Writing Challenge #11: The Moral Point of View

It has been 11 days since I have written and published a post. I think this is the longest stretch I have ever gone with out having something on here. I am a bit afraid to see what my traffic is like! I have plenty to say and have been taking photos like mad, but daily life got the best of me and I didn't even think about how quickly the days were passing by.

Benjamin Franklin once said "Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." Blogging is a strange hobby. Those of you reading this post who blog are probably nodding your head in agreement. We put our words, feelings and life experiences on the internet for complete strangers to find. We leave ourselves open for criticism, for stalkers, for embarrassment, for new friendships. Ad networks make us slaves to traffic and victims to popularity contests. I have experienced more guilt about not posting than about that chocolate cupcake consumed before bedtime.

I am not a professional writer (unless you consider specs and change orders creative writing). I started blogging to update family and friends around the world about Princess D when she was born. I created a list of resolutions and posted them hoping that making them public would make me remember them and hold me more accountable. Then I discovered that I might be interesting and profound enough that people might want to read me and I could make some pocket money. I am not sponsored. I very rarely get freebies for review. I write when I am inspired, not because I have to. (Don't get me wrong ... I am not above having someone pay me or give me swag to blog!) There is only a few times in my 5 blogging years has a post of mine proven to be "controversial". It was when my marriage hit the rocks and blogging became my outlet for self discovery. I was accused of openly attacking my X or that I don't support open debate on my posts. If either one of those accusations were true I wouldn't be blogging.

If a blogger is so daring to voice his/her political opinion, religious beliefs, parenting advice, point of view on the mommy war, or self discovery findings should he/she be forced to lock down their Twitter profile, granularly privatize their Facebook page or start monitoring their comments? Franklin also said "Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do." I may have done some foolish things in my life, but I strive not to be a fool. I believe in writing and commenting from the heart, not pointing fingers, or calling those who don't believe in my beliefs "idiots". I don't use my blog, comments or tweets to push someone down the same spiritual path I am on, but I will share why I am on my path. I won't write about politics, but I can't talk about it in depth enough. I am happy to share what has worked for me and what has not. Blogging has helped me grow as a person and a "writer". I could only hope that someone finds me poignant, thought provoking, worth reading and inviting enough that they would want to share their thoughts with me too.

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This post is an exercise for {W}rite Of Passage. This is group of writers seeking a challenge, getting critique, and finding community. Feel free to join us!.

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Writing Challenge #9: Looking Around

A couple of months after I walked away from my marriage my parents took me to Maui for some much needed sun, sand, and much needed sleep. I reached out to the interwebs to recommend a good book for me to read to help get my mind off things. A non-self help book, but something that would "move" me. The overwhelming suggestion was Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia by Elizabeth Gilbert.

The interwebs were right. Eat, Pray, Love was the perfect book to read at that time in my life.

I was so conflicted. I married for love, but I was no longer "in" the marriage. I didn't want to be a divorcee with a young child, but I knew it was time to walk away. I felt guilty and was tired of feeling guilty when I knew I had done everything I could to provide and support my husband. It was supposed to be forever, but after 8 years had felt like forever had come and was long gone. I needed an answer to why I felt the way I did. Then I read it:

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master..."

As an English major I have read a lot of books. Fiction, non-fiction, biographies, self help. I have been moved by some incredible writing, but no book has ever given me that "ah ha" moment like this.

By Elizabeth Gilbert's definition he was my soul mate. Because of him I learned how to be juggle a full time career while being a single mom, that I need passion that challenges and listens to me, that I nag way too much if dependability and responsibility by my partner fails, I can communicate well when not responded with pouting and excuses, I deserve time alone to be creative and brain dead, that my life has to not have extremes in order for me to feel serenity. He shook up my life and belief in myself. With him I lost control of me because I tried so hard to control him.

I was making the right choice to leave in order to let the light shine in and for my heart to open up. Let the transformation begin.

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This post is an exercise for {W}rite Of Passage. This is group of writers seeking a challenge, getting critique, and finding community. Feel free to join us!.

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Writing Challenge #7: Dialogue (or lack there of)

The dialogue always starts out with a simple "I want to talk to you ...".

I always respond with "Well you ...".

The dialogue becomes quickly escalated with neither one of us hearing each other. Him saying that he just wants to talk knowing that it is not a convenient time for me. Me saying "what is the point" and "why are we talking about this NOW?"

