Insanity

What The...?

2012-09-14T07:19:00.000-04:00

: sheepishfashionista.com

During a physical interlude once, a man who shall remain nameless, ran his tongue brutishly between my upper lip and gums. This was not a delicate movement. It was not a gentle glide. More like a horse rooting for a hidden sugar cube. The act of which quickly replaced any amorous ideas I had, with the thought: What the ...?

Granted, everyone likes different things. And this surely was not the worst of the worst. However, I found it profoundly non-stimulating, to say the least. Heaven forbid he had stumbled upon a crumb or popcorn husk wedged up in there. As a quasi-germaphobe, I tend to be a rather squeaky clean gal. But even after the most forceful of swishing, certain foods are reluctant to de-wedge themselves. Furthermore, never once have I witnessed a love scene wherein the woman’s upper lip was pushed outward as if she were receiving a thorough dental cleaning, all the while a thick tongue slithered along her gum line.

Perhaps this crazy-tongued fella had a funky dental fetish. I don’t know. I never asked. But that’s one of those surprises one hates to discover well after having signed a marital contract. Which was when this particular discovery was made by me. Please know the deflating sexual discoveries kept trickling in, long after. I'm far from a critical lover. But I do cringe at the memories.

I can’t stress enough the importance of trying to unearth such discoveries early on, preferably very early on. But such was not my case. And like a lot of bedroom experiences gone awry, I did what everyone does - block it out and try never to think of it again. Until today, when I truly wanted and needed to laugh. Which I can do as these discoveries are no longer a part of my life.

No one holds a crystal ball that displays their future. Some say, having such would take all the fun out of life. For the most part I agree. Bearing in mind that I’ve had a few surprises come my way that would've been a whole lot easier had I known they were heading in my direction. Regardless, little surprises, both good and bad, line the path we walk in life. There’s no way to discover now what sits beyond our sight, nestled somewhere down the road. The best we can do is explore what we want to explore in its entirety while we walk. Life is about living - not holding back. There will be plenty of time for containment once we’ve passed on, and discover such a thing no longer exists. So as we walk on, I say we do so sampling and discovering all that we can. Hopefully, we’ll stumble upon some good surprises along the way.

Sane

Written while laughing, and listening to: Mountain Sound by Of Monsters & Men.

I've Moved!

2012-07-05T09:14:00.001-04:00

Hello everyone,

I just received word that some of you are no longer receiving my blog posts. Well I sure as heck don't want to lose you, but will admit that I am often lacking when it comes to internet saviness (my word) and the necessity for ardent self promotion. Instead, I often just sit and...write! Oh how I wish the God(s) would just reward me for doing that and that alone :) Come to think of it, what a nice world this would be if all of us were rewarded for simply doing that which we love.

With all of that said - please visit me again at www.sanesamantha.com, and subscribe again to the email alert or RSS feed. Give me your feedback, share me on Facebook and all that wonderful stuff that lets me know you are there. I truly write with the purpose of sharing myself with you.

I look forward to seeing!

Sane (Samantha)

Speaking Volumes

2012-05-28T12:12:00.001-04:00

: vi.sualize.us

What matters to me, the points in time, the moments that remain with me and have changed me, are rarely those that others would think. Perhaps this is why I hold myself distant; removed from many.

When looking back, seven years ago this summer; one of my most poignant memories, during the time in which my son was in the hospital, was the look in people’s eyes. Whether standing in the hallway of the Critical Care Unit, or pacing outside his door on the Pediatric Oncology floor; it was the look in the eyes of those passing by that lives as a tangible memory within my mind. I watched other parents, some with vacuous expressions, others with pain so visible in their eyes, that of my own watered instantly upon meeting theirs. Then there were those that looked unfazed. They were the ones that troubled me the most. I felt no resonance with them, as all I know how to do, is - feel.

Once home, away from the kindred gathering of those struggling for life, I noticed the look others gave me; the one’s that knew my son had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. The fear in their eyes was more than I could absorb. In fact, I chose not to take in their pain; my own was almost more than I could bear. Within their eyes I could readily see that I was living their nightmare. For many parents, a child with a diagnosis of cancer, is a nightmare they pray will never come their way. And to them, they were witnessing a parent who’s every day now embodied all their fears brought to life.

Knowing what they were thinking, I chose to look away. I did not want to stop and share with them that mine was not the nightmare. A call informing the mother of a soldier that her son or daughter has died - is a nightmare. Accidents that snuff the youthful breath from a child are the nightmares from which we never awaken. I was allowed to awaken. My eyes opened; my son was given a new day. And I pray many more to come. These are the moments that forever reshape our lives. I’ve had many such moments. I don’t know why. Perhaps I was so misshapen upon the start of my life that Fate felt I needed massive re-sculpturing to become that which I needed to be. I don’t know. But I’m here now - reshaped.

The look in someone’s eyes, reveals more truth than their words can ever hope to say. When a seasoned nurse looks up; your eyes meet, and within hers you see that she is scared, well...no words need be spoken. When the eyes of a lover, filled with insecurity and doubt, looks deep into that of your own; they needn’t open their mouth to express their love and longing. Of course the same is true in reverse. I’ve looked into the eyes of someone professing love, when all the while there eyes revealed only hatred. I remember the look in my father’s eyes when he no longer wanted to live. As if it were yesterday I remember the look in his eyes after his stroke; eyes held open while his frustrated soul was gone; moved on to freer places.

Guilt is seen in an instant, within the eyes of one that's failed to keep their promise. And love can be seen and felt across a crowded room, with one paused glance from the one who holds our heart. As children, we would play the ‘if you had to lose one of your senses game.' A dreadful game when it's really considered. Yet as children we jump happily into this early form of psychological analysis with both feet. If asked now, my reply would be: just let me keep my sight, because through it I am allowed to not only see, but to hear that which can't be said and to express what words cannot.

Sane

Is The Bank Open On Saturday?

2012-05-26T11:54:00.000-04:00

: Image found at: www.art.com

The only solace a writer can find upon reading a less than desirable review is the knowledge that some of the best, most acclaimed writers have also received their share of questionable reviews.

