#TeamBadAss

Anyone who follows me knows that my life is the farthest thing from quiet or peaceful. This weekend's trip to Kansas City was no exception.

Ann, Brandi and I left KC about 1 o'clock today after a great lunch with some friends and got about as far as Bethany, MO when I decided to pull off and check my tires. I was getting a LOT of vibration and road noise and suspected a tire was low on air. I was right. The back ones were WAY low on air. I'm honestly not sure how I didn't notice it before, but I digress. I filled both back up to where they needed to be and checked the front. With everything registering the way it should, we got back on the road. Unfortunately, things weren't "the way they should" be. I noticed a wiggle in my tires that wasn't there before. The vibrations & noise were gone, but they'd been replaced with wobbling. We decided then to take highways home instead of interstate, that way we'd be closer to a town if we needed to stop and fill up with more air. As we drove a bit, the wobbles evened out once we got to a little higher speeds and we were fine.

Until we got about an hour away and the road noise and vibrations started back up again.

We managed to get as far as the south side of Des Moines and had a blow-out. I have to say, I was pretty impressed with my driving skills. I safely guided the car to the far right shoulder (we were between off/on ramps on a bridge when it blew) and when my hands stopped shaking, the three of us made that tire our bitch. Within seven minutes (from annoying, turn-crank jack up to turn-crank jack down), the donut was put on and the junk tire was thrown in the trunk. (I texted Hubs and told him my pit crew was faster than his pit crew).

We weaved our way through town and I dropped the girls off at Ann's and inched my way home, the whole time not driving over 35 miles an hour. Have you ever driven thirty five miles DOING thirty five mph??! I'm convinced it was my penance for all the times I didn't get busted for speeding in my life.

When I got home, I pulled the tire out and looked at it more closely. We'd known it was going bad and had plans to go this week and get it replaced before I head to Columbus on Saturday, but had we known it was THIS bad, I'd have never left town. So when I examined the tire at home, I was flabbergasted to find exposed radials that had been that way for a while (there was rust under some spots) and several spots where the rubber had come off completely. I don't know how long it has been like this, but I guess this heat wave added to the 400 mile round trip and a car loaded down with people and luggage was just too much for that old tire to take.

I'm just glad a) I wasn't alone, b) my girls are as knowledgeable about cars as I am, c) that we made it as far as we did and d) that I was able to control the car once it blew. If ANY of that was different, this day could've ended much differently. Angels were watching over us today and I am so grateful to God for it.

And yes, as soon as Hubs gets home, the tire is being replaced. Until then? I'm content in not going anywhere.

Stiff Competition

I've lived in Iowa my entire life. Several corners of it, of course, but I've been here for over 37 years. Every year (with the exception of a few), I've gone to the Iowa State Fair. I was raised on it.

For those who aren't in Iowa, it may not seem like our state fair is a big deal. It's just a fair, right? Rogers and Hammerstein didn't seem to think so. Their award-winning musical, "State Fair" was based on our little state fair. And to me, it's never been just a little deal either. There are things to do, people to see, concerts to attend (My first concert with New Kids on the Block was there in 1989), foods to eat, rides to ride, competitions to enter.

Or not.

I don't talk much about my mother (I'm not really sure why, actually), but for those who didn't know her, she was very talented when it cames to crafts. She crocheted, constructed quilts and did counted-cross stitch and embroidery. She painted ceramics and when the mood struck her, she sewed clothes, too. She never saw herself as being especially gifted, but her work really was amazing. I still own and display some of her work in my house today.

I remember as a kid, the family and her friends would encourage her to enter some of her creations in the state fair competitions every year. "JoAnn, your stuff is so pretty! I know you'd win! You should enter." She'd always dismiss them with a flippant, "It's not good enough. They're very picky. I'd have to start doing all of my stuff differently because you have to..." and she'd go off on a well-rehearsed speech about how the back of her work that nobody sees would have to be hidden and always end the speech with, "I don't have that kind of time."

She was right. She didn't.

She was diagnosed with cancer in her late 40's and taken from us just a few short years later. Her blue ribbon was never meant to be.

I didn't realize just how much of my mother I had in me until it came time to hear the same encouragement from my friends and family about entering my photos into the state fair competition. "Mel, you're good. Like really good. DO IT!" I always came back with my mother's same old retort, "It's not good enough." For years, I've let my mother's fears cripple me. I bought into her bullshit.

In my own defense, if you could see the work that gets displayed each year -- the photographs that are chosen to be exhibited....DAMN! There are some phenomenal photographers in this piddly little state of ours. For years, I've enjoyed strolling through the Cultural Arts building at the fairgrounds. I like the doll houses and other fine arts, but I could (and have) spend hours wandering through the photography salon. I am in awe every year at what gets chosen and I wonder how in the hell someone can be that talented and gifted. Of course, there are a few photos that I've seen where I think to myself (never out loud, of course...that would be egotistical), I've shot that same picture and mine's better. What am I waiting for?

