2011 has solidified my sordid love affair with Infographics. The always inspirational, @LarsLeafblad posted an article this evening, entitled, “10 Insanely Awesome Inspirational Manifestos.”   Of a few on the list, this one spoke to me the loudest.  You can visit ExpertEnough for more daily inspiration, how-to’s and simple solutions. I’m a huge fan. GirlmeetsGeek’s tagline used to be, “The difference between passion and passing it on is only two letters. Find yours.” With our eyes open, the world has so much to offer.

Success isn’t a result of spontaneous combustion.  You must set yourself on fire.  ~Arnold H. Glasow

We came home from a strange night of trick-or-treating. Most houses were dark and quiet and my daughter Ava,  had trouble containing her excitement and disappointment at a sea of unlit houses. Not even on the chart for her age group in height and weight, my peanut surprised us all when instead of deciding to be a princess or mermaid, she exclaimed, “I’m going to be a Doctor-Superhero!” She explained later that instead of being something pretty, she wanted to, “help people.” I couldn’t have been prouder.

As her haul spread out on the floor in front of her, she meticulously started organizing her candy. Within minutes her gifted, mathetmatically-inclined brain found an equasion with her sweets that only she knew. Children do that, don’t they? They find a rhythm and purpose all their own. It’s up to the parents to protect their vision until they are old enough to stand up for it, themselves.

I was driving this morning and listening to a cd I had made ions ago for a friend. A mixture of Stone Temple Pilots, The Replacements and Damien Rice filled my morning commute as I thought about the night before. Ava had said something  that struck me. “Mom! Aren’t I a cool shape?” I replied with a dutiful, “yes!” and we were quiet for a while. Ava is the smallest person in her class; a tiny replica of a beautiful, tornado.  For as little as she is, her presence is much, much, larger.

It dawned on me then, that I liked odd-shaped things and odd people. Those that try to place the odd in a box are often baffled and confused. Those that are different always, always, win. Success comes by simply being ourselves and being willing to live it out loud.

Rock on, little Doctor-Superhero. Rock on.

“Brand loyalty is not about winning. It is about giving consumers the opportunity to feel open and converse with you about any issue.”

Remember a year ago when we discussed Energizer’s giveaway fail? Seems like more and more, companies are handing over important information to the public without realizing it. Retail giant, Gymboree sent out an email this evening that looked a little like this:

It looked fishy from the start. Someone said it looked like they were testing a new order system. In either case watch what happens when we scroll down to the bottom of the email….

A link appears at the very bottom. It's clickable. When it comes up personal information and an order is displayed. What we don't know is if there really is an Anne Berger who ordered these items or if it is a test. A Pipl.com and Google.com search shows 2 Anne Bergers in the area. The plot thickens…

I saved the link, but in case Anne was real, I didn’t want her exact order, address, gift recipient and CREDIT CARD information displayed on my website. If Anne isn’t real, this isn’t quite as serious. As the situation has blown up over the past 2 hours, one thing is clear: Gymboree has a lot of angry customers.

“The truth of social media is: If you sell to those using social media, the moment a sale or relationship goes south they have an opportunity to broadcast and tarnish your relationship online. It’s their right. What any company can do, is be proactive and transparent online. By proving you are willing apologize openly, the moment something occurs and having a plan in place to assist with angry commenters? You’ll have a way to successfully navigate a very difficult situation. Gymboree, did none of that until poked and prodded by angry customers.”

Was this situation handled well?  After an hour, nothing had been posted on any social platform. People were left to think that Anne’s information was just given away. What’s worse is that Gymboree hasn’t even responded to comments. In fact? When asked politely why an email came to my inbox, my comment was deleted from Gymboree’s Facebook page. The number one rule is: NEVER DELETE, ALWAYS APOLOGIZE. Since they are not allowing anyone to post about the incident on their wall, posters just started posting under other posts. I counted over 15 negative posts before the incident had even occurred criticizing Gymboree’s clothing quality, pricing and more. It should be stated my daughter’s wardrobe consists of Gymboree. I’m a fan when I can grab it on sale.

At just after 9pm, 249 comments were posted under Gymboree’s message just minutes earlier about the ‘snafu.’ They accepted responsibility, apologized and tried to contain the situation. Unfortunately. many posts spilled out just like this one:

Sadly, about 10% of the commenters resorted to asking for freebies. That in itself, is tragic.  This is my plea to companies: Always, Always have a plan in place to protect your brand.

Can this be saved? Absolutely. What needs to happen can be fixed in 3, easy, lessons.

• Always Protect and Serve. Customer information is priceless. It should be protected behind a diamond-encrusted titanium wall. Don’t abuse the trust of your consumers. Always have a plan in place if information is compromised or an error occurs. Stick to the plan and never compromise.

• Quick fixes are never easy. Focus on responding individually as much as you can. Customers don’t like being thrown in small spaces to talk to other angry customers. That will only escalate the situation and create other complaints. Facebook and Twitter pages are a breeding ground for the dissatisfied. If you want your customers to spend their dollars with you and treat you better than the competition, treat your customers as individuals. After trust is truly broken, it’s difficult to repair. Offer a well-written apology, followed up with a personal statement from leadership and a phone number or email you can interact with them on. Reaching out personally will create better dialog and a future advocate for your company. Never, ever, ignore the issue or simply post something on facebook and leave it.

• Bad press can keep going, (and going, and going.) People are STILL talking about the Energizer giveaway. Brands depend on loyalty. When a customer feels deceived they will internalize the broken relationship, often vocalize about their dissatisfaction and spend their dollars with the competition. True authenticity online and the willingness to be humble will retain customers and save your brand. I have a saying, “Brand loyalty is not about winning. It is about giving consumers the opportunity to feel open and converse with you about any issue.” If you have that, you have a brand that people will trust and engage with. It’s simple and true. Don’t focus on ‘winning’ their trust back, focus on LISTENING to their issues and crafting a thoughtful and humble response.

"She said she loved me infinity the state of Hawaii. I'm a lucky mom."

Globe University / Minnesota School of Business Graduating Class of 2010:

When preparing tonight’s speech, I couldn’t pick simply one quote to start with.  I want to give you five, key,  pieces of wisdom to inspire and empower you to create a life for yourself like you’ve never imagined.

“Don’t live down to expectations. Go out there and do something remarkable.” ~ Wendy Wasserstein

You’re sitting here tonight because of a thought that occurred to you years ago, you should finish your education.  For years, people have taught you how to solve equasions.  You’re entering the world with a set of eyes that will now tell you that you can solve the problem anyway you see fit, as long as the results are positive.  A good friend once told me that life was about aquisition and loss. This friend couldn’t have been any more true, except for one major point:  Life, real life- is about the in-betweens of aquisition and loss.  The moments in which deciding factors bear the weight of outcomes and the moments of indecision.  There are two different types of people in the world:  Those that submit to the belief that life owns then and those that refuse to submit themselves to another’s expectations.  Today’s brightest leaders are revolutionaries.  And their equasions have all been solved through strategic and creative thought and the courage to take a risk.

“If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door.” ~ Milton Berle

I have a gift for you.  But to accept the gift you need to choose between two things.  With a show of hands, I’d like to see:  How many graduates and audience members would love to have a list of businesses who are hiring? ……  Now, how many of you would like to know how to bypass the application systems, the locked doors and the frustration of job searching? ……  Graduating Class?  I’d like to introduce you to Twitter, Facebook and Linkedin.  My gift to you is a handout that will explain exactly how to utilize social media for your search and what 3, key aspects of yourself to bring online.  I do not want to give you another door to walk through: I want to give you the shortcut to establishing a solid presence online and strategic networking to make your dreams possible.  You are going to offer 3 things online: Authenticity, Integrity and your WHOLE selves.  Who wouldn’t want to hire that?  You are the key to the door.  Who you are, and what you have to offer will unlock limitless possibilities, but only if you have the courage to stand up online and say, “I am who you are looking for.”