My Insanity Blog serves as my Savings Account for errant thoughts; into which, as you are fully aware, I make many deposits. My thought today is that there are no better words spoken about my work than : well-written. Two words that mean a great deal. I have to imagine they can be likened to the word delicious when said to a chef upon taking the first bite of their carefully prepared meal. All of these words and opinions, the good and the bad, are subjective and need to be taken with a block of salt.

However, as a writer, the hardest pill to swallow is when someone says my dialogue does not ring true; especially when the dialogue is something I once said, and was once said back to me. There is no truer kind of dialogue than the kind that has actually and organically transpired. What is true to a reviewer and true to me, can be vastly different. One person may love hearing that the special entrée for the night is a Spiced Ginger Chicken. Truth is, they love ginger. For me, the word alone tightens my stomach and I know it is not special - to me. Two separate truths.

These are the words of this one reviewer, as she discusses my novel, A Contented Mind: “I also thought they were on the angsty side using phrases like ‘I’d die without you,” “can’t live without you,” etc. Those are just examples and not direct quotes. For two adults, this type of dialogue was a little off-putting and didn’t ring true.”

The love I experienced, that sat as the foundation for this particular line of dialogue, was felt on a cellular level. And when it ended, when the love died, I grieved. I needed time to mourn the loss and to this day I still feel the loss. This person died, by the way. So sometimes us adults can have that deep of love for one another. It happens.

So that is my thought for today; my mental, emotional, deposit into this blogging bank. As a writer we take our lumps, but never should we alter our voice. Thanks for standing in line with me.

Sane

"Play that funky music, white boy." - Wild Cherry

2012-05-24T09:45:00.001-04:00

Image found at: weheartit.com

I have to believe that every writer, spanning every genre, writes differently. Meaning, they have different internal guidelines and methods by which they write. I've read material that I vehemently loved, and I've read material that tasted sour to my mind. Regardless, I respect them all. And always will.

I treat writing much as I do music. I firmly believe there's a place for all kinds within this big beautiful world. I've had friends urge me to listen to a song that they couldn't get enough of, yet when I do, my ears can’t stand the sound of it. However, other than for the purpose of my internal and private preferences, I carry no gavel of judgement, when it comes to creative endeavors.

I have a very singular method by which I write. I write with rhythm. I don’t know why I do this, yet undoubtedly, I do. My sentences carry rhythmic beats. And much like when a drummer drops an out-of-place beat, if my sentences have a syllable that is out-of-place, I’m forced to recraft the sentence. I don’t recraft the message, I recraft the beats held within the sentence.

I imagine these beats are known only to me; felt by me; heard by me. Although I will say I've read many a review in which my writing was likened to music; that it moved along much like a song. So perhaps others, without realizing it, hear the music too.

In my novels, each chapter has its own tempo. Some times the measure is fast, hard and deliberate; other times it softens and slows. My children’s books are written with the same ear, yet with their own unique tempo. I wonder if this is why, for the moment, my first three novels center around music within their story lines - perhaps. I can say the next two novels that are on deck within my mind, take quite an abrupt departure from music. Maybe this has something to do with maturing as a writer; maybe its coincidence.

I heard something last night that stopped me cold; a writer was describing the first book he wrote. He said that he didn’t channel the book and yet while writing it he knew that there was more than just his thinking mind involved in the process. Something larger, with far more knowledge and talent was at work. Yet, he was present and very much a part of the process just the same. He merely followed the energy. My first novel came about in exactly the same way. And to an extent this is how I write even now. If I let go, the words flow. Often words I do not even know will emerge in their perfect place, in perfect rhythm upon the page. My logical mind says this just can't be. Yet, something deep inside knows not only that it is, but that this is how it's supposed to be.

I trust this energy. Whatever it is. The trick - is to follow it - not just when I write, but as I live Life.

Sane

Date Stamps and Paintings

2012-05-23T08:50:00.000-04:00

: Image found at http://vintagewomen.tumblr.com

I have two tattoos that I chose with purpose. I have one, that Fate decided for me.

I have a beautiful blue butterfly on my lower back. The butterfly looks as though it's either landing or about to take off in flight. Coming or going; movement, just the same. Across the top of my right foot is the inked image of a broad winged red-tailed hawk. Again, in the position of flight.

Depression manifests itself in numerous ways; the ways are just about as unique as fingerprints are to an individual. But I think most would agree: depression, at its core, is suffocating and stagnant. The stillness feels like a cocoon from which there is no escape. Desire and the eternal flame of hope that flickers within one's soul just as the heart beats within one's body - is non present. Or so it feels.

My two tattoos indicate my push to set myself free from that cocoon; to emerge, hopefully in one healthy piece. The butterfly, I adopted as a part of myself shortly after a deer torpedoed my Harley (with me on it), nearly causing the end of my life. The hawk I adopted after having written my first novel and just before I set out to make writing my career. I often look down at that hawk, and when I do I’m reminded of how steady they fly regardless of the turbulent winds they are often up against. Their mission is clear; their aim is steadfast; to succeed they cannot waiver. Much like how it feels being a writer.

As for that third tattoo; it's a scar, a rather large one, that sits on the left side of my abdomen. A reminder of that day when my bike and I went down; the result of a deer running for its life, fleeing a coyote. Odd how my life nearly ended due to another trying to preserve its own. But I survived, against many odds. Sadly, the deer did not. And that scar upon my abdomen reminds me that even when I feel at my weakest and most vulnerable; even when life has thrown another devastating hardship my way, I have survived worse.

I look at all three of these things as markers, date stamps that indicate a time in my life. A moment that signalled change. Upon first glance only two of these markers appear beautiful, but to me there is beauty in all three.

Sane

Evolve: develop gradually, esp. from a simple to a more complex form.

2012-05-22T08:09:00.000-04:00

http://vintagewomen.tumblr.com

There’s a great deal about life of which I'm unsure. But I am sure, that it's a journey, one that holds at its core - a purpose.

I also believe every person who enters our life, enters for a reason. Sometimes I figure out the reason early, at other times I’m still left clueless, long after they've gone. Karma has something to do with it, I have to imagine. For the longest time I protested the idea of Karma. Now I see it for the evolutionary tool it may be. God knows there's already been a great deal I haven’t mastered in this life. On that note, my poor soul will have to live out many lifetimes before it finally figures it all out.

