It’s always good to start your Friday off with a bang. The following post is brought to you by a true texting typo, courtesy of my ever optimistic husband…
HAPPY WEEKEND, EVERYONE!
Posted in Blogging, Funny, Laugh, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, tagged Funny, Laugh, Sex on March 28, 2014| 8 Comments »
It’s always good to start your Friday off with a bang. The following post is brought to you by a true texting typo, courtesy of my ever optimistic husband…
HAPPY WEEKEND, EVERYONE!
Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Bullies, Contests, Ellen, Singing on March 27, 2014| 14 Comments »
Can I just say that I love Ellen? I rarely catch her because I don’t have the luxury of sitting around to watch daytime television but, while I was in the massage chair getting my toenails polished yesterday, ahem, Ellen happened to be on.
She was visiting with Mark Whalberg and Taylor Kitsch, discussing their movie Lone Survivor. The two actors were reliving the training they endured to pull off a convincingly realistic Navy Seal facade.
During the interview, Ellen proceeds to give credit to the Seals, by recounting a story of a hike she took the day after seeing the movie. She tells of how she developed a blister on her foot while walking, but felt she had to trudge on because of all the selfless work the Seals do. And as a result, she managed to push through it.
The humor was there, but it was clear she was serious. Their nobility and valor had inspired her to realize she was capable of completing the hike despite a little pain.
Only Ellen can get away with equating something as trivial as a blister with the work of Navy Seals and not be offensive.
Now, believe me when I tell you that all I ever do is clean, work and write, but the other night, while my daughter and I sat on the couch, listening to the pouring rain, eating bon bons and talking about how I was about to start the laundry, we happened to come across the movie One Chance.
It’s about a bloke from South Whales who loved to sing. Maybe you’ve also happened upon it while couch surfing, popping bon bons and counting raindrops.
It turns out the movie did not get good reviews, but you may or may not know, I’m a sucker for singing and an eternally easy mark for an optimistic underdog so I handcuffed my daughter to a Mars bar and…we watched.
Paul Potts endured a lifetime of physical and mental abuse from neighborhood bullies, not to mention an unsupportive father. He withstood personal and potentially dream-dashing dogging from Pavarotti himself, plus extreme health and financial challenges, but, like Ellen and the Navy Seals, he kept on climbing.
Paul went on to win Britain’s Got Talent in 2007 and is now a successful multimillionaire.
Yesterday marked my second wordpress anniversary and the start of my blogging in general, so I wanted to celebrate with a taste of inspiration. It’s easy to let things get under our skin, stop us from chasing what it is we want most…our passions, our dreams and our quests.
But when that happens, we need to remember we’re no different than Ellen, Paul and the Navy Seals.
Listen, I got a paper cut on my tongue yesterday, but no way was that stopping me from posting today!
We know we’re also equipped with tenacity, training and a voice. We’re just waiting for the world to know it too.
Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged belief, Commitment, Confidence, Dedication on March 6, 2014| 23 Comments »
Yesterday, I came across a quote that said there is no such thing as writer’s block. It claims that what hinders us is instead fear, procrastination, perfectionism and laziness. And not just laziness, but pure laziness.
I’m interested to know what you think?
Peeking from behind slightly parted curtains, I sheepishly declare that whether you throw exploding tomatoes or rub browning mashed banana in my face, I’m just going to have duck down and simultaneously stand (difficult to do) united with Thrasher.
There’s many a time I sit down full of serious hope and intention with absolutely no idea what’s to come of it. But that’s the thing – if I let my vacant brain off the hook – if I never sat down just because I had nothing, nothing would ever emerge.
Nothing.
Ever.
Of course there’s fear. Very different from the fear that you’ll awake to an unwelcome stranger in the middle of the night or that you’re going to run out of gas going through a high-traffic tunnel. It’s the fear that you’re choosing to play the fool, that someone will laugh, find your work a shabby replica or perhaps worse, all too authentic.
No writer, with any living acquaintance, wants to pen dark, risqué or just plain screwed up and have people believe that that’s what’s really thought or felt by them.
You see no one, other than another writer, can truly understand a writer’s thought process. It’s that what if that’s been so over-exposed. And, I almost hate to bring it up again, but in the end, that is what it’s all about. That little catalytic question that brings a writer to a thought where they, before deciding to write it all down, pray no one ever finds out they conjured it up.
I think this may be the true meaning of irony.
