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Author, Historian, Storyteller

Archives for July 2013

Today I am Grateful

Life, Live and Learn, WritingView all 3 comments

I find that it is so easy to get caught up in our day to day lives and where we’re trying to go and what we’re trying to achieve that we can lose sight of what we actually have in front of us.  I feel like I’ve been doing this a lot lately.  So today I wanted to stop and pause for a moment to think about the things that I do have.  Today I am grateful.

I am grateful for the people in my life that have moved beyond friends and are now a part of my family.  My band of sisters that I have collected through life and can’t remember what life was like before they entered, because it feels as if they have always been there.  I am grateful that I have a job.  It is not the job of my dreams, nor is it a job that I ever aspired to have.  But it’s a job and it’s a job that pays all of my bills.  That is more than a lot of people can say. Heck one year ago, it was more than I could say.  For that I am grateful.

I am grateful that I have the time to put words onto the page and spin tales of life, history and the theatre.  That I have an audience for those words, no matter how big or how small and that maybe some of those words will affect someone in a positive way.  For this I am grateful.  However, today I am most grateful for some advice that I allowed myself to hear.  Upon expressing frustration that I felt as if I was simply spinning my wheels and getting nowhere fast, a friend pointed out that maybe I wasn’t spinning my wheels. Maybe I was still in the same place because I was busy building a foundation around me.  Maybe I’ve already made it to where I need to be, but I’ve been so busy running for so long that I failed to notice.  So maybe, just maybe, I need to stop running and start enjoying the build.

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.  I am not a religious person, never have been.  My mother was, and it didn’t seem to do her much good . . . but that is a conversation for another day and that conversation will take place between me and my god.  In the meantime, my spirituality remains ambiguous, but anchored in the notion that everything happens for a reason.  People, events and experiences come into and out of our lives to serve a purpose. We may not know what that is today, or next week, or ever, but on some grand cosmic scale there is a reason.

Maybe we needed to be low so that we won’t take the highs for granted.  Maybe we needed to start over because the path that we were on was no good for us.  Maybe we encounter more obstacles in the road than most because the wisdom gained in getting over each one transforms us into the person we need to be to do our best work.  Or maybe everything is so hard because we’re so focused on an outcome instead of the journey that we’re blind to the fact that we’re scaling a wall to get to the top when there’s a set of stairs three feet to our left.

Today I choose to take the stairs, and for that I am grateful.  What are you grateful for?

Precious Commodity

Dating, WritingLeave a comment

I’ve come to the realization, that as much as I may want to be and as much as I may try, I am not a daily blogger.  I think sporadic blogger is a better description, and honestly I don’t know why this surprises me.  Even growing up when I kept a journal, I never wrote in it daily.  Some weeks I would, and then I would take time off.  I guess I never really felt compelled to write for the sake of writing.  I had to have something on my mind.  A story that I wanted to tell or something that I wanted to work out.  That’s what writing has always been for me, a tool.  It’s one of the greatest tools that I have in my arsenal.  I can’t think of a single time that I had a dilemma or an issue that had bogged me down that I wasn’t able to work out by writing about it.  The simple act of putting it down on paper, stream of consciousness, has always helped me get to the root of whatever was troubling me.  Writing it out makes it clear.  Not to mention there’s a definite satisfaction to laying out all of your troubles and then ripping them to shreds!  If you’ve never done that, I highly recommend it, it’s very therapeutic!  Write out your troubles, your fears and your worries.  Lay it all bare, read through it, soak it in, then tear them to shreds and let it all go.

Or start a blog and put them on the internet for all to read . . . doesn’t really have the same panache, but it has a different kind of release.  So I decided that against all of the advice and how-to’s about how to have a “successful blog” I am no longer going to concern myself with keeping a steady flow of content.  I’m going to write when I have something to say and hold my tongue when I don’t.  That’s how I work, and trying to do anything else is going to come across half-hearted and insincere.  I’m going to do it my way, because that is the only way that I know how to do things that are meaningful and if it doesn’t mean something what’s the point?

Maybe that’s the real crux of the issue, I’ve never understood why people spend so much time and energy on things that in the end won’t amount to anything.  For me this especially shows up in dating.  I’ve never casually dated.  If I don’t see something in a guy that sparks my interest long-term, then I’m not interested short-term.  If I had a dollar for every time a friend has told me to, “Relax, and just have fun with him.  You don’t have to marry him,” I could probably pay off my car.  And I’ve tried, but I can’t do it, because inevitably I realize that instead of spending time with “Mr. Okay For Right Now” I could have been doing something worthwhile.  It sounds horrible, but I greatly value my time and I know where I want that precious commodity to go, which is not to “Mr. Okay For Right Now.”  I know, l know, loosen up!  I’m working on it . . .

