New Year's Revelation-Ok, so it's not really a revelation....

So, recently I've decided to do a better job recognizing my strengths...which I've also found inevitably leads you straight to your failures when you're of an analytical (not pessimistic) mind (which I like to think I am).  


Tonight, I had a revelation.  I need to talk less.  I need to heed the words of all my elementary school teachers marking up my report cards year after year with comments like, "Shannon is a joy to have in my class when she is not talking to her neighbors" or the more to-the-point, "Shannon talks too much".


I'm realizing more and more that being open and forth-coming (an open-book) is not necessarily a strength.  Sure, it makes you personable and people enjoy talking to you because you don't seem snooty or snobby, but some times (more often than not I've found recently), it's just better to keep your mouth shut.  That seems to be where I run into trouble.  For example...


At no time is it ever a good idea to share with a co-worker (or two) the fact that your doctor had to give you your medicine in suppository form because you were ralphing too hard to keep even the smallest sips of water in your tummy.  Nor is it ever a good idea to describe your projectile vomiting episode that took place behind the power supply box of the local hospital to your new, weak-stomached boss just so she doesn't think you were "faking it" to get a few extra days off around the holidays.  It is also not a good idea to talk to a new employee on the floor and make "that's what she said" jokes after something they say just because you think it's hilarious.  They most likely do not.  I've also found that making conversation with your AVP should never end in discussing those little tags on the back of men's dress shirts that all the mean kids at school hatefully called "fag tags".   Especially when he's talking about wearing one of those shirts.


I could go on here, but I think recounting one days events is enough to validate my need for privacy and self-restraint.  I'm going to go on record here and say that my 2010, New Year's Resolution is to be just a little more reserved for the remaining 11 plus months than I have been the past 12 hours.


Sheesh.

Meanderings....

I can't imagine what some people go through in their lives that makes them who they are. We're all so very different. Yet, so very similar.

I know it's a collective chutney of sweet and spicy events all mixed together culminating in the savory (or otherwise) dish we are presented with in the end but......the mind and the heart and the soul are warped, twisted, improved, changed with every day that passes from the day they are born. Each day, each ingredient in our life's recipe effects us in a very specific, very irreversible way. In ways we cannot avoid. In ways we learn to understand, accept and adjust to.

Because of who we are and how we've been shaped thus far in our lives directly impacts how every thing, every situation, every event will change us and mold us further. Our past indirectly influences and reflects our future. We chose our situations, but never how our brains, our soul or whatever you want to call it will respond.

How I react to and overcome adversity, joy, trials and challenges today is different from how I would have approached it five years ago or even five days ago (because it's not who I am now) and therefore it's different in how it alters me in the future; my future self.

It's like a very well-made map was drawn for my life and it is being followed every day, in the correct order, as it should to make me the person that I was meant to be. And with each change, each day I'm alive I am morphing just enough into my future self to experience the following day as I was meant to.

Each event, or occurrence or person I meet I am meeting or experiencing as I was meant to meet them, at the proper time in my life for it to develop me into the ME that I'll be on the day that I die.

What a thought?

The caveat to this, of course, is understanding why "bad people" end up the way they do if it's all part of a master plan that we can't control. If we can't control how something effects our mind or our soul, how can we cast so much blame on those who are subjected to the unthinkable?...and how can some people experience horrific things that they can rebound from and go on with their lives while others can experience far less and it causes them to break down, murder, rage? It's like having our minds, our psyche made up of different types of material...or fabric. Some sturdier than others, some delicate as tissue paper, easily ripped and torn to pieces.

Beautiful Storm

Beautiful storm.

Such strength.

Perfectly loud,

Interestingly calm,

Devoutly quiet,

Light and shine.

Fall silver, sparkling drops

of heaven's tears onto my face.

Flashes and streaks of

rage and passion

draw me up, 

up into the sky.

Toss about not rain and winds, 

but dreams and desires instead.

Beautiful storm.

Such strength.

Such life.

Bejesus Freak

So, it's raining.  

What better to do with yourself in the rain (other than play in it) than write?  I've decided that I want to write a book.  I've decided this many times, but now...I think, "solo pronto", I am ready.  

Since I was in about the second grade, I've wanted to be an arthur, and then later, an author.  It took me a while to learn the difference, you see.  I had a teacher in fourth grade, Mrs. Baker, that turned me on to poetry and so for a little while, I wanted to be a poet.  Nevertheless, I did return to my original desire of writing stories and using my imagination and love for words to reach others.  My high school teacher, Ms. Seckinger, made sure that I realized I had potential in this category and I'm thankful to her constantly for being such an incredible teacher!

