A Downer Day

The sun is shining.  The temperature is almost perfect.  My dog is wagging her tail.  I had red velvet cake for dessert after lunch.  And I'm still feeling a bit down today.

After about a month and a half off, I began my job search again today.  It was a tentative beginning...just checking my options and such...but it seems that for most everything I come across I'm either under qualified or over educated...and sometimes both.  It's kind of a stinky place to be...especially in this economy.

Now that I'm back home, I've gotten endless suggestions of what I should do next...or what kind of jobs might be good for me.  A lot of the suggestions sound great...if any of them actually had openings.  I have full expectations that the whole writer's path will pan out for me some time in the future, but realistically, I've got to pay the bills until then (preferably without my parents' help).

So the deadline is February.  That's when the last little drop will be squeezed out of what is left in the Bank of Georgia, and I'll go into real desperate mode.  So say a prayer...offer a suggestion...anything would be welcomed at this point.

Fortunately for me, my family doesn't let me have too many downer days.  They keep me motivated and encouraged...but every now and then, I dwell on it all a bit too much.  Today was one of those days.  But tomorrow will be better :).

Sorrows and Celebrations

I've been thinking a lot over the last few days about the fragility of life.  Over the summer, while I was still in California and unable to make it home, my beloved uncle passed away suddenly.  Now, as I mentioned a couple of posts ago, another respected man in my church and my community died with little warning almost a week ago now.  This man and my uncle lived across the street from each other...and they both died of massive, unexpected heart attacks.  They both leave behind wives to whom they were married for over 50 years.  My uncle had spent the morning getting up hay, and the man from my church had spent his evening at Bible study.  They were both here one second and gone the next. There wasn't a lot of pomp and circumstance...there was no elaborate death scene...there were no drawn out moments for last requests and I love yous...just here, then gone.

I had a teacher who once said there are only two things you "have" to do in life...pay taxes and die.  We all must face death, but almost every one of us gets a bit squeamish when we take the time to really think about it.  We go through these periods - most often around the deaths of those close to us -  where we ponder our mortality, but it's usually only a short time until we push it away again, saving it to consider on another day.  Because no matter how much we realize we're not guaranteed tomorrow, we still expect it...we still plan for it...and we still take it for granted.

Yes, death is a part of life.  Funerals at my church are considered celebrations of lives rather than good-byes because we believe that there's something extraordinary beyond this world.  And that helps...it really does...but still, despite the hope and promise, your heart breaks over the immediate loss...the sorrow overwhelms...the sadness sets in...and you question how you'll even get out of bed the next day...you'll question whether it's even worth it.

But then you realize it is.  And somehow you manage to throw one leg out of the bed, then the other.  Because with all of your sorrow and grieving, the world keeps right on spinning, and life keeps moving.  So you trudge on, putting one foot in front of the other until each step slowly becomes a bit easier and a bit easier.  Then, you start to notice something...new life is springing up here and there...and the sting of the loss, though still not gone, is a little less sharp than before.

My church had a wonderful example of this last week.  Just a few hours after one member left this world, another one was born.  A brand, new tiny baby girl.  Her presence didn't replace the sorrow, but it reminded us that there is a circle to this life...where one person's ends, another's begins.  Even in the darkness there's still hope, there's still a promise that if we have the courage to take that next step, we'll find the sure footing we need to keep trudging on.  Though we will always look back with fondness, we must look forward with faith...with celebration of what was, what is, and what is yet to come.

Super Productivity November! Yay!

Well, November is here...ready or not!  I've now been back in Alabama for almost a month, and though I've been moderately productive, I've allowed a few things to pull my attention away from my goals.  Some of it has been necessary and unavoidable - unpacking and spending time with the family - but some of it has been laziness - sitting on the couch and gorging on TV after not having it for four months.  However, I have decided that this month will be super productivity November!    It's got to be!  I want too much out of life to allow seconds, minutes, days, and so forth tick on by with nothing to show for it!  This month is the time for determination, perseverance, and ambition to kick into overdrive!

I was talking to my cousin the other day about how easy it is to allow yourself to slip into a pattern of procrastination and inactivity.  It takes so much less effort to sit on the couch and stare out the window than it does to put pen to paper and construct something creative.  I love to write.  It's my passion...and has been for as long as I can remember.  However, there are some days when my head hurts more at the thought of figuring out a plot line than it would if I banged it against the wall for eight hours.  Some days I can feel the story in the very beats of my heart, but I just can't get my brain and fingertips to translate it into words that do it any justice at all.  On those days, the words "fail" and "can't" start creeping into my thought process, and I start thinking I should've taken another route...another path.

It's frustrating.  It really is.  And when it gets so frustrating is when I want to just set it aside and stare at the TV or out the window...or to run screaming across the pasture (I am back on the farm, you know)...but if I start taking too many days to stare at the TV, then I really don't get anything done at all...and that's just a waste.  There are times for a break, and there are times to power through.  Now is certainly my time to turn up the burners and plow right on through.  I've got too many projects and thoughts and inklings that have been set aside for too long.  I've just got to suck in a deep breath and take a running dive right in!

And you know what?  I'm looking forward to it!  This is super productivity November, by golly, and I'm going to celebrate!

Community

As I've mentioned before, moving back in with my parents has been a very humbling experience...especially now that most of my friends from this side of the U.S. are married with children or well on their way towards one or both.  I've been in a place that is overwhelmingly career-centered for so long that I've had to readjust to a family/community-centric atmosphere.  However, though there were several reasons I had to return to Alabama, this community is one of the reasons that I wanted to move back.  Everywhere I've lived, I've met kind, caring people who have gone the extra mile to help me when I needed it...but thus far, I've never found another community like the one in which I grew up.