I will say that I’ve managed to come to the point wherein I have identified my trigger points, my tendencies and the areas in which I’m quite lacking. As a gift to my soul, and the future lifetimes it will need to take due to my denseness, I suppose I should master these areas; call it a vacation.

There’s a person in my life right now that I know is only there to serve as a catalyst. It helps seeing them in this light. It helps me to move beyond their actions and not respond to the many trigger points they routinely push. Maybe if I stop responding, they’ll stop pushing. I’m not sure, but I’m evermore convinced the problem doesn’t rest with them - it rests with me. They’re just the unique individual that’s used to spotlight my tendencies.

So instead of pleading to the Heavens, asking why it is I’m being dealt this most frustrating of circumstances, I will relax a bit. I will look around and consider the possibility that perhaps its the circumstance needed to push me up and out of the knee-jerk reactionary rut I often find myself in. It seems, I have a lot of work ahead of me. But detaching from the individual, identifying the purpose they embody, has helped. Oh sure, I’d still rather cuff this person up alongside the head. I’m a long way from being Mother Teresa it seems. But at least I’m moving forward.

Sane

Scrambled Eggs and Suntan Lotion

2012-05-18T07:25:00.001-04:00

You have got to be kidding me. You mean to tell me after all this time, and countless tubes and bottles of waterproof sunscreen later - there's no such thing as waterproof sunscreen?

I discovered this little factoid while reading More magazine as I sat in my Jeep waiting for my daughter the other day. Although alone at the time, I let out an audible response, “Say whaaaat?” Done Family Guy style. The article went on to say that due to sunscreen coming off in water (the shower, for instance), technically it shouldn't claim to be waterproof. True, it does wash off. Yet, if the tube said waterproof (with image of surfer on front just to embellish the point), then I’m under the impression the mad scientists who created this miracle substance figured out how to make what was in the bottle differentiate (as if it had a mind), between pool and lake water, and shower and bath water.

I didn’t know how they did it. It’s not my job to know how they did it. I only knew that they did it. For all I knew they harnessed the insanely stubborn molecules found in scrambled eggs that make it stick to a spatula through two dishwasher cycles. My job isn't to make sense of the claim. My job is to merely slather the stuff on and jump in the water.

Of course now, it only makes sense that there's no such thing as waterproof sunscreen. I mean, how could it possibly stay adhered to one's skin in the lake yet effortlessly wash off when in the shower. But just once I would like to believe if something makes a claim, its only able to do so because its a valid claim; founded on evidence. Oddly enough I’m usually skeptical of most product claims. And still so easily was I snookered by this one. Nothing turns me into a curmudgeon quicker than false statements. Why oh why is it companies and people so often say things knowing full well their words are empty. I never do this. I would rather remain quiet than say something that isn't true. In my opinion empty words come from an empty heart.

There's a saying: We are only as good as our word. I don’t hear that saying much anymore, but it has never lost its validity. I wonder why they don’t teach it and its premise, in school? To me it seems a great deal more important than geometry. Truthful statements are vital to a healthy world and relationship, and yet they're constantly dismissed as optional - at best. It isn’t for me. Depending upon the severity of the false statement, I have to either relegate the person to a different part of my life or remove them completely. Like waterproof sunscreen, I can no longer count on what they're saying.

Sane

Grey Areas

2012-05-17T07:22:00.000-04:00

Aging: the natural process to which all things surrender immediately upon existence. When it comes to humans however, this thing that we’ve been busy doing since birth, has spawned a billion dollar industry and almost as many insecurities.

It takes a very grounded individual to see aging as the positive, beautiful, natural process that it is. There are days when I am that grounded person. Admittedly, there are days when I’m not. And on those days let's just say: I could easily scream like a baby.

Women are innately drawn to more than outward appearances. Quality, substance, intelligence, humor. Those are just four, of the many things, that can open a woman’s heart to another. We tend to see beyond what is on the outside. That isn’t to say we don’t appreciate appealing looks. Its just, we use a different perspective when making that judgement call. Men, on the other hand, are visual. They tend to be drawn to what’s on the outside. The good ones want what’s on the inside to be similarly stimulating - but for many - its not a requirement. Men have evolved, just as much as women. Yet, fundamentally this fact remains. I don’t fault men this, any more than I fault women their instinctual tendencies. Knowing this though, as we do, makes things a bit tricky for women while we do what all things do - age. Even though our partner may lose hair faster than a bad poker player loses money, our attraction remains. As long as the person on the inside remains.

There will come a time, not too terribly long from now, when my silver strands outnumber my red, a bra is no longer optional and I find myself standing in the middle of a grocery store aisle dazed; trying to remember what was wrote down on the grocery list left sitting on my kitchen counter. Oh wait - I'm already intimately familiar with such things. My point is, while those things are becoming the new norm, I don't want to feel less than. As my partner ages, I only want to appreciate how he has changed over time and feel love for the person that is sharing my now; regardless of whether there's more hair on his back than on his head. We all deserve quality. Quality food, quality surroundings, a quality career and damn straight we deserve a quality partner; one that’s view is colored by love. And when seeing through those eyes, both tend to behold their partner as the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. Both like what’s on the outside because its merely the covering that's wrapped around what’s on the inside, and that inside person cherishes the other; would and most likely has, walked through fire for the other. And secretly hopes to die first for never wanting to spend a day not waking by the other's side.

I believe such quality people exist. I know good men exist. My brother is one. But whether that wonderful person finds me one day or not, I will do my best to see myself as beautiful. Not because of my appearance, but because of who I am. I'm so far from perfect it isn't even funny. Yet I will never settle for less than quality love; the kind that colors each of us in a beautiful light.

Sane

It's a Toss Up Between Sanguine and Philosophic

2012-05-15T08:15:00.000-04:00

Image if you had to describe yourself in one word. Not an easy task. When full of self pity and personal loathing a few words quickly and easily come to mind. But when we're at our best, then it gets a bit more challenging. When operating at our full potential, it takes a bit more time to find the one word that captures us as a person; like a photograph captures an image. Now, imagine if that one word were chosen by all those that have known you.