A Request to Parents

Fathers, Life, Love, Mothers, VoiceLeave a comment

My father sent me a framed picture he came across of my mother in her senior year of high school.  Looking at that photo a bittersweet melancholy fell over me.  She was so young with that spark of hopeful anticipation in her eyes.  She had her whole life in front of her.  Little did she know, she had already lived almost half of her life.  Little did she know, a disease would so drastically ravage her body and mind her children would never get to meet that woman in the photo.  At her funeral, I sat and listened to people talk about a vibrant, head-strong woman I didn’t know.

My mother didn’t get to see me graduate from college.  She was not there to tell me how proud she was when I won my Emmys.  I will not have the opportunity to ask her what she did for her something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue when I get married.  If I have kids, they will never be held by their grandmother.  However, these are not the things that brought about the melancholy while looking at her picture.  It was really much simpler than that.  The melancholy was caused by the fact that I don’t know my mother’s voice.  I don’t mean the actual sound of her voice, but her personality.  Was she sarcastic, was she witty, was she a straight shooter?  What were her dreams and aspirations for herself?  For me?

So to the mothers and fathers out there I have a request.  Write your children a letter.  Not on the computer, but by hand.  Write them a letter.  Tell them that you love them.  Tell them how proud you are of them.  Tell them of your hopes and aspirations for their success and happiness.  Tell them of your hopes and aspirations for your own success and happiness.  Tell them of your dreams.  If you haven’t achieved them yet, tell them that, but you’re working toward them.  Tell them your favorite music, movies, sports, board games.  Tell them the story of the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.  Tell them of the bravest thing you’ve ever done.  Tell them a joke.  Tell them of the things that are important to you.  It doesn’t matter what you tell them, just let them see your personality.  Let them see you.

I pray that the letter will never be needed.  That it will go unread tucked away and forgotten in some drawer.  But life is unexpected and sometimes all too short.  Give your children the opportunity to know you, whether through your actions or through your words.  Write your children a letter.  I wager it will turn into one of their most prized possessions.  Even if it doesn’t get to their hands until after you pass away peacefully in your sleep at the age of 100.

Love You Quote

5 Things that People Need to Stop Doing

Life, Live and LearnLeave a comment

A bit of a rant, but at least I numbered it for you!

1 – Obsessing over zits, blemishes and that tiny little scratch.  We’re all adults. We all know that outside of Photoshop, everyone gets these things.  Unless it is the actual size of Rhode Island or it is a shape/size/color that should be seen by a medical professional, no one cares.  If you are hanging out with people who do, they are not your friends.  They are petty, vindictive assholes.  Find new people to hang out with.

2 – Asking if a piece of clothing makes you look fat. I hate to break it to you, but if you get the impulse to ask, the answer is yes. Anybody that tells you differently is lying to your face. So do yourself a favor, save your boyfriend/husband the trauma and throw away that pair of spandex pants with the horizontal stripes and put on a pair of jeans.

3 – Letting your dog run around in public off leash.  Just because you love your dog does not mean that everyone else does.  This is not only one of my biggest pet peeves, but a potential nightmare that I have to live out almost every time I walk my dogs.  Inevitably the dog owner will holler from 100 yards away, that their dog is “friendly.”  Well that’s great, mine isn’t.  My little girl Zoey has been attacked so many times in her seven years of existence that she has taken up the attitude of “bite first, ask questions later” should a strange dog get a little too fresh.  So unless you can guarantee me that your “friendly” dog will remain so after Zoey bites him, get your dog on a leash!  Because when that dog fight starts, it’s gonna be my two dogs against yours and it’s gonna be up to me to break it up because you’re 100 yards away and I’m attached to the fight by two leashes.  Not cool!

