Life with Miss Prim

Whenever I am home, and sitting, or laying, or even standing, Miss Prim is doing her best to give me loving.  I call her my first pet because she's my first non-fish, non-turtle, non-hamster, pet.  And to tell the truth, I'm kinda of surprised she has survived the last 5 years with me given my pet "record" of the my first fish freezing to death due to an ice storm, my hamsters getting lost in the attic and we never exactly found them, and the turtle that I rescued on the side of the road who was set free into the wild less than 24 hours later.

However, I did have a decent fish streak after learning my lesson of leaving it behind in my apartment when the ice storm made me lose electricity.  (When I say it froze to death, I'm not kidding, the tank was a solid chunk of ice with a floating fish near the top.)  I took better care of my fish and even brought the beautiful beta fish to live with me when I moved back in with my parents when I had my run of financial and employment bad luck.  He was growing big and as happy as could be and then, my dad, the most non-pet person I'd ever met, brought home two baby kittens.  One was a fluff ball, the other was a runt who loved me at first sight and has hardly left my side ever since.  (A few months later, the fluffy cat got my fish out of the tank and murdered it...I think my attempts of having fish are over.)

Even though I was on the verge of 30 years old, I had my first REAL pet, you know, the kind that stick around for longer than a week, and the kind that you can spend quality time with instead of watching them inside a tank.  Miss Prim was supposed to be an outside mouser but she found the soft pillows on my bed much more appealing.  She would sneak into my bedroom any time there was opportunity, and because I was on the verge of being a lonely-30-year-old-maid-spinster, I appreciated the snuggle time and pleaded to let her be an inside cat.  My dad declined her cuteness and would send her back outside where she would pout or look at me with lonely eyes from behind the glass door.

When I moved from my parents house, the apartment owner said pets were not allowed.  I gulped, and said goodbye to my purring faithful friend and promised I would visit on the weekends.  And that's when Miss Prim ran away.  I was devastated.  Every time I would drive to my parents house, I would look for dead cat on the side of the road but in my heart, I believed Miss Prim was still alive.  A month later, she arrived back to my parents house, starving and skiddish, but when I went over to see her, she immediately found comfort in my arms.

I decided to ignore the no pet rule at my apartment complex, as many of the other residents had done, and took Miss Prim with me.  She was now a full-time inside cat and she has been the happiest cat ever since.

I never thought I would be a cat person or talk about a cat as much as I do, but Miss Prim really was a blessing in my life.  She reminds me every single day that I am lovable, playful, and worth spending time together.  And to me, that is the best pet to have!

Prompt #6: Your Favorite Childhood Pet

Baby Fever, Baby Love

I doubt any of you will be shocked when I tell you my life long dream and desire is to have children.  I've always liked kids, and kids have always liked me, and so I figured I'd do the small town thing and graduate from high school, marry the love of my life, and be done having children by the time I hit 30.

Ah, life.

I am now 34 and still childless.  And with encouragement giving to me by the doctor who told me about my auto-immune disease, he also shattered all my hopes and dreams by telling me my chances of ever getting pregnant or carrying a child full term would require a miracle.  Three years later, I am still scarred by his comment, even though I am a firm believer in miracles and that if I'm meant to be a mother, someday, I will be one.

Granted, the internal time clock is not being kind in reminding me that I turned away the one guy who was willing to marry me and start a family with me, even if it meant years of medical trial and error, due to a difference of religion.  Okay, technically, we both just kinda dropped each other without talking it over, and we are both too stubborn to see how each other is doing about it.

So, 34, childless, and very much single.

All this to say, as much as I try to be happy for the 9 million people in my facebook feed who are sharing pregnancy announcements and baby bumps, there is a part of me that dies a little inside with each announcement, wondering if they will give me their baby....  it will ever be my turn.

I didn't know my baby fever was this strong until I was watching a television show where a newborn baby was being rushed to the hospital and I couldn't contain my tears!  "Why!?!?!  It's just a baby!  It's too little to die!!!!"  I shouted at the television.  "My heart can't handle this show!"  I then wondered if I would ever be able to recover from a miscarriage since my doctor made me consider the thought of losing a child, if I ever become pregnant.  Why must doctors destroy hope?