While walking my boxer just moments ago, the thought crossed my mind: what would that one word be if others had to describe me. Please keep in mind, it is my opinion that this word would serve only for entertainment purposes; satisfying a curiosity at best.

As we move through life, some of us doing so with gentleness and care, others doing so like a bull in heat, I have to wonder not only the impact we have on others, but the impression we leave. I try to show kindness. I do so because I enjoy showing kindness. But, is that how I come across? I don’t know. I really can't say with any certainty. As a writer, I am startled by the varying ways in which my words occasionally come across. There is the intent of my message, which has been painstakingly spelled out by me, then there is the message for which I never planned. But that is writing; its storytelling; a very poignant shadow of life, but not life itself. The mixing and mingling we do with others, that is life. I have to wonder, in life, is the intent of who we are shining through? When one is nice, are they being perceived as such? When someone is malevolent are they being seen as evil? Or are their others factors at play; other things coloring how we are perceived and thus defined?

Sometimes, regardless of the efforts of the person, their looks shape the opinions ultimately made regarding them. Its just fact. Our appearance does, in many ways, keep us shrouded. This can be good or this can be bad. When a freckle faced child claims innocence in the face of guilt, its easier to take a softened view of their actions. I think I look harsh, yet overall, I would like to think I’m quite the opposite. So I have to wonder then, if the one word chosen by others to describe me would be one that embodies my efforts as a human or is colored (dare I say tainted), by my appearance.

No one defines us, but us. Yet in a world in which we are constantly coexisting, conversing and establishing relationships, this other word - the one chosen by others - is quite revealing. So the next time you look into the eyes of your partner, friend or coworker what word comes to mind? If its a good one, if it is a kind one, you might want to let them know. As it just might be the word they were hoping for.

Sane

Silly Thoughts Under the Sun

2012-05-12T08:16:00.000-04:00

I wonder if a glass of wine constitutes as a serving of fruit? A glass of grape juice does, so it only seems fair and reasonable that wine should as well.

This thought occurred to my while sitting on the deck in the sun, sipping wine and eating kettle cooked barbecue potato chips. It was just one of those days - what can I say. I’m always thinking even when pity munching. Rocking slowly back and forth, the sun warming my feet, I read the entire potato chip bag - including the ingredients. It stated they were made with sunflower and/or canola oil. I have to wonder why they don’t know which? Seems to me, it either has to be one or the other or a blend of both; in which case they would use the word 'and' not 'or.' Imagine if I had company over for dinner, and served something like...let’s say...meatloaf. Plopped it on the table, then proudly said, “Its made with beef and/or turkey.” I have to imagine more than a few questions would follow. Maybe the potato chip makers get their oil from the black market in unmarked kegs.

I heard Dr. Oz mention a supplement that helps the cells let go of stored fat. I figure a middle-aged, single gal such as myself can never be too careful when it comes to stored fat, so I ran out and bought two bottles. I could just forgo the chips but that's no fun, so I’ve been downing the little pills like Tic Tac’s instead.

Speaking of Tic Tac's, as far as I can tell there are two kinds of Tic Tac people: those that painfully coax one or two mints from the clear, square container with jerky little movements and those that merely dump a handful into their palm then slap their palm to their mouth. I’m the latter. In fact, unless I’m having to appear dignified, I go the baby birdie approach: open mouth, pour down shoot. Doing so is most enjoyable when wearing ripped jeans and a tee, with an open top Jeep. The moment screams: carefree.

Today I head to a book signing with my daughter in tow. She is, after all, the inspiration for the book series. It seems only right she be there. So sweet she is in her spirited, colorful outfit - me on the other hand in my favorite Muppet tee. In a way, watching my daughter savor the moment is a Mother’s Day gift I give myself. A gift I intend on enjoying. If I don't write another blog before Mother's Day, I want to wish all of those who've shown love, support and compassion to a child, friend or partner a Happy Mother's day - because those three things are the hallmark of motherhood. Nurturing those we love - that's what we do.

Sane

A Passion Of Mine

2012-05-11T11:36:00.001-04:00

"I rarely use my Insanity Blog to promote my books. I'd like to think if someone is interested, they'll check them out all on their own without me pushing. However, The Dainty Delaney children's chapter book series is dear to me and that is why I've posted it on a fabulous site, Kickstarter.com - a site for creative souls hoping to gather support and create a buzz.

I created this book series with the hope of helping kids feel good about themselves. I can't even imagine all that I could've accomplished by now if I hadn't had the hang ups and insecurities I've had to spend years overcoming. These books, I hope, will help kids see their true potential - regardless of size, shape or color. I'm sharing it with you, my readers, with the hope you'll share in my passion and help also to create a buzz. So please share this blog, repost, tweet, stumble... however you do it, it'll be appreciated. One book at a time we just may help kids look at themselves in a whole new way. Thank you everyone!"

~ Sane

Often how we feel about ourselves when young, remains with us even when old. Insecurities begin like harmless seeds, but overtime, grow roots and branches.

Imagine what we could accomplish if we accepted ourselves - fully and unconditionally. Everyone deserves that chance.

Dainty Delaney is a children's chapter book series about a girl who has a personality that's larger than life, but that same indomitable spirit is held within a rather dainty frame - and she can't stand it! With each book, she overcomes life's little challenges, not by sprouting in height so much, but by sprouting in inner strength. Book #1 in the series, Dainty Delaney and the Carnival Shoes, has already caused kids to laugh, feel anxious then relieved...right along with Delaney as she works to force her loose teeth out so she can buy a pair of boots that she hopes will boost her up enough to get on the cool rides at the carnival. The reviews so far have been so overwhelmingly sweet, positive and sincere - as the writer, I could easily get a bit weepy. But its a good cry. Knowing we are impacting kids, well, that's what its all about. These books help to enlighten kids to their true potential. And simply put - that's our mission.

As the writer and creator, my hope is to help kids believe in themselves and love themselves - just as they are. Imagine what great things we could accomplish if we didn't give energy to our insecurities. I hope to help kids do just that. This first series consists of five books. If all goes well, I hope to create another series in which Delaney helps other kids deal with theirstruggles. Paying her wisdom and compassion forward - if you will.

I respect my readers. I treat kids no differently. The writing in these stories and the illustrations are fun, edgy and smart.