This year, I finally stopped waiting. I went through my photographs that I've taken over the last couple years and with the help of friends and family, I selected the four photos I would submit to this year's competition in various categories. The deadline approached and, as I do with everything in my life, I waited til the last minute to get things taken care of. I picked up my newly-matted photographs from the frame shop and went directly to the fairgrounds to have them submitted -- this is how I do things, see?

I thank God I had someone with me because had I been by myself, I'd have allowed myself to become fully enveloped in the panic attack that clawed at my throat that day and I would have left the building without submitting anything. But my husband wouldn't hear of it.

"Your pictures are beautiful," he said over and over.

In the full depths of my anxiety, all I could manage was a nod in response.

The room was filled with boxes upon boxes of photographs that had already been submitted that morning. We're talking thousands of photos. THOUSANDS! I felt so intimidated, I could hardly function. And those were just the ones that had been dropped off that morning. There had been God knows how many more mailed in in the weeks before. It also didn't include the ones that would come after me that afternoon or the next day. I couldn't even think about it. I blindly made my way through the line and was back out of the building in less than thirty minutes. (At which time, I gave into the emminent breakdown.)

I never understood my mom's fear when it came to competition for her crafts until that day. I'd always thought, "What's the big deal? Either you win or you don't. Big whoop!" But it's so much more than that. Her crafts were her life. From the time she got out of bed in the morning until the time she turned out the lights at night, if she was at home, she was crafting. She put her heart and soul into her work and took great pride in what she did. The judges for those competitions are at the tops of their craft, no pun intended. They're editors for craft magazines, past winners, people whose patterns and ideas have been published in books and magazines. Bluntly put, they're the shit! What her fear boiled down to was this: She knew in her head that she was good at what she did and unless she opened herself to judgment from others, she always would be. But the minute she opened herself up to a competition, she risked that self-worth. It was too much for her to handle.

It was too much for me to handle, too. That's why I withheld my photos for so long.

But just like I suspect my mother had nothing to worry about, neither did I.

I found out today that two of my photographs were chosen to be exhibited in the photography salon at this year's Iowa State Fair.

Two. Among thousands.

I won't know for a couple weeks yet if I've placed in the competition, but it doesn't matter. I won something bigger than a blue ribbon - I beat doubt, fear and ghosts from my past into submission.

That's good enough for me.

This thing we've got...

 When I became a New Kids on the Block fan in 1988, I had no idea the impact it would have on my life. I thought, at the time, it was just a band. I was one face in millions. I went to concerts, listened to their music, bought their memoribilia. I hung out with my friends at school who also liked them. That was my role. That was my responsibility. That's where it ended. And I loved every minute of it. (I personally got more out of it than they did, I think, but that's for another blog, another time.)

Fast forward to 2008 when they announced their reunion. Again, I went to a concert, listened to their music, bought some memoribilia. I reunited with friends I hadn't seen in almost two decades. I slipped easily back into my role. But that's not where it ended this time.

The internet made us different fans than we were the first time around. The guys were more accessible to us and we to them. But more importantly, it made us more accessible to each other. For the first time, we were able to connect with other fans on a mass level internationally. How incredible! We developed friendships that were based on our mutual admiration for five Boston boys. Those friendships were nurtured, bloomed and virtually exploded into life-changing relationships for us.

We didn't know it at the time, of course, but we needed that. We needed to be reminded that it was okay to have girlfriends again...to do things as individuals again...to have our own interests outside our spouses, kids and careers...to rediscover ourselves! And if it would've stopped there, that would've been enough.

But in rediscovering ourselves, we learned that we could be nurturing and giving and loving beyond our own four walls. I've read stories about fans who have bought tickets for other fans they didn't even know simply because someone had something crappy happen in their lives and someone wanted them to feel better if only for a couple hours at a concert. I've heard about people who gave up their spot on the cruise because someone else's fell through. Hundreds of thousands of dollars have been raised for Susan G. Komen to help stop breast cancer through Team Betty's worldwide. Last month, a life was saved because someone donated a kidney to a fan.

A fucking KIDNEY!

Who else does this?

I know we've got our problems and our over-the-top fans who sometimes make us look bad, but down deep, this thing we've got? It's fucking beautiful and I'm proud to be part of it. So if you've ever sent a piece of merchandise to another fan who couldn't be there, bought someone a ticket to an event, let a stranger stay/ride with you to save on concert travel expenses, given someone pirated music (because let's face it, you can't buy some of that shit anywhere) because they'd never heard "the naughty version," donated money to Komen in honor of Betty, RT'd a Tweet you thought the guys needed to see, shared your concert photos with other fans, made a special ringtone for someone, passed along a "Hi" or a hug to one of the guys from someone less fortunate, called someone from a show so they could hear their favorite song or done anything big or small that has brightened the day of another fan...I raise my glass to you!

YOU are what this is about.

Impatience and other ramblings

I should be working on edits for the book, but here I sit blogging instead. I suppose I'm still writing, and that's a good thing, but it's hard not to beat myself up about not working harder on the book. Anyway, I digress.

Today, I turned 37.