Procrastination. Well damn, that’s an easy one. Hmm, should I tackle the crap that I know I can get done successfully, or should I sit down and type for hours, hoping that I get at least one half decent sentence out of it? Should I make sure my family has food and clean clothes, or should I while the hours away writing something that no one may ever read? Should I show anyone what has turned out to be definite drivel? No? Okay, what do I say I’ve been doing for the past six hours instead of making sure the kids were picked up and the bills were paid then?
Enough said on that.
Perfectionism. I have countless closets, nooks, crannies, projects and plans that remain untackled due to a silent and highly unrecognized, misunderstood affliction called perfectionism. I literally have to talk myself into starting something that I know I only have twenty to thirty minutes to work on. I, to my core, feel that I should not start a project that I don’t have to time to see through, not only to completion, but to painstaking precision. I will literally allow a stain to stay on my floor for a week because I don’t have the time to get down on my hands and knees and scrub the entire wood surface (which includes a kitchen, dining room, hallway, living room and front hall) rather than just swiftly wiping up the singular mark that lies right in front of the kitchen sink. So, you can imagine my dilemma, not having a solid six months to sit down and write an entire novel without stopping.
Perfectionism is show-stopping.
Laziness. This is the one and only point I’m iffy on. Actually, a little more than iffy. This one irks me. Speaking for myself, and any other writer I’ve ever interacted with, whatever the task or tribulation at hand, we’d love to toss it aside to write. Which I guess, could be deemed a different kind of lazy, but that’s not what Thrasher is talking about here. He’s referring to writers who are lazy about writing.
I believe, if you feel in any way, like you couldn’t be bothered to write, then you’re not a writer. A true writer should be thinking about their next opportunity to write any time their eyes are open and they are breathing. There. I said it.
It’s up to us. No one is cheering us on to be what might be viewed as a sedentary slop. Not a soul is saying, Hey, sit on down. Chill with your laptop. We get it. You’re writing. In reality, many are biting their tongues on words like aloof, rude, lazy and antisocial.
We may not yet be Khaled Hosseini, Stephen King or Danielle Steel, but if we don’t stand up and sit down, we never will be.
Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Fiction, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Growth, Hearts, Love on February 14, 2014| 8 Comments »
Oh dear. My 150th post and I screwed it up. I knew you guys were discerning readers, but never did I think you’d shy from one slightly rare serving!
Where do I go from here? Is it too late to say I’m sorry? To promise I won’t do it again?
No, it’s not too late. Yes, you’re discerning, but I’m pretty sure tolerance, compassion and forgiveness are in there somewhere too. That has to be true or we’d have parted long ago.
And it’s a good thing, because I’m trying desperately to be a writer. And to quote Thomas Mann; “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”
Make no mistake – we’re friends because you’re particular.
It could be argued that what I did the other day wasn’t writing, but I stand firm that all writing is writing. I started this blog to bolster my commitment. I hoped knew it would hold me accountable for producing something on regular basis. I wanted it to make me think.
I dreamed of it making you think.
I spent years writing in journals. They didn’t suddenly stop selling them in the stores. I didn’t run out of pocket money to buy one. I chose to display my trials and tribulations on a public forum. I decided I wanted you to witness my stabs and my stumbles.
Some things I write to reflect and some things I write to connect, so neither of us should be surprised by the odd, rare roast post.
It’s how I get to know you.
It’s how I hope you’ll get to know me.
It is how we’ll get to well-done.
Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Fiction, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Money on February 12, 2014| 13 Comments »
Is it too late to start a post? Some would say yes. It’s 11:15am and when I’m still working on it at 3pm and behind on all I should do in a day, I might be agreeing with those people.
But…yesterday, I did paperwork – like, all day – and then again for two hours this morning. Wah. I deserve a break, don’t you think? That is a lot of time spent on something I really don’t like doing. Am I right?
Yes, I’m right. I just wish I could feel right.
You see, paperwork is kind of like housework for me. It’s this illusive, slippery matter that slips through my fingers, no tail in sight. Anytime I hear anyone say, “Oh my goodness, I cleaned all morning. It feels so good to be finished!” I can’t help but ask, “Finished? How are you finished? Where do you get one of these houses you can clean and actually be done at some point?”
Because, I for one, am never finished cleaning.
Except, I don’t mind cleaning. I like the smells and the scents, the sparkle and the shine. It’s relaxing. It’s satisfying. It’s visual.
