Today's Pep Talk rings SO true!

Every day we get an email in our NaNo Mail box with a pep talk from a successful author. Today's message was from Kate Castillo. I hope she doesn't mind that I'm posting it here.

Dear Writer,
When I was 30 years old, I moved to Minneapolis and got a job in a book warehouse. My official job title was "Picker." This meant that I went around the third floor of the warehouse holding a computerized print order in one hand and pulling books off the shelf with the other hand. I put all the books into a grocery cart and I took the grocery cart and wheeled it into an ancient, crabby freight elevator and went downstairs to deliver the order to the shipping department. Then I took the stairs back up to the third floor and started over again.
It wasn't a challenging job. It didn't pay much. I was on my feet all day long. My back hurt. My hands hurt. But I was happy. I was surrounded by books and by people who loved to read them. Also, for the first time in my life, I was writing.
I got up every morning before work (the alarm was set for 4:30) and wrote two pages before I went into the warehouse. And then, when I arrived at work at 7:00 to punch the time clock, I received my daily so-you-want-to-be-a-writer pep talk from a coworker.
Let's call him Bob. (Even though his real name is Gary).
Bob wanted to be a writer, too. But he wasn't writing. Every morning we had the same exchange.
Bob: "How did the writing go?"
Me: "Fine."
Bob: "How many pages did you write?"
Me: "Two."
Bob: "Do you think Dickens wrote two pages a day?"
Me: "I don't know how many pages Dickens wrote a day."
Bob: "Yeah, well let me tell you something, you're no Dickens. So what's Plan B, babe? What's Plan B for when the writing doesn't work out?"
For this question, I had no answer.
I turned my back on Bob, pulse pounding, fists clenched, and climbed the stairs to the third floor and started picking books.
When the alarm went off at 4:30 the next morning, I thought about Bob and that is part of the reason I got out of bed.
It is a truly excellent to have someone to believe in you and your ability to write.
But I think it is just as helpful to have people who don't believe in you, people who mock you, people who doubt you, people who enrage you. Fortunately, there is never a shortage of this type of person in the world.
So as you enter this month of writing, write for yourself. Write for the story. And write, also, for all of the people who doubt you. Write for all of those people who are not brave enough to try to do this grand and wondrous thing themselves. Let them motivate you.
In other words, do it for Bob!
Your friend in writing,
Kate DiCamillo
Kate DiCamillo is the author of The Tale of Despereaux (Newbery Medal), Because of Winn-Dixie (Newbery Honor), and a The Tiger Rising (National Book Award finalist). 

While I don't know what exactly was said about All This Time, I do know that it drew enough attention to wind up being mentioned on Lipst!ck A11ey (altered on purpose - like I need a search for that to bring up this blog), a gossip site about everything celebrity. The New Kids forum over there is filled with Blockhead bullies who think they're better than everybody else. I have no time for the site or the bitchy people who thrive on being there. That being said, those women did me a HUGE service: they gave my site more traffic than half the other sources did. Their nitpicking and snide remarks sent people to the story wanting to see what the fuss was about. And honey, did they ever see what it was.

So, to the haters, the bullies and the doubters, the joke's on you. Besides, I don't see any of you with fans, so I must be doing something right. Thanks for the kick in the pants and the attention you gave my "shitty little story."

NaNu WhaNow?

This was pretty much verbatim what my hubby said when I told him I was doing NaNoWriMo this year. It's short for National Novel Writing Month.

The concept is simple: write 50,000 words in 30 days. Don't edit. Don't rewrite. Don't waste time reworking the story. Just write. (And, if the posts at nanowrimo.com are to be believed, let everything else in your life fall to the wayside. Ha! I wish.) On average, it means writing 1,700 words a day (or more) over the course of the month. During that time, I'll also do what are referred to as "write-in's" where I meet with other authors in the area and work on my book. It's like a college study group, but without...well, come to think of it, these involve copious amounts of caffeine, too, so never mind. Anyway, during those write-in's, I'll also be setting personal goals (or have them set for me by our group leaders) which all lead to the final goal being met come November 30th.

So, over the course of the next month, I will be breaking into a realm of writing that I've never experienced before. Up til now, the stories I've written have either been fan fiction or have stemmed from fan fiction with rewritten characters and plot lines. This is totally a carpet ride for me, a'la Jasmine & Aladdin style: a whole new world.