The night before last, one of the pillars of my church and my childhood passed away.  A man who made sure the church air conditioning was turned off after service and the doors were locked.  A man who cut the grass at the local recreation center with little recognition.  A man who came to the aid of his neighbors with no hesitation.  A man with whom I talked Alabama football at last Saturday's fall festival.  Even with older people, it's hard to come to terms with the here today and gone tomorrow part of life.  It's hard to reconcile the fact that I shook his hand on Sunday, but I won't next Sunday.  Things change in the blink of an eye.  People are gone in an instant.  It makes you realize the fragility of life...and the importance of the imprint that's left behind.  For this man, it's his selflessness...and I believe that's one of the most cherished imprints of all.

Now that it's this man's family who are in need, the people of the community are rallying around them.  As soon as the news began to spread, ladies headed to their kitchens to make sure the family wouldn't have to worry about food while they grieved and made preparations...and men asked what they could do to make things a little easier.  And tonight, a line will form outside the funeral home as people - one-by-one - offer their condolences, pay their respects, and share their memories.  Though it will all go by in a flurry for the family that lost their loved one unexpectedly, someday soon they'll look back and be humbled by the seemingly unending supply of shoulders to cry on and arms reaching out for support.  I know this because I've stood in their places before...and inevitably I will again...but every time I witness this outpouring of love and consideration, I am even more amazed at the power of a community to pull together just at the moment they're needed.

Am I suggesting that my community is perfect?  No, certainly not.  Some days it feels that more of the news circulating around is bad rather than good.  People struggling, people suffering, people getting into trouble of this sort or that...just like most everywhere else in the world.  I'm not even trying to convince you that it's better than your community...but it's a wonderful fit for me.  Unlike in Los Angeles, it's difficult to live here in complete anonymity.  People either know you...or they will soon...and if you're in need of some sort, somebody will do their best to give you a hand.  I've moved away before - and it's likely I will again - but as they always have, I'm certain that this community...these people that I love...will make sure I never lose my connection...they are my roots and my foundation...and they always will be.

Tech School Genius

My dad didn't go to college.  To hear him tell it, he was never really good at school anyway.  In fact, he often calls himself a lame brain and references a childhood fall from a tree onto his head as the reason.  But I know his secret.  I know he's really a genius.

Coming from a poor family, my dad had a lot of his decisions made by his circumstances rather than his own desires.  There was more of a need to survive, rather than dream.  I'm not sure he ever really allowed himself to imagine much further than the next day or the next week.  He's a realist - and at times a pessimist - but he's loyal, dedicated, and approaches life with a sense of duty.  That sense of duty led him to answer the call when drafted - to yet again do what he had to do rather than what he may have wanted to do - and spend two years in the Army, a stint which sent him around the world to Vietnam and, thankfully, back again.  By the time he returned, real life was already well on its way, and the days that were meant for dreaming were long gone.

My dad went on to tech school, became certified as an electrical mechanic, and spent well over thirty years working at the Anniston Army Depot, where he built and repaired various components in military equipment from tanks to missiles.  And while it may seem that he settled for less, I believe what he actually got was more.  He's never needed big, flashy things...he's only needed to work hard and provide for his family.  I think, in many ways, that was his greatest dream of all...and for him, it came true.  He doesn't have excess, but he has what he needs...and that's all he's ever wanted.

My dad tells me that I'm the one with the brains and the opportunity.  Maybe I do have the opportunity, but it's only because he and my mother have given it to me.  They've worked hard and sacrificed, so that I can follow my dreams, wild and flighty though they might be.  However, the true genius of the family is my dad.  I've known this for a long time, but I think I've only really come to appreciate it since I've returned home.

For the last three years, I've been out in California in universities and workplaces where I've been surrounded by highly educated men and women.  People who speak perfect English, wear business suits, and love to flash their prized possessions.  So far, none have compared to the intelligence of my father who, with his deep Southern drawl and camo work pants, can fix almost anything...or will at least give it an honest try.  In the three weeks since I've been home, he has repaired my bicycle, fixed the leg on a DVD stand, worked on the pipes leading to our toilet, and rewired the pump for our well (though he did call in a little help from a professional on that one).  And just last year, when his computer's motherboard died and he found he couldn't simply purchase another motherboard to replace it, he bought one that was not intended for that computer, rewired the plugs, installed it, and now the computer runs faster than it ever did before.  All I have to do is tell my dad something is not working, and he fiddles with it until he finds a way to fix it...and if he can't totally rectify the problem, he'll usually find a temporary fix until someone else can come in and make the necessary repairs.

Even beyond all that, my dad is a problem-solver, a self-taught engineer, and an inventor.  He has natural ingenuity and a type of perseverance and commitment that are rare in a society that wants what it wants instantly and doesn't have the patience to see things through.  But even more than they make him a Mr. Fix-It, I think these are the things that make my father a great dad.  He's involved, he's supportive (even when he doesn't always understand my flighty ambitions), and he's willing to get his hands dirty when necessary.  He goes above and beyond the call to be there when he's needed, and it's in that that he finds his self-worth.