I was relieved to get my mind off of the things in life that I can't control such as pregnancy and giving birth by going to work on the farm.  Physical motion is a great way for me to clear my mind and work through my thought process.  I suppose this is why I have so many "great" thoughts while hiking.  And, so I was off to clean the pen of the lone sick lamb.  As I was scooping up all the muck and mess this sick lamb had created, I began to wonder what made it sick.  I, then remembered the 93 pregnant lambs, and wondered if this one was sick due to pregnancy complications.  I rolled my eyes at myself for having an over-active imagination and got back to work, thinking of all the different reasons why animals could be sick beyond pregnancy complications.

I shoveled up another shovel full of muck and that's when I saw a redish, rubbery, glob.  "Weird, that looks like a placenta, not that I really know what one looks like..."  I mumbled to myself and the surrounding lambs.  I tapped it with the edge of the shovel.  It didn't feel like the typical hay and poo mixture I'd been scooping up.  I wiped away the hay that was around it and that's when I saw the rest of whatever it was that I was scooping up.

It was a half developed baby lamb.  It's little head and knobby knees were all curled up together.  "Poor baby lamb!" I fought back the tears.  "You didn't even have a chance to live!  Why? What caused the miscarriage?!?"  Anger of the situation rose up inside my chest, my boss farmer lied to me, the lamb wasn't sick, the lamb was having a miscarriage!

I gently scooped up the baby and placenta and placed it in the big pile of muck, and then the unthinkable happened.... the head of the lamb fell off and rolled down the pile!  I gasped!  I beheaded the dead baby lamb!

I felt like I had committed murder.

I did my best to bury the remains all together in the pile of muck, but I couldn't shake the feeling of finding the dead-half-developed lamb, then beheading it, only to bury it again.  I did my best to honor it in its burial but I didn't know the farm work was going to drain me so emotionally.  I simply can not deal with hurt or dead babies.

When the boss farmer told me about the 93 pregnant lambs, I was giddy and excited to be a part of it as they would give birth, because I didn't think about the ones that wouldn't make it. Now, having seen the dead lamb, the excitement is gone, and now I feel like a worried-about-to-be-a-first-time-mother wondering what other pregnancy complications might take place over the next several weeks.

Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken

I had two standout favorite movies as a child.  Singing in the Rain and Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. I have no problem being out in the rain, in fact, a good rain makes me a bit giddy to go outside, and for this, I gratefully blame Gene Kelly for making being out in the rain seem so joyful and desirable.  It is for this reason, I blame the actress who played Sonora Webster in Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken for my desire to have a horse as a child.

I love the scene in Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken when she is so desperate to have any type of job within the diving horse business she gladly accepts the offer when asked if she can shovel manure.  "Manure just happens to be my specialty."

I've never been around horses much, and besides a quick pony ride as a 6 year old at the county fair, I have never ridden a horse, nor dived off a tall tower into water with one, but I don't think they do that anymore.  However, I have been around animals more and more over the last few years.  Animals used to intimidate me because I was never around them, but lately I have become an animal magnet, finding friendly animals, anxious to run away with me.  (Hence the beginnings of my family members owning cats....)

My lack of work from the upholstery shop has been frustrating for picking up extra work.  My hours there are still currently limited to 16 hours per week, however, I still don't always know which days I am working.  Not only that, but we have several positive leads which I am hopeful will bring my hours back to full time, even if only for a few weeks.   There is also a chance I might be joining my boss on a job in Knoxville, Tennessee, and we'd most likely be gone a full week.  As you can see, this makes finding other work a bit complicated.  Though I've only heard from 3 people in my massive application submissions, they have  not been willing to work around my current work schedule.  In other words, these companies told me I'd have to work my schedule around their hours, not caring I already had a job that paid a lot more than they were offering.

That's when I saw the ad for the farm work.  Evenings, 5-10 hours per week, and HORSES.  Though I could use a few more hours than that, it would be flexible, and fit with my current work schedule.  I sent an email with little hope of them hiring a 34 year old female with farm experience including petting chickens, pigs, and cows, and sometimes feeding them.  My email went something like this:

"Hi, I'm Jen and I am an animal magnet who doesn't mind getting down and dirty.  My parents have a small farm and I take care of the animals when they are out of town.  I've never been around horses and lambs, but I'm willing to learn."

