Yeah! I did it. Finished the book. Been revising and editing for what seems like ages now. I've had three rounds of beta-readers and have absorbed all they suggested. Only one person didn't like it; but she still had valid comments. Now I'm finalizing the artwork, prepping the website, filling out paperwork, drawing up intellectual property contracts and generally feeling giddy about the future. It's really happening. My intention to live my life as a published author is only a few months away. It's going to be so much fun.
In between book stuff, I've been looking for a car for my Rockstar, working at my suddenly politically sensitive and busy "real job", managing to stay sane during club soccer season, doing lots of yoga (one year in so far and my body has really changed and it's no longer in constant pain -big smiles here!!), dieting and down 40 pounds since August...working on last 20. Love my life.
In the midst of all my wonderful happiness though are reminders that life is short and so unfair. I've lost two friends in the last six weeks to different medical issues: heart attack and colon cancer (yikes that's close to home!). Both men left behind kids and families that dearly loved them and a community that misses them tremendously. Both were musicians and when I heard of David Bowie's death today, I visualized them all making heavenly music together and it made me happy.
Love fully, love richly, love now
~the Philosopher
Showing posts with label in the trunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label in the trunk. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Thursday, January 22, 2015
What comes next...
I have wanted to write about this for a while now and have been mulling over and over what's the best way to get this across. I don't know if this is it, but what comes next will surprise you...
it will move you to tears....
it will make you jump with joy
it will make you grow taller and become more handsome...
it will make you lose weight...
it will make, it will make, it will make!!!!
I am completely done with those headlines on Facebook and around the internet. You know the ones that say things like "this group of middle schoolers were complete brats but what they did next will shock you" or "this group of snotty, bratty, real housewives of _____ were moved to tears by what will surprise you" or "this poor child who has been suffering from (insert rarest form of cancer you can find) shocks the world by what comes next"... It's the classic 'selfish soul finds redemption and goodness through the actions of others' type of stuff. It's the feel-good story of the century. Every single one.
Yet it all feels so manufactured. So shallow. Right down to how we are supposed to feel and react to whatever we are reading or watching. How could all these impromptu, amateur videos etc have such high quality editors right there to capture the moment from several angles? Is everyone else in the world walking around with a 3-4 camera crew documenting their lives and I'm not? If so, how are they paying for it? Oh , perhaps ever so subtle product placement?
Thankfully I do not have a camera crew, because who would want me to post daily "I was too tired after work to think about what to cook for dinner but what I did next will surprise you!" Or "watch how the Quik Trip crew quickly gave me my change and made my day while they performed a flash mob dance to my favorite song ever on my unsuspecting, quiet and reserved self." Oh puh-lease!!! Enough already.
Unfortunately for me this catchphrase has become just as irritating as when you notice during someone's speech their excessive use of "ums" and then that's all you hear and then you start making hash marks for every time they say it. Yes, I am extremely sensitive to it now. Like nails on a chalkboard sensitive. So much so, that I consciously try to reduce the amount of time I use Facebook or other social media. (Exception! When using it to post this link to tell you about this posting...)
Yet I worry for those who are vulnerable to such messages dictating their reactions, their feelings. I worry that we are manipulating people into not trusting their own feelings and their own guts. If we don't trust them to make up their own minds about what they read or see, they won't either. What happens then? I don't know but what comes next won't surprise me.
it will move you to tears....
it will make you jump with joy
it will make you grow taller and become more handsome...
it will make you lose weight...
it will make, it will make, it will make!!!!
I am completely done with those headlines on Facebook and around the internet. You know the ones that say things like "this group of middle schoolers were complete brats but what they did next will shock you" or "this group of snotty, bratty, real housewives of _____ were moved to tears by what will surprise you" or "this poor child who has been suffering from (insert rarest form of cancer you can find) shocks the world by what comes next"... It's the classic 'selfish soul finds redemption and goodness through the actions of others' type of stuff. It's the feel-good story of the century. Every single one.