I'm not quite sure where the time has gone. I see news articles about things that happened 30 years ago and my brain jumps to the 60's and then I realize, "Uhhh no. That was the 80's, honey." Seriously, where the hell did the time go?

My 20's were mostly a blur. I blame that on poor choices and alcohol (usually one spawned by the other). 

My thirties, however, *shaking my head*, I dunno where they've gone. I want to pull the plug on the clock and stop time. I'd be content with daylight savings time being in effect on birthdays, too - jumping back a year so maybe I don't feel so old?

I didn't get as depressed this year on my birthday, so that's progress, but I do feel much older this year than I have in years past. Not sure why that is. If I had to take a guess, I'd say it's because I feel stagnant. Hell, I don't feel it. I am stagnant. I'm not going anywhere...doing anything. Not worth while, anyway. I want to be in New York by now. I should have been in New York by now, but it didn't work out to my timing. Not that I'm not used to things working out in their own timing, but my own impatience is gnawing at me from the inside and I feel like I'm in a holding pattern.

I am getting things in order, though. Finances are slowly coming together and we're building savings little by little. I promised myself before I left that we would have a small cushion so if we needed it, it would be there. So I guess that's moving in the right direction. The job hunt around here is killing me slowly, though, I'm certain. The jobs that pay worth a damn are all corporate jobs where they expect you to put in years on the job. If I were staying here, that would be one thing, but I feel awkward applying for jobs like that when I know in a year from now, I may not still be here. That leaves me with the jobs that don't pay so well, which means longer time here in Iowa while I stock away as much as possible in savings. It's frustrating for this impatient spirit of mine.

It's also frustrating because not everyone around me understands my creative mind. They don't understand that even if that corporate job was offered to me that I'd be bored to death the minute I'm trained. Wanderlust and the corporate mindset don't mesh well. And for those without creative minds, that struggle with boredom is seen as failure. It's not seen as the monotony I see it as. It's failure. With a capital F. I despise punching a timeclock. Despise following all the rules. Despise dress codes and commutes and hour-long lunches and being productive from 8am til 5pm. That's not me. It never will be. Right now -- at 2 in the morning? This is my productive time. This is when I'm creative and when I come alive. My mind works more between midnight and 3am than it does the rest of the day all bunched into one. But that, too, isn't the "norm" for those around me, so they don't get it and I'm cast again as a misfit. I know I'm not alone, but damn, sometimes it feels like it. It isn't like I don't want to be normal. I'd love it if I could find pride in being an administrative assistant or some insurance exec, but that. isn't. me. I don't consider myself better than that. I just consider myself different and it takes all kinds, right?

Until I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'll have to keep putzing along and pretending that I fit into the mold everybody wants me to be. I just hope they don't expect too much out of me. "Failure" is just around the corner, I'm sure.

I told my bestie tonight (regarding a different subject) "The timing just isn't right. It'll work out when it's meant to." I guess I probably should swallow some of that reality myself. Right now, I'm not meant to be in New York. I don't know why, but I'm still needed here for whatever reason. I'm sure it'll show itself before long and I can see it for myself. Until then, I just have to keep breathing and trusting (and "failing").

Easy enough, right?

Spanx 1 - Melly 0

I wasn't going to buy anything special for my nephew's wedding tomorrow. Just wear a pair of dress capri's and a pretty blouse. I'm the photographer as well as the aunt, after all. No sense getting all guzzied up when I'd just be working most of the time, right?

Vanity is a convincing bitch.

I decided tonight at 7pm that I needed a new outfit. (Did I mention the wedding is tomorrow afternoon?) So Midget and I hauled ass to the mall. I had a birthday card from Torrid for $10 off, so we stopped there first. Aside from one dress that I loved (but was also twice the price), I didn't find squat. We left disgruntled. We went downstairs to NY&Co. It's one of my favorite stores and until I packed 20lbs back on, had TONS of clothes that fit me. I was hopeful.

Sure enough, they had a lot of great summer dresses on clearance. Found a beautiful dress in blue. Went a couple stores down and found some beautiful silver shoes. BAM! Done!

Well, almost.

With the black dress I bought from there last year, I didn't need Spanx to cover up the cellulite in my ass, so I didn't bother. With this lighter color, I knew I was gonna have to break down and invest in some.

Went to the next store and found a full body garment (well, it goes from top to mid-thigh, at least). At the suggestion of a friend in a previous conversation, I grabbed one size smaller than what I needed and headed to the dressing room.

Oh, did I forget to tell you the temperature today was 93° with 110° heat index? The mall was possibly hotter.

Three things:

1. I'm not the size I thought I was, because the first pair of Spanx barely made it past my ankles. Midget had to run and get the next biggest size.
2. Putting on Spanx when you're sweaty, in a hurry and bloated is not a good combination.
3. Don't take your skinny teenaged daughter (the one with her curves in all the right places) with you to try on Spanx. She will sit outside the dressing room calling out loudly "Mom? Are you okay in there? Do I need to call someone?" *blank stare* (No, Twiggy. You don't need to fucking CALL anybody. Shut the hell up.)

