#20: That Moment When…

… You finally get to work and you just sit in your car, again on the fourth floor of the dark and stifling garage, and you have absolutely no desire to move because you made it to the gym for the first time this week and almost passed out, so you’re feeling crappie about yourself since the doctor weighed you yesterday, and you know the number shouldn’t matter – but it’s the only thing going on your chart to represent a year’s worth of sweat and tears – so it does matter, not to mention the fact that you were asked, once again, if you recently started HEW when in reality you’re finishing your second year, with a host of physical concerns that prevent you from progressing as much as you’d like, therefore, to say you’re feeling crappie about yourself is actually quite an understatement, so there you are, sitting in your car in the stifling garage in that moment, pondering what the heck you’re doing with your life in one insignificant snapshot against the backdrop of all the cataclysmic events in the world that you’ve been intentionally avoiding but in light of all the little victories that you presently cannot remember… and you decide to do one thing.


For my 35th birthday, I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I turned 36. Today, instead of wallowing in the pity of what I’ve yet to gain, I checked off one more thing.

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,200 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 20 trips to carry that many people. Thanks for a great year!

Click here to see the complete report.

2013! Thanks for a Great Year in Review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 770 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 13 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Letters of Note: You’ve got to sell your heart

“Late-1938…. Frances Turnbull sent a copy of her latest story to celebrated novelist and friend of the family, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Before long the feedback arrived….”

I admire her bravery in sending it and the raw honesty of his reply. An exert is below, but the letter is worth reading in its entirety. Thank you, CristianMihai.net for introducing me to this letter.

Letters of Note: You’ve got to sell your heart.

“The amateur, seeing how the professional having learned all that he’ll ever learn about writing can take a trivial thing such as the most superficial reactions of three uncharacterized girls and make it witty and charming—the amateur thinks he or she can do the same. But the amateur can only realize his ability to transfer his emotions to another person by some such desperate and radical expedient as tearing your first tragic love story out of your heart and putting it on pages for people to see.”

A Blog is Worth a Thousand…

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. Nine months, to be exact.

As I feared, the full time job, full time  responsibilities, full time bills, full time stress got in the way of part time passions. And as I waited for my demanding schedule to spare a little time to be, time slipped by leaving me with little more than an empty blog and a neglected soul.

So, why write tonight? My body aches. My brain buzzes. My sleep escapes. My appetite fluctuates. My feet itch. My heart wanders. My soul wrestles. My hands refuse to be idle.

Over lunch today, a colleague told me he encouraged his entire class to blog. “Blogging,” he said, “is one of best ways to improve your intelligence.” He continued by explaining, “If you just blog about what you’re learning in class, you’re solidifying your learning and letting your parents know they’re not wasting their money.” I’ve been thinking about his comment all afternoon, and the video that originated the thought. I thought about how many times over the past few months I had been asked a simple question about how I was doing, and I couldn’t come up with an intelligent or interesting response.

How was your summer? Busy, but good.
How’s your semester going? Well, just really busy.
How’s your family doing? Oh everyone’s great.
How’s your job? OK. Stressed. Really busy.

And to think, I call myself a writer! No wonder my brain feels cluttered!

I traveled Seattle, Washington by myself this summer; checked out some of the islands, did a little wine tasting, toured the must see places, and even got a little lost to find myself.

I successfully planned our biggest orientation events to date at the University and won an award for it. I directed the creation of a new catalog, developed and trained a core group of peer mentors that have made this an engaging semester for over 500 freshmen. I am enjoying teaching two classes, have interacted with hundreds of students, and am continuously seeking ways to improve my programs.

I attended more weddings than should ever be allowed for a single girl in one year. I avoided starting bad relationships. (That’s definite progress). I started taking violin lessons. I made the decision to put photography on the shelf for a while. (That was hard). I lost weight. I gained a niece and two new siblings (in law). I made lasting friendships and changed perspectives. I learned the difference between fighting and struggling. I became comfortable in my own skin.

All these thoughts… All these ideas… All these memories… All these lessons have been frantically splashing around in my flooded mind for the past few months, begging to be tended to. Making it nearly impossible to focus.  And all it took was one blog to restore peace.