Just days ago, I finished my second book, All This Time and, if I do say so myself, it turned out to be a success. The story has over 7,000 views in two months and I am both humbled and astonished at the life my readers breathed into it. It took about two years to write from start to finish, including a six-month sabbatical when writer's block (and faulty personal plumbing) got the best of me. That being said, having finished a book just four days before the biggest writing binge of my life wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had, but I push through like I always do.

Someday is the title of the book I'm working on for NaNo and is from a concept I came up with on a flight back from L.A. last spring. I won't give away the details until everything is completed and ready to go, but for now, trust me when I say I think you're going to like what I've got coming up next.

I will be blogging sporadically to keep myself from becoming totally absorbed in Someday but don't expect anything requiring great thought, because in true Mel-style, it would appear I can't do anything the easy way. At a doctor's appointment yesterday, I discovered that I may be going under the knife again in the next month or two. Long story short, there's lingering pain from my hysterectomy and the doctor can't figure out what's causing it. I'm not looking forward to another surgery, but if it's what's needed so be it. I guess nothing worth doing isn't without a challenge, so I'll just add it to the list of shit I will overcome, right?

I am hoping that you'll all help hold me accountable both in real life and on social networking. If you see that I haven't posted my word count for the day, ask me about it. If I'm procrastinating, then run me off and tell me to get to work. This goal is important to me, not only personally but professionally as well, so I really want to achieve it. With your help, I can.

Now, considering I've had less sleep than I did in college, I am scooting out of here. Good luck to all my other NaNuWhaNow peeps!

Guilty

Sentenced to 160 years

There's nothing left to say.

Understanding the impossible

I received a message tonight that the jury selection began in my nephew's trial.

For those who don't know, my nephew is on trial for the murder of his mother/my sister.

I've blogged before about how different my grief process is for Mary Lee and I'm still, a year later, trying to work my way through the emotions I'm feeling because my relationship with her was so different from the relationships I have with my other sisters. I can't explain it, mostly because I don't even understand it fully myself.

But for as much as I do understand, I know this: I want my nephew to be found innocent. I know how ridiculous that must sound to some of you. You're probably thinking "If somebody murdered my sister, I'd want them to pay for their crime." And until this happened, especially under these circumstances, I'd have been right there with you in that frame of mind.

But this did happen. 

Under these circumstances.

While I didn't have a close relationship with my sister, I know her heart like I know my own and John being imprisoned, or God forbid given a death sentence, is not what she would want for her son, regardless of what he did. She just wanted him to get the help he needs for the PTSD he suffers from. He can't get that if he's found guilty.

I know all the members of my family don't feel the way I do about this and that's okay. I don't expect them to. I can only speak for myself and how this is affecting me. I don't pretend to understand what is happening in my nephew's mind or what he was thinking the night this happened. I don't need to. 

I just need to forgive him for what happened and love him with a mother's heart, even if it is vicariously through my sister.

Sticks and stones

"I know why you don't wear Guess jeans," he said with a sneer on his face.

I ignored his jabs as I tried to focus on reading my chapter for 10th grade English class. It didn't matter, though. He continued his assault.

"Cuz they don't make 'em in your size, fat ass!" He erupted in laughter along with two of his friends who now high-fived his cruel sense of humor.

Don't let them see you cry, Melanie. Never let them see you cry.

And I didn't. I saved my tears for when I got home...when the lights were off and the house was quiet. I'd perfected my crying over the years. Lard butt. Thunder thighs. Fat ass. Heifer. Fat fuck. Bread n' Rolls. Miss Piggy. I'd heard every insult ever created by adolescent boys (and even a few girls).

While I struggled with my self esteem for years (and even now, I have my moments), my mother was always quick to dismiss their claims and build me up. She helped me believe in myself and my talents. She always told me I could do anything I wanted to do and be anything I wanted to be. I believed her.

I was fortunate to have never been beaten up, but I was good friends with girls who were. Kids would follow her home from the bus and throw rocks at her, trip her, call her names and punch her if she didn't give them the benefit of the response. It should be no surprise that later on in life, she married an abusive man who beat and belittled her regularly.

After years of believing I wasn't good enough, smart enough or pretty enough, I still struggle with the pain of being teased in school. The old addage, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is nothing but bullshit. It all hurts. All of it.

