20 posts tagged “writing”
I'm heading out of town this weekend and I realized late this evening that because I'm training the rest of the week, tonight was my only shot at running errands, shopping for snazzy duds, and trying to nail down a surprise I had planned. I just got home and I'm totally beat, but I still have at least 2 hours of work--for actual work--to do. Sigh. I think, though, that I may just try to go to bed right this second--or in a few minutes--and get up very early and head to the office. Yes, I think that may be a plan.
So what is my tired self choosing to do with her last precious seconds of lucidity? Post. Duh.
I took a slightly later lunch than most of the usual crowd today and in doing so was able to find an outside table. I sat for a while just looking out at the landscape around campus and onto the distant greenbelt. It was hot out, but because I was in the shade the warmth was wonderful--just right--and I thawed out while waiting for just the right words to come to mind.
And then I took my pen and paper and started to write.
I do this often now. I scribble and brainstorm and jot down epiphanies on the steering wheel while driving with my knees. If I don't write them down, the words either itch at the back of my brain or worse just disappear and I never have the chance to read them over and decide if they're keepers or just crap.
Don't get me wrong; a lot of it is crap. But it's the act that's important, the feel of pen in hand and the transfer of wispy thoughts into conceptual rambles that I can look back and laugh at when I come down from my little intellectual high.
Of course, I'm also doing more formal writing too. I'm working on two pieces now--not just the one on the romance novels, though I do have something to say about that in a minute, but also something that incorporates an essay I wrote about my ex's best friend, an Iraq vet who is a great guy, but scarred now like so many others. Since I haven't been in contact with him for over a year, I feel more comfortable in taking creative license and turning my non-fiction essay into short story fiction.
So I'm generally jazzed with writing now. And though content is all over the place--poetry, fiction, non-fiction, oh my--I'm enjoying stretching my literary legs.
And with that terrible analogy, I'll leave you with my lunchtime doodle.
strange, this sensation
this tickle at the back of my mind
this steady electric pulsing
honey on the tongue leaving me
breathless.
heat rising to a blush while
eyelashes flutter of their own accord.
feminine wiles appearing out of nowhere
straining to loose themselvesthese are the opening days.
no high stakes, no drama
just teasings of things to come.
for now we are all lighthearted fascination
strumming the occasional chord of memory
building on the intrigue.
"you're a mystery."
"so are you."i wonder what you will feel like
look like
taste like.i wonder if you will fit against my side
and in the space between...heavy silence for a moment
then the glow of spark catching flame.
the lightning dances across my skin
and down my spine again
leaving my senses humming
and my eyes alight.
[Yes, that's right. I said alight. Perhaps that was just the hunger talking? Methinks not. That romance novel post will have to wait. I'm practically falling off my chair...sleep wins over posting.]
Spent much of the day in Wimberley with the sis and her boyfriend.
I bought a couple of frivolous things.
And tried on a couple of beautiful little dresses I was hoping to buy for next weekend. No luck though; still looking for the right stuff.
We window shopped and browsed here and there, poking our heads in to a couple of galleries. The rustic, but intricate metalwork we saw was brilliant, and I found a new artist I absolutely loved...what caught my eye were giant, angular pieces of glass hung as outdoor sculpture. They just took my breath away for some reason. I was so startled, I neglected to take out my camera.
We left around five and I headed home for a bit. After some research and advice from a friend, I bailed on tentative plans to go see a show in Austin tonight, but then spent half the night kicking myself for not going. [Tell me, Austinites--does the Austin Music Hall suck as bad as they say it does?]
And now it's a quarter till two and the carpool leaves in just over five hours. Should be in bed, but I'm up...jazzed and inspired, posting in 2 places at once. Listening to a song off another someone's blog...repeat, repeat, repeat.
It's the kind of song that feels like me...I'd forgotten about it until he sent it last week and it struck deep down in memory. Strange what music can do...