We are 100% grassroots at this point. Everything we are doing, we are doing on our own. Our momentum is gaining though, and we are truly excited. I say we because its not just me behind this great project. As a writer, I am blessed to have a wonderful illustrator. As a mother, I have two great kids that help inspire these stories. Dainty Delaney is, after all, modeled after my own daughter. She's a handful, but I couldn't be more proud and I wouldn't want her to be any other way. So, that is the 'we' that is truly excited about bringing this project to life. And if we do our job well, we will help shift the way kids view themselves, little by little removing some of those seeds of doubt.

Life can be a little rough at times - but loving yourself - never should be.

By empowering this project, you are helping to empower countless kids.

The is the Dainty Delaney children's chapter book series project on Kickstarter.com

Give Me The Beat Boys And Free My Soul

2012-05-10T08:38:00.000-04:00

In life there are many important decisions. This is one of them. When I die, I don’t want a funeral. Those closest to me know this already. If my kids see fit to have a gathering - that’s fine. Make it a celebration though. And while my guests are mulling around drinking good wine they will do so as I love Rock and Roll by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts thunders in the background. It seems only fitting, as I emulated her during my youth.

The soundtrack to my life, is an important one. In fact, I’m not sure if I’d be here right now if it weren’t for music. At times music merely adds texture and rhythm in the background, at other times it is truly a life preserver used to pull me back onto the boat. I listen to it when I'm happy. I listen to it when I'm sad.

After Ms. Jett has had a chance to force everyone to feel the beat, then the soundtrack would shift onto Dobie Gray. The poignant guitar riff and opening lines, being the opening lines for much of my life. "Day after day I’m more confused. I look for the light through the pouring rain. You know that's a game that I hate to lose. I'm feelin' the strain. Ain't it a shame. Oh, give me the beat boys and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away."

The day wouldn’t be about sadness, so the music would naturally shift to Nirvana, Three Dog Night, Foo Fighters, ABBA, The Pixies and 4 Non Blondes. There would be plenty of Blues and music that spans the old and the new. So many songs.

I think everyone should make such a playlist. And either instead of, or in addition to, a sermon or speech wherein one’s life is recounted upon their passing, gatherers listen to the music that touched their heart, mind and soul while alive. I think the music one listens to, or the fact that they don’t listen to music at all, tells a great deal about a person. Just as it sets the stage and vibe within a movie; it surely sets the stage within one's life.

So, if you find yourself at my ‘life celebration’, enjoy the music. Enjoy the glorious drum beats and guitar riff that serve as the harbinger to I Love Rock and Roll. Think of me fondly of course. But smile as you do, knowing that when I was just a young girl of twelve years, I listened to Joan Jett belt out her fiery songs and wanted to be just like her: bold, beautiful and strong. I’m not musically inclined, unfortunately. So, had I not pursued writing I would’ve been a doctor, psychiatrist or an animator; all three careers that I seriously considered pursuing and/or did pursue. But, if I could’ve...I would’ve...been just like her; screaming with all my might on stage, feeling the drum beat beneath my feet while urging everyone to scream and shout. But in a way, that’s what I do when I write.

Sane

Drift Away. Dobie Gray
I Love Rock and Roll. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

Been There Done That

2012-05-09T07:59:00.001-04:00

www.flickriver.com

I don’t really want a doctor who's experienced only perfect health. And I sure as heck don’t want an attorney who's never, themselves, been sued, or a financial investor who doesn't know how vulnerable it feels to be without funds.

I have a hard time having faith in those that haven’t learned through experience. This does not mean the others are not skilled or knowledgeable. It doesn’t mean that at all. It just means I don't relate to them as well. As they say - it takes all kinds. And I tend to do better with those that have been there.

I always joke that if and when Fate brings me a partner I hope they too have gone through a miserable divorce - if not - how would they possibly understand, on an intimate level, the emotional toll it takes on a person. I don’t want someone who’s without a few flaws and rough edges. Because I too have those. As long as they’re honest, have a good heart and I’m drawn to them like a bee on pollen - then I’ll be pleased. I have other prerequisites but these three sit at the core of what I would like.

For some reason, I appreciate writers, actors and musicians, ten times more once I learn their success did not come easy. There is something very admirable about their success having come solely due to their talent and tenacity. I remember listening to a certain inspirational leader a few months back. He was brimming with positive sentiments. Very likable person. His father was the same and passed his followers onto his son. But, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but to think about the vast difference between the one teaching and the one’s listening. I have to imagine many of them did not inherent an enormous, profitable group of followers. I wonder how this man would've fared if he had to cultivate his own following; one by one, while working numerous jobs. I wonder if he would've had the inner strength and positive thoughts to push forward. He might have, but we'll never know.

I know I felt better when my heart surgeon shared with me his own heart disease problems. His disease is different than mine, yet I knew instantly that he, out of necessity, was practicing what he preached. I also like it when those helping others with weight loss were once those in need of weight loss. They understand. And you can always tell the difference between those who understand and those who don't. I guess, when I look in someone’s eyes, I like to see that they've traveled down the road for which I'm about to walk. With every step they gathered wisdom they wouldn't have otherwise.

Sane

Its All How You Look At It

2012-05-08T13:30:00.000-04:00

I should clarify something: I’m not a Blogger. Actually, I’m a writer that maintains a blog as a way of sweeping random thoughts from my mind; clearing way for the many story lines that stream through my head. Within these blogs I often try to encourage you and me to feel good about ourselves. But then again, that’s the message hidden within my novels as well.

It came as a bit of a surprise when someone commented that I have become a bit negative and critical as of late. I’m not sure where those comments stemmed from, but I can say this: I do feel life can be negative at times, and I work hard to acknowledge it for what it is then work to cast a positive light. That holds true for relationships, our body image, pursuing our dreams or raising children; it holds true for everything. Sometimes those negative thoughts are conjured all on our own, at other times they are voiced through the mouths of friends or family. Maybe the media is the one that is reminding us of our shortcomings. Either way, there’s plenty to pull us down. If you’ve walked through life without any negative influences, then consider yourself not only lucky, but also one in a million.