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.” ~ M. Scott Peck

There is going to be a moment, at 2am or 3pm on an idle Friday where you wonder, “did I make the right decision?”  In that moment, your only job is to remember:  No one who has done anything worthwhile has done so without a risk.  No one who has accomplished anything great has had a perfect life.  Your weaknesses?  Are your greatest strengths.  Your life story has meaning, credibility and inspiration- but only if you speak it outloud.  Your finest moments- the life changers and revolutionary first steps only can begin when you are ready to stop being a part of the status quo, and start being REAL.  Who you are when the computer is off, when the door is closed and when the lights are out is more important than any job title, financial statement or public record.  The moment you find yourself first, the success will follow.

“Your experiences are not limited to what you have created in the past.” ~ Gary Zukav

This is one of the most profound truths that no one is talking about.  If who we were defined us, the evolution of who we are as a society would never have made it this far.  This morning, I volunteered at an event for recent immigrants.  One, individual in particular changed my perception so much, that I changed tonight’s speech to include his story.  He has only been here for 3 months and he is a Medical Director and Professor from Cuba.  He left everyone, including a beautiful wife and two children under the age of 6, to create a new life for himself and eventually a new beginning for his family. Here was a man, who had been making one of the largest sums of money in his country, and was asking if I knew of a job washing floors or packing orders in a warehouse.  I told him then, that although we all start somewhere, his passion for creating a better life was one of the most humbling experiences I had ever witnessed.  I cried almost the entire way home imagining the humility it took for him to sleep on the floor and beg for the scraps of jobs no others want.  He simply told me, “I can create myself new.”

“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”  ~ Joss Whedon

Revolutionaries have found passion and are drawn to create a life around it.  You are now joining the prestigious ranks of those ahead of you who have carved out their own lives and created an irreversable tital wave in the world: You are a revolutionary.  Congratulations, class of 2010.  Stand up and give yourself a round of applause.

Possibly one of my favorite songs.  If I had more room, these lyrics would be tattooed all over my body.  Ironically, that’s why this blog was started.  I didn’t have enough room to share the pain, wisdom and joy of life’s greatest experiences.  When I need a reminder of who I am, I turn on my ipod and I drum the beat out with my fingertips to this song.  Life has so much to teach us, if we’re ready to really listen.

i am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame
i am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame
if you’ve never stared off into the distance then your life is a shame
and though i’ll never forget your face, sometimes i can’t remember my name

-Counting Crows

Walking out after dropping her off, I looked at the grey sky that often is the staple of early mornings in Minnesota winters and I wondered, “Why, again?”   Sometimes, no matter how much drive you have, or wind in your sails;  for an instance you question the entire procedure of life and loss.   It seems so unfair to have to pick yourself back up, brush yourself off only to try again tomorrow.  My eyes darted to the car and I hurried to a jog.   Out of the corner of my eye a single, brilliant, leaf was laying on top of sediment and ice.   I remarked on it’s beauty and reached for my car door.   I placed my hand on the door and instantaneously turned back around.  Suddenly, I just had to see if it was real.  The top was dipped in a crimson as it slowly faded to a brilliant golden-tone.   The bottom matched the stem of a healthy green and it was sizable with veins marking their path along it’s body.   Here it was, untouched in the snow and completely out of place.

Therein, lies the metaphor for my life.   After any experience, I need to know I was genuine and the relationship was authentic.  This leaf and my desire for it’s tangibility had me stunned in a split-second decision.   My fingertips touched the fabric and instantaneously, I knew: it was fake.   For some reason, I didn’t place it back on the ground, I took it with me and tucked it in my purse.  The beauty of it wasn’t diminished because it was a craft-store representation of the real thing.  Perhaps it had been a part of a funeral bouquet, or a service as her preschool is housed in the side office of a church.   Remarkable still, it didn’t matter where this leaf had began, but the fact that it was now mine and strangely beautiful in it’s plastic and silk glory.  Maybe it wasn’t noticeable because the leaf was small, but somewhere, the connector now lays uncoupled.  Here is one piece, and out in the world, there is another.   It’s such a small connection that as much as it mattered once, the symmetry and beauty of the leaf no longer depends on it’s plastic counterpart to be a part of something bigger.  I needed to question- Why was it there? Where had it come from? Did someone, miss it? It didn’t matter to me that the fabric was dyed, or the veins were cheap chemical molds, because this leaf would never die.  It didn’t have a cycle with a beginning and an end.   It never would experience budding into life or falling to it’s demise.  This leaf wasn’t a leaf at all.  It was a decoration, or an afterthought.

It rode in my purse on the commute in.   I wasn’t sure why I had grabbed it until moments ago when tears streamed down my face and I thumbtacked it onto my bulletin board.  Looking closer, I could see the small tears along the outer fabric and the scuff marks and brush strokes of mud and salt.  I learned a lesson this morning: Not everything needs to be ‘real,’ or ‘lasting.’  For someone who strives to make everything ‘authentic,’ sometimes ‘love‘ just isn’t ‘love‘ and a ‘fit‘ just isn’t a ‘fit‘ and silk and plastic and be a fine representation for what it is.   If it had been a real leaf, there would be decay.  Nothing can be frozen perfectly in two weeks of snowstorms.   If it was real, it would have not been noticed after all but laid with the rest of it’s partners in a cold, wet, brown and crunchy grave.   It didn’t matter if it was real or not, because what I’ve made it: Mine.   Now, it has a small pin mark where I’ve put it on display next to two quotes that I read the days I’m in the office and remind myself of who, I really am.

I took down his pictures this morning and with reckless abandon I let them, (still in their frames,) hit the wastebasket with a confident, “thwank!” He’s laying out in the open now, someone might pick him up on the ground and wonder where the other part to his connector was, (although small and barely noticeable.)  I know, it was once there.  Someone else will have to touch and feel and wonder, “is he real?”   I hope he brightens someone’s morning and whoever has him, cherishes what he is and not what they make him out to be.   Maybe, just deep down: We’re all just tossed and scattered, or picked up by gusts of wind out of our control. Pain and control don’t really matter after the fact.  The only thing that matters, is that we remain steadfast to still find the beauty of Monday mornings with more positivity than we can sometimes muster. Somehow to me, this is enough.

“I remind myself that there was no point going through it, if I don’t move past it. If I keep replaying it, reliving it, there is no reward. The reward has to be in the letting go… the absence of giving it more time, more meaning and more value. The reward is the clarity of now. The freedom of now. The lightness of now. Now, is my beautiful reward.” – Jodi Hills

It’s too late, tonight to drag the past out into the light.  We’re one, but we’re not the same.  We get to carry each other; carry each other.  Have you come here for forgiveness?  Have you come to raise the dead?  Have you come here to play Jesus to all the leapers in your head?   Did I ask too much, more than a lot?  You gave me nothing now it’s all I got.  We’re one, but we’re not the same.  We hurt each other then we do it again.  You asked for me to enter, but then you made me crawl and I can’t keep holding on to what you got when all you’ve got is hurt.

And that, is how a song get’s into my head, eases the madness of not finding the right words and wishing for one last time I could share it with someone who would understand, 100%.

Promise yourself to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.  Look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.  Think only f the best, work only for the best and expect only the best.  Forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.  Give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.  Live in faith that the whole world is on your side so long as you are true to the best that is in you.

- Christian D. Larson

“I will act now.  I will act now.  I will act now.  Henceforth, I will repeat these words each hour, each day, everyday, until the words become as much a habit as my breathing, and the action which follows becomes as instinctive as the blinking of my eyelids.  With these words I can condition my mind to perform every action necessary for my success.  I will act now.  I will repeat these words again and again and again. I will walk where failures fear to walk.  I will work when failures seek rest.  I will act now for now is all I have.  Tomorrow is the day reserved for the labor of the lazy.  I am not lazy.  Tomorrow is the day when the failure will succeed.  I am not a failure.  I will act now.  Success will not wait.  If I delay, success will become wed to another and lost to me forever.  This is the time.  This is the place.  I am the person.”