It feels like driving in El Paso at sunset, through the bustling wasteland of Central and around the potholed streets of downtown, on Paisano past the bridge, heading west on the Border Highway to Santa Teresa, blood-orange golden light blinding me through the windshield, Mt. Cristo Rey in the distance, and the pastel painted colonia homes across the river, then between the Franklins on Transmountain Road, emerging near Ft. Bliss, past the graves of old soldiers where my grandfather stays, and still on to the east side...a thousand memories of childhood haunts and hauntings, kisses and tells, shattered dreams and shots of adrenaline and luck racing in the dark...and this song and its kin blaring on KLAQ to drown out the wind of the open windows. I'd be screaming or crying or singing at the top of my lungs and generally marveling at how fucking alive I feel.
I feel like that a lot lately. I roll down the windows and let the wind tear at my hair and it feels like my heart will burst inside I'm so much on fire with thoughts and plans and passions streaming out in all directions. I'm my own supernova right now...I can hardly be expected to go to bed.
Vices are on the mind this morning...what I like, what I want v. what is good for me. Sometimes they intersect or divert without confusion. Other times though, these times, they race side by side and dance around eachother, intertwining in an upward spiral. I feel a devilish smile and wonder why it all has to hurt so good.
Listening to Rufus' Poses (hence the title above) and waking up for the day. Had a delicious sleep last night--in bed by 11 and drifting not long after hanging up the phone, then up before the alarm this morning and out to see the light breaking across the neighbors' treeline. It's one of these mornings that make me quiet inside, that serves up my blessings--like health and sanity and tear-free nights--with a side of juniper-and-rain scented breezes and the urge to write under a cloudy sky.
I re-read a number of old posts last night...was clicking on my tags, looking for one quote in particular, and found some other pieces that blew me away. My heart sliced open for you all to see, and caution thrown mostly to the wind. It's been beautiful and now I have this journal to look back on and find the milestones..."look, mile marker 311, we're halfway there." How very far I've come...not just over the last year, but overall. If I could tell my fifteen year old self just one thing, I would advise her to be patient, "You're really going to like where this is going."
With each day my mind and body seem to be coming into closer sync. I'm creative and analytical, planning ahead and nudging diplomatically for movement, improvement, change in all areas; I write, I sing, and I grow stronger, captain of my own form once again, like Tracy in The Philadelphia Story, I "have a disciplined body that does what [I] tell it."
That line is from a scene where Tracy's father takes her perfect self to task. He's rather blunt and cruel with his opinion of her.
"You have a good mind,
a pretty face...
a disciplined body that does
what you tell it.
You have everything it takes to make
a lovely woman except the one essential.
An understanding heart.
Without that, you might as well
be made of bronze."
I've always focused on the 'disciplined body' line, marvelling at how well that seemed to describe Hepburn and wishing that I could be, if not completely, just a little bit like her. But now looking at the lines all together I see a total picture of who I'd like to be, and a warning in the memory. I didn't just lack the disciplined body before, but perhaps, at times, the understanding heart as well.
And I realize now, with some wonder and humility (even as I seem to boast of it), that I seem to have it all.
Well, perhaps not all...but if I all I have to complain about is allergies and a shared understanding for Nora Ephron's famous lament, I'm more than willing to carry the load.
And now for a glass of chocolate milk...
in the twist and turn of random occurrences and memories jarred from their craggy resting places, i remembered today that we met fifteen years ago. today. today you kissed me for the first time. today i was kissed for the first time at all. you dazed me, drugged me, with chemical reactions and synapses firing in rapid succession of teenage lust and the hum of another more powerful force i'd only read about it books. "strange, baby, don't you think i'm looking older." today i learned the feel of your arms around me, the taste of your tongue, the strange electric sensation of loving, and being loved by, you. today, this time, was my hawaii, my dream trip. my time to look back on and shake my head in wonder at, knowing it would never be that way again, but knowing that every day could be, might be, sometimes almost was and then, sometimes, really was...even better. but you took it away, and took it away, and took it away again. and i gave it away, and gave it away, and then, i held on for dear life, heels in the sand, rope burns on my hands, my arms, and around my waist where i tied it off and tried to anchor you to life. the rope might have held, was holding, but you turned and sliced it between us. leaving me. to untie the rope and tend to my hands.