I don't think it's any coincidence that Playtex makes undergarments AND rubber dish gloves -- hello? They're the same damn product, just different holes for your hands and different packaging! What sadistic bastard created these things?! I consider myself pretty dexterous. However, I'm certain I got both a hernia and strained my wrists getting this contraption onto my body. As it is, I'm going to have to have help tomorrow getting back into that thing. The only person who can help me get dressed? My husband. I didn't really wanna ever get laid again, anyway, did I? Seriously, after seeing me squeeze my size 20 ass into a size 2 girdle, that's like seeing the Wizard behind the curtain. You can't unsee that shit.

*sigh*

But, alas, I have found the undergarment I sought. And I will wear it tomorrow with a beautiful new dress and the gorgeous new shoes. And all will be right with the world. In the meantime, I'm going to go cry into my vodka.

This Magic Moment

I wrote a blog two Christmases ago about whether or not I thought I was providing my kids with enough magic in their lives. Not hocus pocus, but those magical memories they'll never forget when I'm gone. My decision at the time was: No. I wasn't providing them with good enough memories to hang onto forever.

Tonight, I took my kids (Midget and Big Man) to the movies. They each asked to bring a friend (T-Dawg and Mooch), so together, the five of us piled in the car. They wanted to see Transformers 3. My bestie (who helped me taxi the kids to the theater) and I wanted to see Hangover 2. The four kids went to their respective movies and we adults went to see ours.

When the movie was over, we said our goodbyes to Ann Marie and the five of us climbed in the car and headed home. Along the way, Midget became the DJ (manning the iPod), choosing songs for the trip home. Big Man and Mooch are the beat boxers of my motley crew, so when the music came on, they did their thing. TDawg and I sang along with the songs(well, he tried, anyway -- mostly, he was just in awe of the older boys).

Thirty minutes later, as we drove up to Mooch's house to drop him off, the music came to an end and all I could do was smile.

Tonight, I gave my kids a magical memory.

The 3-six-huh?

Last week, my friend Rissa sent me a DM on Twitter with a link to a blog site called the3six5 and told me I should consider applying to their project. She'd written for them before so she couldn't be a repeat author but thought I might be interested. Since I hadn't heard of it before, I checked out the site and was VERY anxious to be a part of it.

In short, every day of the year, a guest author writes a brief blog about whatever's going on in their world that day. It could be personal, it could be internationally newsworthy, it could be anything -- just something that gives the reader an insight into their life for a day. Every day, the author is different, so you get a new perspective each day. In reading the site, I discovered last year's project had over 5,000 applicants. This year could possibly have more. That's less than an 8% shot at being chosen! Needless to say, I wanted to make sure my application stood out, so I bookmarked the site and got to thinking about what I wanted to put in my submission.

In the meantime, Rissa sent me another DM and told me that the 3six5 was looking for a fill-in author that day. Apparently the assigned author fell through and they were scrambling to cover the day. Without even thinking (and subsequently talking myself out of it), I fired off a quick email to the editors with a link to my site here and my Twitter name. They emailed me back almost immediately and told me that they'd found someone after all but that they'd like to keep my information handy as a back-up author, just in case. I've had my share of rejections from editors, so I was cautiously enthusiastic. I asked if they needed any more information from me and at their request, I replied with the following:

I'm a wanderlust with a curious spirit. There are very few places on this earth I don't want to visit. I've been to 26 states in my life, most of them more than once. In the last three years, I've traveled over 25,000 miles by car, bus and plane to various places to just photograph beautiful things. Everyone I meet is a friend - they may just not know it yet. Three of my best friends have known me for twenty years or more and not just because I've threatened them with the skeletons in their own closets if they leave. I'm friends with people from all walks of life: gas station clerks, race car drivers, lawyers, nurses, talk show hosts, boy band members, ministers and authors (and a partridge in a pear tree). I'm loyal to a fault, even to my own detriment when the need arises.

I'd love to say I'm a rule follower, but let's face it, I'm not. I memorize the rules and push every boundary I can to get around them. It's a curse. But it also makes for great blog fodder. My motto is "What kind of shenanigans can I get into today?" I have a passport, alibi and friend with bail money on call at all times. Ya nevah know!

I'm a wife to my soul mate. And by soul mate, I mean, he's put up with me for over twelve years, so clearly he's certifiable but since he's the main bread winner of the family, I'm reluctant to have him committed. (I kid, I kid.) I'm the proud mother of two underachieving teenagers whom are frequently my muses. Truth be told, none of the family is safe, including our dog and three cats. Extended family, neighbors and townspeople are also on alert, most days.

I live to be funny, but I'm quite serious and sentimental at times, too. My friends sometimes tell me I'm an attention whore, but I usually just turn up my mic and drown them out. What do they know?

I'm a bibliophile and leximaven. While Twitter is my home (@OUBad) , the 140-character limit sometimes makes me twitch. I can't tell you how many books I've read or how many blogs I've written, but reading and writing have always been my passion. To combine those with my photography would be a dream. I keep telling myself someday I will publish a coffee table book detailing my travels with word and photos. Someday.

I love to write and always have. To be part of a project like 3six5 would be an honor and a blessing.