Now, I've never been one to promote violence and for many, many years, I've thought that nobody deserves to be hit. But I can't help but think that maybe if I had given that little bastard an uppercut in English class he would've left me alone.

As a parent, my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be able to build my kids self esteem enough for them to shake off the inevitable teasing that takes place in schoolyards and playgrounds. For the most part, they seem to be okay, though I know sometimes kids are meaner than they should be and my kids end up hurt as a result, but I am grateful that they've not been in any fights and there has been minimal online bullying. I know our family is one of the lucky ones, though.

I know that because every time I turned on the TV, read the newspaper or check online, there's a child who has either been bullied or they've committed suicide as a result of the former. This is absolutely inexcusable, but I don't blame the kids.

I blame the parents.

Somewhere along the lines, we've dropped the ball as role models for our kids. We've stopped being kind and we've started name-calling. We've stopped embracing differences and started pointing out flaws. I know I'm guilty of this. I'm as judgmental as anyone else and that's in the process of changing.

My mom (and I'm sure many other parents) always said "ignore them and they'll get bored and go away." I used that method all through school and even as an adult, but I'm finding out as I hear more and more about kids being bullied that I don't necessarily believe in that theory so much anymore. I say call them out.

Call those people out who are bullying. Use their names. Hold them accountable. By keeping quiet, you're silently giving them permission to treat you badly. If someone was raping you, would you just lay still until they finished? No! You'd scream and kick and scratch their eyes out. You'd fight for your life. This is no different. Kids are DYING!

This has to stop. Start scratching some eyes out because those words? They hurt as much as the sticks and stones do.

They're good eggs

Those kids of mine? They're good eggs.

They're typical teenagers, of course - mouthy at times, argumentative, manipulative, too. But when push comes to shove, they're really pretty damn awesome.

Midget and I sat in a therapist's office yesterday to see if we can get to the bottom of her school-issues. She was tested years ago for ADHD and it came back negative, yet nobody could give us answers as to why she wasn't able to keep up in school or what we could do to help her focus better. We've ridden her hard about being more organized and getting things turned in on time. She's been grounded for the better part of five years because we were at a loss as to what else to do. We now have answers: She is, in fact, positive for ADD. She has no hyperactivity, but there's definite attention issues. We finally have answers! Now, we can move forward from here. That issue aside, I was most pleased with the counselor's analysis that she's a funny kid with a kind heart. She's got a good sense of humor and the therapist said that our bond is a strong one and a lot of moms and teens don't have that. I'm grateful. The other stuff we can work through, but given the problems my kids could have, I'll definitely take this. 

Big Man and I also have a good relationship. He, too, is hilarious and other than his potty mouth (can't fathom where he gets that from. Oops!), there's not too much I can think of that I don't like about him. Above all else, he just gets me. With Midget and even Hubs, I usually have to tell them what I need from them, but not Big Man. He just knows. I can mention something once and the kid is usually on top of it. And if he forgets, he's always quick to apologize and fix it. He's always been someone too old for his age, but as he's creeping up on 18 (holy crap!), that is a trait in him that I'm thankful for. Some days he's still a little bit buoyant in a vast ocean of aspirations - unsure of where he wants to go, but overall, he's got a good head on his shoulders and is wise beyond his years. He has no problem stating his opinion (again, can't figure out where that comes from - hehe) and doesn't hesitate to hold people accountable for their actions or let them know that he's bothered by what they've done or said.

When I look around me at what other parents are going through - teen pregnancy, drug use, alcohol abuse, delinquency, truancy, etc, I am so thankful for the morals my kids have. I can take only partial credit for it because a lot of their decisions are based on things they themselves have decided to do (or, mostly in their cases, not do), but it's a success I will happily take as their mom.

I love you, kids. Keep being awesome!

Perspective

I have a big issue with trust. Trusting strangers. Trusting friends. Trusting family. Trusting God. Mostly, though, I have trouble trusting myself. I find myself second-guessing decisions I make or avoiding making them altogether because I fear that I'll make the wrong choice and the consequences will be unpleasant (at best) or more than I can handle (at worst).