I'm not downing the highly educated and the office dwellers.  Hey, I've been an educated office dweller myself...and hope to be again in the future.  But I think sometimes, we get so absorbed in the outward exhibitions of our intelligence that we forget to pay tribute to those who have quietly done what they had to in order to keep our wheels turning.  My dad isn't perfect, and he and I don't see eye to eye on a number of things...usually politics...but our differences only help to define our relationship, not to hamper it.  Living at home has been a challenge, but I'm thankful for this opportunity.  Once again, my dad has provided a haven to foster my imagination and my dreams.  And I'll be forever grateful for that.  

No, my dad isn't just a genius.  He's a tech school genius...and sometimes, that's the most valuable of all.

Tossing Out, Packing In, and Growing Up

On my facebook status earlier today I boasted that I might get in two blog posts today.  As it is now 11:19 PM CST and I am just now writing my first blog post, I don't think that's going to happen.  The good news is that I was quite productive with my other writing today, so perhaps I've justified myself.

As of a week ago this past Saturday, I officially moved back in with my parents.  While I don't regret it, and I am still convinced that it was the right move to make...the transition from living on my own for the past seven and a half years to living back in my parents' house hasn't been easy...for me or them.  I've come to realize boundaries are the issue.  Not exactly physical boundaries like, "This is my room!  Get out!"...but more emotional boundaries.

When I lived at home before, it was under the typical parent/child conditions.  Now, we're three adults living in the house together, but I've noticed that - in some ways - we've slipped right back into the same routine...especially my mother and me.  Even though I have declared that my laundry is my responsibility, my mother still comes through to pick up a few stray pieces here and there.  And today, I caught her making up my bed.  Ridiculous?  Yes, I completely agree with you!  But as the old saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  I have gone clear across the country and returned...but nothing really changes. I may be twenty-five years old, but put my mother and myself under the same roof, and she falls right back into mothering mode...and sometimes it's a little too easy to just let her do it.

I think in the coming months we're going to learn to redefine our relationship with one another.  We'll have to, or we'll never survive this.  I've got to work to maintain my independence, and she's got to learn to let me.  Even though, I've returned to my roots, I've got to continue growing upward and moving forward.  Life isn't easy.  Hard work has to be done and hard decisions have to be made, so it is a bit tempting to revert to a pseudo-childhood.  But that's not what I want for myself or my parents.  We all have quite a bit left to accomplish, and while we can move forward together, we can't allow ourselves to move back.

That noted, I would like to take the opportunity to really tip my hat to my parents.  Despite these few bumps, they've really stepped up to give me a place back in the house.  Over the last seven and a half years, my bedroom had become my dad's office and retreat, so there's been quite a bit of switching around and finding places for things...and throwing out other things.  My dad and I are both self-admited packrats, so we take any purging very seriously...but we've both really stepped up to the plate.  And my mom, who loves to throw things out, dug deep into the darkest recesses of the kitchen cabinets to toss out random tupperware and kitchen utensils that haven't seen the light of day in 15-20 years to give me room for my accumulated wares.

While I pray to God that this arrangement is not permanent - or even an extended version of temporary - I am thankful for the opportunity to spend some quality time with my parents, my extended family, and my dog (who has currently forgone her expensive bed for a pile of Ralph's reusable shopping bags that have yet to find a home)...not to mention, getting to spend some quality time with my writing.  I've got a few projects in the works, so maybe I'll be sharing a few snippets in the coming weeks!

Until then, good night!

Sweet Home Bound!

I apologize for not writing in a while, but I've spent the last couple of weeks finishing up work, hosting a friend, entertaining my parents, and packing.  With all of that, I haven't had much time to think, much less write.  And as it is now about 11:15PM and I have to help load my moving truck before hitting the road tomorrow, this will likely be a rather short post.  However, I have full expectations of getting back in the swing of things really soon...so watch out!!!

Yes, tonight is my last night in California...for a while...and I'm honestly okay with that.  As a matter of fact, I'm ready.  I think - as you might have deduced from my earlier posts - I've been being led towards this move for quite some time now.  Sweet Home Alabama has been calling, and I'm obliged to listen...and no, I'm not on some strange Lynyrd Skynyrd trip...this is something deeper, spiritual.  If I haven't said it before, I will now - I am a huge believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason.  While I'm not entirely enthusiastic about moving back in with my parents for a bit, I know that the purpose for this move, as well as my three and a half years in California, will become clear with time.

Though I've teared up a few times in the past couple of weeks at the thought of leaving behind cherished friends, I do choose to be excited about this move.  Life is what you make of it, and I intend to make mine a success no matter where I go from here.  Who knows???!!!  This could be the jumping point of something big...or even something small...but I move forward from here with full faith that I'll end up right where I've needed to be all along.

So don't for a moment think I've given up.  I've only stepped off the beaten path to blaze my own.

P.S. I'm not sure what my Internet access will be like over the next several days, but I'll try to provide little snippets of my travels when I'm able.

A Day For Looking Back...and Moving On

Do you remember where you were when you first heard about the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001?  It's a day that lives in infamy, along with Pearl Harbor and President Kennedy's assassination.

I was in Mrs. Braggs' English class my senior year of high school.  Class was coming to an end, and there was quite a bit of confusion as to what exactly had happened.  We made it to Coach Young's Calculus class just in time to see the second plane hit.  We sat and watched, transfixed, confused, uncertain...silent.  Then, the first tower collapsed...and not too long after it, the second one.  I don't think anyone had articulated clear thoughts up until that point, but as the dust and debris from the second tower rose into the NYC skyline, Coach Young asked quietly, "Do you know how many people you just watched die?"