I do hope if I'm not used as a back-up author that you'll consider me for the 2012 project.

I got an email back today from Daniel Honigman, the co-founder of the project, telling me that I'd been selected to participate. My date is February 1st, 2012 and I'm absolutely ecstatic. This is the first opportunity I've had to show others what I can do (you know...people who don't already know me or read my shit because I harass them on Twitter until they do). I'm so excited!

I would encourage anyone who enjoys writing to submit an application to be a part of it, too.

So as I sign off tonight, I'm going to say a quick prayer that writer's block spends a day at the spa the first of 

February and I'm able to write clearly, succinctly and that I make thousands of people spray their monitors with coffee as they laugh at my blog that day.

Live and Let Live

Let me make this disclaimer before I even start on what I want to say – this blog is not being written to spark some religious debate (simply put, you won’t change my mind with biblical verses any more than I’ll change yours, so save your breath). I’m merely voicing my views and as long as my views are respected, then I will be respectful of others’ views. Capisce?

---

Last night the state of New York legalized gay marriage and I couldn’t be happier. I have friends, some of whom live in New York, who will be affected by this monumental decision. I share in their joy.

While I am frequently irritated by little things, traits, qualities and behaviors of others, long story short, I’m a firm believer in “live and let live.” I have my own religious beliefs and some of those mesh with stricter and more traditional religions. Other things I believe fall to the more contemporary religions. But first and foremost, I am a lover. I love freely and openly and I don’t care who knows it. If you’ve had any kind of impact on my life, chances are, I’ve said “I love you” at one time or another.  And I’ve meant it.

And that’s okay. Because I’m a woman who married a man. I’m “safe.” I can tell other women I love them because it’s not a sexual thing. It’s a friend thing. It’s a support thing. It’s a bonding thing. Right?

But what if I wasn’t married to a man? What if, for instance, I was married to a woman? Would my love for my spouse be any less real? Would my commitment to her be any less valid? Should I be treated differently because I share my life with a woman instead of a man?

The answer to that is, “no.”

Bottom line is, we are all, first and foremost, human beings. We all have the right to love and be loved. I am raising my children to believe that above anything else, who they love is not as important as much as being loving to all. Our love is meant to be given freely without condemnation and retribution.

It saddens me to know that some of my friends (and family) can’t be married to the people they love simply because they live in the wrong state – that their lives are ridiculed and speculated about simply because of their sexuality.

What if your life was put under scrutiny? Would you want people to know what goes on in your home? In your bed? Would it be anyone’s business? Of course not, so why is it your business what goes on in someone else’s?

This isn’t about “right” or “wrong.” It’s about equality. Equal rights for all people, straight, gay or otherwise.

Needing a break

I'm crabby.

I know. "Big surprise, Mel!"

I've been complaining on Twitter, Facebook and in person. I'm pretty much a Bitch Triple Threat.

I am sorry. I know (and have always known) that I make my own happiness. So if I'm in a bad mood, it's my own fault. Again, this isn't news to me and I'm sorry that you've all had to witness my pissy attitude. I can't even stand to be around myself, so those of you who have been ready to slap me, I totally don't blame you.

There are a lot of things that are contributing to my struggle with remaining positive, but most of it are things that are in my control. And I've always believed that if I don't like something that's within my control, I need to change it. So I'm changing it.

I'm going to try and back off some of my social networking. Not cut it out completely, because let's face it, I love being social. What I don't love, however, is all the chaos and upheaval and negativity I've allowed myself to be pulled into. I'm a mother hen and I'm protective. I'm a Cancer...it's in my genetic make-up. Can't help that. So when I see someone I care about struggling with something, I want to fix it. Most times I can't, which makes me frustrated and the snowball to hell begins. So, I'm doing what I need to do and that is to limit my involvement in everyone else's life. I'm pulling back. I have to.

I'm realizing, somewhat cynically, that the energy I'm spending is not the energy I'm getting in return. I'm not one of those people who does things for recognition or appreciation or kudos or karma. I do things because I genuinely like to help. But the truth of the matter is, it would be nice if some of that energy is returned without having to ask for it. I can be a bulldozer sometimes when it comes to giving advice or taking something over when I see someone's at their breaking point. It can be annoying so I'm working on it, but honestly, I'd love it if someone bulldozed me and took over when I'm at my breaking point. But, that doesn't happen. People (mis)read me as "the Strong One." Mel can handle it. Look at how strong she is! She's been through so much. She's got such a strong Alpha personality, she can handle anything. But that's not the truth. I'm a survivor because I have to be. I do it because no one else will. I still get hurt by words and actions. I still feel neglected and ignored. I still cry in the shower where nobody can hear me. I've learned to cover up my emotions with sarcasm and catty humor. But when it boils down to it, I'm extremely sensitive and I actually have a very low threshold for stress.

I'm the type of person who picks up on other people's emotions and unfortunately they tend to dictate my own emotions. In the paranormal world this is called being an "empath." In the regular world, it's like being a sponge. I absorb whatever's around me (positive or negative, fragrant or stinky) and that's what I put out to the world.