The dialogue gets lost in my yelling. Yelling to correct his assumptions. Yelling to defend my family. Yelling to protect my decisions. Yelling to make a point.

The dialogue gets lost in his anger, his insults and his accusations which are peppered with harsh curse words.

We can no longer have a dialogue. We both want to talk and neither of us wants to listen. I always end up throwing in the towel with me in the wrong. I hang up the phone battered and exhausted. Our "dialogue" ends up with another change to our marriage settlement agreement and more money wasted. I can't keep doing this with him.

It is time for a change on my end. I am adding a Tao belief to my 2010 resolutions: flows like water, reflects like a mirror, and responds like an echo. It is time to listen to my intuition, surroundings and energy.

Om.

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Writing Challenge #5: The Job

My parents never insisted that I get a job when I was in high school, but I wanted to shop at Contempo Casuals without having to ask them for permission to buy another plaid mini skirt or colored Guess jeans. Living in The Valley there was only one place to get a job ... the Glendale Galleria ... and I got a job at The Popcorn Palace serving up bags of flavored popcorn.



The galleria was a very social work place. You would see guys from school at the food court watching the cheerleaders bounce up and down while making lemonade at Hot Dog on a Stick. We would trade popcorn and candy with friends who worked at the gourmet coffee shop or the pizza & pasta place. Our friends who didn't have jobs would stop by for popcorn samples or just to hang out when things were slow.

Every day during the Christmas shopping season there would be a line of people wanting to buy canisters of popcorn as gifts. By lunchtime I would be wading ankle deep in spilled popcorn. I would go home with popcorn stuck to my clothes, shoes and hair.

Seventeen years later I can still remember the 28 different standard flavors and seasonal flavors of popcorn we sold (I dare you to quiz me sometime). Looking back I am proud that I got a job in high school when I didn't need to have one. I learned that I had a responsibility to a business, a manager and my co-workers. I was able to buy myself things and Christmas gifts because I earned a paycheck (even though I only made minimum wage). I took pride in a perfectly packed gift canister. And, I learned the benefits of a job well done when I was offered the position of Assistant Store Manager. This little job set the groundwork for where I am today.

The one negative that came out of that job was that I no longer like popcorn.

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Writing Challenge #4: The Resolution

Every year I make a list of lofty resolutions. Every year I forget about them. 2009 was not any different.

I quit drinking coffee, but now my tea intake is questionable! I have been eating large amounts of broccoli, avocados and cucumbers this year. I need to keep increasing my fiber and decreasing the outrageous amount of chocolate I eat. I didn't lose any weight this year. Living with my mom, who is an amazing cook, has caused me to gain back the weight I lost. I did get a gym membership, so I plan on getting back into my workouts this year with my dad as my motivator.

Thanks to living with my parents I am able to spend more quality time with Princess D. I have started to prepare her for Kindergarten and broke her from the "ba ba". Living with my parents wiped my "home" resolutions off the list and fulfilled the "spend more time with family" resolution. I am enjoying living with them and so is D.

I have spent a lot more time nurturing my IRL and online friendships. Dinners, movies, shopping, and just catching up. Things I seemed to push aside during my marriage. The biggest difference is how much more open I am with them. That bond with my girlfriends is a wonderfully secure feeling.

I have a new challenge to my financial goals. I am being forced to pay alimony and child support throwing my budget off from what I had originally planned. I spent hours restructuring my budget to see where I could cut unnecessary expenses. By the end of this new year I should be able to breath again.

Do I have a list for 2010? Kind of. There is really only one "resolution" ... continue to work on the things that will give me the life I need:

Financial Security. Be disciplined in managing my budget and spending.

Stable Routine. Transition Princess D to Kindergarten and a new schedule.

Improved Health. Use my gym membership and cut down on daily chocolate consumption.

Unconditional Love. Be the best mom, girlfriend, daughter and friend I can be.

Creative Outlet. Keep writing from the heart and mastering my camera.

Here is to 2010 and remembering our resolutions!

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Weekly Challenge #3: The Gift

I remember quite a few of the Christmas gifts I have received over the years. My first Cabbage Patch Kid, pink Uggs, a jewelry box, a faux fur leather coat, foot spas, candles. But there is one gift that does stand out ...

One Christmas I had only one item on my wish list. Most of the time people didn't follow my wish list, so I really didn't think anything of it. On Christmas Day I unwrapped and became the owner of THREE George Foreman Grills! I got the basic version, the basic version in the color red, and the ultimate (which really didn't seem much different). I learned my lesson that year!