Yet it all feels so manufactured. So shallow. Right down to how we are supposed to feel and react to whatever we are reading or watching. How could all these impromptu, amateur videos etc have such high quality editors right there to capture the moment from several angles? Is everyone else in the world walking around with a 3-4 camera crew documenting their lives and I'm not? If so, how are they paying for it? Oh , perhaps ever so subtle product placement?
Thankfully I do not have a camera crew, because who would want me to post daily "I was too tired after work to think about what to cook for dinner but what I did next will surprise you!" Or "watch how the Quik Trip crew quickly gave me my change and made my day while they performed a flash mob dance to my favorite song ever on my unsuspecting, quiet and reserved self." Oh puh-lease!!! Enough already.
Unfortunately for me this catchphrase has become just as irritating as when you notice during someone's speech their excessive use of "ums" and then that's all you hear and then you start making hash marks for every time they say it. Yes, I am extremely sensitive to it now. Like nails on a chalkboard sensitive. So much so, that I consciously try to reduce the amount of time I use Facebook or other social media. (Exception! When using it to post this link to tell you about this posting...)
Yet I worry for those who are vulnerable to such messages dictating their reactions, their feelings. I worry that we are manipulating people into not trusting their own feelings and their own guts. If we don't trust them to make up their own minds about what they read or see, they won't either. What happens then? I don't know but what comes next won't surprise me.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Glass Houses
there is a girl
she called me a whore
and
old;
I smiled
and
asked
when did you find time
to get off your back?
she called me a whore
and
old;
I smiled
and
asked
when did you find time
to get off your back?
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Balloon
He loves balloons. He always has. If we go to a restaurant and they have balloons, he wants one to bring home. Or if we are at a party, he must bring home a balloon. Wherever we are and if balloons are there, he must have one. He loves them.
Loving balloons is not easy. Balloons never last. One moment they are full of air, their vibrant colorful sphere bouncing through the air attached to a thin ribbon clutched by him. His smile radiates across his entire being. He plays with that balloon. He giggles and laughs out loud as he alternates between keeping it up in the air and holding it in his arms. This enjoyment can last for minutes or hours, sometimes it has lasted days. But in an instant the balloon inevitably pops and with it the magic is gone. He comes crying to me holding the remains of the latex in his hand and asks with tear-filled eyes, why? Why did it have to pop? Why did his joy have to end? I tell him that sometimes it just happens. There was nothing he did, exactly (unless it was a matter of jumping up and down on it or poking it with a pen) that caused its demise. He weeps for his lost balloon. He weeps for the fun that is now gone. I hug him and tell him its okay to be sad. I tell him he will be okay and someday there will be another balloon. We take the balloon's remains and put them in the trash. He wipes his eyes, takes a deep breath, pauses then bolts out the back door to play. He is okay.
And, regardless of the number of times he endures the loss of his balloon, it doesn't prevent him from loving the next one that catches his eye. He is my inspiration for loving fully no matter the heartache that may come.
Loving balloons is not easy. Balloons never last. One moment they are full of air, their vibrant colorful sphere bouncing through the air attached to a thin ribbon clutched by him. His smile radiates across his entire being. He plays with that balloon. He giggles and laughs out loud as he alternates between keeping it up in the air and holding it in his arms. This enjoyment can last for minutes or hours, sometimes it has lasted days. But in an instant the balloon inevitably pops and with it the magic is gone. He comes crying to me holding the remains of the latex in his hand and asks with tear-filled eyes, why? Why did it have to pop? Why did his joy have to end? I tell him that sometimes it just happens. There was nothing he did, exactly (unless it was a matter of jumping up and down on it or poking it with a pen) that caused its demise. He weeps for his lost balloon. He weeps for the fun that is now gone. I hug him and tell him its okay to be sad. I tell him he will be okay and someday there will be another balloon. We take the balloon's remains and put them in the trash. He wipes his eyes, takes a deep breath, pauses then bolts out the back door to play. He is okay.
And, regardless of the number of times he endures the loss of his balloon, it doesn't prevent him from loving the next one that catches his eye. He is my inspiration for loving fully no matter the heartache that may come.
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