– Og Mandino

For every moment of doubt, “did I do the right thing?”  For each moment of the internal battle to find exactly what I seek, “it never turns out to be what I thought I was,” this is my mantra.  I will not sulk.  I will not break.  I will not continue to bend for something, someone or an idea that refuses to resonate with me.  How dare I shortchange my life- after being given the gift of beating cancer and thriving in singleparentdom.  How dare I settle.

Jodi Hills describes PASSION perfectly to me with this incredible sentiment.  Type in PASSION into a google image search.  Why kissing is always described with passion is something I’ll never understand.  You can kiss someone with enough passion to create smoldering fires, but PASSION doesn’t exist merely for bodies, or mouths.

Passion is a choice. It  is the distinct ability to move towards our wants and goals with an equal amount of wanton lust for personal achievement and careless abandonment to what the rest of the world has to say.  In each seminar I give or presentation I host, I always use a quote from Joss Whedon, who really describes passion best:

“Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace… but we would be hollow… Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we’d be truly dead.”

Asking me what I’m passionate about is a bit like asking me what I am in love with.  My passions fall into multiple categories.  I have the great loves of my life, (my family, goals and empowering the world around me,) then I have the moments of grace that hit when I’m driving down the highway and the sun warms my face with the clouds in perfect alignment: moments of tremendous passion for everyday life.

In trying to narrow down our passions, we need to remember that as mindsets change and muscles grow, our passions go through the same transitions just like a normal relationship.  Long ago, I started thinking of passions as a relationship to myself.  Good relationships need nurturing, patience to grow and divine inspiration that only comes from cherry coke at 2am.  When our passions are allowed to flourish, we begin to orientate goals around ideas and suddenly: It’s not a mere activity, systematic way of thinking or item, these passions become a deeper part of who truly we are.

I find it hard to nurture each moment of passion or creativity.  When I started evaluating my passions as relationships, I was able to prioritize their power in my life and the outside world.  Passions are so much like the stages of love:

Agápe (αγάπη agápē) means “love” in modern day Greek, such as in the term s’agapo (Σ’αγαπώ), which means “I love you”. In Ancient Greek, it often refers to a general affection or deeper sense of “true love” rather than the attraction suggested by “eros“.

Storge (στοργή storgē) means “affection” in ancient and modern Greek. It is natural affection.

Philia (φιλία philía) means friendship in modern Greek. It is a dispassionate virtuous love, a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philos denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers.

Éros (έρως érōs) is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word “erotas” means “intimate love;” however, eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eroscan be interpreted as a love for someone whom you love more than the philia, love of friendship.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_words_for_love)

Grandmaster of wisdom, CS Lewis,  also describes the 4 loves, (from need-love to gift-love and beyond,) that show the true complexity of how our hearts align with other beings, ideas and passions.  How we treat our passions in their classification, will determine their importance and success.  Our heart is drawn to what we believe in for a reason, but it’s our determination that guides a passion to a successfully completed goal.  Agápe passions fuel our existence and like a bank, they are equally withdrawn and deposited into other people or situations.   These passions, (in the hierarchy.) are often the most fruitful and fulfilling.

So, ask me again: What am I passionate about?  This moment I might answer that I have Agápe passion for a certain preschooler that is snoring quietly in the other room.  This passion also describes my utter admiration for the written word and capturing the stories of others.  My Storge passion isn’t my child, (because I love her so fully,) but describes perfectly other relationships in my inner circle or social circle.   My Éros passion, (the lust) is for sleeping in.  (There no better feeling than smiling at my clock at 8am and knowing I can sleep a bit longer.)  The Philia passion is what I feel for my clients, my community and a distinct contentment that arises when I have a fantastic meal or I taste ice cream on my tongue.

My passion is loving fully and deeply, with each situation, individual or belief.

Kate Nash- Merry Happy

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” -Jim Morrison

Loving the sunshine outside!

I often hear moms say, “I lost all my beauty after I had children.” In fact, I just read a recent article in Cookie Magazine, where the beauty editor lamented about all the ‘free swag’ she received, (aka: botox, samples,) but she never felt beautiful after she had children. She saw herself as less, while she had so much more.

I tell you: Having Ava has given me a much better outlook on my beauty. In fact: I have never felt more sensual, or beautiful in my life. I look at her sweet face, (all baby toothed smiles,) and -that- is beauty. Not extra long eyelashes, or a taut stomach. Look at any child’s face- literally untouched by make-up but basked in silliness and wonder and I know you’ll agree.

I don’t read beauty magazines anymore- they don’t offer anything relative to my life. I know the above photo wouldn’t find it’s place in any magazine or television advertisement, but in this moment of sunshine happiness: I’ve never felt more wonderful.

Today’s Affirmation: Find your own idea of beauty, capture it and don’t be afraid to talk about your experience. We have thousands of people telling us what THEIR version of beauty is: define it for yourself.

Happy Saturday!

1. Is he serious? Does he cuddle with a blanket, too?

2. Is he retarded? Should I worry about him?

3. He must be manipulative. ‘Allo, restraining order.

4. He’s sensitive and I hurt him! Oh my god, he reached out after.. 5 months -telling me he still had the voicemail to prove how ‘hurt’- (he did say that,) he was and there I was… blowing him off.

I felt awful. I’m notorious for touching base with people. Did I shoot down his paper airplane? And you know what I did? I apologized. I apologized earnestly, profusely and with correct grammar so that maybe in apologizing he would leave me alone and I could get off the guilt of, “what if I just screwed this up with this guy because he totally had something he had to do and couldn’t call me because he fell into a pool of hungry, rancid, sharks and they ate his phone but spared his precious 6-pack body and now, he’s trying to make peace because I’m awesome, and he’s got that great smile and we’re going to have 10,000 babies…” Because just as your eyes were bleeding from reading my atrocious run-on sentence, my soul was bleeding that I had hurt something living and breathing that did not resemble a mosquito or an ex-boyfriend to whom I’ve resided with.

And I did the over-apology thing, and now I feel like an idiot for leaving a message that he couldn’t even follow directions to, an email to which I spilled out my heart because I wear my vagina on my sleeve and I spoke all of this in my check-in with my favorite guys to which they all laughed because the Hulk side of me only comes out when I have to go all Mama Bear on my spare time.

That self-awareness thing… it’ll always get you.

Alanis- “Madness”

I’ve been most unwilling to see this turmoil of mine
The thought of sitting with this has me paralyzed

I’d have to give up knowing and give up being right
You inadvertent hero, you angel in disguise

]]> http://www.girlmeetsgeek.com/2009/09/23/the-ghost-of-guilt/feed/ 0 http://www.girlmeetsgeek.com/2009/08/17/throw-pillows-and-an-oriental-rug/ http://www.girlmeetsgeek.com/2009/08/17/throw-pillows-and-an-oriental-rug/#comments Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:10:09 +0000 thegirl http://www.girlmeetsgeek.com/?p=319 She Says: Collective Soul 

She said that time is unfair
To a woman her age
Now that wisdom has come
Everything else fades…

It’s true. The words on the anchorman’s lips are telling us all what we’re afraid to hear- summer is quietly passing.

The days in which I watch my daughter’s triumphant smile beam over dripping ice cream or sprinklers will be a blur and we’ll soon wrap up in blankets and plan for colder nights.

The summer of weddings and first dates that never led to second dates, but friendship abounding has taught me about abundance and spirit.

I took Ava on vacation and blissfully lost touch with the world for a few days. I watched her navigate preschooler waterfalls and jet-streams with ease. I watched her grow up and I suppose, I grew up, too.

People left this summer- on the sides of the road, or in well-thought-out, emails. They left and we never looked back. It’s hard to believe that Breon became just a memory. Harder still that Josh came back, and the world never stopped for even a moment. We sat under the stars and I called him on it all- and soon, he was helping me move furniture. I don’t answer his texts often, but when I do- there’s no feeling missing- nothing to begin, or feign over. On the other hand, I think of Bre often, and I wonder- why there had to be so much pain for so little to show.

D. reminds me that in each painful experience lies something deeper- a teaching. When we don’t learn the first time, life is less than understanding. We cheer each other on. Someday for me… love. Someday for him… peace.