These decisions I have trouble making can be as minute as deciding what to pack for a weekend road trip or as serious as whether or not to have a hysterectomy. I always get a second opinion (sometimes a third, fourth or fifth) and weigh everyone's opinions with my own. It makes me crazy that I can't make simple decisions without consulting a panel of friends first. I know it comes down to my fear of what people think of me and the decisions I make. That's something I work on daily: not giving a damn what other people think.

One of these decisions happened in May. The morning of my surgery, actually. Without consulting my best friend or my husband, I stepped out in fear and "unfriended" someone I've known for over twenty years. I use "unfriended" in quotation marks because I tend to think that the decision to do so was made months before that morning. And the decision wasn't made by me. There had been no communication between us since the first part of the year and even then, it was tense and uncomfortable, at best. 

For the last four months, I've been second-guessing myself and my decision to walk away. Had things really been that bad? That tense? That uncomfortable? Could I forgive her for not checking on me during my health scares back in the spring? Was I willing to overlook how intimidated I felt when I was around her? Should I go back to reverting to being a "beta dog" to her alpha whenever we spent time together? 

In short, no.

Last night I found out that in addition to the lies she told me, I learned that she also kept secrets from me. That's not friendship. That's deceit. Friends don't keep secrets from one another. They check up on you when you have surgery. They encourage you, not break you apart.

And in case there was any doubt, I'm no beta dog. I'm 100% Alpha.

I'm done second-guessing myself. I made the right decision in May. I made the right decision and in doing so, I'm starting to trust myself a little more. And if cutting those ties is what brought me to this point, then there's no doubt whatsoever that I made the right choice.

It's amazing what a little different perspective can do for you.

OUBad burger?

Not this month.

Most of you don't have the first clue what I'm talking about. Let me fill you in.

Earlier this month, Wahlburger's (Hingham, MA) sponsored a burger contest for their restaurant. Winner would get their burger on the menu for a month, some signed Wahlburger's merchandise and, of course, bragging rights.


I submitted one recipe: A stuffed chili dog burger topped with yummy (and spicy) toppings. It is reminiscent of the Juicy Lucy I've heard about where the toppings are on the INSIDE of the burger. It calls for a hot dog, chopped up and mixed with chili and cheese sealed inside two quarter-pound patties. It's topped with sauerkraut, onions, Sriracha and spicy mustard. It's freakin' PERFECTION. (And, from a restauranteur's standpoint, all the items are currently on the menu at Wahlburger's, so it was totally price-conscious, too.)

Someone else won the contest this month with a chicken burger, but much to my surprise, my burger made top ten!

TOP FRIGGIN' TEN!

I'm over the moon right now! I have faith it'll eventually end up on the menu, but for now, I'm taking those top-ten bragging rights and strutting like a rooster right now. SO stoked!

Here's the article for those who care to read it.

It's never enough.

My ex-husband used to tell me I was never content with what I had, that I always wanted more, that it was never enough.

At the time I argued with him, but now, almost two decades later, I can see he was right. (He's gonna love hearing that.)

Here's the thing.

When you grow up in a world filled with constant chaos, the thing you long for more than anything else is stability. The problem I struggled with inside my twenty-something mind, was assuming that stability meant boredom and monotony. Why would I think that? Why would I link those things with stability? Well, because that's what he convinced me. What his family convinced me...that a woman who had children couldn't have her own life, couldn't be her own person, couldn't have interests of her own that weren't directly related to her family. God forbid she pursue things that took her away from her children or husband.

I still deal with these closed-minded views from my ex-mother-in-law. My travel, my hobbies, my interests, even my taste in music is questioned and, at times, has made me wonder if I was doing something wrong.

I'm not, of course, but for the briefest moment, I contemplated it. For a split-second, I doubted that what I was doing wasn't what was best for me or my family. I hate that I second-guessed myself. I hate that I let someone who doesn't know me influence what I do. It wasn't until the next moment that I realized I just didn't give a shit anymore.

The truth is what I have is not enough. It never will be. And I'm happy that it won't be. Because for as long as I don't have everything I want, I will actively pursue it. I will travel and I will work hard for what I want. I will fight for it. I'll ignore failure. I'll brush the dust off my knees when I fall and get back up again. I will ask for what I want. I will expect it. I will never be content with what I have.

I was once taught that was a bad thing...that my children would grow up spoiled and ungrateful ("just like their mother," says the old voice in my head from Ghosts of Marriage past). But here's the thing, if I roll over and accept my lot in life, I'm teaching my children that it's okay to settle for less than what they deserve.