They responded immediately, asking me how I felt about shoveling manure, and I giggled at the thought of responding with manure being my specialty, instead I told them I was capable.  The truth is, I was hoping to find some sort of landscaping job, or a greenhouse, because I love my garden time, but without experience, getting anyone to take a resume with jobs such as an upholster and cook, doesn't seem to scream I have a green thumb.   So, the farm work, in a way, was like the landscaping job, only instead of shoveling dirt and mulch, it was going to be horse poop.

I started a few days later on a sunny spring day.  I met the farmer and he gave me a few tools and a task, and walked away, leaving me alone, in an empty barn, with horse poop.  He told me the task would take an hour.  I did it it 40 minutes.   The next day, when I went back, I did it in 35 minutes.  Then, in 30 minutes.

Yesterday, I finished the barn and told him I would need a new task soon.  "Wow, I can't believe you have that done already.  We've had helpers before and this task does them in and they never come back."

"Really?"  I thought to myself.  It was an hour a day, and though I broke a decent sweat, I never had sore muscles or a sore back.  It just felt like another day of work.  In the back of my head, I was thinking of saying with your brains and my back, you're going places... but instead I awkwardly told him I've always done physical labor and I liked challenges.

As I stumbled over my words, I realized he was the only human I'd seen or spoken to in 3 days.  (I had sent emails and texts to people but no actual talking...we live in a sad world...)  It also makes sense to why I started talking to the horses as if they were humans when they ventured over to see all the commotion that was happening in their barn.

Even though it is just an hour a day, it keeps me moving and gets me outside.  They have 93 lambs expecting babies soon, so I imagine the farm diary stories are only beginning.  And honestly, I like the work.  I've always preferred physical labor that keeps me busy over paper shuffling.

Maybe shoveling manure just so happens to be my specialty.

Is This Real or Not Real?

When you are a small town girl, without any close local friends, and without a social life, the only way to get a date is through the internet.   And even that can be a struggle since men from the big cities of Akron, Canton, or Cleveland, can't fathom the idea of coming to Wooster for a date, so most of the time these meetings never happen.

About a week, I started a conversation with a guy named Hank, via internet.  The conversation went something like this:

Him:  Hi, how are you?

Me:  I'm good, just got done doing some deep spring cleaning in my apartment!  It feels good to have my place this clean.

Him...24 hours later:  You inspired me to do some cleaning!  Thank you for that.

Me:  That's awesome.  How are you today?

Him...24 hours later:  I'm good.  I'm going to be in your area today, want to meet for dinner at 5 at the Barn?

Me:  I actually have plans and won't be able to meet you tonight.  I'm interested in getting to know you.

Him:  No worries, I'll be in the area on Wednesday too, how about dinner then?

Me:  Yeah, that should work.  I won't be free until after 6.

Him:  That's perfect, I won't make it into town before 6 anyway.

After that message, I gave him my number, and my past experience has taught me, that once a guy from online has your number, you receive texts all morning, all day, and all night.  So, I waited for a text in hopes of getting to know this guy a little more before sitting down for a meal together.

The week went on and Wednesday arrived.  I went to my part time job on a farm to scoop poop, and then stopped by my parents house to pick up some mail and a book.  In my mind, I was going home, taking a long hot shower, and settling down with a book.  The perfect evening!

As I walked through the door at 6:15pm, my phone alerted me.   It was Hank, asking if we could push back our dinner to 8 o'clock.   Oh ****!  I completely forgot!  I responded with a quick "perfect" as I was stripping myself naked to hop in my not so long and hot shower.  After I got out of the shower, I realized we never set a location.  I messaged him to see where he was familiar with in Wooster and he told me to pick a place.  And so, I picked the safest, easiest to find place in Wooster... Applebee's.

He responded, "how about picking a place more local and less franchise."  

Oh, he was one of those.  Don't get me wrong, I love supporting local restaurants but I also have no problem dining at a chain restaurant.  After all, I do make restaurant booths for chain restaurants, so in my book, they aren't just greedy corporate franchises, they also supply a lot of jobs for the communities.

