My New Biggest Fear

    What if I can't revise? What if I am too simple minded? No, seriously, what if I just can't?

    I just finished up my I believe essay. I typed what I thought. And I reread it and it sounded right. And, well, crap. What if it is crap? What if my thoughts are crap? My chest is tightening up, it might be a panic attack. It might not make sense to anyone but me. Like I speak my own language. As though I have been so isolated raising babies and living in southwest Missouri, I have no concept of the outside world. I know laundry, dishes, cooking and raising babies. That's it. If doubting yourself was a disease, I would be the carrier monkey.
    Honestly, what if I don't know half the stuff I think I know. Oh God forbid, I am one of those people. The people who think they know stuff, and act like they know stuff, but don't. This weeks readings included "How to Say Nothing in 500 Words," by Paul Roberts. I might have said nothing. What if I think in fluff? My sentences are padded with unintentional fluff. I just might have said nothing in a page and a half. There is an inexcusable part of me that hopes for a writing group of morons. A step above primates. A bunch of uneducated, banjo wielding hillbillies who make moonshine and build booby-traps. Come to think of it though, it take some serious smarts to make moonshine, and build booby-traps. So I need the kind of hillbillies who do nothing but shoot at squirrels. Then maybe my essay won't be swallowed up by geniuses and their writings, making my essay look like chicken scratch. Plus I like banjo music, and bluegrass.
    No such luck. I have high school AP English students, and probably future Rhodes Scholars. I should be thankful, I know. They will give me great feed back and help me improve my writing. After they all sit around with a bowl of flaxseed and organic raisins, drinking chi, reading my poor little essay and laughing. Excuse me while I go dig a hole in the dirt it wallow in and continue my pity party.

Dreaming is Exhausting

    It was one of those nights. I dreamed insane dreams all night and woke up exhausted. The freaky dreams wear me out. I can almost always remember what I dream about. Sometimes for a few minutes after waking up. Sometimes forever. And that is not always a good thing.
    People don't believe me, but I dream every night. Only rarely do I wake up and not remember my dream. I can wake up and get up for a drink or bathroom break and then go back to dreaming. They say that's not possible, but I do. When people say they never dream, I wonder why. Is their brain full of important stuff, and mine has room for nonsense?
   Last night's dream was a doozy. It involved a pool, and a broken down hotel that had many rabbits living in it. I kept losing my pants, and I don't know why because I was wearing a dress. I found a tube of medication used to treat hairloss and malaria. Long story short, it was weird. I must have ate something with preservatives last night. I swear, bacon makes my dreams weird. I blame preservatives.
     I don't look for meaning in my dreams, well, because I just don't buy into all that. I can't even imagine what people would think if the judged me on my dreams. I would be locked away in mental hospital or prison. Some of the things my subconscious comes up with are just wacky. My least favorite are when I am trying to dial a phone number and keep hitting the wrong buttons. That happens a lot.
    So I am tired from my crazy dreams, and have to get creative and continue the process of this essay business. I am pretty worked up over this whole thing. I keep checking my writing group to see if anyone else has posted theirs. How long will they be? MLA, huh? I don't have resources, I made this all up in my head. I got the margins and what not. I hope my head will get out of the scary hotel of rabbits induced fog and join the real world.

Why So Not Serious?

     Reading some of the blogs of other class mates, past and present, I have found there are some deep individuals. Some of these blog post have very serious undertones. I began to wonder if I too should get serious. Maybe dive into the many hot topics of today. Be opinionated and persuasive. Am I doing this whole blog thing wrong?
     But you know what, I have opinions. Opinions on many important topics and issues that adults and unfortunately children face today. I even have some non ignorant ones. Opinions I have developed after researching and educating myself. Some are very strong, profound. I have opinions about gay marriage, standardized testing, the environment. I have political thoughts and ideas. I watch the news, and then go "really?" and look stuff up. Google and I are pretty close.
     As an adult I have dealt with customer service, warranty companies, and the IRS. I have had friendly but firm conversations with insurance companies, school principals ( even overly confident ones ) and reservation specialist. Having three children and an accident prone husband, I have had informative and educated discussions with doctors, surgeons, and all the staff that come along with them. So, yes, I feel I could write some meaningful blog post.
     No thanks. I think there are plenty of opinions for others to digest right now. And I get very depressed with all the seriousness that comes with being a grownup. I understand some people thrive off of debate. Some could sit around all day reading the news, watching the news and talking about the downfall of America or the great direction it is headed in. All that debating and opinionated talking is something they really enjoy. I would think I was in purgatory.
     I will, when required or feel morally obligated, share my deep thoughts. My smarts might show, as my Grandmother would put it. The same Grandmother would often say "Shit, piss and apple butter" and I have no idea what that means. But honestly, I like to smile, and keep things light. There is so much heavy in the world. Does that mean I have an inferior blog? I sure hope not. I am not an airhead, I just write like one sometimes.
    