dripping with irony, or perhaps just coincidence, you and the universe have worked to take you back there, to that--to this--place in time. "there and back again." today. today you were there. you tried hard to look past the stairs. you glanced absently at the courtyard and the fountain that once carried our dance of hollywood lovers. you shut out the smell of my hair and the hesistant first touches i finally dared to reach for, to take from you, to give to you. you tried hard to leave me, to erase me, replace me even with something or someone else, like work or a cause or a body absent of my faults and gifts. and perhaps you almost succeeded...perhaps you count this as a sign, that things are for the best, never meant to be, never really happened, never really there.
but...
i remind you. we were here and we are there and the walls and roads are soaked with memories of our looks and secrets and pains and dreams.
in an empty landscape of night and desert sky, the blazing liquid gold of a river of fire burns down the mountainside.
and you.
cannot.
forget.
in my beautiful, my beautiful...BAAAAALLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
Oh, A.M. Gold, how I love thee.
Anyway, that ridiculous line from an equally ridiculous song is meant to lead into my generally cheery post about life in general.
Sure, my savings are dwindling, I still don't have an extra part-time job, and those student loans are going into reduced less-than-interest payments again, but, eh, life is super good.
Remember that informal crappy review I received at work? Opinions are now, thankfully, totally reversed. It appears I've nailed project after project since then. I say 'appears' because while said projects were rolling along just as nicely before, now that they've finally come to completion people can actually see the progress. The reviews are in from many parties beyond and including the peers who were 'concerned' about my performance, and tada, I'm a hit!
Why the sudden reversal of fortune? Well, partly because I have been playing CYA much more consistently--I'm documenting EVERYTHING in writing--and I've made it a point to be early to just about everything possible, but perhaps most importantly, I've become super vocal in meetings and in various projects pow-wows so that no one can wonder what I'm doing with my time. I think I was playing nice, playing fly on the wall too much, and just trying not to piss anyone off, but now, I'm just being me. I'm aggressive and assertive and I expect a lot from myself and others, AND I hate bullshit. So, really, I think the biggest change I've implemented in my work life is that when I see bullshit, I call it, instead of just holding my tongue and trying not to piss anyone off. And I'm also calling my own fouls so no one else has the chance to point the finger.
I know it probably seems oh-so-typically-middle-class-American to put the status of my work environment first in a list of things that are good about life, but really, it's a big deal. I like being good at what I do--and whether I'm a cog in the wheel or not, I happen to enjoy this job. It's the first job I've held where the company powers-that-be have not insisted on handing my soul, my social life, and my relationships over to their whims and their 'cause'. This is the first job I've held where my 'superiors' don't think it's perfectly acceptable to scream, cry, or cuss at me, to call me an asshole and to play psychological warfare when I fall short of--impossible--expectations. [And no, I'm not whining, I really mean impossible expectations--that's what non-profits do, don't you know?]
And while I was uncomfortable with the fact that my peers didn't come to me with their issues, but instead went directly to my supervisor, I find it amazing that they have made an even bigger effort to applaud my performance, give me kudos where I deserve them, and report my successes to others. My little bad-review bump in the road hasn't affected our working relationship at all, and despite the fact that I've become noticeably more assertive and aggressive in meetings, I don't feel any sort of strange competitive backlash. It's as if, dare I say it, I work with--mostly--professional people. Bizarre, I tell you, utterly bizarre.