Maybe that question was a harsh dose of reality, but it's one that has stuck with me in the years since.  We see replays of the planes hitting those buildings and the towers collapsing in on themselves, and we think how horrible that day was.  But it's a little more difficult to allow our minds to venture to the fact that those moments caught on tape were the last moments of nearly 3000 lives.  Rather than what I was doing that day, I think about what they were doing...working, traveling, chatting on the phone, eating breakfast, reading a book, catching up on the morning news...any number of the tasks we go about on a daily basis.  The people on the planes had some forewarning as the highjackers commandeered the aircrafts...they had time to think about their final moments...to try to get in one last, "I love you," or one final prayer.  However, many of the people in the buildings had no idea this was going to be their last bite of food, their last piece of paperwork, their last step, their last word spoken...their last breath.

And, honestly, neither do we.

We make plans, set goals, and fill calendars when not even our next moment is guaranteed.  It's important to look forward to what could be, but it's equally important to look around at what is.  Appreciate what you have and love the ones closest to you because you never know when you won't have the moments to follow through on the good intentions.  Perhaps it's a bit dismal, but it's the truth...and if any of the victims of 9/11 could speak to you now, I believe they would be telling you the same thing.

Today was another 9/11 that will probably stick with me for a while.  It was my last day on the job with the studio.  Unfortunately, it wasn't an altogether pleasant day because several others lost their jobs along with myself, so there were a lot of long faces and worried eyes all around.  I'm thankful I had already made the decision to leave voluntarily and head home.  I've been learning lately that sometimes you have to back up a bit before you get the footing to move forward.  I think some of my work friends are going to learn that lesson as well...not that they'll back up in the same way that I am by going home...but just that they'll have to take a new look at where they are and where they're going.  It's hard to leave a comfort zone and venture into uncharted territory...but sometimes being pushed unexpectedly out of the boat lands you right on the shore of where you needed to be all along.  That's what I hope for my friends...and for myself.

Good night to another September 11th.  Good night to the victims of that day and to all those who've lost their lives fighting for the cause since...and PEACE to all of their families and to all of us who still find time to take a few reflective moments on this day.  I pray you - like me - find your footing and continue to move forward.

Really?

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,548843,00.html?test=latestnews

To heck with reflective thoughts today, I read this story and said, "You've got to be kidding me!"  I mean really, this woman paid $582,000.00 for a dog??!!!  I thought my purebred Welsh Terrier was expensive!  I'm sorry - I know there are probably some hardcore dog breeders out there that somehow justify this - but I think it's ridiculous!!  Especially in the economic climate that exists today!  Granted, the woman who paid over half a million dollars for the dog is Chinese, not American, but it's still the most absurd thing I've heard in a long time.

Now, I've never been one to begrudge the wealthy some extravagances because I know that if I had the money, I'd have a few myself; however, $582,000 for a dog is unfathomable to me.  It seems there are a lot more worthy things in which this money could be invested.  After all, people are hungry, people are sick, people are dying because they don't have basic necessities, much less a high bred dog.  Perhaps this woman is a great philanthropist - I admit I'm judging her without knowing the full situation - however, my gut reaction is disgust, mostly because I can't even begin to comprehend the reasoning behind this purchase.

I'm sorry to get up on my soap box this evening, but today, I watched as a number of young people (temps, along with me at the studio where I work) lose their jobs because the busy season is over.  I am voluntarily leaving because of my decision to go home, but a lot of my friends were depending on this position.  Yes, it's a part of the business - and we all knew that going in - and several of those let go may get rehired in the coming weeks - but it still doesn't make it feel much better.  After seeing that today, this article just struck a real sore spot with me.  If anyone has it to offer, I would welcome enlightenment where this story is concerned...I am trying desperately to understand.  

In the meantime, I hope they keep that dog secure...I'll bet even $582,000 dogs like to chase car tires.

Goodbyes and See Ya Laters

09/09/09 has been a pretty good day...well, except for the two cavities the dentist found...but other than that, a good day.  Of course, I've been thinking quite a bit about my coming departure from California.  These huge moves take a lot out of you...physically and emotionally.  It's hard to leave the life you've built in one place, even when the life to which you're going is just as wonderful...in a different way.  Moves always bring lots of "See ya laters" to the people with whom you know you'll do your best to keep in touch...but there are also always a number of "Goodbyes" to the people you know you'll likely never see again.  It's not exactly a bad thing because it's just a normal part of this ever-changing life - it's impossible to keep in touch with absolutely every person you've encountered (though Facebook tries it's darnedest) - but it still makes my heart ache a bit.  I'm more than a little sentimental, so I do sincerely cherish the people who have touched my life in a positive way...and there have been a lot here in Los Angeles and Orange County.  Some of them are older, some of them are younger...many of them are vastly different from me, but simply knowing them has given me the opportunity to grow in ways the would have otherwise not been possible.  Yes, I'm a small town, Southern girl at heart, but I'll always hold a special love for this city.  It's never quite been my home, but because of the people, it's been a welcoming and comfortable home away from home...one I'll most certainly be back to visit as soon as I get the chance.

So, keep me in your thoughts over the next few weeks as I prepare for my move, and I start my series of "Goodbyes" and "See ya laters."  I'll be taking little parts of a number of special people with me...hopefully, I'll be leaving something positive and lasting behind in return.

The Next Step

So I have decided to go with Plan B.  I'm going home.  I actually came to peace with it about a week ago, and the funny thing is that the very next day my manager asked me if I'd be interested in staying on in the position I'm in now.  Any other day I probably would have been hesitant, but this particular day I had my answer, which was no.  It's just not a job that is stable enough or financially sound enough to keep me in California.  And I haven't had any other offers.  So I'm heading home.  But that's okay.