The thing was, Wooster is a small town, and local restaurants in Wooster are downtown, and downtown restaurants close between 7-9pm, so finding a place that would be open late enough for us to actual enjoy our dinner and have time to talk before kicking us out so they can go home, was going to be a challenge.  I googled a few of the local places to see their hours, and found one that closed at 11 pm.  Once we established the location, he told me his directions said he'd be there at 8:15pm and I was immediately bummed that I didn't take a longer shower.  So, after I got ready, I sat down and started reading the book I wanted to spend the whole evening reading, but only got a few pages in before it was time for me to go meet this guy who I'd literally only had exchanged a few sentences with over the last week.

I'd picked the Olde Jaol which has two different buildings.  One for the steakhouse, and one for the tavern.  I picked the tavern because it was first date, laid back, Applebee's feel, material.  When I saw a guy walking up the sidewalk glancing from building to building, I figured this had to be Hank.  Trying to be witty and cute, as well as breaking the ice with a light hearted  joke I said, "Based on the confused look on your face, you must be Hank, and this building here is the tavern."  I gave him a cheesy smile and he came in and gave me a big bear hug.  

"I wasn't confused, I was just taking it all in!  What a great night!"  Hank said with enthusiasm.

"Oh, well, from my perspective, you looked confused."  

We entered the restaurant and sat down, completely oblivious that we knew nothing about each other, but that was okay because this was a brand new moment for him to experience and explore.  I knew this three minutes into our conversation because before answering my "what brings you to Wooster?" question, he had to take in the whole restaurant.  He answered with a story about life being absolutely crazy and how awesome it was to live such a crazy and unexplained life.

I was on a date with a combination of all the self-help and personal development books I've read over the past two years.   It was completely intriguing!  So, instead of answering a question at surface level, like, what do you do for a living?  I got the story about how he loved to bake as a child and realized the need to only use local ingredients while baking and so on.  From there, we started discussing farming and agriculture, and that's when I said, "Did you know if every single household had 5 chickens, the amount of waste would drastically decrease?  If I weren't in an apartment, I'd have a chicken."

"You are making my heart explode with romantic feelings right now."  He exclaimed.  He went on to tell me how he was trying to pass the chicken laws in Cleveland so people could have chickens.  

I was fascinated with this guy and then I said, "Are you familiar with Joel Salatin's farming methods?  That's the kind of farm I want."

"Okay, this might be a little soon, and I don't want to rush things, but you do want to go live on a farm together?"

"Yes!" I answered in the way I'd fantasized about when my ex-boyfriend talked about proposing but in reality, when he would talking about it, my response was more like, "okay, yeah, this could work."  I told him I didn't want him to propose until I could excitedly answer with a yes, and without hesitation, just as I had done in this moment with Hank.

Our conversation shifted towards politics and religion, more-so, our parents views and how we were raised.  We were both raised in a Christian conservative home, while I continue to hold on to these beliefs, he decided 10 years ago to wonder if anything was real or not.  Was gravity real?  Would we have it when we woke up the next morning?  Would he still treat people the same if religion hadn't told him how to treat people? He went on to explain all these thoughts about not having set beliefs because he wanted to continue to explore them.

My head was beginning to hurt because I could no longer follow his thinking.  Wouldn't it be exhausting to question everything ALL the time?  Finally, I asked him, "so, do you believe in everything or do you believe in nothing, or do your beliefs change every day because you have to decide each day what you believe?"

He was quiet and I could see his mind working by the way his eyes focused in on nothing in particular.  "Wow, no one has ever asked me this question before, I guess I've never really thought of it that way before."

He rambled on for 10 minutes tossing out intelligent information, facts, and perspectives, without actually answering my question, and somehow we got on to the topic of mediation, and then I told him my story about how I've seen tons of deer since December, like fields of deer, and I finally asked my friend who is half Native American if she thought it meant something.  He enjoyed my story and then asked if he could share some of his deer stories.

And this is where he lost me.

Mostly because he knows so much about the Native American lifestyle and he has participated in words I can't pronounce so I don't even know how to spell them, or google them, also known as Native American spiritual rituals and stuff.  He told me how he's been experimenting with the dream state because Native Americans would live their real life while in a dream state, so they would see things that weren't really there, while being in reality.  He started telling me stories about his experiences with deer and then he would say things like, "and then I would cross over in my dream"... 