[Oh, and a side note about that middle class statement--I have to say that I aspire to the middle-class. Yes, I'm educated. Yes, I hold a job that doesn't require manual labor. I own my house, or rather it owns me. Etc. BUT all of that is at and has always been at a price that I can barely afford. While the credit card debt is gone--thank God--the student loans and the price of gas ($70 to fill up my tank? Are you f'ing serious?!) are eating my f'ing lunch.]
Away from the work life, I now turn your attention to my writing. No, not this stream of consciousness of a blog I keep, but rather more formal work. I joined a newly formed writing group of St. Edward's University alumni and our first non-fiction/fiction meeting was tonight. Having previously volunteered to be first up in presenting something original, I stayed up till 3 last night cleaning up a fiction vignette I wrote a few years back. It was something I always liked, but that I just hadn't been able to touch or do anything with until now--too prophetic given the turn of events over the last couple of years. I received some excellent feedback on how to round it out--it really helped me to conceptualize how it could fit in with the other pieces of the collection idea I've been toying with for months. As always, the negative, er, constructive criticism is as important as the 'bravas!'--but it's nice to get them anyway. I don't care who you are, a little petting of the ego, a little confirmation that the words you loved and crafted so carefully are also admired by others, well, it really does wonders towards softening the negative reviews.
Finally, on the tri front, I ran the hill workout with the tri group tonight and did, in retrospect, reasonably well. Actually, I hung in there great for my first time back, but while I was actually running I felt like a real weakling. I shouldn't have, but I am so damn competitive that if I'm not always in the lead of the pack, it just burns a hole in my psyche. Luckily I distracted myself by repeatedly assessing whether I was about to have an asthma attack. Exercise-induced asthma is bullshit! I'm convinced I can just find a way to push my endurance past the point of wheezing, but really, it's very annoying to know I shouldn't be out of breath, but I just can't seem to suck enough oxygen into my lungs. I realize this sounds like a rant, but really, I am loving the training experience. Every day I see parts of my body shaping themselves and my strength increases, I sleep soundly, and I weather my dreams in stride.
There's something spiritual about all these experiences converging right now...somewhere in the juxtaposition of challenges, failures, and successes, heartache and healing, I'm finding a sense of peace I've never felt before. It's not magical or mystical or all consuming or anything over zealous (not that I've ever felt that crap either)...it's just so...light. It's like lying on the warm concrete after a swim in a cold pool...like the wind and the smell of the ocean while riding a bike on the Strand. Like feeling those memories in all my quiet moments...I can't describe it any better than that. I guess despite my love of words, in this case, words fail me.
Never got the chance to update after signing off midstream last week. Spent the weekend in El Paso, mostly hanging out with my immediate family and not trying to spread myself thin by seeing all the people I wanted to see--Jackie, Vivi, Tita, Pam, Don--which would have caused much stress. Nope, instead I woke up early, worked out, ate like a champ, played with the awesomeness that is Max the poodle (look for pics later) and slept well. Oh, and I acquired much fodder for writing, which is a good thing too because I'm supposed to be presenting an original piece to my writing group tomorrow. So far it's just notes, but I may try to work it into a draft online tonight. We shall see.
Anyhow, I've much catching-up to do in the neighborhood--both real and vox-ual--and I've a million other things to do, but here's a quick list of things (in no particular order) I'm excited about for the future or pleased that I've accomplished. I just feel like getting them down into black and white to reflect upon later.
- Belterra Super Sprint Tri on June 21
- The Olympic length Austin Triathlon in September
- Going to see George Michael in July in Dallas [Oh GEORGE!]
- Going to see my best girl Arghavan in St. Louis at the end of this month
- Discovering that I am enjoying cycling very much
- Painting parts of my house--or not, I can't decide!