Friends Don't Let Friends Wear That

     I am a slacker! My mind has been on a vacation. I probably couldn't have formed actual sentences for the last three days. We went on a small, down the road vacation. As a family we enjoyed good food, lots of fishing, and swimming, and my favorite part of vacation... wait for it... people watching.
    I am more of a curious observer than a judgmental one. I often embarrass my husband by asking questions. "Wow, south Louisiana. Why don't you sound Cajun?" "Is the pick in your hair an accessory or functional?" "Did you really just fall out of a paddle boat trying to catch a duck?". All questions I really just want answers to. I am fairly sure I didn't offend anyone. I came across as humbly as I could. Just ignorant to certain "ways". Honestly, no judgment. These folks and I could be homies. I just like to know things.
    All that being said. Sometimes you can't unsee things. And sometimes clothes can be as inappropriate as being full on naked. Now, I won't go into details and it needs to be clear I am not talking about someone who was seeking out comfort. Lord knows I have had my fair share of hideous apparel in public in the name of comfort. No, this was someone, in a group, who was oblivious to what they were wearing, or at least oblivious to how they looked in it. Jaw dropping, looking around for the hidden cameras, this can not be real kind of attire.
     I am all about letting your freak flag fly people, but honestly this person needs a friend. Because friends don't let friends wear that! It's not about being mean, but being honest. Just say no, and all that. There have been plenty of times someone has looked at me and said "uh, no". And I listened and was thankful. I googled, this was not a cultural fashion thing. This was just for entertainment, because there is no way someone just looked like that. And they truly thought they were rocking it. Like a Kardashian. They weren't. God help them, they weren't.
    I love all types. All shapes and sizes. Tattoos and piercings, colors and expression make the world go round, and other than asking the occasional "did that hurt?" "what does that mean?" "is that comfortable?" live and let live. But it is about being Authentic! (see what I did there) And sometimes folks just need to be told " No, don't wear that."

My Creed

•      I believe in being Authentic.
•      I believe authenticity is the greatest thing you can give to others.
•      I believe one must be mature and have moral values to be genuinely authentic, or else you don't know yourself well enough to not be swayed back and forth between ideals.
•      Authenticity is adaptable. We grow, we learn, we change. We just need to stay real.

• ( As a side note, I have always wanted to use the word dogma or dogmata in a sentence. I will do my best to find a way. Against all odds. And, no. That sentence doesn't count. )

Waking Up Is Exhausting

     My mind is a hot mess. It feels similar to what a creek looks like after it floods, when all sorts of branches, leaves and trash float down on top of the water. I have about six, yes, six things to do today. My mind is thinking about 75 million things today. I bet there is medication for that.

     The thing that has my head in the shape of a pretzel the most is trying to come up with a personal creed. I googled and binged away. I found out that there are a lot of hippies out there, and a lot of self love, new age stuff too. I found them all entertaining, some interesting, some frightening. One thing I did not find is any ideas. None. I stand for nothing.
   
     Sure, I believe in lots of things. I could write down stuff I believe in all day. Some serious deep stuff too. Then I look at it and here comes the but. The exception. I am a push over I guess. Then WHAM! There it is. What am I not a push over about. Authenticity. I believe in being authentic.

     I am going to run with that.

A Baby Draft

    I was going through this weeks reading assignments, and one stood out, "Shitty First Drafts" by Anne Lamott from Ms. A's Classroom eAnthology. It taught me I have a mind of a bratty child and I don't know how to edit it out of my writing. I want to write down my thoughts. Ok. I want them to make sense. Good. I want those who read what I write to get it, like really get it. I want them to sense my eye rolls and smirks. My humor is usually a complete bust through text messages, and so it is safe to say, that it won't work out as planned on a blog.

