Story of my life.

Hi there. I've been a bit MIA - sorry about that. In general, I don't really have the words for the month of April. Many things were written in my head, but for some reason, I just couldn't get them down on paper (screen). C'est la vie.

In an effort to get myself back into blogging (and really, into writing in general), I'm taking on a challenge: blog every day in May. This is a link-up with Jenni at Story of My Life. She's offering writing prompts for every day of the month, and I'm going to do my best to tackle them. No guarantees that the writing won't be rambley and jumbled - bear with me!

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Day 1: The story of your life in 250 words or less.

I arrived in this world exactly two weeks late, on a cold January morning in Germany. I can’t help the fact that I’m always late – I was literally born that way! My sister came along almost three years later, and our little family of four shares a tight-knit bond. I was an Army brat who didn’t get the typical experience: we moved a lot before I was 5, but I spent K-12 living in just one house. I was always pretty indifferent to living in Virginia, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself really attached to it – it truly is my home state, and I’m proud of it. My childhood hobby was dancing – everything from ballet and jazz classes to competitive dance team. I can tie a perfect hair bow, and I still have a deep love of glitter. I toured college after college, and when I stepped foot on the campus of Virginia Tech, I knew I was home. VT was the only college I applied to, and Blacksburg will always have my heart. I met my husband in a poetry class, but, before you ask, he’s never written me a poem. Our wedding was a huge party with a quick ceremony first, just like we wanted. We have a crazy cat who we rescued, and we’d like to have a dog someday. Now, we’re hunting for the perfect house with a deck and a yard that can be our family home – we know it’s out there somewhere!

Bam. 250 words on the dot! 

 

Reaching out

I, like so many others, am horrified and heartbroken over the incident in Connecticut on Friday. I don't know why, but, for some reason, this particular act of violence is hitting me especially hard. Perhaps it's the children involved, or the fact that it was at a school, at one of the singular places where we are all supposed to feel safe. I'm not sure - what I am sure of, though, is that I feel an overwhelming amount of emotion regarding this event. I think what's the hardest is the fact that I am not feeling sympathy in this case, as so many other are. I am feeling empathy - I know how it feels. I have done this.

I feel helpless. I want to do something. I want to help take away the pain - from someone, anyone, all of them. I want to apologize: I am so sorry. I am so sorry that this has happened again. I want to look into all of their eyes and promise them that life will go on. It will never be the same, but there will become a new normal. I want to tell them that they will always have Before and After, as I do, and they will always distinguish life events as one or the other. I want to tell them that I know how it feels to have a gaping hole in your heart, one that gets smaller over time, but that will never truly heal. I want to take away the hurt. I feel tiny and insignificant. I don't know what to do.

I am praying for strength for the Newtown community, and for even just one moment of peace for all of those people who are touched by this event. The people victimized by this will spread far and wide - it never ceases to amaze me that, in events of such deep sorrow, the "six degrees of separation" never fails to prove true. Everyone knows someone affected by this. Reach out to those around you, and let them know that they are loved. Don't hesitate for one second to tell people that you care about them, or to do something nice for someone, or to simply spread happiness. You truly just never know what your last experience with someone will be. Spread light, spread love, spread hope.

I want to share the words (pared down, just a bit) that Nikki Giovanni shared with us in our darkest moments, and hope that now, in Sandy Hook's darkest moments, they may also provide some minute degree of comfort:

We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning.
We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly, we are brave enough to bend to cry, and we are sad enough to know that we must laugh again.
We will prevail.

You are not alone.

A Guest Post! Hooray!

Today's post is something special.... C decided to put his English degree (professional writing AND creative writing, so it's really like TWO English degrees...) to use and write a guest post! Oooooh. Intriguing, right? Right.

When C said he wanted to put together something for the blog, I had no idea what to expect. The content could have been anything. What I did get surprised me, and made me laugh - so I consider that a win. Enjoy!

This picture is really just to give you a graphic example of a typical moment in our relationship.

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So I found myself listening to Carly Rae Jepsen, this spunky little Canadian that’s infiltrating our blue-collar American Billboard Charts, and I found myself wondering two things:

1. When did I start to hate myself?
2. When did it become such a damn chore to listen to music?

The answer to my first question is pretty apparent. It was when I hit play on this URL*. Unfortunately, my second question is more difficult to answer. 

-->Editor's note: "Call Me Maybe" just came on via Shuffle on the playlist I'm currently listening to. Hilarious.

Discovering new, under-the-radar music used to be a fairly big part of my life. I loved getting my friends tuned into randoms that I found on TV shows, stumble, Genious suggestions, other friends’ collections, etc. I liked knowing that I was just wading into an ocean of untapped notes and lyrics. I’d find new bands seemingly every week and spend hours trying to find their music. I can’t pinpoint the moment this stopped, I just know that it did. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset by it; music is divisive. I spent an equal amount of time defending my music as I did gathering it. Because music is genre-oriented—how many cowboys do you see at rap shows, for example—people tend to associate themselves with the type best suited for their demographic. This leads to all-out music wars.

Basically, if music resembles the United States, most people settle in Kansas. They sample from all states. That being said, people in Oregon refuse to listen to music from Florida. They spend an insufferable amount of time defending their own music and crucifying others. During my musical heyday, I tried to hold conversations with people from every state. It was exhausting.

It’s never easy to sit back and tell someone, “I like what I like. You don’t have to like it too.” I like to think that humans, in general, are too gregarious for the opposite to be the norm. 

So back to Ms. Jepsen. While I find her music elementary, I can’t help but notice a surface-level charm. She’s not on the lyrical level of Bono or Dylan, but she’s miles ahead of Nicki Minaj and Rebecca Black. Carly’s song isn’t trying to overstep its bounds. It’s a summery, made-for-radio song that we’ll probably forget about by July. But honestly, it’s pretty catchy. And that brings me back to question one…

*Quick side note. My first impression upon seeing Ms. Jepsen, “Oh, she’s actually pretty cute.”

-->Editor-inserted photo:

Thanks, Google Images.

That led to the now-necessary Wiki search to verify that the law and my conscience allow me to have those thoughts. And remember that there’s a difference between those two**.  Good news, I’m safe and she’s older than me.

** Two quick formulas:

•  Law = 18+
•  Conscience = [(my age) / 2] + 7

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I'm sure everyone has already seen this, but it is pretty funny....

[source]

Right on time.

It's never too late to start a new adventure... or pick up an old habit... or get back in the groove. So it's probably about that time.