I would be completely fascinated with his story and then I would be doubting his story because I wasn't even sure if he was telling me what was real or was a dream that seemed real.  All this to say, that if I thought the amount of deer and the encounters I have had with these animals was something to take note of, his experiences far surmounted mine!  After he told me all of his deer stories, he sighed and said, "you have no idea how awesome this is to talk to someone about all of this stuff, most people write me off as a freak."

I gave him a soft smile and said, "you intrigue me."  Which was true, and though I didn't think the idea of moving to a farm with him sounded as appealing as it had an hour previously, I was still fascinated with our conversation.   We still didn't know anything about each other because we skipped all the surface level small talk and talked about taboo first date things like politics, religion, spirituality, and dreams.  

The sound of thunder echoed in the restaurant stopping our current conversation.  "Whoa!"  we said in unison.  While he looked up to the ceiling of the restaurant, I'm assuming to look for the spot the thunder came from, I commented that the storm we were supposed to get must have rolled in.  He gave me a look of confusion, so I said, "Did you know we were supposed to get a storm?"

"Oh, yeah, I knew, I was just taking this moment in."

I sighed.  I am all for being aware of the moment and appreciating the small things but I also live in reality where we have thunderstorms.  Fighting a yawn, because it was way past my bedtime, I asked if we should leave so the employees can close up and go home.   

"Well, when you put it that way, yes, we should get going."  Hank said, and I didn't spare a moment to move from my chair.   We walked outside and admired the rain.  I suggested he should dance like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain while he made his way to the car, while I ran to my car because it was cold-chilled-to-my-bones-rain.  He gave me another big hug and told me he enjoyed all of our moments we spent together, and I responded, sincerely, "I am fascinated with you."

We parted ways and I called my friend who had sent me my "get out of jail for free" text an hour ago.    

"Do you think you'll ever go out with him again?"  She asked.

"You know, I don't know.  He really was interesting but I don't even understand if he believes in everything or nothing, so wouldn't it be a waste of time if he doesn't know if he believes in love or God or living in reality?  Anyway, he lives up in the Cleveland area, so I don't imagine he will be in this area very often, but I did learn a lot of interesting things over dinner.  I guess we will see."

It is the next morning and I am typing up this blog while it is all fresh in my mind, and guess who is in town again, and wanting to go out for lunch?  That's right, being out of work is giving me the opportunity to have a lunch date with Hank.   And boy, do I have a lot of questions to ask him because I am seriously curious about this guy.

Better

I had a simple realization the other day while listening to the sermon at church.  The topic was about waiting and it hit home, since I feel like most of my life has been stuck in the transition zone instead of the present.  I keep waiting to hear about work coming in.  I keep waiting to hear from applications I've sent in.  I keep waiting for a man to see my worth and stick around during the hard times.

I keep waiting on change, but not just any old change, change that will make my life better.

In the sermon, he talked about waiting patiently, praying earnestly, while eagerly waiting with hope.  And then he said, "you have to transform your bitter to better", and carried on with his sermon.

That was the sentence I heard echoing over and over in your head.  He didn't explain how to move from bitter to better but that was alright, because for the first time in my life, I saw the difference between the two words beyond the one letter difference.

I thought back to the book of Ruth, a book we'd studied a few weeks earlier, and how Naomi changed her name to Mara because it meant bitter. (Ruth 1:20-21)  And Naomi/Mara wore her bitterness well, letting everyone know she was a widow, her sons had died, and God had taken everything away from her.  During a hard time, she chose to be bitter.  Not better.

And then I thought about some of my past struggles and how my first reaction was to turn bitter and blame others for my misfortune, compared to now, where I see my current situation clearly and understand the struggle, but my attitude isn't bitter.  It's optimistic.  I'm faithful and in constant prayer. I'm not consumed with fear because I trust God is guiding me.  After all, everyone in the Bible, and anyone called by God, has gone through a few "bad spells" where nothing seems to go right, but in the end, they see God's providence leading them to exactly where He wanted them.  After all, we can lose a lot of things in life, from careers, to houses, we can even lose our faith, but the one thing we never lose is our purpose in life, or the destiny God has designed for us.