    So, upon reading about "Shitty" drafts, I realize there is a lot more to editing and revising than what I thought. I need to figure out how to not sound..... well, I don't know? Not like me? But I want to sound like me. Even if later in this adventure as a college student I have some serious research paper to write, it would make me quite sad if I couldn't sound smart, educated, and familiar. In the things I have written so far in this class (ENG 101) I have caught myself trying to sound, well, pompous. Worst fear! Right? I want to write smart. I want to write well, but keep me in all of it. Sure, I read a lot, so I got all the fancy words I can bring out when I need the "big guns", but honestly, have I ever used the word pompous in normal conversation? But it help paint a picture right? Maybe if this was a face to face conversation I wouldn't need the "big guns" because I talk a lot with my hands, roll my eyes, and generally act overdramatic when describing things.

    Now I feel like all my drafts are cursed to be "shitty". I want to build and develop my baby drafts into functioning well mannered adult drafts, but I don't know how! Maybe I will just go reread what Anne Lamott had to say.

What I Now Know About My Audience

    Good Grief! What a motley crowd we have here. First of all, this whole "know your audience" was a new concept. Kind of mind blowing. You mean I am not just writing to myself? I am not just writing this because it is what I WANT to write? I guess I need to remember I am not trying to change or improve my writing to fit into some tiny bubble that is my audience, but to write in a way that will grab and hold my audience by knowing them as individuals and improving my writing to get them involved emotionally. Ok, rereading that sentence it sounds fluffy, but it is what I want to say.
    Looking at all the responses to the "Know Your Audience" questions, I am impressed with what a bunch of level headed individuals we seem to be. Many with strong family foundations and some without any it seems. Sometimes the answers left me all like "seriously?" "really?". Surprising. Come on Ms. A, I want to know your favorite jam. If I found out my instructor is rocking out to some eighties hair band on her way to work, I would feel better. Or even some Beach Boys, The Eagles, Pink Floyd. Humanize this woman who hold my first meaningful grade in over a decade in her hands. I see her sitting there, mad scientist hair, wild eyes, rubbing her hands together as she prepares to grade my papers, letting out an evil laughing cackle.
    Over all learning more about this group of English 101 students and knowing them as my audience has been helpful. Mostly in knowing they are people, just like me, who like indulgent food, and have loved ones they miss, things they would change, places they would go. This exercise was indeed fun, and I do understand now why audience is important, why they matter. So, Mission Accomplished Ms. A!
 

" I Believe I Can't Grow Things" Freewriting

I believe I cannot grow things. I have no green thumb. I did sort of grow beautiful children though. Go me. They agree exceptional. Is it normal to be this wigged out over the fact this freewriting stuff will reveal my inability to spell. I mean I am total nervous about the condition of this little exercise. Exercise, man I need to work out. I like to. I don't like to run. I am not totally convinced that running is natural. Man I am spelling so bad that autocorrect doesn't even know what to do with my words. My words are many. It is scary to know I could do this all day. I just keep thinking about it. I have so much I want to write down, But I think there was a point to this, oh yeah, growing things or in my case not growing things. If I plant it, chances are it will die. Why does nature hate me? My Mom couldn't grow things, but she couldn't cook either. Oh my so many words with the horrible squiggly red line under it. Ah, I don't like this not going back to fix stuff rule. Maybe I read the article wrong. I can cook, so maybe the ability to do things isn't genetic. I am not so sure I have anything worth writing down officially. I mentioned I love Taco Bell, in that essay thing. Maybe that would have been better to freewrite about, because I am hungry. My lack of a green thumb is pretty cut and dry, I can't grow plants. Not much to continue to write about there. But I am digging this exercise, but I fear I might be coming across like I have ADHD. My thoughts are still on food. Why do I always want lunch by 9 am. Its sad to know that you can't get a burger when you want one. Oh, now my mind is back on exercising. I should consider a diet, just to feel better. Like eat healthier. I feed my family healthy, you can tell because when my kids get to eat sugar they transform into wild uncontrollable manic creatures with no restraint. I  blame sugar, but maybe other kids just build up a tolerance, like alcoholics. Oh no, more red squiggly lines. I wonder if its normal to worry about what my carpets made of. I keep thinking it could be poisonous. I love the dollar tree store, but I am also convinced that everything is made in China and that means it is poisonous because the Chinese want us all to die off slowly in some sort of world power move. But then I realize I might just be over dramatic or crazy. And lazy I guess because I still get water guns and various other little treats from the dollar tree. LAzy, this morning I was. I have gotten use to 4 am and that's weird. I miss it when I wake up at 7 and have to get the kids ready and myself ready and everyone fed. Its like little indoor farm around here.
521 words