Like I said, I'm at peace with the decision, even excited about it.  The only thing I hate is the pitying looks I get from people when I tell them.  It seems that everyone but me believes I'm giving up on my dreams by going home.  I just don't understand this thought process.  Very few of the great writers of this world created their magnificent works while residing in the San Fernando Valley...or any other part of the Los Angeles area.  Yes, of course, it is said to be the Mecca for anyone aspiring to be a screenwriter, but why should I live the starving artist lifestyle in a city that provides me with little to no inspiration when I don't have to.  If I'm going to make it, I'll make it from wherever I'm at...or wherever I choose to be.  There are hundreds - actually probably thousands - of writers who scrape and struggle and starve here in L.A. and never make it, just as there are everywhere.  And there are writers who go about their lives clinging to their inspiration...and they make it no matter where they are in the U.S. or even the world.  If I am going to make it, I want to be a part of the latter group.  I want my talent to speak for me, not my location...or even my connections.  I want someone to read my work and realize its value and its inspiration.  Is that idealistic?  Maybe, but I don't think a bit of idealism is all that bad.  Anyway, we're all searching for our "ideal" situations in life...even those who accuse others of being too idealistic.

One thing I will miss about Los Angeles are some of the wonderful friends I've met here.  When I first spoke of moving to California to study screenwriting, my then-boyfriend told me, "You won't find any Christian friends out there."  Well, he was wrong.  I have met some of the most open, loving, upstanding Christian friends out here...as well as a number of open, loving, and upstanding non-Christian friends.  I still cling to the values and morals with which I came to California, but I have learned a number of important lessons regarding what I have spoken about before in this blog...perspective.  Not everyone sees or approaches the world as I do...my beliefs are my own, not my parents', not my writing partner's, not my friends', not even my fellow Christians'.  They're mine...but in owning them, it is also my responsibility to take time to look at the perspectives of others...what is the world that they see?  I can be sensitive and respectful to others without compromising myself.  Yes, the people I cherish here in California have taught me a lot.  And for that I will forever be grateful.

So keep me in your thoughts over the next few weeks as I prepare for and make this huge change.  It's daunting to think about moving back in with my parents after living on my own for seven years, but I believe this will offer me a chance to grow in ways I couldn't have otherwise.  The house to which I'm returning is the one that first fostered my desire to write...and the people to whom I am returning are those who have supported me unconditionally in every new step of my life.  I am not giving up.  I am returning to my roots...for it is from the roots that new growth springs.  Autumn may be coming...but for me, I'm getting ready to bloom.

Hope Came Home

Hope came home, home to me today,

And fear has run the other way.

Words are weak that don't know how to say,

"You know I still believe in You."

And should my dreams fall through,

I will be safe with You.

So with every breath I can breathe,

I'll sing about how You love me.

I'll sing about how You live me.

-Bebo Norman

A tragedy that happened to a family back in my hometown today put this short but thoughtful song by Bebo Norman into my head. Being so far away from home, it's hard to be sure of all the facts...but to my understanding, a young man - just a few years younger than me - died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It's speculation at this point as to whether it was intentional or accidental. But this - along with the recent high-profile death of DJ AM - made me start thinking about the importance of hope. Whether you're religious or not, you have to hope for something - strive towards something - live for something, something anchored deep within ourselves...without that, there really is nothing left.

I've taken several emotional and psychological hits lately, but I've never been anywhere close to the despair that one must have in order to take his or her own life. And I pray I never get to that point. What a terrifying place that must be! To feel that you have no hope for the future...that there's no chance for circumstances to ever get any better than what they are...to invest so deeply in another person or thing that there's no real reason to go on if that person or thing is suddenly taken away. Yes, hope is essential. It drives us forward, it guides us through difficult times, it allows us to envision what's just over the horizon.

Cling to your hope. Anchor it and hang on tight. After all, the loss of hope isn't just the loss of a cherished life...it's the loss of a next breath, another miracle, a beautiful sunrise that brings a new opportunity, a blooming dream, a son, a daughter, a mother, a father...a friend.

Forgiving, Forgetting, Moving On...

The past week was just one of those weeks where almost every stress I've had in my life lately seemed to come to a head. You've heard that when it rains, it pours...well, last week it flooded. And it left me drained, physically, emotionally, and creatively. It's difficult to be at odds with people, particularly people I care deeply about. But I've come to realize that, at some point, we all have to take a stand for what we believe is right...even when it royally ticks others off.

Due to building frustrations over several different issues, I have said a number of things in the past weeks that were not expressed as kindly as they could have been. Even though I believe what I intended with my words was justified, the hurtful way the words were received was not a part of that intention. I have apologized for that, but to date, the apology has not been accepted. As a result, I believe that I have come to an end of friendship into which I've invested quite a lot of myself. It's been a long, bumpy, emotional road, but it's still tragic to see its demise...especially in the way that it happened.

However, whether it's a coincidence or divine intervention (I believe the latter), I have recently heard from several different sources the importance of forgiving AND forgetting. Not forgetting the friendship or the friend, but forgetting the wrongs...and moving on. I can't make my friend forgive me. Anyway, if I tried to push that, it would probably only make the situation worse. I've sincerely apologized, so all I can do now is offer my friend forgiveness and move on. If I hold on to it, all it will do is continue to bring me down. And there's no point in that. I have to let it go.