Back to my thoughts and how I started thinking about the story of Ruth.  After I realized how bitter Naomi/Mara was, I realized how much better Ruth was.  She too, was a widow, and now moving to a foreign land with her mother-in-law, working long hours in the fields for food, and despite her circumstance, she had the heart of a servant.  She was better.  Not bitter.

Then, I noticed the true difference between the words.

B{I}TTER.... I.  Woe is me!  Bitterness is created when the whole world revolves around us and what we are lacking.  Bitter people complain.  Bitter people aren't grateful.  Bitter people are self-consumed.  If they aren't happy, no one around them should be happy.  It's negativity full speed ahead.

B{E}TTER....E.  Everyone.  Others.  Everyone is included.  Have you ever noticed the people who are happy in life are the ones helping others?  And, it's not out of obligation, but it's because they genuinely want to make the world a better place.  They have learned to look outside their own personal life to see a bigger picture.  Most people feed off of their energy, while bitter people try to destroy it because after all, it makes them look bad!

It is still my natural tendency to be bitter because pointing fingers, living in fear, and complaining, is really EASY!  Each day I try to do and be better.  It is a process but I am making progress.  Even if I don't always go out of my way and have the heart of a servant, I am much more aware of my missed opportunities to make the world a better place.

Today, and every day, I choose to see love instead of fear.

I choose to be better instead of bitter.

Slow Deep Breaths

I called my friend in a panic.  She answered with a casual hello.

"Give me positive vibes NOW!  I demanded.  I was driving and struggling to calm my emotional reactions to my current frustrations.

"Um, okay.  You are sunshine and light.." she laughed as she mumbled the words into the phone but then I interrupted her confusion of my demand.

"LIAR!"  I laughed.  "I mean, remind me how to control my emotions and see the positive instead of being annoyed at this group of people, that I, for some pathetic and idiotic reason, keep hanging out with?  Am I that desperate for a social life?"  Though I am speaking sarcastically, there is so much truth to my words.

"Um, did you want me to answer that?"  she asks, sounding ready to reveal the cold hard truths of my life to me over the phone.

"NO! Because I already know the answer!  I am!  This is my life!  Desperate attempts of putting myself out there, only to be rejected, or ignored.  Also, I forgot to take off my invisibility cloak again."  I let out a slow, deep, and loud, sigh, and then let it all go.  "I just don't know how, after a year of changing my mindset, being more open and understanding, loving and accepting myself, and going through so many emotional and mental changes that I still struggle with finding people to be involved in my life, or mine in theirs."

She understood my struggle because she has listened to me vent my frustrations about this issue since I was 16 years old.  "So, what happened?"

"It's so stupid, I shouldn't even be annoyed by it but this group has the worst case of ADD.  I got invited over for game night.  I went over in comfy casual clothes, even took some games, and upon arrival, the girl in charge decided she wanted to have a bonfire and we were going to relocate.  And since she is the kind of girl that always gets what she wants, and no one speaks up to her because she doesn't hear what other people say anyway, we end up doing what she says.  So, now, instead of playing some games and getting to know each other, I'm heading home to change into warm clothes because it's 30 freaking degrees outside, and sit outside by a fire.  Oh, and she wants to watch this guy shave his beard.  Apparently, it is going to be hilarious."

"So, you're going to the bonfire?  Why?"

"Because I want to have friends."

It wasn't much further into this discussion that I learned what I already knew... this group of people was not serving me in a sense to make me a better person or want to open up, this group of people was suffocating me and I was constantly going back after I got a little bit of air.  "But, if Christians don't want to be friends with me, and Americans don't want to be friends with me...maybe I should just pack my bags and move to India or Thailand or somewhere and go on a spiritual quest.  Maybe then I'll find the right people for my life."

This is something I've been deeply considering lately.  Selling everything and going to a different country.  I've even considered looking into teaching English overseas.  But then I make excuses like I have a clingy and anxious cat who would not do well with separation.  Oh, and my family is all here.  Things like that.  But I seriously wonder if the reason my life constantly feels like tires stuck in the mud is because maybe I'm on the wrong continent!