- Coming off a medication I've been on for just over a year--boo to pills (except vitamins and allergy meds, and anti-inflamatories during a certain very short time of the month)
- Writing seriously again -- and turning my attention to an idea for a collection I've been mulling over for months
- Attending my first ACL fest in September--the lineup caught my eye this year AND I was able to snag a discounted ticket through my place o' business
- A little less jiggle in the junk in the trunk--I just noticed it the other day. Don't get me wrong, it's still nice but just, ah, firmer?
- The gun show...my arms are starting to cut in places they never have before, not even during basketball off season in high school
- Shooting hoops right outside my office building where they've just finished the new courts. (Even brought my ball today.)
- Possibly, hopefully, keep your fingers crossed and your novenas on schedule...going to Hawaii with my family in July. This can only happen, however, if my 6 month review--which is about a month late--goes well. I'll find out soon.
Lucky #13 is the big one I'm hoping for, so please send your good juju my way. Oh, and don't forget that this Friday is (DUN DUN DUN) Friday the 13th!
Last, something fun a coworker just pointed me to...oh those internet savvy Weezer folks.
I should be more tired than I am, and likely I am actually exhausted, but the endorphins and adrenaline are keeping the pain at bay. I did a mini-tri with the Hill Country Tri Group tonight. My first attempt at all three activities in succession: 300 meter swim, 10 mile bike, 2 mile run.
Things started off chaotically as I made it home from work with only 10 minutes to spare before the start time, and not only did I have to change, but I also had to swap the dogs out (backyard to garage, indoor to backyard, and back again), feed the cats, load my bike and be off. In my rush I forgot my swim cap, cell phone, and water. An auspicious start...
Lucky for me the folks were waiting and had just finished a little intro on transitioning (swim to bike, bike to run) and set up your transition area (where your bike and all your stuff is waiting for you) efficiently. When I arrived my fellow participants gave me a recap of what they had just heard while I set up my transition area and then we were off.
But before I move on, I have to say that it was a little intimidating to be hearing about bike shoes and "clipping in" and transitioning barefoot so that you can run faster than in your 'bike shoes'. Admittedly, I'm a beginner. I don't have 'bike shoes', I have a pair of lighter, less supportive shoes I wear for bike riding, but they're just my old runners. It was just a bit much for me I guess--I mean, this a journey of personal growth and I've already put more money into this pursuit than I had intended, but I really want to do it for me...I'm just not looking to win any trophies, you know? I suppose I could, but one thing at a time, like say for instance, not panicking in the water?
I am happy to say that my swim went very, very well--much better than expected. I didn't set any records, and my stroke was messy at times, but I came in ahead of 2 other women and that was just fine by me. I probably could have done better if I could have just caught my breath. More on that later.
And then the bike. My transition went poorly, owing mostly I'm afraid to my attempt at politeness. One of the women in the group was insisting that everyone try this electrolyte goo called, appropriately, Gu. She was rather insistent, and very quick about it, and had the thing over my head before I knew it, and damn it she's one of the organizers of the group, so...I opened my mouth. Big mistake. That SHIT WAS NASTY! You see, I'm a texture girl--as important to food as the taste and smell of things are, to me texture is just as important. This stuff was like the worst, thickest nastiest moccos (phlegm) that try to choke you in your sleep when you're battling a winter cold and cough. Oh, and then she dripped it onto my chin! (She didn't mean to, but dammit...) So I wiped the stuff on the back of my shirt, put the shirt on and then spent the next couple minutes half-heartedly putting my shoes, shorts, helmet, and gloves on while gagging on this stuff still coating my throat. I was a bit distracted.
So I was the last one on my bike, but--nice folks that they are and this being a non-competitive tri for us first-timers--everyone waited for me. See a trend here? Sadly, the bike didn't go very well for me at all--to my surprise. I felt I was at least as strong on it as on my feet, but I was off from the beginning. I couldn't find a gear that felt right, my seat was too low and I had to adjust it midway to a still unsatisfactory height, and I was dead, dead last in the pack. Heck, I wasn't even part of the pack. It was just me and the Gu lady who could have left me in the dust--and I told her to go on ahead--but she insisted on staying back with me. At that point it became a mental game for me. She was very nice and gave me a lot of great advice, helping me to play with the gears, etc., but I really hated being last, I hated not being able to push myself harder, and I hated (in a purely juvenile and assanine fashion) how nice and helpful she was being. I wanted her to ditch me so I could finish the ride by my own sorry self.
