gentle Being - Quiet Thinker - Front Porch Sitter - Equal Rights Supporter - Peaceful Warrior - Shower Singer - Rainstorm Walker - Night Owl - Road Trip Taker - Truth Seeker - Rainbow Chaser - Four Leaf Clover Finder - Puzzle Solver - Gaming Geek - Hermit At Heart - Food Sharer - Hand Holder - Back Massager - Future Planner - Great Escaper - Back Washer - Best Friend - Lifetime Lover

Apply within.



Long haired freaks welcome. 

Tonight

The moon is amazing.

Round. Full. Bright. Yellow.

Suspended in the air, no strings.

Just magic.

A super moon.

Did you pause? To see? To stare in awe?

Did you take notice?

I certainly did.

Mouth agape. Eyes wide. Breath captured. Heart skipping.

Utter wonderment.

Truly beautiful. Amazing. Jaw dropping. Gorgeous. Stunning.

My camera could not capture it, but I took a picture with my mind and will store it in my heart.

And as I gazed up at it I remembered that we share the moon. The stars.

They are ours. And everyone's.

Maybe we were gasping and pointing at the same time.

Maybe.