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.