I asked a trusted friend yesterday how to block out those empathic tendencies and she said that she herself has to visualize building a wall so they don't take over her life. It helps her stay balanced. For me? Those walls wouldn't just be a visualization. If I started visualizing them, I would begin building them. I don't want to do that. I want to help people. But I can't do it at my own emotional expense.

I posted a quote the other day that reads "You are responsible for the energy you bring into this space." The energy I've been bringing is shit. And I'm over it.

This blog isn't meant to single people out or make anyone second guess what they've done for me or not done. It's simply meant to explain a little bit about what I'm dealing with right now so you can understand why I'm not seeming "myself." If it does make you think about the kind of energy you're putting out there, great. But it's not why I posted it.

While I am pulling back from social media, it doesn't mean that I don't want interaction. Message me. IM me. Text me. BBM me. Email me. Stop by and see me. Call ...no, don't call. I hate talking on the phone.(Well? I do! lol) I'm accessible by all of those means (even that wretched telephone). I just won't be at the Twitter/Facebook beck and call all the time.

To those who have been there for me: thank you. I appreciate it more than you can understand.

Just Be Yourself

Let me start this with a disclaimer. This is not to single out ANY specific person, though it's inspired by numerous people that I love dearly. I just don't understand their train of thought.

In less than a month, the SS NKOTB will set sail for the Bahamas. On this boat will be five of our favorite men and 2,000 of their fans. These fans are mostly women and if my timeline is any indication, they're all on a mission to lose weight and become tan.

Now, it's no secret that I'm a fat woman. I make no apologies. I am who I am and if people don't like the size of my ass, they're invited to look away when I walk by. That being said, I know that I need to lose weight for my own health. Not for some cruise, but so that I can grow old without the risk of cancer or heart disease robbing me of my elder years.

So when I see people so focused on this cruise and the diets they're trying to stick with leading up to it, I have to shake my head. Each and every one of you are beautiful and kind and loving and amazing. You don't need to fit into some slinky dress or a two-piece bathing suit to prove it.

And if we're being honest, I know that some of you are hoping to turn the eye of your favorite New Kid - maybe not for a relationship or even a one-night stand, but to just HAVE their attention for more than twenty seconds. I want to give you a little tip - you don't need to be skinny to do that. You need to be you. 

Trust me. I know.

Just be yourself.

I've had numerous conversations with several of the guys at different times and they're not blind. They see who's real and who isn't. They know who the BSC's are, they know who's married and who isn't. They know which ones are dieting for themselves and which ones are just trying to look good in a bathing suit. They know what's what. They see more than you think they do.

The way I see it (and I could be wrong. I'm not above the possibility), the harder you try to be someone you're not, the farther away you are from your goal. You're too busy being too self-conscious to realize how beautiful you really are. If you're fat, be fat. If you're acne-ridden, be acne-ridden. If you're pasty white, then BE pasty white. OWN it. WORK it. USE it.

Because when it boils down to it (this is probably where I'm gonna lose some of you...bear with me), the guys aren't going to notice whether you've got pale skin or an extra 10lbs around your waist. But they will notice if you're smiling and happy. They'll notice if you treat them and their family members/friends with respect. They'll notice if you're having fun and are there for yourselves. (And yes, they'll also notice the hoochies in the half-a-dress, but not for the reasons you think they will.)

Just. Be. YOU. I promise you'll be MUCH happier in the long run and your stress levels before the cruise will diminish DRASTICALLY.

Go. Have fun. Enjoy yourself...for those who can't.

(and for God's sake, EAT A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER! You're driving me crazy with all this calorie counting!)

The art of procrastination

I've been telling myself (and others) for months that I'm going to send out queries for Distance and Time.

But there's this little thing called "fear of rejection" that sits behind me juuuuust to the right a little and mocks me. Usually, I'm a tough bitch. I confront things head-on with the balls of a Brahma bull. (Sidenote: In Googling "Brahma bull" to make sure I spelled it correctly, I learned that Brahma bull is often used to describe a man with a large penis. Huh.)

Where was I?

Oh yes - confrontation. Anyone who knows me knows that while I may not particularly like confrontation, I never back down from it. I grab it by the horns (still thinking about that Brahma bull thing. Sorry. I'll stop giggling in a minute.) and tackle it head-on. (still giggling.)

Rejection however, is a beast all its own. I can handle confrontation involving name-calling, discrimination, injustice, rude behavior, bad fashion choices and any series of other things. Rejection is not one of those. Rejection leaves me feeling helpless and insecure. I ultimately want to crawl into bed and hide from rejection.

As I began learning more about having my writing published and realized that rejection is a huge part of success (odd, huh?) I got cold feet, tight muscles in my neck and a knot in my gut. It's one thing to write for someone close to me about subjects we agree on. But my story wasn't necessarily in that category - especially where potential agents are concerned. They see housewife-turned-author probably a hundred times a day or more.

So here I sit.

Avoiding.

Delaying.

Inventing chore after imaginary chore that I simply MUST do before sending those queries.

