It's Friday night. I'm sitting here in the midst of a very, very dirty house. I'm staring at my computer screen. I'm fighting a losing battle with all the words and ideas in my head. I'm supposed to be writing. Last month I accepted a part time position as a writer. So I've been writing. What I'm learning is that writing for someone else--on a schedule--is a challenge for someone who prefers to be free from the shackles of another person's agenda. But everything within me tells me that I need to do this. It's a sacrifice of my most precious commodity--my time. It's humbling to have someone else critique my work and offer suggestions. It's exhausting to deal with the panic that washes over me as I struggle to find the right way to express ideas about topics that are still a bit foreign to me. And I still have a regular job to do. It takes a lot of work, and I brought a good deal of that work home with me this weekend. On top of that, I three a...

I'm happily saying good-bye to April. My head is still pounding and my stomach is still churning from the emotional roller coaster this month has brought to my life. Right now, I'd be willing to invest my life's savings in emotional Dramamine, confident that I could make my fortune and be able to retire on a beach in South America before my passport tells me I'm forty years old. I went to lunch with two of my dearest friends Friday. We have a chunk of time in the middle of the day that allows us to go off campus when we don't have meetings or duties, and Friday tends to be a good day for that. This week, we escaped to one of our favorite places. It's a small restaurant with only one English-speaking employee, and we all smell like the kitchen when we leave. The food is amazing and affordable and the atmosphere just cannot be beat, especially when the lone English-speaking employee is not there. When we arrived back at the school, we still had a few minutes befor...

I've written so little lately that I fear I can no longer call myself even a pseudo-writer. Life has been busy around these parts, even if my life consists only of myself and my two dogs and the occasional foreigner who crosses my path. So many things have been running around in my head lately, though, and one of them has been the roadblock to writing that seems to linger around me. I had a conversation with my dear Lawrence recently about this and explained to him that what holds me back in my craft is my fear of breaking the rules. Half my friends are killing themselves with laughter and coughing up lungs at that last statement. Let's give them a minute to catch their breath. What I fear is having my name attached to something that goes against the grain of what I've been taught. This is a serious issue to me because much of what I believe and think today very much goes against what I was taught as a child. You've seen the progression here in this blog even though I...

I'm supposed to be writing now. When I told a friend of mine about my three business ideas, he asked, "What about the writing?" I shared this with someone else who asked what's holding me back from writing. He proceeded to tell me that if writing is my gift, I have an obligation to share it with the world. I mentioned to another friend the fear that holds me back from writing, and his response was, "That's bullshit. Your abilities are not up for debate." Today was a rainy day, and it was perfect for sitting in my pajamas with some coffee or wine and exploring the world of my characters and what I want to say about life. It was interrupted by some rollerskating and quick outlet shopping, but I did manage to get back into the pjs. I'm supposed to be writing now. I tried. I started putting together a short story called "Spanish Tortilla", but the words argued that they should be an essay instead of a short story, and I just couldn't handle...

Can you stand another travel-themed extended metaphor? Not that it matters, really, because I'm going to share one anyway. I was talking with a friend of mine earlier about some frustrations we're both having with our positions in life. We're both caught in the limbo-land of not being where we really want to be, but also accepting that life hands you what it hands you. This is an interesting blend of living moment by moment with a peripheral view of the future...that age-old head vs. heart problem. I have a really great opportunity right now that is not really in line with what I want to do with my life. As I shared this, my friend asked, "I thought you wanted to write full-time." I do. There's no doubt about that. I want to wake each morning completely aware of the wonders of life around me, to feel gratitude for my small part in the grand scheme of the universe, and share these insights with the world. That's my dream. His response to that was, "Wel...

My life seems to be evolving yet again before my very eyes. Remember when I said I wanted to get my degree and open a private therapy practice ? The reason I've always considered it as a career choice is because I want to share with people my view of life. It's not that I think I have all the answers, but I do think I have a gift for helping people live in the moment. That's my passion...experiencing each moment and milking it for all it's worth. Last night I was talking with a friend about fishing. He was sharing some stories about being out in the water and said something about how I could write a book about these stories. I laughed because that's EXACTLY what I thought the first time I heard any of them. He tells them with such enthusiasm and passion that I know if I could capture it in words, the book would be a best seller. I processed this while running this morning and thought about the common thread connecting all my book ideas. They are all about life exper...

Over the last two weeks, I read Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein . If you can set aside your prejudices toward science fiction and can appreciate theories even if you don't agree with them, this book is a must read. I thoroughly enjoyed the characters and the plot. (When I told my father last night that I read the book, he said, "Oooohh, I remember that book. My high school French teacher recommended it.) One idea that has stuck with me is the fact that the "Man from Mars" withdraws into himself after he experiences any great emotion or struggles to learn a new concept. He has to have time alone away from the world to process what's happening around him. Once he does this, he's able to move on. I get that. Right now there's nothing I want to do more than crawl under a blanket and sleep. Or run across the country ala Forrest Gump. A remote cabin in northern Canada sounds divine. So much has happened lately. So many ideas are flooding my brain...

For the last 2 weeks I've been reading a biography on Scott Fitzgerald . At the moment, I'm completely wrapped up in his wreckless, genuine, extravagant, and tragic life story. I'm at the point when his wife had her first mental breakdown, and Fitzgerald is entering a period of both his best and worst work, but certainly not his most popular phase. (Funny how life works in those extremes.) I suppose if someone wrote my biography they would describe this last as my busiest non-productive years, but the one that shaped me into the woman I became. So much has happened, and I tend to feel like there's been no rest, but I know I've changed. My dear husband mentioned something to me the other day about applying for some grants so I can pursue writing full-time. I love the fact that he knows that nothing would make me happier, and he believes in my talent. That conversation along with the fact that everything Fitzgerald wrote was completely autobiographical has inspired m...

There is a legend in my family about my grandfather's first weeks after he left the Navy. The government was going to pay for him to go to college or learn a trade. He was undecided about a career, so he decided to dig ditches. That lasted for a week. He still don't know exactly what trade he wanted to learn, but he knew that digging ditches wasn't part of the plan for his life. Eventually, he became an apprentice with a locksmith, learned the trade, and became one of the most well known and respected locksmiths in the state of Florida. People still talk about the "Old Locksmith" who could open any safe. I've been thinking about this story quite a bit this week. My dream is to write full-time. I can so see myself sitting at the beach or in the middle of the woods with my laptop that I hope to own one day and an idea. With this in mind, I've been actively searching for freelance work. I accepted a job last week that has turned out to be more than I had in m...