At one point on the ride back from our turnaround point, she went on ahead and another very experienced tri-er (who is also my swim trainer) hung back with me. I was embarrassed and I kept trying to push myself, but eventually I was riding slower than I could have jumped off and run, even at that very low and tired moment, and still I couldn't catch my breath! And then it got worse, my breathing that is, and I realized I was about to either hyperventilate or have my first asthma attack. It felt like when I had bronchitis...and, interestingly, it feels like that a lot lately. I had to slow down even more and just tried to relax and focus on my breathing, on calming my inhallations and exhalations and really absorbing each breath. It took a while before I felt better, but I couldn't pick up any speed after that. Still embarrased, but glad not to be turning blue in the face, I kept on going and enjoyed the rest of the ride. I was last and was not going to change that without a miracle. Acceptance, in some cases anyway, is bliss.
My swim trainer turned riding partner really did a great job of getting my mind off the ride and helping me to relax. She just started chatting...pointing out the view, the land, talking about different stuff...just distracting me from the voices in my head--no, not real voices, I'm not batty yet. I mean my own worst enemy--me. The me with the little voice that says "Don't be such a loser. Suck it up. You should be ashamed." I mean, where on earth did I pick up that little devil on my shoulder? Glad to find it could still be silenced if I put my mind to it.
At last the pinche ride was over and I got off that damn bike with the too low seat. The run was brief, and other than a couple of rests for badly knotting calves, I got through that well. And then it was over. Ta da. The group, um, regrouped and talked briefly about upcoming events, including the bike clinic that I plan on joining since I suck at riding as well as swimming (there's that voice again) and then we all took off.
I'm sitting here, still in my tri clothes, soaked through with sweat, sucking down my second G2--a sign that I'm very thirsty because these things taste like cough syrup--and finishing off some leftovers. I'm going to shower, play some Guitar Hero, watch Frasier ("these are a few of my favorite things...") and then sleep. Thank goodness I work from home tomorrow! I know this is a rather rambling and disjointed post, but I wanted to get my impressions about the night down before the sleep and dehydration make them fuzzy.
Overall I'd say it was a very positive experience--especially the bike ride. It was the most challenging shove inside my own head that I've had for a long while. I did alright if I do say so myself. Peace!
Many tasks being crossed off the to-do list these days. Return books to library. Check. Clean the cat boxes. Check. Buy groceries. Check. Kindly request that Sallie Mae aka "the mother of all bookies" reduce her take for a little while because she can't get blood from this stone. Check.
Today's task--go for doctor's appointment and request a full STD screening--just in case. I'm not saying he cheated, I'm just saying that the trust was broken and, frankly, a gal can't be too careful. Hey, at least this way I will know that I'm ready to play when I decide to 'get in the game'.
(Oh, sports metaphors, you've added such richness to the world of cliches!)
As I started to drive away from the doc's I remembered there was a Bath & Body Works in the little shopping center across the street, and I decided to use the last of my gift certificate to replenish some soaps for my parents' visit this weekend. Then as I was driving through the parking lot I saw an Amy's Ice Cream and decided also to treat myself to a scoop. And so, I now have just two words for you...Thin Mint...Amy's Sweet Cream ice cream pre-mixed with actual Girl Scouts Thin Mint cookies 'crush-ins'. It was even better than it sounds and I could have eaten my weight in it.