Yesterday I Tweeted all day. The day before that, I caught up on my 30-day song challenge blog. The weekend, I spent at my in-laws. Last week I cleaned the entire house, decluttered closets, bagged up clothes for Goodwill, rearranged my office, set up playlists to play while I'm writing.

HELLO?! Writing what? More shit that'll never get published because I'm too chickenshit to send a simple letter where someone may or may not say "You've got great potential. Let's talk?"

Today, the procrastinating is done. I sent off my first six queries. And they may send me a letter that says "You've got great potential" or they may say "Your stuff sucks. Take a class and learn the difference between lay/lain/laid, will you?"

Either way. Rejection? Stick that in your juice box and suck it!

30 Day Song Challenge

 (I filched this from Rissa ~ a friend who enjoys good music as much as I do.)

Today begins my 30-day challenge...a SONG challenge, at that! I do believe this is perfect for me :)  I'll update the blog daily.

And here we go!

day 01 - your favorite song - Glitter in the Air - Pink
day 02 - your least favorite song - Love the Way You Lie - Eminem (ft. Rihanna)
day 03 - a song that makes you happy - I Gotta Feeling - Black Eyed Peas
day 04 - a song that makes you sad - Gone Too Soon - Michael Jackson
day 05 - a song that reminds you of someone - Daddy's Girl - Red Sovine
day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere - Empire State of Mind - Alicia Keys
day 07 - a song that reminds you of a certain event - Gone Too Soon - Michael Jackson
day 08 - a song that you know all the words to - My Strongest Weakness - Wynonna
day 09 - a song that you can dance to - Let's Get Higher - Jordan Knight
day 10 - a song that makes you fall asleep - Even Now - William Fitzsimmons
day 11 - a song from your favorite band - Coming Home - NKOTB
day 12 - a song from a band you hate - Just Can't Get Enough - Black Eyed Peas
day 13 - a song that is a guilty pleasure - Baby - Justin Bieber
day 14 - a song that no one would expect you to love - Something in Your Mouth - Nickelback
day 15 - a song that describes you - Flaws and All - Beyonce
day 16 - a song that you used to love but now hate - Here We Go Again - Joey McIntyre
day 17 - a song that you hear often on the radio - Firework - Katy Perry
day 18 - a song that you wish you heard on the radio - Let's Go Higher - Jordan Knight
day 19 - a song from your favorite album - Twisted - NKOTB
day 20 - a song that you listen to when you’re angry - Heartless - Hinder
day 21 - a song that you listen to when you’re happy - Today My Life Begins - Bruno Mars
day 22 - a song that you listen to when you’re sad - I'm Still Here - Mindy McCready
day 23 - a song that you want to play at your wedding - I See the Light - "Tangled" soundtrack
day 24 - a song that you want to play at your funeral - On My Way Here - Clay Aiken
day 25 - a song that makes you laugh - I Pray For You - Jaron and the Long Road
day 26 - a song that you can play on an instrument - I'll Be Loving You (Forever) - NKOTB
day 27 - a song that you wish you could play - Home Sweet Home - Motley Crue
day 28 - a song that makes you feel guilty - I'm Sorry - John Denver
day 29 - a song from your childhood - You Are My Sunshine - (my mom)
day 30 - your favorite song at this time last year - I Need You Now - Lady Antebellum

The Move

There's been much speculation about this move among friends and family who may be well-meaning (but some may be just plain meddling) that I feel I need to clear up.

I've wanted to move to New York City since the first time I set foot on the concrete in that city in May 2009. I was a tourist then, visiting sites like Ground Zero, Central Park, Grand Central Station and Rockefeller Center. I saw a concert at the Today Show. I felt like it would be the only chance I would have to be there, so I soaked in as much of the city as I possibly could in two days. New York City captivated me. When I visited last October, I experienced another side of New York: the side most people who visit don't get to see. I stayed with a celebrity friend and met others like her. I went to a concert at a club near the Bowery. I shopped on 5th Avenue. In January when I went back a third time, I got more of the same. During that last visit, I spent a week with my best friend exploring the city like a New Yorker. We rode the train all over that city, walked when we didn't ride, cabbed (and got ripped off by a cabbie) when we weren't walking or riding. We froze our asses off in sub-zero windchills and grumbled at a snowfall that came unexpectedly in the middle of the week.

New York has a gravitational pull to a creative mind like mine. Its energy and beauty is inspiring. The honking horns and marquees pulse like a second heartbeat in my chest. Everywhere I look, I see a new story. A new group of characters to write about. I see hardships and histories that need to be told. I turn my head and see a new picture to be taken. It's a neverending treasure box of things to see and do, all of them aching to be written about or photographed.

I've never kept my desire to move to New York City to myself. I told my husband when I returned after my first visit how much I loved it there...how much I wanted to move there someday. I knew it was a pipe dream, though. Even if he did want to come with me, my divorce decree was very clear that I couldn't move the kids out of state without their father's permission. I'd come up against that man in court before and honestly, I could win, but at that point, I just didn't have the energy to fight him. Instead, I decided to make a five year plan.