And that is not okay.

By constantly chasing my dreams, I'm teaching my children to do the same. My teenaged children are coming to that point in their lives where they're trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up. Some of their dreams are lofty and some aren't. But the point is, I've taught them to dream. I've taught them that nothing is impossible if you want it badly enough and are willing to work at it. My kids won't settle into a life they don't want because I've taught them not to.

They've learned through me that if one path doesn't work out, they're not stuck...that there is always another path if they look around. The other day, my son and I were talking about what he wants to do when he graduates and I told him it's okay if he doesn't know what he wants yet...that I'm thirty-eight and I am just now figuring it out. Just because I'm his mom doesn't mean I have to act like I've got my shit together when I don't. I think it's important for my kids to know we're constantly growing and learning. It makes them feel safer in making mistakes when they know I've made some, too.

While stability is important in a child's life, so is dreaming. I'd much rather my kids flit from job to job while pursuing what makes them happy than be stuck in a job they hate just for the sake of "stability."

As long as I have breath left in my chest, I won't settle for "enough." If that disappoints some of you, I feel sorry for you. Happy beats content any day. :)

Why I adore Midnight R≡d

(Midnight Red serenading a little girl with an a capella version of "Boyfriend"

at the Mall of America - Aug 18th, 2012.)

It's no secret to anyone in my Twitter or Facebook timelines how much I love Midnight Red. Unfortunately, many of you are under the wrong impressions as to why, so I want to clear things up.

I joke about being a cougar, but the fact is, I'm not. These guys are young enough to be my children. There's absolutely nothing sexual there for me when it comes to them. They're adorable and they've got great moves, but that's where it stops. For me, it's about their music.

When they opened up for New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys last summer, it was all over for me. Some friends of mine got to see them at their very first opener in Vegas and told me to check them out on YouTube, so I did. And I saw something in them that I hadn't seen in 20+ years: passion for music.

I immediately started following them on Twitter (@ItsMidnightRed) and began conversing with members of the group (@ThomasAugusto, @JoeyDiggs, @AnthonyLadeo, @EricSecharia & @ColtonRudloff).

When we drove to Kansas City to see them, we didn't get the chance to meet (although, it wasn't without effort on my part - ahem, FOUR pans of homemade cinnamon rolls went missing - care to explain, Rob Lewis? ;) ), but the first song they sang caught my attention and I was done. I've always been a lover of good music, especially that which gets me moving because I love to dance. Midnight Red did that. Songs like "One Club at a Time" and "Rockstar Lover" were catchy and I found myself singing their music in the car on the way home. (Ask my bestie, she'll tell you!)

Later in the summer, I drove to Columbus and Indianapolis, too. Finally, in Indy, I ran into Anthony and Joey at the mall downtown and got to spend some time talking with them. And they're awesome. Very sweet, super respectful and I could tell instantly how humble they were about the opportunity to open up for the two biggest boy bands to ever hit the stage. They were generous and posed for pictures with me and I cemented my fandom that day.

My bestie and I drove to Minneapolis last weekend when Midnight Red was performing at the Mall of America. That's right, we drove eight hours round trip for a 45 minute show and meet-and-greet with them. And they were worth every minute.

Keep in mind, I haven't spoken with any of them since last summer (except via Twitter), but each one of them recognized me and were excited to see me there. Hugs, high-fives and kisses abounded. Thomas even broke the rules and posed for a picture with me (Thanks, Tommy!). Joey refers to me as "CinnaBun" (Again, with the cinnamon rolls, Rob Lewis?!) and he immediately remembered where he and Anthony met me for the first time.

It's things like that that determine the greatness of a band. You can have amazing music and super stage presence, but if you don't interact with your fans, you've got nothing. These guys do all of that and more.

There are artists out there today who have been given opportunities left and right or have practically landed in the right hands right from the beginning. They don't understand what it means to walk the walk or talk the talk. They don't know what hard work is. They act entitled or, at the very least, act like everybody will love them because they're hot.

The guys of Midnight Red aren't those artists. They filling clubs, they're connecting with fans, they're busting their asses and they're not afraid of hard work to get them where they want to be. They're talented, both individually and as a group and they're going to be big...soon.