Paperwork? Not so much. It’s not pretty. It’s not creative. (Well, not in any legal way) There’s very little smell. It doesn’t sparkle or shine. And I have to say, it’s anything but relaxing. I mean, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, money, money, money, crunch, crunch, crunch, sweat, sweat, swear sweat.
and…
Do I need to keep this bill? Can I write that off? Did pay my property tax? What do I do with this? Will this come back to haunt me?
No bliss about, I tell you.
There are some things we have to do and some things we want to do. For me, writing is definitely both of those, so why does it always come one hundred and sixty fourth on the list?
But even at 164, it’ll happen. Although sometimes it means serving up an undercooked post like this one. Just take a Tums before reading and it won’t be so upsetting.
Oops, too late.
Posted in Blogging, Fiction, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Relationships, Thoughts, Writer's Block, Writers, Writing, tagged Books, Contests, Death on February 8, 2014| 18 Comments »
Some time back I held an “appreciation” for the growing audience my blog was accumulating. I had hit 400 followers and in my euphoria I offered Stephen King’s book “On Writing” to the first person to like and comment on that particular post.
A man named Jim over at “Life Choice” won, but when I contacted him for an address, he, very generously, asked if I could please donate the book to someone who may not be able to buy it for themselves. He also asked that I name him and myself, and include the story of how the book found its home.
I was thrilled. And then…
I waited.
Why? I don’t know. Procrastination, had a headache, needed coffee, had to go buy gum.
It took me way too long a while, but with the help of a friend, I decided to gift it to our local library. The way I see it, many, many people will then have access to a wonderful book they otherwise might have never come across.

February 2nd, 2014
Dear Reader,
This book was gifted to you by a man named Jim. We both have blogs on WordPress and a while back, I held a contest of sorts ~ the prize being this book. Well, Jim was the winner, but when I contacted him for an address, he, very generously, asked that I give this book to someone who may not be able to buy it for themselves.
The library was decided upon as it may now fall into the hands of many who might otherwise have never come across it.
It’s one of my favorite books on writing and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Happy reading from:
Jim http://jimlifechoice.wordpress.com/
and
Hazy http://www.hazyshadesofme.com
I’m happy with this and I hope Jim is too.
The air is cold and crisp, the sun is bright and I literally woke to birds singing. It’s a stunning day. The kind of day that shouldn’t be taken for granted because tomorrow there is a Celebration for a life that ended far too soon.
Appreciate today. Don’t live to wait.
Posted in Blogging, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Cancer, Death, Fuck Cancer on February 4, 2014| 33 Comments »
I tiptoe ‘round this post like the exhausted mother of an at long-last sleeping baby. Afraid to wake what lies before me…fearful I won’t be able to give what it needs.
Death, after all, is a needy subject. Never far away. Never a maybe. Never forgotten. And somehow, it still manages to leave us reeling. To rip us out of that place where we believed we were safe. Sometimes with nothing more than what seems a moment’s notice.
I lost a friend on Saturday. It was someone I hadn’t seen since high school. Someone who, before the last seven years, I’d only thought of maybe a handful of times. But, because of present day oddities, we were somehow very connected. Through social media, such as facebook, we were, what classifies as friends, before she passed.
We’d sent each other several private messages upon our initial encounter, reminiscing about our high school days and catching up on what was, at the time, our current lives. She told me that she was the happiest she’d ever been, having overcome some tough times and being in love with, what she deemed was, “…the best guy that ever walked this earth.”
And admittedly, that’s probably where it would have ended for us. Much like many, we both had hundreds of facebook “friends” and the extent of our relationship would have existed on the wings of a fluttering like or comment here and there.
Except Gina turned out to be one of the most positive posters I’d ever come across. Everything she wrote happened to be the silver lining in a grey cloud, should you find yourself fogged in. Her energy was addictive and I’d roll over and rub my eyes just to start the day with her perspective.
This didn’t change when she was diagnosed with brain cancer on June 1st, 2012.
She was generous enough to share what was the privacy of her fight with people – many I’m sure like me – not even a part of her inner circle. Her positivity not only continued, but was bolstered by an exasperating battle and her commitment, not to simply beat the disease, but to remain optimistic and inspirational to all those around her, never faltered.
Not once.
As I mentioned, I’m on tiptoes, terrified not to do justice to the power of death. To fail to give proper credit to Gina and what she so selflessly sacrificed so that we could learn.
There’s certain valor in accepting what eventually becomes an inevitable destination, but the real courage lies in how you walk the road. True wisdom is knowing you’ve trudged long enough, but the maturity to say good-bye is the bravest thing of all.
Gina Covey
March 26th, 1970 ~ February 1st, 2014