The thing is that none of these gifts bring back those warm and fuzzy Christmas memories when I think of them. It is the Christmas Eve dinner party I went to every year growing up that generates those feelings. My parents and I spent every Christmas Eve with a group of families we also spent Thanksgiving with.

I remember sitting at the kids table hearing our parents laughter over the clinking of wine glasses and silverware. I remember the smell and taste of the delicious food served. I remember the fire in the fireplace blazing while us kids played Santa handing out all of the gifts. I remember wading through knee deep wrapping paper and bows to hug someone in thanks for a gift. I remember giggling and blushing with my friends when the parents made dirty jokes. I remember how the carpet felt beneath my feet. I remember the twinkling Christmas lights as the night got later and people started saying good night. I remember how sleepy, but happy I felt as I rode home in the back of the car.

Like our traditional Thanksgiving trip, these Christmas Eve dinners ended, but the memory of those dinners is the gift I will always treasure most! (They provided food much yummier than the George Foreman Grill ever did!)

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Weekly Challenge #2: The Lunch Box

I can still see myself sitting at the yellowing picnic style lunch tables on the covered platform at my elementary school. As I unfold my brown paper lunch bag I feel myself envying my classmates metal lunch boxes decorated with Superman, Smurfs or Mickey Mouse. I know they are going to pull out a peanut butter and jelly on white bread sandwich and I pray my mom has packed the same thing instead of some strange Filipino dish that would make the other kids whisper and point.

The instant I open my brown paper lunch bag I can smell the bologna and cheese sandwich. I pull it out the sandwich bag and see that she has cut them into my favorite fun shapes ... a heart, a star and a silhouette of a little girl. I smile because my mom remembered that I simply wanted to fit in. Then I pull out a bag of sliced apples and a bag of carrot sticks. Finally, I pull out the one item I know she never forgets. The smell made my mouth water instantly. Then I could hear some of my classmate giggling and saying my nickname ...

Its at least 20-plus years later I open up my blue work branded lunch cooler my mom has packed for me. I pull out a turkey and cheese sandwich with the crust cut off, a bag of carrots and apples, and a dill pickle. As I bite into it I can faintly hear those giggling voices saying my nickname ...

Nickle Pickle!

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NaBloPoMo Day 30: I achieve to over achieve

Today is the last day of NaBloPoMo ... I DID IT (AGAIN)! It feels great to complete a third year of posting for 30 days in a row. There are days I can't find one word to write about (thank gawd for Wordless Wednesday). There are so many topics I feel like I can't write about in case I am accused of attempting a mental beat down. There are days I simply don't have the time to post because being a mom and a full time employee come first. But, I am an over achiever, so if someone doesn't stop me I will write just to write. Writing just to write seems to suck some of the creativity out of me. Yes, NaBloPoMo is a great achievement, but some days it doesn't really feel fulfilling.

The fabulous Mrs. Flinger has started a new challenge ... to get back to our roots and remember why we are here ... to really write. Like the over achiever I am I signed up for the challenge to write, be open to critique and write more in hope to become a better writer.

That brings me to my last post of NaBloPoMo and my first post for Write of Passage ... my most embarrassing story.

I was living in San Francisco working for Gap in their downtown office. I watched the rain coming down steadily while I was riding a packed bus home during rush hour. My work bag and umbrella were in my left hand as I gripped the handrail with my right. The stairs of the bus were wet from people getting on and off the bus so I was being careful not to slip. What I didn't expect was the heel of my boot getting caught in the groove of last step.

Within a split second I found myself face first in the gutter and my heel still stuck on the stair. I could feel the sting on my hands and knees where they were scraped raw from the impact with the concrete. But, that sting didn't compare to the burning stares I was getting from the people on the bus or the heat from the blush rising in my cheeks. I yanked my shoe from the step and glanced up at the faces looking out at me through the bus windows. They all had a look of shock on their faces, but not one of them moved. I heard the bus driver ask if I was alright and I just mumbled "fine" back to him. He responded so kindly by shutting the bus doors and driving to the next stop. I slowly gathered up my bag and umbrella and hobbled up the street to my apartment. Once my front door closed behind me a tear rolled down my cheek as I prayed that I didn't know anyone who was on that bus.

Eight years later the scar on my knee still makes me blush.

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