To me? They're big now. I'm not some sixteen-year-old-girl who wants to do bad things with them (I'm more like the hot older sister, yeah?), but I do support them and I keep them and their music close to my heart always because I recognize their passion for music.

On September 21st, they headline their very first show in New York City at the Gramercy Theater. Tickets go on sale this Friday (only $12 or $30 VIP -incl tix, early entry, M&G and poster). Do yourself a favor and go see them. They're worth it!

You really wonder?

I try not to make my blogs about highly-debatable topics because my goal is to keep this page fun, or at least entertaining. But here's the thing. Life isn't always fun and entertaining. Sometimes life is hard work.

Take parenting for instance.

I'm the mother of two teenaged kids, a seventeen-year-old son and a fifteen-year-old daughter. I love my kids and I've spent my life being a strict parent because of it. I want them to learn the value of honesty, commitment and kindness. I've always believed in treating kids like young people instead of like babies. I didn't baby-talk to my kids and I absolutely abhor those who do. We have had fun and have spent our lives laughing and enjoying what this world has to offer (something I also think is important when it comes to raising kids). I've also instilled a strong sense of responsibility in my kids.

My children have had chores since they were five-years-old: setting the table, picking up their toys...vacuuming a carpet, making a bed...learning how to do laundry, wash dishes and make dinner. I don't put the majority of household chores on them, but they do have responsibilities because I want them to understand the importance of following through with those things when they're adults.

I've also been extremely pro-active when it comes to teaching my children about sex and the responsibilities and consequences of having it. We have an open-door policy at our house and no topic is off-limits, but especially when it comes to sex. I am not naive enough to think that my kids will wait until marriage. We have talked frankly and openly about sex since they first learned about periods and wet-dreams in elementary school. I don't make it a taboo topic at our house. I'm not afraid of buying my children condoms because I believe they should be educated and prepared for whatever situations may run into.

"Oh my God! You buy your kids condoms?"

Yes, I'm that mom and if my TV Guide is to be believed, it looks like I'm the only one.

I'm sick and tired of networks like TLC and MTV giving attention to pregnant teens. When I was growing up, our teen heroes were Doogie Howser and Alex P. Keaton. Girls who got pregnant while still in high school got whispered about behind their backs, not asked for their autographs. Who do our kids have these days to look up to? Jenelle Evans and Jennifer Del Rio.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Do we really wonder why our kids have such a sense of entitlement? C'mon! There are girls who are purposely getting pregnant JUST so they can get on MTV! They're being REWARDED for being IRRESPONSIBLE! The parents may act outraged, but here's the thing - their kids are doing this because they lack the knowledge, motivation and self-respect to not do it.

Parents need to spend less time buying their kids things (like smart phones and Flip cams) and more time teaching them things (like how to prevent pregnancy and disease). Or how to write a killer essay so they get into a good college. Or how to balance a checkbook. Or how to ace a job interview.

When are we going to stop rewarding bad behavior and start rewarding good behavior? I'd much rather see a reality show about the hard work Shawn Johnson put into her gymnastics career than who Jordynellifer got knocked up by this season. Give my kids someone to look up to rather than someone who is too lazy/stupid to unroll a condom before she bangs her boyfriend in her parents' basement.

Think about it. Why would our daughters want to go through the hard work of getting a Bachelor's degree when they can just skip their dose of Ortho-TriCyclen and pocket $60k a year?

We, as parents, have to put our foot down.

And while I'm on the subject of reality tv -- Honey Boo Boo? Fucking really?


**DISCLAIMER**
I was one of those "someones" who was too stupid/lazy to unroll the condom before I banged my boyfriend in my parents' basement. I was that kid whose parents didn't have the right conversations with her. I was that kid who sought attention for the wrong reasons. I was that girl who could've fucked up the next eighteen years of two lives had things worked out differently. However, I had the good sense not to flaunt my mistakes on cable TV or let my indiscretions define me in tabloid magazines, which is why you're reading this as a disclaimer on a small potatoes blog instead of the front cover of People magazine.

Back in the Saddle

New computer updated? Check.
Old files transferred? Check.
iTunes reloaded? Check.
iPod synced without losing anything? Check.
Microsoft Office repurchased? Check.
Old HD turned into a new external one? Check.
Significant chaos overcome without resorting to a bottle? Check.