4 – French kissing at the end of a first date.  Unless you’re looking for a one-night-stand, or are unable to control your raging hormones because you’re 16, save this for later.  I have three reasons for this.  1. A little anticipation really does make things better.  2. If that’s how you expect a first date to end, how are you expecting the second date to end?  If I’m not ready to take that plunge and I’m on the fence about you anyway, I very well may just bypass the second date completely to avoid the hassle of having to say no.  3. Should I ever have kids – it might happen – and one of them asks me to tell them the story of our first kiss, “He walked me to my car, looked into my eyes, smiled and gave me a quick kiss,” makes a much better story than “He pressed me up against my Chevy Malibu and stuck his tongue down my throat in the parking lot behind McDonalds.”

5 – Making a habit of treating people horribly, then coming back around later to apologize for treating them horribly and thinking that this makes everything better.  Seriously, why do people think that this is an acceptable way to interact with people?  After the second consecutive time you’ve done this to me, I no longer accept your apology.  You may be sorry, but I don’t care.  If you were truly sorry you would try to change your behavior so that you don’t have to apologize for it all the time.  Don’t expect me to provide you with forgiveness and assuage your guilt because you were an asshole.

Break a Plate

Perpetually in High School

LifeLeave a comment

Is it just me, or does anybody else feel like all of this social media – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine, etc – is one big popularity contest after another?   How many friends do you have, how many followers, how many people have liked that post, that picture, that meme, etc.  Which is all well and good and people can choose to partake as much or as little as they please . . . except there really isn’t a choice.  Social media has weaseled its way into the way that business is done, especially the arts.   I know people that have lost out on jobs because their Twitter following wasn’t big enough – apparently if you have less than 5000 followers you’re not even worth considering.  I’ve been told by a writing coach that talent has taken a far second seat to platform.  Most publishers and agents won’t even look at you unless you already have a steady following and a built in audience.  It doesn’t matter how good the writing is.

When did this happen?  When did we all get shoved back into that endless popularity contest that was high school?  I didn’t like high school. When I got out I ran as far and as fast as I could and never looked back.  Yet here I find myself right back where I started.  Life is now composed of recording every moment as if it is golden so that you can one up everyone else.  You have 47 likes on your new page, well I have 562 and it’s only been up for 2 days.  You went out for Mexican food and margaritas, well I went out for lobster and pinot grigio in Maine.  Your kid painted a picture, well my three kids made the paper first and then painted pictures on them using minerals they crushed themselves.

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m exhausted!  I’m tired of feeling the need to compete with everyone around me at all times.  I’m tired of relying on the capricious whim of a following to provide validation by “liking” my witty quips or adventurous exploits.  I’m tired of trying to network 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You know what, sometimes I want to go home to a glass (or three) of wine, a tub of sorbet and marathon watch serial killers on “Criminal Minds” until I’m so freaked out that I seriously consider taking a baseball bat with me when I take the dogs out before going to bed.  Because let’s be honest, puggles are not guard dogs!  It’s not glamorous, it’s not note-worthy but sometimes it makes the perfect evening, and I don’t feel the need to tell everybody that I know – and a good handful of people that I don’t know – all about it.  I definitely don’t feel the need to play a game of one-up and compare what everyone else did.

Why does it matter what everyone else is doing and where they are in their life compared to me?  I think there should be a whole new site.  One where you go on and post what you’re doing and working on and where you are in your life, and nobody else gets to see.  Then three months from now when you throw up a post about how you finally made it to the gym, virtual confetti goes flying across the screen with bells and whistles as an old post comes up where you said that working out more was a new goal.  Guess what, you just took a step toward your goal and that should be celebrated.  It doesn’t matter that Joe Blow has rocked the gym every day this week, it doesn’t matter that Jane Doe has lost 10 pounds so far this month.  What matters is that you improved yourself.  You did better than what you have done in the past, and isn’t that what we really should be focusing on?  Now that’s something that I can get behind.  I say we call it MeBook.

Playing Favorites

Characters, WritingLeave a comment

I find myself struggling with one of my characters.  He’s one of my main characters, but for the most part I’ve been avoiding writing him as much as possible.  Because quite frankly, I don’t like him.  There, I said it, I do not like him.  I feel like I’m that parent that very clearly has a favorite amongst their kids, but I can’t help it.  I just don’t like the guy!  So I avoid him, and I’m getting to the point that I can’t avoid him for much longer.

He’s so cocky, and arrogant.  He’s one of those guys that doesn’t really have to work for things, they just fall into his lap.  Things have a way of working out for him even when he doesn’t deserve it, especially when he doesn’t deserve it.  So I find myself throwing things at him to mess with him.  I chop off his leg . . . he gets a wife out of the deal.  Damn it!  His wife proves to be a far superior spy . . . he takes credit.  Double damn it!  It’s like no matter what I do to this guy he pops back on top and it annoys the crap out of me!