We can’t do a great deal to change those influences, but we have complete control over what we do with those influences. Hence the message imbued within many of my blogs. Sometimes they’re written because I feel you may need to hear it, often its written because I need to hear it. Sometimes they are just random thoughts needing to be said.

Oddly enough, I’ve never written (what seems to me) a negative blog. Within this mind of mine, if I wanted to go dark and negative, I could easily take us down into a dark, dark abyss. I won't do that. However, I’m ever aware of the world around me, and it isn’t always light, bright and pretty and I’m not afraid to talk about it. I feel we are a bit stronger once we do. I’m not afraid to admit to the challenges of living in this world. I want everyone to feel a bit more empowered, a bit less timid and a lot more confident to shine their brightness. I’m not afraid to remind us all to shine our wonderfully unique light regardless of how dark or bright the world around us.

Sane

Since the Dawn of Man

2012-05-02T08:16:00.000-04:00

Have you realized that since very early on, mankind has sought out some sort of mind altering substance? I’ve realized this. They say it started tens of thousands of years ago and quite by accident. Something was most likely left out where it then fermented. I have to wonder about the hapless adventurer who eyed this seemingly spoiled liquid, most likely sniffed it, then shrugged and took a swig after deciding, “What the heh?” And - what - a - discovery - they - made.

Freud believed there are no such things as accidents. In this instance, I quite agree. It only makes sense to me that this beverage of varying kinds was sent from above as the Heavens soon realized things were going to get a little intense and we mere mortals would damn well need something to smooth out the rough edges. Or at least, I like to think such benevolence exists among the Gods.

Gluttony of any sort is never a good thing. I’ve over drank, over ate and over thought on many an occasion - and I can only say: all three are harmful when done in excess.

With that said, nothing is nicer (well maybe a few things), than a good glass of wine. I enjoy seeking out and buying wine almost as much as drinking it - almost. I love the history behind each and every bottle. I love the way it possesses a multitude of intricate flavors and nuances. Of course, I also thoroughly enjoy the way it gradually softens my mind. A mental message, if you will. If one wanted to become quite wealthy all they need do is find a way to capture that softening moment; figure out how to make it last, then bottle it and distribute it to the masses. Because that, ‘oh, that feels better,’ moment is indeed fleeting. It comes in, and before we are ever ready, it goes out.

A good glass of wine is best when shared. Then again, happiness and life are best when shared. And when with friends I often do. But I'm partnerless and may very well always be. I have decided however, not to let that stop me from enjoying these sacred, fleeting, relaxed moments. Occasionally, while sitting on my deck I let the sun’s setting rays warm me as I slowly sip a smooth red. And for now, doing so alone will have to do. Life is too short, and at times, a bit too rough to forgo this softened retreat every now and again.

Sane

Little Poets

2012-05-01T07:59:00.000-04:00

We are all different and unique. Some simple and some complex. But like carefully prepared delicacies spread along a buffet, we can never be to everyone's liking. Many enjoy the flavor of vanilla cake. Yet, I will never be like that of a vanilla cake. And it seems, the same holds true for my daughter. Although mildly different from one another, we both will never be minimal ingredient, mild flavored individuals. There is a need and a place for all of these different flavors. I can't change who I am anymore than an artichoke can become a banana. And I urge my daughter to never try. Because after years of trying, I learned and had to accept that I will forever be one of the more intensely flavored desserts sitting at the end of the buffet line. Far from sour, but admittedly complex. Whatever flavor you find yourself being, enhance it but never change it. Life would be too bland otherwise.

Forgive Me

Forgive me Heaven while I rest,

The mother.

I am not, it seems, at my best.

My thoughts are far from light ‘n good,

truth is, I don’t feel as I should.

All is not over, all is not lost,

just grown weary of the cost.

There’s a price to be paid,

if goals are won ‘n dreams made.

With all the trials, life’s ups and downs,

I found my path along inner ground.

So forgive me while I sit alone,

just need time to find my way home.

Samantha Hoffman, circa 1979 (10 yrs. old)

Wonderland

The daughter.

I find myself in wonderland,

its as real as its pretend.

When the world's crushing down,

when I fell and hit the ground,

I turn myself around.

Nothing's going to stop me,

I'll survive,
I won't cry.

I'm upside down,

and I fell down,
I'm underground.

Chloe Hoffman, September 2010 (8yrs. old)

Oh, For Cryin' Out Loud

2012-04-27T08:53:00.000-04:00

There are a couple commercials that irritate me to the point of - well - writing about them.

“There’s nothing worse than standing in line to buy stamps,” the man says in one of the commercials. After he makes this rather melodramatic statement, a series of people offer up similar words expressing the horrors of leaving one's home to buy stamps. In less than a millisecond I can think of a litany of far worse things than standing in line to buy stamps; having no money to even buy stamps being the first; standing in a pediatric oncology clinic being the second. I think most of us can scribble off a pretty extensive list of things that are worse. In fact, if a tedious wait in line at the post office was to be the worse thing I experienced in my life - I'd be one very fortunate lady.

The other commercial that irks me is one in which a young woman isn’t sure if she should accept a friend’s invitation to Las Vegas as her teeth are a couple shades too dark. For all intents and purposes I couldn’t even tell her teeth were in need of whitening but apparently they were so discolored she just might have to stay home. If this doesn’t instill in women an unhealthy dose of insecurity, I can’t imagine what does. She is saved, thank God, by owning some quick whitening strips. And then in another commercial, along the same vein, security guards can’t even recognize a woman in her passport picture, due to her now whitened teeth. Forget about her entire head and face - her brighter smile have the guards baffled.

I’m not the curmudgeon it may seem. But these commercials do make me a bit surly. I think they would do better if they tried to appeal to real people living real lives. I know of no one that would forgo a trip due to the shade of their teeth. No one.

And I’m not down on commercials, in fact some commercials are more enjoyable than the show I’m watching, or they’ll have a catchy tune that I'll remember long after having forgotten my own birthday, “Sometimes you feel like a nut...sometimes you don’t...Almond Joy’s got nuts...Mound’s don’t.”

As we all head off into the weekend, let me just say that I hope the worse calamity to befall you is a trip to the post office. And if, by chance, you are invited anywhere - go, be happy - regardless of your teeth being two shades less than brilliant white.