I'd call that a success, kids.

In the grand scheme, it was a fairly smooth transition. I probably lost a few songs here or there. And I did have a brief freak-out when I couldn't find my manuscript with my newest edits on it. But with a little sleuthing, the file was found and all's right with the world again.

Back to work!

Licking my wounds

I'm currently transferring retrieved files from my old HD onto the new computer. It's been an exercise in patience, that's for sure. While there's really no good time for a computer to crash, there certainly could've been a worse time. I'll lick my wounds and bounce back like I have before.

I, as far as I can tell, didn't lose anything on the old hard drive, not even my bookmarks. I'm sure iTunes is a nightmare with the 15G of music I have, but I'll worry about that later. It's all there and that's what matters. The only exception is that I don't have a copy of Microsoft Office anymore. Hubs' company allows ONE license for home use and even if that computer dies the day after it's installed, they will not allow you a second license. It's bullshit and we're fighting it (or rather, the IT person is battling it out with Microsoft), but for now, I'm stuck with one of those free Office programs to write.

I originally called my son to see if he could help me with my computer issues, but as it turns out, his dad did the majority of the work. I have plenty of opinions about my ex, but the truth is, he's a good man when he wants to be. I'm thankful that he doesn't let me down when I need him. We have our moments, don't get me wrong, but there haven't been too many times when I've said "Can you please help me?" that he's said, "no."

It's been an anxiety-filled couple of days, but I keep truckin'. It's what I do.

Not enough vodka in the world...

My computer died today.


Thankfully, she went quickly and peacefully in her sleep. She didn't suff....well, she mostly didn't suffer. She got broken last year on my cruise (Thanks a lot, Carnival!), but it was my own fault for trusting those morons with my precious electronics. She's been limping along ever since. A few months back, the power button stopped working. I got worried at first because I didn't know how I was going to hard reset my computer when I needed to, but I learned (by accident) that closing the lid and reopening it would work.

Unfortunately, when she got broken on the cruise, it was the lid that broke. Right by the power switch. And so I've been babying her along praying she didn't die, gingerly closing her and gently opening her back up. Hubby told me I could have his laptop since he can use his work laptop for personal use, but that his doesn't have MS Word and as a writer, that's pretty much a must for me. Hence the reason I've been babying Big Red for so long. The thought of buying a $150 program didn't appeal much to me.

Well that and I don't like change.

I would've liked a slow transition. Backing up bookmarks on a dozen different flash and hard drives. Printed them out. Sent them to myself. Same with iTunes playlists and all that.

I am fortunate, though, the hard drive wasn't fried, so my son and his father were able to get the files off the HD and transfer them to my external drive so I can put them on the new computer. I'm hoping my bookmarks and playlists will transfer too. If not, I suppose it's not the end of the world, but I cringe at the research that I have in those bookmarks. I'll probably never get them all back if I need them.

Really, in the grand scheme of things I didn't lose much (I don't think) except the license for Word and a few days of work that I can't get back, but there for a minute, there wasn't enough vodka in the world to calm my nerves.

So let this serve as a reminder to do a backup ALL THE TIME. Online versions are best (DropBox, Backblaze, etc) because they automatically sync without you having to remember anything, but at the very least invest in a $40 portable HD so you can back up your photos, docs, music and videos. I promise you won't regret it.

Now, if anybody needs me, I'll be over in the corner rocking back and forth until I get back to where I was a few days ago.

What a crazy month!

I've been sitting here for a month trying to get out of the muck and write something funny. Much to my disappointment, however, I'm struggling. So, instead of being absent, I figured I'd just be me - exactly where I'm at right now at this stage of the game.

Sorry it's not more humorous, but for now, this'll have to do.

1) Summer break is almost over for the kids. Since both kids have had jobs all summer, I haven't seen them as often as I'd like, nor have they been gone as much as I've needed a break. Midget did leave her job today, though, so the next four weeks before school starts should be much quieter. I think she's talking about going to visit her dad, but she's wanting to do some things together in the meantime. I told her to figure it out and we'd do it. Big Man has interviewed for a second job (he's got his eyes on a truck, I think) and I've pretty much accepted he's too busy to get our usual two-week visit in. I miss him, but I admire his tenacity.