As a writer, I rely on conflict to make my stories interesting and to keep them moving forward. But in my personal life, I despise conflict with a passion. Though, I do have a bit of a temper, I rarely lose it. Instead, I'm more of a middle ground type of person. I like to look at situations from as many points of view as I can before making any sort of judgment. And I like to keep the peace whenever possible. Am I always successful at this? Obviously not. But I try. And I will continue to try in the future. Still, in this situation, I can't sit back on my heels and wait for something to change. I've opened my heart to reconciliation, but if my friend doesn't want that, then that's her choice. I'm forgiving, putting it behind me, and moving on.

Forging Ahead

Well, a day has passed, and I'm still not a paid writer, but if I had achieved my goal that quickly, then it wouldn't have been much of a challenge, would it? Anyway, that wasn't really my focus today. Instead, I took a step towards resolving another issue that has been sucking some of my creativity and taking up far too much of my attention. It may be quite a while before this particular stress is fully resolved, but I did finally take action today. I stood up for myself, which is something that I've let fall by the wayside far too often lately. Baby steps, right? But this was an important one...one that will help clear the path before me. I'm consciously seeking out positive energies and optimistic spirits, and I'm building my defenses against the negativity and the doubts. Tomorrow night I will face another great test of this new determination. This time I will face it not on behalf of myself but on behalf of my friend. I will be a part of her support system as she, like me, faces something that has grown a lot bigger and uglier than it ever should have. However, I'm ready. It's time for resolution - in my case and hers. We're both at places in our lives where we need to forge ahead and move on. And there's nothing wrong with that.

In a writing report, I now have two projects on which I'm pushing ahead. There's the one I've spoken of before, which is an independent project. But my writing partner and I are also diving right into a collaborative effort. I'm excited about both! Stay tuned! Perhaps I'll share a few little snippets...but not too much...wouldn't want to ruin the story for you!

A Year In The Life...

Today, I allowed myself some time to wander around one of my favorite places in the world...a bookstore...in this case Barnes and Noble. Anyone who has ever helped me move just involuntarily groaned at the thought that I've added a few more books to my collection. Well, of course I did! I couldn't resist it! Anyway, I was looking for a little inspiration. With all the stress and chaos of the last couple of weeks, the well of creativity has gotten pretty shallow, and I'm in desperate need of a little refreshment. Fortunately, I think I might have come across just the book...A Year with C.S. Lewis: Daily Readings from His Classic Works.

I love C.S. Lewis! I own a copy of most everything he's written, and I am forever amazed at his depth and perspective. I like that fact that he can relate to his readers on so many different levels, and I always seem to discover something new in his words. The book I bought today is just what the subtitle says it is...a book of daily readings from his various works. Though I have yet to fully delve into my first reading, at first glance, the excerpts seem short but thought-provoking...exactly the little bursts of inspiration and encouragement for which I've been looking.

The thought of spending the next 365 days skimming through some of Lewis' most treasured works made me start thinking a bit about my life...about how far I've come in the last year...and how far I hope to go in the next. In day-to-day life, it feels like I've been spinning my wheels since last August...getting my hopes up about the prospect of this job, this opportunity, this new relationship, only to have it all end in disappointment. It's not that the whole year has been a disappointment...it's just that it hasn't gone quite like I had hoped it would. However, I think at some point down the road, I'll look back on this time and realize that what I've learned over the last 365 days was invaluable to my future. I've certainly had a few tough lessons in patience and perseverance...and I've realized more and more what a treasure my family really is. I've learned that some friends stick around forever, just as close as family...and other "friends" will abandon you as soon as you're no longer any real use to them. I've come to understand that it's okay to take time out for myself and to say no every now and then. And I've admitted to myself that even though I long to find that one man with whom I will spend the rest of my life, I am a bit relationship-phobic...or perhaps commitment-phobic...or maybe it's just indecisive. Actually, I think it's that I over-analyze relationships just as I over-analyze most every decision I face. I suppose I just need to allow myself to go with the flow a bit more...step out in faith, expecting success rather than disappointment. Maybe that's what I fear most...disappointment.

Next year, on August 23, I hope I can say I took what I learned this last year and applied it to my life. I hope I've taken steps forward instead of backwards. I hope I've faced my path with enthusiasm and not dread, hope and not fear, expecting success and not disappointment. But I think it's also important to set tangible goals as well...so when August 23, 2010, rolls around, I am setting the goal that I will be a paid writer in some form or fashion. I'm not talking about on the New York Times Bestseller level...I'm just talking about selling an article or a short story or a script...just something...some step forward.

Just by typing that, the fear is already creeping in that I might fail. I might not achieve that goal. But I have 365 days, and really nothing to lose...anyway, what if I succeed? I'll just keep my eyes on that. So 365 days...

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken by: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the tother, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy ans wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference.

I copied the above Robert Frost poem off the Internet as I didn't have the energy to dig out my own copy from the depths of my bookshelf...so if you note any discrepancies, that is the reason.

This poem has been on my mind and in my heart the past few days. I am at a crossroads in not just one but several different aspects of my life. There are hard choices to be made and unpleasant things with which I must deal. I'm drained emotionally and physically...and it's greatly affected my writing and my creativity. Which path is the one for me - the one that's a bit overgrown, but reserved just for my step? Will I recognize it when the time comes...or will I be lured by the path that seems easiest? Right now, few of my choices seem easy. Honestly, I'm searching for a little peace and a little assurance.