Sane

It's All Up To You

2012-04-26T08:48:00.000-04:00

Beauty is subjective. And the only one defining your beauty should be - you.

A few years ago, this topic sat in my awareness to the extent that I could think of little else. As I went from place to place, I casually watched women and how they presented themselves. How a woman feels about herself is easily seen. The way in which we present ourselves, even when unintentional, is very telling.

To me, there is nothing more beautiful than a woman who is confident and comfortable with herself. Tall, short, skinny or wide - these things aren’t what makes a woman beautiful. Because I have seen beautiful woman in all of these different forms. Beauty comes from within, and has the ability to shine through any exterior.

We all want to look good. But the one to define what good is, needs to be us. I am at my most comfortable and feel the most beautiful when in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. I can’t say anyone else would agree, but because I’m not seeking their opinion, I really don’t care. When dressed like this, do I look my best within the eyes of others - probably not. But I’m happy. And unless I’m doing something that requires me to dress differently, this is the attire in which you will most likely find me. Sometimes people feel the need to comment; I allow them. Then I choose to refrain from commenting on their attire. To do otherwise would be hurtful. And, truthfully, I don’t care what they are wearing or if their lipstick seems too bold. Who made me the judge of them. I want to notice their beauty, not find fault, or worse - make them doubt themselves.

To me, a smile shows a woman's beauty better than stiletto heels, a flouncy scarf or a pretty shade of lipstick. Because without the smile, none of those things stands a chance. I have never once seen a smile that wasn’t beautiful. I don’t care how white one’s teeth are either - as its the feeling of warmth and happiness that prompts the smile which gives it its innate beauty. So, write your own definition of what makes you beautiful. Claim it and make it your own. Then smile and walk proudly knowing that it is uniquely yours.

Sane

Fresh Air

2012-04-23T07:34:00.000-04:00

Image from weheartit.com

There were two main streams of thought that flowed through my home when I was young: don’t get too happy because disappointment isn’t far away, and everything that's been prayed for sits always out of reach.

These were the ardent beliefs of my parents and thus became the feelings of everyone else in the household. And thus, I have lived my life never fully able to exhale. When a good moment rolls around, I acknowledge it, but rarely let my guard down and enjoy it - as surely once I do, disappointment will ambush me. Or so I’ve been raised to believe. Over the last few years I have chosen to reshape my world, my mind, and my heart. I now try to live in the present and allow the present to be whatever it appears to be - good, bad or otherwise. Not because I’m a spiritual guru, but because it occurred to me one day that life is simply a series of these little ‘now’ moments.

I haven’t fully mastered this yet, but I’m trying. Those maladjusted beliefs from my youth were the beliefs of my parents, I was only a child and like second hand smoke accidentally inhaled their beliefs and made them my own. But if asked I would have said then, as I’d say now, I don’t want those beliefs. I really would rather be happy, even if for only a day.

So this journey of shaping my own world, shaping my own mind is much of what I write about. It is amazing how the influences of others have so greatly impacted our lives. Unintentionally or intentionally, their hands and beliefs can mold our world long after their touch is gone.

Disappointment may still find us, as it does everyone, but why be expectant of its arrival. Let it surprise us. We can deal with it, if and when it arrives - there is no need to deal with it any sooner. Either way, when a happy moment is before us, breathe it in and enjoy it for as long as it lasts. No good comes from being pensive and anxious while waiting for life to become unfettered. We could very well croak on the eve of that unfettered day, having waisted all the days that led up to that moment. To the best that we can, take in life’s beauty, absorb life for what it’s offering in the moment, and relish each day - because truthfully - sometimes it is our last. So make it a good one. And if I haven’t said it before - thank you for joining me today.

Sane

Sampling Life

2012-04-21T22:06:00.000-04:00

When I was young my father talked me into trying raw hamburger; shaped into a small ball; dowsed heavily with salt. I thought it tasted divine. Later when alone I tried raw bacon. Then my mom found out, and informed me that doing so could result in a worm growing inside my intestines. I stopped immediately, then spent the next year worrying there was a worm growing inside my intestines.

My brother once sampled a Milk Bone dog biscuit. I think it was green. Maybe not - but if it had been me, I would’ve tried the green one. I knew a girl in kindergarden who sampled crayons. I never ate crayons but I did give paper a try. I’ve given many things a try since, some resulted in things I will never live without - others, I hope to never try again. I remember the day my father taught me how to ride my first minibike. I was scared out of my mind, convinced I couldn’t do it. Once off and rolling, I didn't want to stop. And to this day I feel more comfortable on my Harley than in a car.

I remember the day I first tried a Krispy Kreme doughnut. It was the same day I married my ex husband. Looking back, that doughnut was the best thing that happened that day. Some things in life take no courage what-so-ever to try, other things take a level of inner strength we aren’t even sure we possess. That’s why we often refrain from pushing ourselves into new territory. At least I do. After ten years spent in a bad marriage with someone who told lies spanning from the benign to the malignant, I lost all courage to give love a try. Love requires trust, and trust is something I hardly feel strong enough to attempt.

A few months back I fell unintentionally in love, but from there I've had to find the strength to move forward and work towards trust. I can’t say I’ve gotten there. Regardless of what ultimately comes of that relationship, I don’t regret having loved, and having tried. Life is about living, sampling life, and finding the courage to do what - out of fear - we've prevented ourselves from experiencing. I don’t want to live a life imprisoned within the walls of fear. There is enormous risk in opening oneself up to new things - love, career changes, moving, fulfilling one’s dreams - these are all things that hold no guarantee of success. And yet, if success is ever to be experienced, one has to give it a try. We will never know, not only life’s full potential - but our full potential - unless we try.

Sane

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

2012-04-19T07:31:00.000-04:00

“And you will know the truth, and that truth will set you free,” says the Bible. This statement can be taken in a few different ways: truth about others, inner truth, life truth. I can’t say for certain if freedom follows truth. But I can say, once one admits the truth to themselves - there’s no going back.

There came a point in my marriage, after years of personal denial, when the truth wanted out. Either I was going to die inside from the quiet pain of discontent or let my inner voice be heard, and find the grit needed to deal with what followed. As if my truth had a mind of its own, it decided to express itself within the words of a novel. During that period, I had to face the fact that I did not love my husband in the way one should love their partner. I was devoted to him, but in no way was I in love with him.