Until then? There’s a red couch downstairs I call my own, with a beautiful entertainment center that boasts the prettiest oak you’d find in these ratty apartments. Instead of building my life around others, I started working on the perfect house for myself and my Ava. It’s almost like being 11 again and cutting out from the JCPenney catalog- mismatched furniture and gluing it to paper. My time to be selective, and focused.

What will winter bring? Summer has always been magic for me. This year has been absolutely no different. I think the time away, and the rejection of serious romance has blessed me with a daughter that doesn’t push her mother out the door when a sitter is here. For once, she’s asking for me, and relying completely on this face. She asks if Bre will come back and I always smile. No one can stay in Guam forever, but he’s so much farther away than the rest. Josh walked in the door to help unload the new furniture and instead of running to the man she talked non-stop about for 10 months, she stood behind me- clung onto my pleated skirt and demanded to know why he ‘moved home.’ Luckily for me- I had someone to help carry a 300lb pile of organized wood into my house and had enough sense to realize what a beautiful situation had happened. She doesn’t really ask about him anymore.

That’s my girl.
She says shes still searching
For salvations light
Yeah, she wishes all day
And then, she prays all night…

*Utterly exhausted.

Therein laid our relationship.

I suppose also, that this could apply to almost anything: The hour in the sun that starts as a fresh glow and ends as a painful scorching of the flesh; a sunburn that takes time to develop into a carcinogenic, tan. Things, take time.

When did I stop writing love letters? Even in the days of our first relationship, I remember very sweet emails back and forth. Praise. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel the things my body begged to write about: I just felt more that the moment I gave in- almost like a binge on something fatty or overindulgent- I would immediately be blindsided by something else. It never tasted good- anymore. I wanted to tell you- but I couldn’t find a way to without not being disappointed when the fight started. The love letters I wanted to write were overshadowed by the lies I kept telling myself to not give up on this: Because I couldn’t bear giving up on anything anymore. There was so much change and so much loss- there you were. Silly, silly, girl.

All I can think of is your cheekbones- and the way your face curves perfectly to your dimpled chin. The soft, determined eyes and almost pouty grin- (which I saw in moments of our greatness.) All I can think of- is your face.

Your phone charger is still plugged in next to the wall on my bed. Call it pure laziness- but I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of pulling everything out from behind to get to it. You can also attribute laziness to the fact that the only unwashed pillowcase is the one you slept on- the scent of a man who I’ll probably never forget- even in moments such of these- quiet desperation. The smell? Is a conflicting mix of sweat and something that smells like ‘man rain.’ Like receiving a nostril-full of a passerby who’s coat is soaked and his aftershave lingers before exiting in the droplets falling to the ground.

I never really wanted to be your friend. I knew we wouldn’t be able to do it. I knew I’d give in- or give up, or give away all the things I took back after each fight, break-up or distance from each other.

The hardest break-ups are from the couples who developed their own language with actions or speech or intuitions that felt so much like home, they still grab the leg of the person next to them when watching something gut-wrenching or hilarious and they look to the side to share a reaction. It’s not just a death of a relationship, friendship- it’s the death of all that was adopted or believed in. It’s a death of sharing. Someone else will take the calls that were reserved for the individual and someone else will give the advice that only the leg-grabbing-partner dispensed. It’s always someone else, and we’re always searching.

Break-up mantras and songs replace daydreams of grandeur and the silly ideas of lasting intentions that filled the mind. Everything takes on a new meaning. The differences between what was and was wanted are blurred; consequently memories of the good are stamped far deeper than the bad and the confusion between asking, “Did I do the right thing?” to “Screw Him,” leave everything simultaneously, shady.

And I’m proud: the tiny parts of me that rejoice in standing up for what I wanted, and not accepting less than I deserved. These parts are becoming larger, I’m noticing the difference between the real and the fake and the just plain delusional.

A year and a half wasted? Wouldn’t that be entirely too easy to state- if I measured my life by successes and failures, that is. I could only label it a waste if I didn’t come so far in the book of who I wanted to be. Without this: I would have missed entire chapters.

You taught me that I was sexy: Not in a ‘you’re grown up so walk with a strut or wear something tight and black,” but that even with a 104 temperature in the emergency room I knew, I was someone damn important. You built me up to tear me down- but we all do that. 

With you, I just learned to give up the fairytale. I saw the truly important and negotiated with my programming to modify self-inflated fields of concern. I learned to walk away, over and over. Little fights, big fights, the epic ones that kept us both up for days created a ridiculous barrier to anything we might have accomplished. We accomplished living- in a way that we could sit in a room for hours at end and not utter a single word. We finished each others sentences and brought up each other’s thoughts. You told me to get out of your brain, and I was happily in tuned to the inner workings that you kept so hidden.

You don’t think I listened: But I truly did. Every time you told me I was wrong for whatever reason you had- I saw the pain you held underneath it all. I saw your outbursts as more than you being angry, and I knew that behind your eyes wasn’t a simple, complex sentence you were speaking- it was a minefield that you were trying so hard within yourself to navigate. One misstep, and suddenly you didn’t even understand yourself, what was going on. I saw your pain and I shared it because I feel pain and there is nothing like knowing that you are self-destructing with no one else to set on fire. I wanted to burn.

Why does this feel so different? The feeling of relief and lingering resentment is a unique combination. It started, with that stupid boat- (to which I am still completely indifferent on.) We sunk it- good, and deep and like a missing child from the 1960′s- Gone. Maybe that’s it: there’s no floating debris, or things we didn’t say. Only a love letter I never wrote because I already knew the outcome.

It looked as though fog was slithering along the black ground- transcending it to greet the huffs coming from my mouth. I had so much to run for. I tagged the lampposts as I glided by.

About a mile. It’s certainly not my best- but it’s probably the most emotional marathon I ever ran, even alone. I wasn’t afraid of the darkness or the shadows. I was afraid of never feeling this burn in my lungs again. My feet stamped the ground, “My Body. My Life. My Body. My Life.” In the past year- the cancer, the loss of the job- for every failed relationship and every gained friend I wanted to imprint something of my own. You can’t fail at running, can you? With each swift breath in or even the millisecond both your feet float above the pavement- you become lighter and more powerful. I flew down the bridge and back up as the beams from passing cars lit my path. I reached my stoplight again and as I slowed down to a jog my brain switched to nasal sensory mode as I smelled the wet leaves and ground reminded me of the long summer afternoons I spent outdoors as a girl.

I never chose to run then- it came so easily in games or in moments of girlish-silliness. The playground equipment begged to be climbed, and I often went inside shooed to the bathroom for a nightly shower. I played hard and daydreamed harder.

At my kindergarten play, (Goldilocks and the Three Bears- to which of course I played Goldie,) my mother took a picture of me running so quickly up the stairs from the bears that there I am in mid-stride and everyone announced I had to be flying. I don’t know at what age I stopped running- perhaps it was the summer that I had heightened awareness of boys and how perfect my curled-under bangs had to be. I stopped caring about the feeling of the burn in my chest or breathing so heavy during a hide and seek game out of pure adrenaline and fear that surely that was the thing that would give me away. 

I suppose then- the burn reminds us of the task: That we are indeed, running. The pain in my lungs told me that as each foot hit the ground I was a size 6 foot closer to my goal and with that? I was able to measure exactly how far I’ve come.

The burn in leaving him in Waconia will last more than a few steps, I’m afraid. No amount of 11pm jogs will take back the things he said, or bridge the gap between what I want and what he offers.

Ironically, a few nights ago I sat with him and listened to an incredible story written by a local author, (Brett Pederson,) about a girl getting in a taxi and leaving someone with all her possessions tangled with her. She lets everything remain in the taxi as she gets off at her stop and only takes her running shoes which encompass the only memory she has completely of herself.

The burn tells me it’s worthwhile. I’ll keep running.

I wonder then, if when we look to the sky will we see our future family members instead of something intangible- unimaginable? Mere stars that everyone claims to wish upon. Essentially children that we give the power to dictate our most precious wants.

