The journey is just beginning.
You aren’t done shining your brilliant light just yet.
If you are anything like me you have experienced a struggle with defining who you are. You may have at some point felt plain exhaustion from the endless hurdles that appear in your path. You get so tired of combating obstacles — especially if you have stumbled previously. Failure feels terrible, for you as much as for me. You and I are a lot alike if you have been tempted to take the road with the least resistance just to avoid the discomfort of failure. Human nature is a quirky thing, isn’t it?
We say we want great things for ourselves. We know what we are capable of achieving yet … something prevents us from leaping into the path that leads to the greatness we crave. We don’t want to be rejected so we don’t ask for a date. We don’t want to be booed off a stage so we refrain from singing. We don’t want to lose a race so we just don’t enter the race at all. We don’t want to be seen in a spotlight unless we have won or succeeded somehow. We often don’t know the right path to take us to the goals we have in our foggy minds because we refuse the path that presents the opportunities to fail at things we truly wish at which we could excel. Not all of us. But most of us have suppressed our dreams in some way. But then something good comes along and we find a path that we stick to. …
Timelines need a new shape.
The enchanted orbit we travel on, summarized in a poem.
The orbit that we travel on keeps circling the sun.
A ball of mixed up elements into a sphere it spun.
Illusions of a timeline seem confirmed by night and day.
Aging in a pattern, seems we spin until we’re gray.
While we turn around-around the burning lustrous light.
We measure self-in linear ways, we think we have it right.
But How can life’s experience be narrowed to a line?
We cycle through the days we spend in circles known as time.
A line does not curve back again, the way that seasons turn.
Life occurs in orbits, in our hearts as blood is churned.
Round we go along the path of dusty, shielded earth. …
And enabled me to navigate life choices with ease.
As a woman who has faced an assortment of mental health challenges over the years, I have had lots of time to study my happiness or lack thereof. In a recent review of my fluctuating states of mental well being, I recognized a pattern in relation to decision making. It seemed as though I had developed a habit of sabotaging my good fortune by making terrible decisions. I noticed that when I chose poorly it permeated everything.
Bad ideas
Faulty choices were evident in every aspect of my life. From minor things like what socks to wear (Navy blue ankle socks with black pants? Why?) to more life-altering decisions like quitting a job (Why didn’t I secure a new job first?), it happened too frequently to be a coincidence. In retrospect, I found that it had become a habit to choose poorly during times of hardship. My behaviors appeared destructive and senseless sometimes. The most obvious, simplified fact I discovered in my analysis was this: Making poor choices had clear and negative consequences. …
The new mask code has unforeseen effects on many people.
While transacting in a drive-through recently, I had to repeatedly ask the girl who helped take my order if she could repeat herself. I was having difficulty hearing her muffled words. When she rolled her eyes at my third “Huh?” I felt rushed, and the tired cashier was clearly annoyed.
I tried to smile warmly and empathize with the cranky worker. Her mood did not improve. I decided not to let her bad day poison my good day. I really had no reason to allow her surly demeanor to turn me into a grumpy butt too.
As I waited for the order to be made I continued to give myself a pep-talk. I thought to myself, “She hates her job, not me.” I even considered the fact that it was weird that in a circumstance where a person was being rude to me that I was left feeling apologetic. …
This isn’t self-help. This is the opposite.
And how to apologize when you are done making a mess.
There comes a time when you look around your blessed life and you think: “Wow I really screwed up.” If you have never been to your own rock bottom, then you may only relate to some of the examples ahead.
If you are anything like me then you have hit a few “rock-bottom” moments over the years. Well instead of telling you all how to be amazing super-achievers I thought perhaps I could tell you how to become a train-wreck because currently, that is my expertise.
Remember, you should only emulate the behaviors of those who have results you would also like to achieve. So when I tell you the steps I took to mess things up in my world — please do not take this as advice. Take this as a journey of steps to AVOID. If you happen to already be living a messed up version of your once-perfect life, then you could skip to the end to see how to apologize for being a jerk. …
A frothy burst for wordy wordsmiths. A poem.
Fancy words all in a row.
Facetious banter dims the glow.
Language permeates the mind.
Revealing rapture so divine.
Here I begin to salivate,
great words and verbs I conjugate.
This is metaphorical.
Still, we measure for a fool.
A simile is just so close.
Like sunset blazing on the coast.
Alliteration alchemy.
Arouse an active allergy.
Flirty vowels and sultry nouns,
naked adverbs fleeing town.
Everything seems so concrete,
like asphalt radiating heat.
Illusions painted over truth,
sidewalks crack from earthy roots.
We are insignificant,
if we so envision it.
Nobody could have predicted it.
A fictional short story about an unexpected party that everyone was invited to.
The way people predicted the end of times before the invite looks so pessimistic in retrospect. It almost seems like people of Earth were trying to find certain doom, but that isn’t at all how it played out.
Shaking my head and chuckling at the bizarre ways we lived on Earth before the invite, I refocused my attention on the room full of people.
The crowd was noisy, buzzing with the sounds of women and men flirting. Husbands and wives were joined by singles and committed couples on an expansive dance floor. Tables with rotating, snack-filled centerpieces were staggered at the edges of the dance floor and a library at the end of the room also housed a sparkling bar with the best selections of beverages and refreshments I had ever seen. …
Dogs aren't beneath us.
A humorous quick-read. Paws (pause) and think about it.
The funniest thing to witness is a dog who feels they are not getting their desired message across. When my dog, Echo is tired of the small talk, unless I proceed to give him what he asks, he sneezes at me while shaking his head no. I swear the dog somehow concluded that in order to usher me toward his desired task he must rear back like a pony on his hind legs while sneezing at me. It cracks me up every time.
Lately, my dog has been more vocal than usual. Being a hopeful advocate for a future that includes talking dogs, I am always overjoyed when he tries to speak. I mean… when my k9 buddy howls in several octaves, it is obviously a sign of imminent, dramatic evolution. The days of casual conversation with our puppies are on the horizon. …
Because you didn’t see these and I really wanted you to.
These are my most favorite pieces written over the recent weeks. Enjoy!
Pieces that were picked by Medium curators for distribution
This Was A Poem That Became A Song ~I Love This One.
A Great Article That Was The First Story Published In Ruff Life
(A Must See Pub with the cutest Logo and Slogan ever)
“For The Love Of Dog”
Some Hard Lessons I Learned About Drinking And Driving
Some lessons deserve a story.
Mrs. Mubashshir was a brilliant woman who refused to allow lazy thinking.
I remember the way I felt on the first day of my 10th-grade literature class as if it was yesterday. A buzzing group of teenagers had begun piling in through the door of our new English Literature classroom. The usual anxious thoughts in all our minds dictated much of the mood in the air. Teenagers are rowdy whenever they are in a new social setting. We were shaped into a great group of kids, very quickly when we met our new teacher.
Mrs. Mubashshir, a radiant dark-skinned woman warmed the room with her electric smile to start off the class. Her presence was commanding, stunning even. She wore a brightly colored turquoise and gold fabric wrap on her head and a matching, very roomy dress that looked to be a combination of a toga and a robe. Her shoes were the exact shade of blue as the rest of her outfit and she was stylish, anyone would agree. …