But despite everything, I am thankful for my blessings. I have work - for now - and I have a roof over my head, plenty of food to eat, and a family that loves me more than I probably deserve. Also, I have hope for the future. I come from the sticks, and I've learned through growing up there that often the most beautiful, most magnificent, most breath-taking places are only found by venturing down the rockiest, ugliest, prickliest paths. That's what I hope to find in my life...the path less traveled, but the path that was meant just for me. That, I believe, will make all the difference.

Thank you, Robert Frost, for giving words to thoughts I've been trying to express.

Perspectives

Last night, I attended a Bible study on the act of submission at my church, and one of the questions posed asked, "If Ephesians 5:21 ('Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ') is taken seriously, how will it change the way you live your life?"

Of course, I was the first one in the circle to have to answer the question, but I think often the quick answers are the most truthful. I said that if I honestly subjected myself to others out of reverence for Christ, my life would probably change in that I would take a little more time to stop and look at things from the perspectives of those around me. This is something that I do consciously attempt to practice, but I am the first to admit that I, at times, get tunnel vision in regards to my personal goals and ambitions and slip into the mindset that everything should go exactly as I have planned. But, as most of you have already figured out, life rarely ties itself up with such a perfect, neat little bow.

Another thought-provoking statement from the study said, "Submission is not putting another under our authority. Submission is laying down the terrible burden of always needing to get our own way." Whether you're "religious" or not, I think you can find some truth in these words. It's difficult to live with the drive, the passion, the obsession of achieving a perfect perspective in an imperfect world. If we live with the insistence that we always be right, then more often than not, most of us will be sorely disappointed. I look at today's celebrities and political figures, and all I see is arguing for the sake of arguing. And usually, the two opposing sides are not posing their arguments directly to one another...instead, they fight their battles passive aggressively through the media, firing barbs at one another without ever actually coming face to face.

Perhaps, it's a little too idealistic, but I'd like to just see people sit down and talk it out. Maybe Obama wasn't that far off when he had the white police officer and the black professor sit down for a beer together. Did it resolve all the issues? No, I'm sure it didn't. But it allowed the two sides to speak directly to one another on a somewhat neutral turf. It gave them the forum to listen to one another and attempt to understand where the other was coming from. Does listening and understanding another perspective mean you agree with it? No, it doesn't, but at least you're able to get a clearer idea of the source...and, hopefully, gain a little respect for your adversary.

Recently, I've been a witness to one situation that could use this sort of understanding, and - unfortunately - I've been a participant in another. It's difficult when frustrations build up because of a lack of direct communication, but that is exactly what has happened in both of these cases. I think it's time for all parties concerned - myself included - to grow up and show a little respect to one another...and maybe this is just the opportunity for me to stand up, speak up, and be an example. I don't believe it's necessary for me to agree with the opposing side in either case, but it is necessary for me show respect for another human being trying to make his or her way through this world. We all get misguided as we stumble along in life, and we have to be willing to accept the advice necessary to correct our own paths, just as we have to be willing to reach out a hand to help guide others back to theirs.

Some new goals I'm adding to my list are to listen carefully, speak up when it's right, and show a great deal more respect. I'm sure it won't always go smoothly. The imperfections tend to find a way to intervene with the most perfect plans. But I'm still willing to give it a try.

Silence

There have been a lot of words spoken to me and a lot of words spoken by me today. Maybe there are some more words that should still be said, but tonight, I think I am just going to let the silence speak. I have been thinking a lot lately about perspectives, though - both mine and the perspectives of those around me. Perhaps that will be a good topic for tomorrow. Until then, good night...and take a little time to enjoy the silence.

Great Expectations

I work answering phones in the Tour Department at one of the studios here in the Los Angeles area. Since the Tour Department's number is the only public one for the entire studio, you can imagine that we get quite a few interesting calls throughout the day. Maybe some of the calls are jokes and maybe some of them aren't, but people call in with the great expectations of everything from speaking to stars to getting the opportunity to pitch a movie idea to the studio's highest executives.

Recently, I received calls from two separate young men, both seeking to break into the film industry as performers. Of course, I was unable to help them...and honestly, I did have a bit of a giggle at their expense. I mean if a girl from a small Alabama town with no stoplights can figure out that you don't get your start in the movie business by simply calling up one of the largest and most powerful studios in the world, then surely these two guys have the smarts to realize that for themselves! Anyway, after receiving calls like these day after day, all you really can do is have a little laugh and move on.

However, I've been thinking about these two guys over the last couple of days. Now, in reality, they may have been as certain as I am that their calls would get them no where...but perhaps they were willing to make them on the most miniscule chance that their greatest expectations would come true. That takes guts.

One of my greatest flaws is my fear of rejection. I recognize it for what it is, but I still can't seem to overcome it. It haunts me both professionally and personally. I've always heard that you won't really know the answer to your question unless you ask...but all too often, my questions lodge in my throat. I just can't get them to rise above that fear that the answer will be no.

These two guys - as well as all the others who call into the tour center on a daily basis seeking fame and fortune - aren't taking a logical or realistic path towards their goals. But there is a lesson to be learned from them...they are willing to risk appearing the fool (and have a few tour guides share a laugh at their expense) in order to ask the question. Yes, the answer is no...but maybe that "no" propels them towards the next step and the one after that and the one after that...and eventually - somewhere down the road - the answer just might be yes.

Like all these other people, I have great expectations for my life, and though I'm not always sure of the next step, I do have the dedication and the drive to at least take a chance. With each day I'm learning and I'm growing and I'm finding my path. I'm gaining the courage to ask my questions more and more. To take a chance. To have guts. After all, it doesn't hurt to just ask. Maybe someday the answer will be yes.