This I believe

I believe I need more patients
I believe I need to be better organized
I believe my puppy need obedience training
I believe I have a lot on my mind
I believe my oldest daughter is driving me nuts this morning
I believe ants are gross
I believe bugs serve a purpose
I believe in the God of the bible
I believe there is more to all this
I believe I can set goals and accomplish them
I believe I am better at Math than I originally thought
I believe I still struggle with Math
I believe my husband loves me
I believe some people make mistakes for attention
I believe in Aloe as treatment for almost everything
I believe I can't grow things
I believe I kill far to many plants
I believe my kids are awesome
I believe I need to think of better breakfast options for my family
I believe the FDA is evil
I believe Taco Bell is the greatest thing ever
I believe I am blessed
I believe in Angels, not deceased loved ones with wings
I believe in miracles
I believe I have a good mechanic
I believe I am falling behind in life

Jung Typology Indicators

    ISFP, those are my letters. It says I am an introvert, sensing, feeling, and perceiving. I think it means I am no good at testing, any testing. Not only am I ISFP, but just barely. I squeaked into those categorizes at forty, fifty, and sixty percent. Now I feel wishy washy. Then I checked on my "career" recommendations, and was disappointed. I had somewhat hoped this test, this would be the one to answer the great question of my life. What should I be when I grow up? It didn't. I don't know the figuring that went into those recommendations, but it was a list of the top jobs I would never want to have. Not all of them, but most. Stay at home parent was on there. That's what I do, for now. But what comes next?
    Introvert, huh. I guess I could see that. I don't like speaking up in front of people. My opinions are strong ones, but I keep those reserved for myself and those who have to love me no matter what, based on their moral code. So, I get introvert. Even here in my safe little blog, I want to write fearlessly, like a purge of my mind, but I won't. Then people could judge me, my thoughts. Maybe not my thoughts, maybe my ability to convey sarcasm and dark humor through a keyboard. I should have a disclaimer posted with the title,  "Do Not Read if You Lack a Reasonable Sense of Humor".
    I took the liberty to further research this ISFP. I am not alone. There are oodles of website to better explain these traits. It turns out, based on my interpretation of these other sources, that even though I got P for perceiving over judging, because of my F (feeling), its likely I judge and just keep it to myself. Maybe that why I look at people so often and say "Seriously?". I have judged their actions or words and are giving them the opportunity to rethink it.
   Now, what kind of student does that make me? Feedback is always welcome. I want to do well, I want to write well, but I feel inadequate. My degree choice, for instance, its the one for me, right? I wish someone would tell me what to do. Make no mistake, I will finish what I start. I am not wishy washy, despite my middle ground percentages.
   Could I have missed the point? The test is telling me about these attributes I have so I can use them to my advantage. Yes? No? Look, there I go again needing reinforcement. I wonder if indecisive is one of the traits of ISFP. Sensing may make me irrational.

It's a BLOG

Oh My Gosh! It's a BLOG! I may be overly excited. Blog by definition is... never mind. Wikipedia is confusing. In my own definition Blog is a fun little place where all my thoughts can find a home. And, oh boy, do I have some thoughts. I may need to be sure to rethink how this goes down. Some of my thoughts should stay in my head. Like the lady in front of me in Mommy Drop Off Line Purgatory, and how I thought about how it wouldn't kill little Timmy to walk an extra ten feet to the front door so she should pull up and let, I don't know, one of the other eleven hundred cars up to a position to drop off their kids. 
See, this is therapeutic. Everyone (as I talk to myself) be patient. Maybe I will get the hang of this blog stuff and it won't look like a hideous jumbled disaster.