I have no idea of my past. I suppose it’s like walking blindly through a museum. I have nothing to study, address or otherwise argue that I’m not a part of. But it’s nights like these- the only sound outside I hear is the slow push of the wind through the gigantic evergreens and I know that the past that flows through my veins is connected to something greater. I’ve never looked for my birth mother. Excuse after excuse, “It’s too expensive. What if she’s dead already?” Everything clouds my mind until I realize- my heart tells me that I never really cared where I came from- I just cared where I wanted to go.

I watch my daughter sleep, sometimes. The tiny puffs that emerge from her mouth and the contented sighs as she rolls over or adjusts her arms above her head remind me of everything she was when I was able to hold her in one hand. We were one, once. I felt her butterfly, ninja kicks inside my abdomen and with a wild trust in which she forced herself into the world? I knew she was remarkable. I would get to see a piece of me grow before my eyes- I wonder if my birth mother missed that.

Even when I feel most lost- like the days in which I don’t know where else to apply for, (someone must want a freelance writer, hint-hint,) I countdown each moment until 3pm, when I pick her up at daycare and we can explore together. Today we went for donuts and milk and then to a park. She has inherited my complete and utter boredom for the contemporary, or ordinary. Yet- she’ll find the prettiest flower, or marvel in tiny bugs only to show me. I want to freeze preschool and savor it forever.

 If the stars are pieces of what’s meant to come in exploding glory- we are walking on the decomposition of the past. I don’t find this as revolting as one would think. In entirely metaphysical terms, we are walking, somewhat guided by those before us, and looking upwards to those that will come. It makes sense to me and gives me peace.

I’ve always told Ava, “I love you more than the moon and the stars.” I meant it to mean that the type of love I was trying to harness? Was unattainable by all measures. For you couldn’t hold both the moon and the stars, therefore it was so great that it was all around. I hope she’ll understand someday that I love her more than the past and future. 

I think I must be happiest right now, as ironic as that may seem. I look out my window nightly, and sleep in my home to the quiet sighs of the outdoors and creaks, not my own. I’m working on perfecting my craft, when in even a hundred years ago for a woman to write about her daily musings for a living would seem absolutely ignorant. I am blessed. I often think of the tragedy should I have been born in a time where I would have to fight for Ava’s equality or my own. I would have fought to my death as the other parts of me never had a chance to leave the front gate. I keep reminding myself to cherish it all before it explodes. If I am another example of a shining enigma- I plan to be the best light to my daughter and the world I can be.

“We were but stones, your light made us stars.” -Pearl Jam

I answered, mustered up my greatest courage and just tried to let it go.  Im going to write for a bit, and see what comes out. I know myself, and in my greatest moments of self-confusion and searching- I’m always able to find what I feel on here.

1. I’m not going to say that I’m surprised. They seem very happy. Babies make people say stupid stuff like, “We’re over the moon!” (Which is where I truly want them to go.) He never wanted more kids, and now he’ll have five, total. (Which- in all reality is great.) We should all be so happy.

2. Do I wish it was me? Actually… for a minute- I’m not going to lie. I texted a few people, I sat in bewilderment of how I should feel.  I looked in the mirror. I looked at the curve of my waist and the rosy hue in my cheeks; I studied the slight pout/puzzlement that my lips were shaped into. I studied and studied, and in the face of it all- I smiled. It wasn’t an ordinary or forced concoction- but something deeper. Relief, perhaps? The boat has sailed, they signed on the dotted line. They gained each other- and I gained independance of who I so desperately -thought- I wanted to be.

Something happens when you wake up and realize, who you are is not wrapped up in anyone else, (unless they are the age of three and a half and have a penchant for pigtails and mac&cheese.) What happens is- over the past year, I realized- I uncovered the beginning of the scary, the damaged and the triumphs I hadn’t allowed myself to experience fully. I don’t fear for most of the things that used to plague my mind. If I’m alone at thirty? Thank god I’m alive. If I have wrinkles before I’m married? I’ll have lived enough to earn them, myself.

A part of me- will always wonder, (and thank god!) The power to feel, to spectulate, and to be curious? Is what makes me who I am- it makes me something bigger, too. -Human.

I was pondering this exact situation a few nights ago when I was going through old pictures. Some of us had snuck their way into various memory stashes, or shoeboxes over the past year. I pulled out the few I found- and I smiled. We were complete and total idiots. I have a new found respect for my need to be head-over-heels with the idiocy of ‘love.’ The other pictures mixed in- high school and childhood- stages in my life. (Some more important than others.) I used to view him as something I lost. (I think everyone of us has done this.)

Know what? Literally, a week from now was our first date. We went for lemonade and a shitty movie, (I can’t even tell you what movie it was- to be honest.) It spiraled into destruction from there- but in the beginning, it was exactly what I needed.

My house, is pieces of former lives. I still have the dishes from Jason and I’s place,  the small t.v. that sat in my dorm room. My headboard is his old headboard, and my bed was an incredible gift from a good friend. With one of these pieces missing, my home wouldn’t feel complete. With one of these experiences missing, or the feelings of mourning, excitement or loss- I wouldn’t be able to feel at peace with who I am today. He’s a headboard in my room that in passion I hold onto, in sleep I rub against and one that actually matches the other furniture. It was meant to be here- alone. Not a house- but a piece, in itself.

May she have a successful pregnancy and a beautiful baby.

We are not just the hopes of what we say, or the jobs we’ve gone well or poorly at. We are not still, nor one-dimensional beings that look back at ourselves through glass. The frame around the mirror that shows my picture could not possibly hold me in. If I expand my arms it’s proof, that while still attached to my body, there is so much more that doesn’t resonate in the reflection. A reflection that I hardly recognize anymore.

My youth is depleting slowly, or rapidly if you compare a picture of high school to now. You can see the difference in the curves of my body, or the weighing of life’s greatest joys and stresses on capable bones. I have almost an entire head of graying hair.  I noticed it about 6 months ago, that the strip coming in was colorless, (which is something to behold.) Hair without color to me- was always hair without purpose. I had been dying my hair for years- and suddenly, now- I have a reason to giggle as I dye it. 27, and going gray… somewhat proudly. Like a freak of nature, or someone that instead of weathering the storms on her face, gracefully pushed the signs of aging upwards. See? Truly. You do hold all of my secrets.

How I view my life and success has changed over time. We’re taught that Slot A needs to fit directly into Slot B, for Slot C, to occur and with Slot C, firmly in it’s place you’re able to shop at pottery barn, pop out perfect children, and maintain a stoic composition with the benefits of trophy-wife hair. I knew at a young age that paper folding wasn’t for me, but my penchant for pleasing others and viewing myself ‘good’ in their eyes had me trying complicated circus-aerobatics with paper and my fingers that just left everything behind in a crinkled mess. Throw the paper down, god dammit.

In all honesty? There are only moments in which we feel the adrenaline rush of a weightless existence wash over us. Perhaps losing my day-job was by far the most liberating thing I’ve ever encountered. (Only my bank account disagrees.) Sunny afternoons, with a headfull of possibilities is much better than listening to the dull hum of a song, I just don’t believe in.

The eternal interview, my eternal hope.

My puppy started making a wailing noise. (It sounded like a siren. I opened the door and in horror found out it came from his crate.) He was crying, puppy tears over having to sleep in his little grey box, (because after a couple months, the bugger isn’t used to it.) Breaks my heart.

 Secondly, I ran across this -gem.- Nothing, (and I mean nothing,) can fix a wounded or soaring spirit like a great article on blatantly ignorant people. This one had so many memorable quotes I couldn’t help but share.

I have uncovered the following quotes for your reading pleasure:

• “The womb is such a powerful weapon; it’s a weapon against the enemy,” Campbell says. Campbell has 35 grandchildren. She and her husband stopped at six kids, and it is her great regret. “I think, help! Imagine if we had had more of these children!” Campbell says, adding, “My greatest impact is through my children. The more children I have, the more ability I have to impact the world for God.”
• “They speak about, ‘If everyone starts having eight children or 12 children, imagine in three generations what we’ll be able to do,’ ” Joyce says. ” ‘We’ll be able to take over both halls of Congress, we’ll be able to reclaim sinful cities like San Francisco for the faithful, and we’ll be able to wage very effective massive boycotts against companies that are going against God’s will.’ “

Hold up…. (San Francisco is the worst they can come up with?) How about anything in Iowa. Hell, go wild. New York. That place is rampant with their big-three, (blacks, gays and progressive thinkin’.)