Well, what followed can only be described with these two words - pure hell. And yet, despite the monumental turn the truth forced me to make, I never looked back and never once felt even a hint of regret. I knew that I would rather live alone than with someone with whom I was not deeply in love. There are certain perils inherent to that type of impassioned love - but far better to experience those than the perils of wasting one’s life away with the wrong person; knowing all the while that they’re the wrong person.

The other truth I finally had to admit to myself was that I wanted to take all that dwelled within me and put it into words. A truth my inner being recognized the moment I put my 8 year old nose into a dusty, 1869 copy of Little Women. A full-on vulnerable, often lonely pursuit and one without any financial guarantees, but one that no longer could be denied. And on the lonely nights or days filled with doubt, I glance at the reviews my books and blog have received (I keep each and every one), words like: wow, amazing, it made me feel happy, mad and sad, I couldn’t put it down, well-written and I loved it - and take comfort. Those words steady my feet as I keep pushing forward down this path.

These truths, embody the road I have chosen. As scared as I get at times, as convinced as I sometimes feel that I may die alone accompanied only by a houseful of rescue dogs - I don’t regret walking this road. There is a singular freedom that resides within being honest with one's self. I only regret that I didn’t have the courage to set my truth free earlier.

Sane

God Only Knows What's Around The Bend

2012-04-18T06:48:00.000-04:00

I can’t even begin to presume to know the thoughts and lives of others. However, I have to believe its safe to say that most of us, at one point, have found ourselves standing at a crossroad. I’ve been standing in this figurative, yet profoundly real location for a few days now. If I don’t move soon, birds will begin to land upon my head.

I have, in the past, turned the wrong way and walked down many a bad road. I’d like to say I learned a great deal, and due to the road, grew stronger - I didn't, not really. All those roads managed to do, if anything, was change me.

When standing in this precarious place, with feet that aren’t sure where to go, I strain my eyes hoping to get a better view of what’s in the distance. But some roads, or at least the ones before me, are curved - there is no guarantee what rests beyond the first bend. There is always the unseen and there is always the unknown.

Friends try to help. Offering a different vantage point, they stand beside me and say, “Well I don’t know if you’re able to see this from where your standing but... that road may look good but there’s one hell of a drop about a quarter mile down. Its like the road just disappears.” Or, “That road looks like the one you’ve been looking for, but... did you see the hornet’s nest?” And, “Everyone else is going thatta' way. Maybe you should too?”

I don’t like drop offs, drama or any other travesty. If a road is solid though, feels right and most importantly, my internal compass and I agree, then I don’t mind a hornet’s nest. I'll Navy SEAL tummy crawl it, to get around them if I have to - but they won't stop me.

So if you’re standing at a crossroad - don’t be afraid to move. Crouch, duck and run like hell if you must. But move. And, remember, just because everyone’s heading in one direction, doesn’t mean that's your direction. Only you know where you want to go.

Sane

Don't Tell Me We're Out Of Mustard Again

2012-04-17T07:50:00.000-04:00

I’m not surprised so many people are choosing to remain single. In fact, if I'm surprised by anything its that this surge in single-hood didn’t happen earlier.

Men and women process, handle and conjure thoughts and emotions so differently, its a wonder we can effectively communicate. I’m being facetious, but only slightly. The diehard romantic in me believes these differences are there for a reason, and when the right connection is made - these seemingly distinct and individual attributes compliment one another wonderfully. Like two different instruments. Like flowers and trees. Like ketchup and mustard.

I can’t say for sure if out there, somewhere, lives my... mustard; a tasty blend that'll mingle deliciously with my mind and heart. I think I spotted a bottle. I do know, every time I try to harden my heart against the possibility, I end up hardening myself as a whole (note to men: this is what women do after experiencing too much hurt, disappointed or betrayal. Some lash out. Some die inside. Some harden). So as of yet, meaning today, right now, as I sit here, I’m not ready to give up - yet.

I love writing male characters almost more than woman. I guess it gives me the opportunity to be fickle, quirky, moody and detached in a way that women, generally speaking, aren’t. Whereas women, generally speaking, can at times be emotional, contemplative and impetuous, with minds that rarely forget past transgressions and eyes that rarely overlook insensitivity. For the most part, female emotions are rooted deeper within her soul. All is inner-connected for women. This is one of our greatest and most beautiful strengths, as well as weakness.

Now to figure out what kind of mustard goes best with a pleasant, organic ketchup sweetened with agave nectar but with hints of jalapeño.

Sane

My Frustration Equals That Of My Clarity

2012-04-16T07:48:00.000-04:00

Call me a nerd if you like, but I like Jeopardy. I also like the Wheel of Fortune. I can’t say I ever set out to watch these shows. But when the timing is right I can be found standing in front of the television; arms folded across chest; swaying slightly, while saying the answers out loud. In other words: I'm in the zone. And I have to presume, this is the common game show home contestant stance.

If ever I have a live-in companion, this will be one of the peculiar sites they will see. I will say, to my credit, I have been known to nail a column or two on Jeopardy. And when the Wheel of Fortune is on I’m surprisingly good at blurting out the correct answers. I feel certain I’d do even better if they didn’t keep cutting the camera away from the board to show the damn wheel as it click, click, clicks then stops.

During the mid seventies there was no better TV show, in what was my young opinion, than Candid Camera. I even liked the theme song, "Smile! You're on Candid Camera." When I need a boost and a smile, I watch it on YouTube. Like most shows it changed over the years and in the doing lost its magic, but oh what fun it still is to watch as people try to make sense of the nonsensical.

Life makes no sense to me. How wonderful it would be when things just don't add up, or people are behaving bizarre, if Allen Funt would emerge, smile then point toward the camera. Knowing that I hadn't lost my mind, I'd kick my head back with a happy, boisterous laugh. Sadly, that's never happened. And usually the bewilderment scene in my everyday life brings about an expression far different than that of a laugh. Maybe that’s why that simple show was so enjoyed back then. And maybe that’s why I’m watching an awful lot of it on YouTube now.

Sane