2) The book I wrote in 2010, Distance and Time has finally drummed up some interest. I pitched the idea to an agent earlier this month and after much nail-biting, I finally received a response. She said there's some good potential and gave me almost two pages of notes of things I did well and things that need work. This is the first professional critique I've been given, so needless to say, I'm encouraged. In talking with an author friend of mine, she said she, too, would feel this is a good sign. Typically agents don't take the time to critique something they don't want to work with. I won't count chickens, of course, but it's good to see all my writing has not been in vain.

3) Speaking of work, there have been some not-so-great adjustments around the house as I've turned this writing thing into a "job." I shouldn't use quotation marks because for all intents and purposes, writing is a real job, however, convincing my family of that has been another story. Now that an agent has taken interest, I've become even more focused on editing and writing than I was before, which has been good and bad. Good because my family can see the time and energy I'm putting into my work. Bad because my family can see the time and energy I'm putting into my work, which consequently means less time and energy I'm spending taking care of them. That's not to say, of course, that they're being neglected - trust me, with the miles I've put on the car in the last month playing taxi and the money I've spent at the grocery store, nobody's being neglected around here. It just means that time I used to spend watching movies with them or even the chores they didn't feel like doing isn't being spent doing those things anymore. I'm told there are adjustment periods with everything, but this one has sucked. I go through the struggle of feeling selfish about this, but then I counter it with the knowledge that I have to be selfish about my time spent "at work" if I want to be successful. Hubs has come around to understand the importance of balance and I'm sure the kids will too, but in the meantime, there's a lot of grumbling and arguing at my house.

4) To help me figure out how to balance my responsibilities a little better, I started seeing a therapist. I wasn't going to divulge that fact because there's so much stigma attached to it, but I guess if I want less stigma, I have to stop treating it like it's a secret. I don't expect some miraculous break-throughs that will define who I am or what I should do with my life - I pretty much already know the answers to those questions - it just means that I can bounce my thoughts off a neutral third party who can help by giving me the insight I need sometimes. So far, so good.

5) As a result of my therapy, I've determined...well, not really determined as much as re-determined (I've said it a hundred times before) that I can't have negative influences around me. I've got a terrible habit of soaking up that negativity like a sponge. And like with most wet sponges, it starts to reek after a while. This sponge had been smelling pretty rotten for quite a while, to the point that I couldn't even stand being around myself. I've been bitchy, catty, sharp-tongued and downright mean for quite a while and I realized that a lot of that was due to what I was surrounding myself with. I've been quietly pulling away from people who questioned my motives, decisions and beliefs. I've always prided myself on the fact that I'm there for those I care about and that part of me won't ever change. But what I won't do any longer is be there for those I care about who can't or won't be there for me. So I've cut some ties there. It wasn't pleasant and I'm sure there are people who have some pretty ripe things to say about me. That's their issue. Not mine. I'm doing what I have to do. I've also learned that it's okay to say "No," when somebody asks if I'm okay. And I've started doing that. It's not as easy as it looks. I'm also learning that when I close a door to a negative influence that I have to stop opening it back up the second someone knocks. Closure isn't my strong suit, but it needs to be.

6) Physically, I'm feeling great. Tired a lot, still, but I think that's as much of an emotional thing as a physical one. I'm starting to do yoga at home to improve my flexibility and help my body get back to where I was in 2009 when I lost so much weight (so I can do it again). I felt better then and I want to get back to that place. But, since I'm a stress eater and I can't seem to give up the Coke, that will be a slow process until my priorities shift a little. Doesn't mean I won't get there. Just means I can't do it all right this second. That's something I'm also working on: giving up my intense need to have everything I want the second I want it. This should've been a no-brainer and it probably has been, but this is the first time I've really put it into words.

7) I stepped out of my comfort zone and began posting a fan fiction story online that I began writing a while back. It's not Pulitzer prize winning material, but it's been fun and my readers seem to be enjoying it, so I'm happy with my choice. It's not for everybody, but it's something I've enjoyed doing so I figured I'd share it. If you haven't read it yet and would like to, please let me know and I will add you to the subscription list. I post a new chapter every few days (although that may slow with the current pull I have on "Distance and Time," but I am still working on both stories.

I'm stretching my wings each day, flapping them a bit harder as I go. I will eventually soar with the rest of the eagles, but right now I'm comfortable with these baby steps.