It's barely coming on 10 pm and I'm exhausted--full work day, doctor's visit, ice cream eating, then yard work, catboxes, laundry, yoga, abs routine, and homecooked dinner instead of just cereal. I think I may just crawl into bed and see if sleep will take me early tonight. Good night all!
even in my own family! A relative forwarded me an email about Barack Obama today that I just couldn't ignore. I normally just shrug off this kind of ridiculous stuff, but...from a family member, whose husband is a deacon in a Catholic parish? I just couldn't let it go. Below is my response, and below that is the original email forward.
--------------------------------------------------------------
I recommend that anyone who was inclined to take the previous email forward (see below) at face value also take it upon themselves to research Senator Obama through other news and academic sources and to read his autobiography. Much of what is listed in the email forward as "uncovered facts" are written about in plain sight, and have been covered by mainstream media long before this.
----- Original Message -----Sent: Friday, January 04, 2008 6:56 PMSubject: Who is Barack Obama
Who is Barack Obama? Very interesting and something that should be considered in your choice. If you do not ever forward anything else, please forward this to all your contacts...this is very scarey to think of what lies ahead of us here in our own United States...better heed this and pray about it and share it. We checked this out on "snopes.com". It is factual. Check for yourself. Who is Barack Obama? Probable U. S. presidential candidate, Barack Hussein Obama was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, to Barack Hussein Obama, Sr., a black MUSLIM from Nyangoma-Kogel, Kenya and Ann Dunham, a white ATHIEST from Wichita, Kansas.
Obama's parents met at the University of Hawaii. When Obama was two years old, his parents divorced. His father returned to Kenya. His mother then married Lolo Soetoro, a RADICAL Muslim from Indonesia.? When Obama was 6 years old, the family relocate to Indonesia. Obama att ended a MUSLIM school in Jakarta. He also spent two years in a Catholic school. Obama takes great care to conceal the fact that he is a Muslim. He is quick to point out that, "He was once a Muslim, but that he also attended Catholic school." Obama's political handlers are attempting to make it appear thatthat he is not a radical.Obama's introduction to Islam came via his father, and that this influence was temporary at best. In reality, the senior Obama returned to Kenya soon after the divorce, and never again had any direct influence over his son's education. Lolo Soetoro, the second husband of Obama's mother, Ann Dunham, introduced his stepson to Islam. Obama was enrolled in a Wahabi school in Jakarta. Wahabism is the RADICAL teaching that is followed by the Muslim terrorists who are now waging Jihad against the western world. Since it is politically expedient to be a CHRISTIAN when seeking major public office in the United State s, Barack Hussein Obama has joined the United Church of Christ in an attempt to downplay his Muslim background. ALSO, keep in mind that when he was sworn into office he DID NOT use the Holy Bible, but instead the Koran.Barack Hussein Obama will NOT recite the Pledge of Allegience norwill he show any reverence for our flag. While others place their handsover their hearts, Obama turns his back to the flag and slouches. Let us all remain alert concerning Obama's expected presidential candidacy. The Muslims have said they plan on destroying the US from the inside out, what better way to start than at the highest level - through the President of the United State s, one of their own!!!! Please forward to everyone you know. Would you want this man leading our country?...... NOT ME~~~NOR THE CACKLING HILLARRY
I'm published! Ok, so it's just a little Op-Ed, but I'm rather proud and I didn't tell my family so it was a big surprise for them this morning.
I submitted it a couple of weeks ago, and it was the editor's decision to run it on Christmas Day...even had to change the tense and voice in some places so that it made sense running today rather than last week. Also, they made an exception to their normal maximum word count for this piece, something they normally don't do. And they've asked me to contribute in the future, so I hope it's the first of many pieces I will do for it and other publications.
More than anything, I'm proud of simply being comfortable with sharing something so very personal with a public audience that also includes my private circle of family and closest friends. That's a big milestone for me as a writer--someone who used to let only a few random strangers see her stuff. The content, however, says more for me as a woman, and a grown-up, than anything else.
Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas! Good-night!