After this last visit, I realized I wasn't sure I could wait five years. So I started talking about stuff with my husband and after presenting the idea of an East Coast move to the kids' dad (who was fully supportive), we decided to make the move.

The semantics of the move are simple (implementation will be tougher, of course): I will head over sometime this summer, as soon as I have a job. I'll be staying with a friend of mine through the summer. Before school starts, Midget will join me and we'll move into a more permanent place. Once Hubs can transfer to the Midtown office, he'll join us. Big Man will be staying here with his dad, where he's been the last couple years. He's doing well in school and we feel, as a family, that to move him to New York wouldn't be beneficial to him. He does have his sights set on West Point, so it's possible he may join us on the East Coast later.

I'm not abandoning my children.
I'm not strong-arming my husband into a move.
I'm not divorcing or separating from my husband.

The decision to move to New York City was done as a family. We're all on board or nobody goes. When I married my husband over eleven years ago, we promised to always discuss things openly and honestly. Any decisions we made would be made together. Our decision to move to New York City was no exception to that.

So, rest assured, while your concern is understandable (to an extent), it isnt necessary. And after a while, it just gets old.

What She Deserves

I met her twenty years ago. She was sitting on the hearth of a giant stone fireplace in a log cabin. We'd both signed up for a weekend retreat in the woods for kids from divorced and/or widowed homes. (She was a divorce. I was both.) She sat there in ripped jeans, a pair of Adidas high-tops and wore a shitload of peace signs around her neck. With a tangle of dark curls, chocolate brown eyes and the perfect pouty lip, she was like no one I'd ever met before.

Now, I've always been somewhat intimidated by pretty people - male, female, doesn't matter. And this girl was no exception to that rule. But beyond her physical beauty, infinite talents and a poise that I'd never seen a sixteen year old possess, was a heart so pure, so raw, so completely kindred with mine, I knew we were meant to be friends.

We shared many similar interests and in the winter of that year, we began to share another similarity: the death of a parent. Where an event like this could push someone into rebelling or turning to drugs or alcohol, we defied those odds. While my talents rested comfortably in her shadows, we threw ourselves into music and dance.

As we grew older, we drifted apart. After I got married and had my son, she, too met someone. I heard later she'd married him and moved to Minnesota. Life got in the way of our friendship.

Or so I thought.

I'd always wondered what happened to my talented friend. Did she go into modeling? Music? Dance? Did she end up on Broadway? Perhaps Vogue magazine? I hadn't heard her on the radio so I didn't think she'd gone into music (despite a recording deal offered to her shortly before we parted ways), but you never knew. Some projects took years to come to fruition. But I had looked for her and couldn't find her. She'd virtually disappeared. After a while, I stopped looking.

Then one day, years later, she came back into my world again. I'm not even sure now how it happened. As we got caught up on old times, I realized that life hadn't gotten in the way of our friendship; an emotionally controlling spouse did.

He'd convinced her that friends were superfluous...he'd also convinced her that she wasn't talented enough or pretty enough or smart enough to pursue any of the dreams she'd built her young life on. I realize it's not all his fault, mind you. She was the one who didn't believe in herself enough to know that he was feeding her bullshit...that he was just trying to manipulate her into some cookie cutter mold. he'd formed in his head as to what the perfect wife should be. That being said, she spent fifteen years in a marriage she didn't deserve.

She deserved marquees and spot lights and playbills. She deserved Grammys and Tonys and choreography credits in the best movies. She deserved the love of a good man and the rights to be called "Mom" by the most beautiful children in the world.

At least she got the kids.

Now? She's working on the rest. Someday she'll get there.

Until then, let it be said that I won't let her settle for second best ever again. So if you love her - treat her right. Earn the love she shows you. Be unconditional. Be her champion, because Goddammit...she deserves one.

Day Late and a Dollar Short, Pal

Hello Charming Beautiful....

Hey! How are you doing?,I am Vincent _____ from NJ, I am a single widower at 45with one Son and a Telecommunication Engineer , I am a christian and i am very open and honest cuz i don't see any benefit in lying , I am currently looking for my soul mate, I am new on here and praying to meet that special person to make me feel happy here , I never tried thing online dating stuff before but my friend just introduced me to a Dating Site and i think you describe part of the things i am looking for in a woman , I am really thrilled with your beautiful profile and i would like to use this chance to tell you that you're a very beautiful woman and i bet you her that all the time , I will really like to get to know you and see how it goes, I have a yahoo im if you have one and one you can add me on ________ and you can send me an email there also, you can reply to my email address on ______ and tell me more about yourself .,,. I will be waiting to read from you

I received this message on Facebook today.
Let me address this.

1. I'm married.
2. I'm not in New Jersey.
3. I'm not looking for a soul mate.
4. While I have done online dating in the past, I stopped when it brought me my husband.
5. I'm not on a dating site, nor do I have a public profile anywhere, "beautiful" or otherwise.
6. I actually don't hear that I'm beautiful all the time, which is why I know this message is a joke.
7. Thanks for playing. Pick up your parting gifts on the way out.

Seriously, people???