• In a suburb of Grand Rapids, Mich., Misty and Seth Huckstead, both 31, are straightening up the living room for a birthday party. No small task with six kids and one on the way. With such a large family, they get by with one car. They shop at thrift stores and occasionally rely on the local seminary’s food bank. Seth says it’s difficult having so many kids, but he and Misty have no regrets.They didn’t always have this attitude, Seth says. When they were 23, already with four children, he had a vasectomy. But they searched the Bible and concluded that sterilization was an affront to God.

They rely on a food bank, because being sexually responsible is an ‘affront’ to God, which baffles me. God wants your kids to be well-cared-for, healthy and happy. He doesn’t want 16 malnurished, (nutritionally and emotionally,) kids that are starving for affection and normalcy.

If you look at the article, (977 comments and growing- just like babies!) A -few- people seem put off with the blatant disregard for fiscal or sexual responsibility. I don’t call it ‘Quiverfull,’ (full of shit, maybe,) I think I’ll entitle it, ‘farking for christ.’ Because really, with motives for plentiful ‘relations’ like that, (world/political denomination- well shielded by a love of, “jesus,”) it’d be hard to point a finger at what they’re doing. Is it really ‘wrong’ procreate to the point where you mix up your children’s names and rely on other parishioners for help with food, etc? How would this hold a different contempt than for Octomom? Is it irresponsible when it’s your religious beliefs?

Because I’m in the mood to forget my weekend, and throw my brain and heart into another dilemma, I’m pondering these questions.

1. Is it wrong? From a merely financial standpoint… yes. But then again- most single parent’s would also be wrong, too. Which brings up a very interesting point, (ready for me to blow your mind?) Wouldn’t it be more beneficial, to God and society for them to adopt those that are less fortunate and convert than have a litter of children? Didn’t Jesus also say to feed the poor, heal the sick and stay off the lawns? If they were -really- looking to spread his message, (beyond spreading their legs-) -tooeasy,sorry,- they would look into the vastness around them, pluck a few orphans from foster care and start a movement that way. Right? (Right.)

2. Why is there a different view on people procreating for religious reasons than for nut-case-reasons? (Octomom versus crazy church ladies.) I think we all can agree that poor Nadya is missing all the seeds from her sesame bun, but her want to be loved unconditionally that she stated she felt from her children would have had to still get met. We’re pissed she’s freeloading on society, (and buying the MAC cosmetics we cannot afford.) I think it’s a cut/n/dry financial issue. Should anyone of these ‘Christian’ families rely on the state dole, I’d assume we’d outrage the same. (Having children to take over a state seems just as crazy if not more, than for having children to fill a void of self-hate inside.) No?

3.  (My favorite.) Is it irresponsible to have these religious beliefs? (Who am I to say what’s ‘responsible,’ -thou shall not judge, and whatnot,) but- I equally get irritated when I hear that suicide bombers truly believe that thousands of pretty virgins are waiting to be raped by them in heaven. They truly believe this, they blow up people to get to those brazen beauties. (Note: I compared them to a certain view in -some- radical Islamic people to disprove their own point.) If it affects others in a negative way, I truly believe that the ‘religion’ part ends. Does God really want us to procreate to the point where we are selfishly taking world resources away from others? Did God not also want us to share and help and build with each other instead of tearing it all down? If there’s a God saying, “If you feel the quiver in  your loins to have MOAR BABIES you must obey! Fark until you cannot fark anymore! Have 1,000 children! Take over San Franciscio!” I don’t want to be religious anymore. I mean- if there’s a god that tells me I’ll receive thousands of virgin guys in heaven for blowing up someone else? I’d want him to get his head checked. I might offer up a collection to foot the bill. Religion loses it’s responsibility to it’s people when taken to the maximum, and benefitting only the person who ‘believes’ it. Suddenly everything could be a religion then, right?

What bothers me the most? Is that some of those women, probably do not understand the thought process of figuring it out, or rationalizing for herself the harm she is doing in not being able to hold, or touch or listen to each child like she/he so desperately needs. Christ is not going to save your child from loneliness, or depression at a young age. He isn’t an ATM machine for college bills or insurance. I can’t tell you that the only way to have a child is out of love, and not for a Christ Army, because my kid? Was conceived out of beautiful, beautiful, wedlock. (The best kind.) But she’s loved, and somewhat idolized, (you haven’t seen her paintings or heard the new phrases as of yet.) And to know I’d have to give everything to her she wanted, plus 14 others, would make it impossible for me to be the BEST MOM I could be.

Out of my three greatest achievements in life- (one of which was my daughter,) the other was realizing the smoke-screen that different brands of ‘Christianity’ put up. Don’t disguise Christ’s Love and Tolerance as a motive to take over senate or a small, California city. You’re tainting exactly what you’re trying so hard to protect.

I sat on my couch on the day you were elected. I had my cell phone in my hands to call my friends and family, and my little one was napping upstairs.

On your inauguration, I wrote ( here. ) I knew we were ushering in something else- a strong wind after a season of fall- to blow it all away and get ready for the long, winter ahead. I told everyone that would listen, “This is for my Ava. You’re coming to fix it for our children.” Never before have I felt such hope for my toddler’s future. It was a sigh, and a thought that was long overdue, “We. Matter.” I’m part of the circus that’s turned you into some-sort-of political savior. We watched in horror as you fumbled over your words on the late show, but forgave you because finally, someone wasn’t robotic, but human- with human errors, (that didn’t kill thousands in war, or help big businesses hurt the little guys.) It’s like you even know, a calculated move, a risk- and you could see exactly how we’d react. We bounced back. (And I hear you have a bowling duel on your hands, eh?)

This morning I read you were going to pass that ‘pesky’ health care bill that most of us were praying for. I was supposed to already be in the doctor a few weeks ago, but because of my insurance, and the fear of not being able to pay whatever bill comes from a visit, (even with insurance,) I haven’t gone. I’m alive because of state health care, it’s true.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I had hyperemesis- a debilitating condition that affects all areas of your life. I was incredibly depressed, very, very sick, and lost my job and home because I couldn’t take care of myself, (by myself.) I was constantly throwing up, and losing weight. Ava was at risk. Then- miracle pills. Zofran and Reglan, ($25.00 a pill- 2x a day,) saved me. I didn’t have to worry about keeping the child in me safe by myself. Our tax dollars saved my pregnancy, and my sanity. I was able to go back to work.

Then? Years later- Cancer. I had no way to take care of the doctor bills by myself. Tax dollars again, allowed me to apply for emergency insurance. I got the operations I needed, the follow-up care, and because of the quick action of the doctors, I lost less than half my cervix. As the years creep by, I know they will have to take more and more out, (as the type I have usually returns in the form of changing cells.) Hope, again- was provided.

Article about Changing Healthcare

How long have you been in office? Months. In months- Some insurers, (because of increasing pressure,) are now stating that people with pre-existing conditions can pay the same rates as people without. “This is a major step, and it changes everything about how the market works,” Ignagni told USA TODAY. Insurers, she said, are prepared to “offer coverage to everyone who applies.”

I know you’ll receive flak and remarks from our elite- the ones who make $250k. People will tell you that it’s not fair for you to decide how their money is spent, or that they owe more simply because they make more. Have we heard it enough; that we’re a culture of greed and possessions? Certainly, you’ll tell them to look outward, to those that are struggling. Those that make that money are not the ones who are holding our country up. They are few, we are many.

It’s been months- mere weeks, and look at what’s happening. I thought maybe it was fear to those defiant of change. Maybe it was your wife’s hands in the White House’s lawn, planting seeds to provide fresh produce to the area’s needy. Maybe we’re all becoming a little different.