I am still not quite sure how I made it to be thirty years old without having done anything near writing a book, but here I am, ready to seize the day, tackle the monster, reach for the stars and all that jazz.  I just hope I can keep my impatience in check long enough to make this dream of mine a reality.

The key things that hold me back are as follows:

1) Fear of rejection

2) Self-doubt

3) Impatience

The first one, I think I've come to accept.  Not everyone will accept me for who I am.  I'm learning that and also learning to deal with that fact more and more every day.  Sure, the thought of having someone read something I've written and say, "That's horrible!" scares the bejesus out of me (and we all know that should be IN me not out of me), but I think I'll survive that because it's to be expected.  Again, I am learning this more and more working in the corporate world surrounded mostly by women and not all happy, encouraging, accepting ones.  

The second of those is my biggest obstacle.  Self-doubt.  I believe in myself, until I re-read something I've written.  I need a critic.  I need an editor of sorts.

How can I find a critic honest enough to actually help me that is not as critical as I am of myself?  Obviously, I can't be my own critic because when I am, it all goes in the trash.  Who can I trust to be forthcoming with me enough to tell me what I need to hear, but not so critical that I become defensive?  

Definitely not my husband.  Bless his heart, he'd want to tell me the truth, but he also likes to eat and so therein lies the rub.  

My mother-in-law is definitely someone that could fall into the "editor" category, but in the interest of family preservation, I think that one must be passed on as well. 

My mother loves me too much and wants only for me to realize my dreams.

My father is just crazy enough to be too crazy for the job.

So that leaves two possibilities.  My oldest and dearest friend, April, another aspiring writer, and one of my (unbeknownst to her) mentors, Linda, whom I work with.  Of these two, I believe that Linda would be the best fit for the job because not only is she honest and forthcoming when she needs to be, but she's also someone I trust, believe in and I value her opinions and words of wisdom above most others.  She is such a rare gem.

April, while definitely a great choice for the job is very busy with life and work and I feel adding to this might be unfair to her at this point.  She will however, be one of the few that I share any and ever written word with because her thoughts and opinions matter so much to me!

Hmmph.  Sounds to me like I might have just made my choice without having planned on it!  

Score!

Ok, back on topic:  My third obstacle is my impatience.  My mother calls it ADD, I call it being focus-challenged (see above paragraphs for reference if needed).  Huge difference.  

I pick up hobbies, and then drop them like they're scalding hot potatoes.  I start projects and then consider them finished at the halfway point.  It's not that I don't want to finish them, it is just that they take longer than my attention span allows.  

I have countless half-finished scarves for various family members all over my house.  I bought all the supplies I needed to paint and decorate a baby chair for my niece for her first birthday; she's 18 months old now.  I bought a calligraphy set last year and the practice pad has a total of three A's on it.  (No idea where that ran off to.)  I tell my husband regularly that it's a huge deal he's made it this long.  I ask him all the time how he does it and he just smiles at me.  

It's terrible.  I'm insufferable to myself!  I just have to find ways to renew my interest in my own writing.  This is definitely going to be the biggest obstacle I will face while trying to write a book.  Whether it's flying through a chapter and then going back over it time and time again to doctor it up or building a timeline that I can work from, I don't know.  I guess we shall see.

This is it.  It's time I get down to business and stop letting the days slide by me like grains of sand through an hourglass.  Writing a book, or not writing a book rather, will NOT be one of my life's biggest regrets.

Solo pronto!

PS-Linda, you up for the task?  I guess I might as well ask!

solo pronto

solo pronto: i am ready

I've named my blog "solo pronto" because for the first time in my life, I am ready.  Ready to take on things I never thought I could take on, going places I've always longed to go, writing the book I've wanted to write all my life, marriage, family, forever, you name it...  I am ready.

I don't know who might read this.  I don't know if anyone will even care what I write about... but that's alright.  I'm ready for that too.  To write is to expound upon so many things that are in your mind, in your heart, in your soul.  It's music, laughter, tears, love.  Pain.

I'm not afraid anymore.  I'm not running or turning away.  I've stopped to stand in the shine of the sun that once warmed my back.  Turned to the east, the rays of life touch my cheeks and hair and eyelids, closed against the brightness.  A smile on my lips, a sigh in my throat,  joy in my heart and contentment in my soul.  

Solo pronto.