At this point, I think I’m almost afraid to write him, because I really don’t think I can hide the fact that I don’t like him.  I’ve never had this experience with a character.  I have never vehemently disliked a character to the point that I not only wish him harm, I cause him harm.  Unfortunately, the story will out, so he always winds up fine.  I already know how it ends and he’s in the end, so I can’t kill him off.  Triple damn it!

Although I guess there are worse things than hating a character.  I could feel ambivalent toward him and that would make one hell of a boring character.  So I’ll grit my teeth and let him play out his part of the story and I’ll take my consolation from Henry.  Him I like.  Huh, I don’t know that I’ve ever put this together before, but I like my Confederate officer.  It’s my Union officer that I don’t like.  Interesting . . .

Sometimes You’re Not Special

Life, Live and LearnLeave a comment

I know that I will sometimes fall into the trap – and I’m quite certain that others do the same – of getting caught up in a mood or situation and thinking that you’re all alone.  No one else has ever been in the position.  No one else has ever grappled with these thoughts or can relate so I’m going to stew in my own juices and be maudlin.

Well I’ve come to the conclusion that no one is that special!  Other people have been in your situation, other people have grappled with you same issues and it’s actually a bit of a relief!  It’s good to know that you’re not alone.  It’s comforting to know that there are like-minded people in this world and others have had your same struggles and come out the other side only a little worse for the wear.

More than anything else, this blog has taught me this.  I’ve lost track of how many times a post will talk about thoughts I’m struggling with, or a situation I’m in where I really feel a bit like I am on an island all by myself.  Inevitably it’s those posts that I get feedback like, “Yes!  I’ve been struggling with that too!” or “How true!  I’ve been dealing with that a lot lately.”

At first I didn’t know how to react to this.  After all, their emphatic feedback proclaimed loud and clear that I was not alone in my thoughts and feelings.  They did not make me special . . . and that’s what we all strive for right?  We want to feel special, that there is something about us that makes us stand out from the crowd.

Then it occurred to me, sometimes you’re just not that special, and in instances where you are struggling or feeling alone, it’s a really good thing that you aren’t special in that.  Sometimes it’s nice to know that you are part of the crowd; that you fit in.  Because as much as we want to be special, don’t we also strive to find a place where we fit in?  Maybe the trick is finding a balance between the two.  Fit in when we are weak, and shine when we are strong.

Finish This Chapter First

Life, Live and Learn, WritingLeave a comment

Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, but life seems to me to function in chapters.  Sometimes one chapter closes and you move on to the next with no warning.  Something big happens unexpectedly, or you just look around one day and realize that without you knowing it, you’ve moved on.  You’re in the next phase of your life, the next chapter.

Other times you can see it coming.  You can sense that things are starting to come to a close; things are wrapping up to move you on to the next great thing.  That’s when the impatience sets in.  You can see it, what lies over the next horizon, and you can practically touch it, feel it, taste it, but you’re not quite there.  You want it so badly, you start moving on prematurely, jumping ahead and skipping steps.  Which inevitably leads to falling flat on your face because you moved too far too fast.  You weren’t ready for that step; the universe wasn’t ready for that step. So discouraged you get up and head down the road again.  Maybe this time you’re more cautious.  Or maybe this time a seed of bitterness has set in, you’re tired of this chapter and can think of nothing but the next.

But you can’t do that.  You can’t skip ahead.  Dues must be paid and every step that is required must be taken.  Just because you can see the next chapter does not mean that you get to stop writing your current chapter.  I can see my next chapter, but I’m not done with this one, not even close.  I’ve simply found enough clarity to see where this road leads, and I like what I see.  But I have to finish this chapter first, and I have to finish it the way that I started it. I’ve made the journey by myself.  One step at a time, through the brambles and bushes, and I have to continue up the hill until I see the top.

Of course I’ve had my life-lines, and there have been stretches that they have carried me part of the way, but when all was said and done they put me back on my feet and let me stumble my way forward.  Nobody held my hand. Nobody laid the path out neatly before me.  They let me find my way on my own, and so it is partly to them that I owe it to finish this out on my own.  Finish this chapter first, and then move on to the next.  Look to the here and now, focus and do the work required to finish this out.  Finish like I started.