Everyone’s waiting for failure. We’ll build you up, only to criticize you for every action, inaction or thought in-between. What people don’t realize is that when something is doomed to failure, self-realized-success is a mere miracle. You’re speeding up the process and letting people see the things we cannot begin to fault about you- tenacity, humanity, and grace.

Just don’t get caught up in it. I’ll be the first to tell you that I’d hate to see my tax dollars funding a private insurance company so they can ‘afford’ to ensure everyone. (While they pay their executives millions in bonuses.) I know we’re not ready for (gasp) Socialized healthcare yet. But I also think that we’re sick of supporting companies that should be doing their jobs correctly anyway. Giving them the money, from our pockets, for the ‘privilege’ of them insuring those of us with pre-existing conditions is basically feeding the beast. It’s telling Cigna, United Health Partners, and BlueCross BlueShield that it’s alright to rake in millions and refuse to drop their profit for the good of the American people. (Read: Greed.) It’s exactly what the banking industry was doing, and look where it’s gotten us.

I have no doubt that lobbyists are convincing. I have no doubt that some of our members of Congress have already been bought with golden calves. But, I also don’t doubt you. Don’t toss your laser vision just yet. See through it. Keep pushing for what is right, and don’t settle for the mediocrity of half-way, (while only benefitting Big Insurance.)

“Business has been dying a slow death, but today government has dealt the final blow. The free hand of the market is too slow to respond to the over the top swipe by the collectivists. Sadly, we will all pay for this power grab.… Manhattan. Manhattan. The boom of Manhattan will envelop us all. Shall we burn to save humanity, or burn humanity to heed the righteous call? I can’t find the answers in this darkness, I can’t feel Miss Liberty’s last breath. It’s too late cried the watchmen, your fire’s burnt out; bar none from the safety of regulation. And so through these heavy bars do I peek, but never again of tyranny do I speak.” – S.S.

Sheep in Wolf’s clothing, Mr. Obama, but you already know that.

-Alexi Murdoch

A while back, (years to be exact,) I went to an Alexi Murdoch show with someone whom I no longer speak. The entire concert was almost a church-like experience, and when this started, I felt like I was in the concecration of the water into wine bit- I felt my body move and my mouth sing words I had only heard once before. This is the snippet on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyXqF3o3Hig

I was a kid who grew up on Newsboys, AudioAdrenaline, and DC Talk. I was Ms. Secure in my faith- bring it on. Lately, I’ve become agnostic, angrier and impassionately… boring.

I thought I saw a light shine. Story of my life. For so long- I thought there was something guiding me- and suddenly… I’m entirely, entirely, alone. I promise you- for every prayer I’ve muttered in this bed, or at my wheel – the tears that fell down my cheeks in quiet desperation to feel something… anything- a presense in my house, a figure by my bed- I’ve felt nothing. Surely, that’s now how it’s meant to be. I want to be back at churchcamp, or at this concert, before failed engagement number two- chanting words I believed in- that I was part of something beautiful- that God wasn’t inside me- but instead guiding me. There’s too much pain- I keep looking around- there’s too much pain in everyone’s eyes for this to be so anymore.

I’m a magnet for the isolated, or worried. I’ve blogged this before and many times- retold stories of people walking up to me and telling me ridiculous pieces of their lives that I never wanted to know. Today? On the bus? My bus-driver, M. proceeded to talk about 15 minutes about her complete and total fear about losing her job all whilst switching lanes and having a full busload swaying uncomfortably in their seats. I wanted to hug her. I’m there- sometimes, I feel like if I can’t get anything out I’d explode. We hold fears in- and the moment someone pays attention, touches us or remotely seems interested, we flock.

When I got into work later that day, a coworker, (a boss actually,) came over to my cube and started crying. (We’ve let her team go,) and she’s been put in charge of all the preparations for moving other teams and making a sandwich with a few crumbles of bread and some jelly. She bawled in my arms and I felt like saying- I promise you- we’re all at a loss, right now.

For some it’s work- and the constant reminder when friends are laid off, or families are moving out of once grand houses. For others, it’s the mounting bills or debt. Some can’t find work at all. Some have given up. We’re all trying so desperately to swim in an ocean that we’ve all made. Most of us are angry from having to fight each current so hard- some of us are bored of floating, and others- have fallen under to create a false calm on the surface. We’re all really, fucking, angry.

So I sit. Crying in my bed- listening to songs over and over and trying to find meaning in pain when there is none. It’s more about a car crash, or a broken engagement, or friends, or family… it’s about wanting so much to stand still for a while- and not worry that I’m not moving- or teaching, or affecting someone- because that’s the only reason or success I can find. -Connecting.-

I feel as though sometimes, my fingers have so much more to say than my mind can muster, (especially at 11pm.) There’s failure in realizing that the biggest part of you has been lost and no matter how much you try you can’t get it back- no amount of tears, or self-reconciliation, or even pretending will make something appear that just isn’t there. I feel like screaming at my walls- I. NEED. SOMETHING. Reasons- figures emerging from the white- really, anything would do, wouldn’t it. A flesh-eating ghost… something tangible. Because the only tangible thing I have? Is the fear that I messed it up years ago and there’s no turning back.

Sometimes, a good release is in order for everyone. The weight in which we carry becomes too heavy even for the most emotionally-in-shape. If God is speaking to me- through the people I’ve met- knowing that others are hurting as much, (though in different ways,) is no consolation.

This is it, that breaking point- the one we always dance away from. I can tell you- what I’ve experienced in the last 2 months has made me stronger, bitter, wordier, and truthfully… sadder, than anything I’ve ever known. I’ve seen pain in everyone’s eyes- and no one has died. I’ve become an emotional zombie, myself- unable to give love to those that have asked. I’ve lost out on a few relationships, gained self-awareness and independance, but mostly- sat in dark rooms and reflected on the timing and meaning of things that in the end… truly did not matter.

I don’t know why it’s all happening- one thing after another like this. I don’t know anymore- much of anything. I find myself literally, starving for good luck- any piece of something resembling what I had, or thought I posessed.

Someone texted me today, “This is a test.” (Of what, God’s emergency broadcast system?) Because if there is a god- and he can kill people I love, harm others, let someone hit my car, screw up my back, cut off half my team, and create evil like this- I’d much rather burn in the firey pits of damnation for sitting down and bawling my freaking eyes out, than politely stand up and wave an, “I love you Jesus!” flag.

I truly have always believed- God might be inside us, he might be nowhere but in our minds guiding us to the right things we should do for others. I’ve responded accordingly. I gave until it hurt, I picked myself up… I stopped whining and worked harder- but I am still being, ‘tested?’ I unsubscribe. If oversubscribing gets me peace for a while- I’m much better with that.

I feel something- it’s deep inside, and it’s burning. I’ve always felt it- and I’ve always had an ache- and more than ever? I feel like it’s telling me something. There has to be a reason- that people flock, or that my mother constantly jokes about my ‘black cloud.’ That the men I find, run into the arms of others, or that despite everything, and all the self-reflection- I still cannot get comfortable in my own skin.  Why is it- that in such pain, when most people find comfort, I just find others that feel the exact same way I do- and we intensify each other- like bright lights in a darkened room. Most would find comfort- and me? I just find it blinding.

Pale light this morning
Woke me
Slow pain I feel
Will not let me be

So much work to do
I don’t know if I can
Trying so hard, so hard, so hard
But I’m just one man

Five years old I climbed up on the wall
My mother warned me but I took no heed
Like all creatures great and small
I took a fall and found out I could bleed

And I wake up crying

-Alexi Murdoch

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(People keep sending me quotes.) I love it: I’m posting them here. (Hint- if they rhyme.. I’ll do without.)

It’s always the same in every relationship, there is always one person crying and wishing to get back together, while the other doesn’t even remember the things they’ve been through. I hate that I have to be the one who remembers every little detail while you can’t seem to remember me at all.

Me, I’m scared of everything, I’m scared of who I am, what I saw, what I did, but most of all I am scared of walking out of this room and never feeling for the rest of my life, the way I feel when I’m with you.