I went to the bonfire where I spoke a handful of words and took a trip down memory lane when I discovered the guy who got thrown into hosting the bonfire and I had a mutual connect... my first adult crush, the-we-became-friends-and-he-never-made-a-move-guy.  We watched the guy get his beard shaved off and I kept trying to imagine how this was so exciting and funny.  I even imagined me surrounded by some of my closest friends asking one of them to shave their beard off in front of us, but I still couldn't see the amusement in this event.  Maybe it's because I come from a family where the guys grow a beard in the winter, and shave it off in the spring.  This event seemed kind of normal yet unusual since we were watching him as one might watch an acrobat in the circus.

Once the person who had blocked my car in left, I took advantage of the chance of freedom and made my way home, ignoring the feelings of loneliness creeping in on me.  I walked in my apartment to find my loyal and loving cat anxious to snuggle and so I sat down and she quickly found comfort in my arms.  I rubbed her belly as she purred and said what I say to her every night, "it looks like it's just you and me for life."

Creative Living

For a while now, I've been dabbling with the idea of creative living.  In a way, it's a way I have been living my life fro the past 34 years, but I've done it without really being aware of it.   Now, I want to be aware of creative living, and push myself to do more of it.

I've been reading a lot of books on this topic lately to fully understand the concept.  It isn't necessarily being a starving and struggling artist, but more about going and "making stuff" because that is what you want to do.  I firmly believe that it is possible to live a financially secure life while creating, in fact, that's what all businesses are doing on some level.  My struggle has been which direction to continually show up in.

I've dabbled in everything artistic and I suppose this is why I am so hesitant to give up my current job, despite only getting 16 hours a week, to pursue a new job.  Upholstery and cooking are the only jobs I have ever had that have fulfilled my creative habits and desires while getting a paycheck.  But creative living is beyond a job and a paycheck, it's about being authentic especially with your creativity.

And to be honest, I've been rather lazy with my creativity.  I get ideas all the time but instead of doing something with these fun ideas, I sit down and watch a movie because I don't feel like sitting down and writing after a long day, or I don't want to pull out my art supplies because I finished cleaning my apartment.  I find myself making more excuses to avoid being creative and then complain because I'm not feeling like myself.

I love to create.  Though I'm no where close to being a Van Gogh, Picasso, Monet, or even a Bob Ross,  I have a different kind of calm when I am painting, letting my hands move in a steady motion while trying to paint what is in my head on a canvas.   And when I cook, I throw in spices, or whip something together without a recipe because it feels natural to mix certain foods together.  When I write, I lose track of time because my mind is more concerned about picking the right words than tracking the time.   And when I go on a walk, I can take 300 pictures without even knowing it.  I am a natural creator and though I'm not at a professional level of any of these artistic outlets, it is when I am doing these things that I feel like I am at home in my own skin.   I hear a different voice in my head, one that is optimistic, one that is hopeful, one that tells me that tells me the dream is real, I just have to do something about it.

Once a project is finished, I know that it is an authentic one of a kind and it is up to me to put it into the public's eyes, so they can praise or criticize what my inner most being created.  This is the process that keeps most people from sharing their creative living because people are...people.  There are those who take the fine comb over the creation to point out all the flaws, there are those who murmur meh's and shrug their shoulders, saying "I don't see what the big deal is..." and there are a few people out there who simply appreciate the creation because it is a creation.

One of the reasons I stopped writing was because of the noise that came after I released my first book.  Actually, it was the lack of noise.  Other than a handful of people I gifted the book to, in exchange for a review, I hadn't gotten any reviews of my most vulnerable writing.  No one cared I had released a book, and even though I sold a handful, only two people told me they read the book, and only one said they liked it.  As a new writer, I wanted the validation that I had written something worth reading, that my story had some impact, and that I was worthy of writing another book.  The silence haunted me so much that I stopped writing.  I convinced myself my writing was unworthy of being read.  I stopped creating for years and my life felt stale.

And then a few months ago, the writing bug bit me again, and I jotted down a few notes.  Then, a friend suggested I read a book, and then another book, and then another book.  I found myself telling her that I could have written these books if I would sit down and write.

If I would sit down and write.

With it being a new month, I am committing to writing 500 words a day, via blog, via prompt, via working on that novel I've been wanting to write for 7 years, and I am going to live creatively and artistically.  It's not about writing something to sell or publish right now, it's about simply getting back into my creative habits and doing the work.

When is the last time you got in tune with your creative side?  Do you find yourself feeling differently when you are in the creative zone?