Fear of Plan B

I have a fear of Plan B...and before anyone gets any crazy ideas, I am not referring to the emergency contraceptive. I'm referring to the Plan B that comes after Plan A and before Plan C...if there is a Plan C.

Now, Plan B does have some really wonderful qualities. For one thing, it's always there to back you up while you're pursuing Plan A. As long as you're still on Plan A, you live with the comfort that if it ever doesn't work out, you can always just move right on to Plan B. That's a nice feeling...to know you have options. However, the trouble comes when you reach that point where you have to actually rely on Plan B and you haven't quite come up with Plans C, D, and E.

That's the point I'm nearing right now. Unfortunately, the combination of the recession and the everyday shortage of jobs within the entertainment industry has left me struggling in the career department...not to mention the financial one. Though I do still have a few more irons in the fire than a number of people, none of them are at the point where they can provide for my day-to-day existence. Because of this, I am seriously considering falling back on my Plan B, which is to head home to Alabama, take a few months to focus solely on writing, then look for a job to bring in some money until I sell a script or pen that next great American novel (or the next Harry Potter, which would probably be even better).

Now, as you probably deduced from my first post, the idea of Plan B is not something I'm necessarily opposed to. I miss my family, I miss my dog, and I miss the real stars (there are no street lights at home, so the stars are absolutely magnificent). Plus, I've always said that if I'm going to make it at this whole writing bit, I'm going to do it my way...and my way is rooted back home amongst the people and places from which my inspiration springs. However, I can't seem to quiet that little voice, which is echoed by everyone who assumes leaving means giving up the dream, that tells me to cling tight to California and Los Angeles. Is there a way to be in both places at once? Even I know the answer to this one, but it doesn't stop me from asking the question.

To me, Plan B isn't giving up...it's taking another approach, which - in all honesty - feels a little bit more like me. But taking that plunge into Plan B is like removing the safety net and stepping out in complete faith...faith that the right things will come along...faith that I will find my purpose in life...faith that by taking what appears - at first - to be a step backwards, I will, in the whole big grand scheme of things, actually be taking a giant leap forward. Faith like that is scary, but it's a necessary part of life. One of my favorite philosophers, the late, great Alabama football coach Bear Bryant, once said, "If you believe in yourself and have dedication and pride - and never quit, you'll be a winner. The price of victory is high - but so are the rewards." I think even Auburn fans can find value in that. I just have to trust that, as long as I continue to have faith in myself, I'll end up where I need to be, whether it's here or there or somewhere in between.

By the way, I have a rough outline of the first sequence of my new project. So far there's a murder, a secret, a little sex, and a movie premiere. Are you interested yet? I thought so! Stay tuned...it only gets better from here!

Profound Words for Simple Thoughts

I think my problem with blogging is that I feel consumed by the pressure to always post something profound and all-inspiring...but the truth of the matter is that my days are rarely profound and all-inspiring. I think the trick is to find the extraordinary in the mundane. I get so bogged down in my day-to-day activities that I rarely take the time to look at the amazing little occurrences that pop up amongst the monotony...or the crazy, unique characters that emerge from the masses around me.

Recently, I've been switching back and forth between reading two books: The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. Yes, they're completely and entirely different in tone, characters, and location, yet they both present complex and intricate layers that have inspired me to further thought. I've been told the trick to good writing is to learn to love your most flawed characters, and, in my opinion, both of these writers have achieved just that. In life, it's often the "flaws" that we hold against others, even those we love. In art, it's those same "flaws" that serve to teach us something about ourselves and the world around us. For me, it's about combining the two...it's about learning to love the "flaws" in both the characters in my art and the characters in my reality...because God knows they've all had quite a lot of patience with mine.

My reading of the above books has been slow-going...mostly because I've been trying to balance work, writing, rest, exercise, and social life...and doing a very poor job at it, I might add. But I will finish. And I will move on to the others in my ever-growing stack...and perhaps revisit some old friends as I've felt To Kill a Mockingbird calling me for some time now. It's about baby steps, I suppose. Begin with something simple...and just finish what you start. Another thing I need to finish is the treatment for this new script I've been mulling around in my head for far too long. Maybe I should go get to work on that now.

Third Try's the Charm

I've ventured into the blogging world a couple of times before with unsuccessful results...mostly because after a few days of committed activity, I simply stopped posting.

However, this time around, I'm looking at it with a whole new perspective. I recently watched the film Julie and Julia, in which Julie Powell bettered herself and jumped started her writing career by blogging about her year of baking through Julia Child's cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking. While one of the goals I'm most passionate about is gaining success as a writer, the potential for an interesting blog to lead to that success is not the reason I'm giving blogging another try.

Instead, what I learned from Julie Powell's year with Julia is the importance of setting short-term goals that are both challenging and within reason. And blogs provide a public medium of accountability when working towards those goals. It doesn't matter whether this blog becomes widely read or not...it only matters that I transfer the goals in my heart to this screen. It creates a light at the end of the tunnel for me to strive towards, and it keeps a record of each success, whether major or minor.

The last year I've felt like I've been spinning my wheels as I've tired to break into the Hollywood scene through the means that everyone has told me are necessary. Hollywood has never been me...and I have a feeling it never will be. I'm a small town girl lured more by the gentle flowing of a quiet creek and the chirp of evening crickets than by the bright lights of the big city. It's this quality that makes my writing unique, and it's a part of me that I have to nourish and protect rather than suppress. I'm not sure where I'm going from here, but I think I'm finally finding my path.