We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. (Joseph Campbell)

I found- I just gave into the pain, the stress and the anger- because I finally realized- I had no control over situations, and only had control over my reactions. For a while, I stopped reacting, I re-focused…. and I won.

There’s been little bumps lately- with putting in the offer for the house, and re-negociating, figuring out the kids’ schedules- and floating above another threat of cancer. 2 operations later, I’m fine, (thankyouverymuch.) And through all this- I breathed, a different type of breathing I suppose, and I focused in on the other things that were going so right.

An ex recently uploaded a blog, and although I won’t link to it directly, I hope he doesn’t mind if I paste his ‘pearls of wisdom,’ for all to see.

As I swam out, for what I would soon learn was the last wave for me that day, I noticed the water getting very high, very fast. It turned out to be the single largest wave that I would have ever personally witnessed in my life. Now I had already done this a few times and felt that I had the hang of things. Unfortunately for me, I was sorely mistaken. As the wave began to crest and topple over… so did I. I found myself trapped inside what I can only describe and a horizontal vortex.
I hadn’t really taken a large breath of air prior to being pulled under because it had caught me by surprise. I was rotating so fast, I actually became dizzy almost instantly. With the amazing force of the rotation, coupled with my lack of air, I found myself wondering whether or not I’d actually long enough to see the sunset again.
I was just deep enough that my arms couldn’t break the surface of the water, but shallow enough to still see a great deal of light pouring through the water. I couldn’t tell the sky from the ocean floor, and was spinning so fast that even if I could there was no chance I could break the cycle to swim in either direction. It took all my willpower to force myself not to gasp for air as I was pretty sure a lung full of salt water would only make things worse. I tried to fight my way out, but it was useless. There was nothing I could do, and I would just have to wait and see where this force of nature was going to take me. There wasn’t really much of a choice in the matter.
After what seemed like an eternity, the wave crashed against the beach and slammed my body against the sand. Air! Finally! I gasped as quickly as I could to fill my lungs with air. A little too fast, it would seem, began a coughing fit. I lay on my side for a few moments covered with a thin lair of sand, in a complete daze, not entirely certain what to think about the situation. I turn on my back, facing the sky to see my Father standing over me with a smirk on his face.
His first words to me were, “Are you dead?” “Yeah, a little, ” I replied. “Good,” he said, “Maybe that’ll teach you not to fight something you bigger than you.” I painfully laughed after just having taken a wall of sand on at 30 MPH (not like I had the speed measured or anything, but suffice to say it really hurt). You’ve got to admit, as much as he might have been right (and funny)… it was still as ass of a thing to say.
I say this because there are a few of you who will read this. Of those, a few who (myself included) need to learn something very important. Sometimes there are forces at work that you have no control over. There will be instances where you can only hang on and hope to make it out the other side in one piece. Or as a good friend of mine would say, “Doesn’t matter how it worked out so long as you come out of it with dignity and grace.” Can’t say that I necessarily did that day. Though, that doesn’t mean I won’t this time around.
With everything going on, I feel reminded of that moment. This time I’m going to try my best not to fight it. Instead, I’m going to do everything I can to have faith that I’ll make it to shore in one piece. -J.M

I thought the words were lovely. I thought that– was the perfect example of everything I was trying to say, (only he did… in all honesty, say it better.) There’s times of floating, and kicking- and times in which I don’t know which action to do first, and always- times of wisdom.

I think the older we get, the more we realize the importance of only reacting to the things we can control. This is especially pertinent today, as my hubby-to-be and I are invited to his ex-family’s get together, (including the ex-wife, and ex-parental units.) Normally, I’d say, “Count me out. I’ll be somewhere .. else.” But- he wanted me to go, (he’s stayed very close to his ex- brother in law, and I’ll be meeting him for the first time.) So, it’ll be me, the kids, families and a ridiculous urge to run away… which I’m really good at? This is bigger than me, and I’m not going to fight it. (Although- we’d better leave after a few hours. It’s just cruel and unusual.)

For those of you who have gone through, ‘stepmom-dom,’ I salute you. Between the exes, and families and rules and adjustments, and bargaining, (thank god she’s an angel- can you imagine?) It’s a little.. too much. I tend to stay away from the ‘step-parent’ websites, because it’s only caused inner emotional turmoil. Headlines such as, “My 16yo stepdaughter beats me,” and (a personal favorite,) “Daddy Issues 101,” has not really leant to … a peaceful nights sleep. It’s like your first moments as a mom, you struggle between losing your 24 year old boobs to breastfeeding, or hearing everyone say how wrong it is to bottlefeed. Everyone has horror stories, everyone has opinions. (I stay off the cancer boards as well, after hearing that after someone’s latest procedure, (that I just had,) they are now incapable of using the restroom.) I die, a little- when I hear these stories, and I immediately wonder, (is that what is going to happen??)

Everything seems to be reduced to the Maury Show. There’s a worst-case-scenerio for every situation. Being fairly un-lucky, and having the agility of a noodle, has not helped me thus far- but… I think the luck is starting to change.

We close on the house on the 26th, (Countdown, please.) And we’ve found Aves a really decent daycare, and a new bus schedule for me.

Thanks for your wisdom, J.

I received the following email about ten minutes ago. After I cleaned up the Diet Cherry 7-up I spit over my keyboard, (Sorry I.T,) I was fortunate enough to have the sense of mind to ctrl+C it to all of you. If you feel like turning Barry White on, I’ll give you extra points. He is my friend, AND my protector. He apparently thinks I smell divine, AND? I am freaking LEGENDARY. I think this might warrant the great quotes tag. The thing is? I googled this like crazy.. he might just have wrote this himself. (Or used something old fashioned I like to call.. a book.) In either case? Wow. It’s so pretty… I wanna frame it.

Beautiful lady,
it is easy to see, that anyone sharing the same space with you, turns out to be amongst good fortune. I can see from more than 5000 kilometers away, that you smell fresher than spring flowers. I always wondered where starts the beginning of rainbows, why the birds sing so , even why the sun likes to shine bright and now I see, its from the sparkle in your eyes and probably the sound of your laughter, and for sure if the world is anything like me, there is a pause, and you are noticed from the very moment you wake in the morning. Hey I just had to say and let you know, that your beauty is legendary. talk to you later
your friend and protector
RaDon<3@>—>—

I forwarded this to a few friends, and as we all stared in amazement, my pal Nate had probably the best response: (I’m totally posting it.)

Do ascii hearts and roses win you over? Cause I’m going about this the completely wrong way then.

-Dork.

In other news: (Because I’m lazy and didn’t want to repost,) Nerd Girls are all the rage. See Here: http://www.alternet.org/sex/88944/

“

“But when nerd girls stop looking like dorks and start looking like cheerleaders, and get more attention for both sexiness and smarts as a result, is that a post-feminist triumph? Or is it a return to the days of Mad Men, when lipstick, not ideas, was the most important thing to grace a woman’s lips?

Clearly, some things have changed. A recent Pew Internet & American Life project found that among users 12 to 17, girls dominate the blogosphere and social networking sites, and outnumber boys in creating websites of their own. Women gamers now even outnumber men ages 25-34, according to a 2006 study by the Consumer Electronics Association.” (Vanessa Richmond- The Tyee) 

The time comes when we can no longer find refuge in our defenses. We discover, often with awe, that it is precisely our defenses that have kept us in darkness! We tire of straining to protect ourselves, and we feel stifled and restricted by the walls we have built between our hearts and others. Our defenses are not worth the love we lose in hiding. We cannot afford to maintain a citadel of fear at the cost of peace. In our efforts to keep pain away from our heart, we have also denied entry to joy. The moment arrives when we must break free and make a stand for who we are. That moment is now. The time has come to cast aside our cloak of smallness and don the robe which honors our true magnitude. We must claim the strength to live in the dignity befitting our identity.   -Alan Cohen

You cannot cause a shadow to disappear by trying to fight it, stomp on it, by railing against it, or any other form of emotional or physical resistance. In order to cause a shadow to disappear, you must shine light on it.    – Shakti Gawain