Happy to be so

There is not an ounce of vanity

In the ease required to give up ones sanity

It’s nice to be happy in your skin

The one psychosis leaves you in

Even if that skin is attached

To one who’s mind is not securely latched

In my opinion it’s a formality

To be based in reality

Reality is relative anyway

Why try to keep the voices at bay?

All my friends think its fine

Well yes, they’re only in my mind

The real ones think I’m not quite fit

I’ve still got charm and lightning wit

And fashion sense beyond compare

But when we talk I sense despair

They feel bad for my new state

But honestly I think it’s great

It takes a refreshing amount of depth

To be this real with oneself

And admit aloud and alone

I’m crazy as the day is long

No meds for me or therapy

I don’t want recovery

I’m out to lunch and now you know

Crazy and Happy to be so.

What can you say…Girls love bad boys.

Maybe because I write a lot of personal poetry, this story really caused me to develop a facial tick. For some crazy reason, I really felt the need to chime in on the whole Taylor Swift / John Mayer feud. If you don’t know the story, I will try to keep it brief but get you up to date. They met, had a brief relationship and broke up. There. You are all caught up.  He allegedly is a major hound and she is Snow White personified.  Ms. Swift wrote a song called “Dear John” (God, I hope she doesn’t write a song about me because of this blog.) Previously when Ms. Swift has written songs, we only assumed where her bubble-gum-scented-glitter-dusted ball of rage was aimed towards, but this time she just went balls out.  Their break up was pretty public and this song came not to long after. Here are the lyrics.

Long were the nights when

My days once revolved around you

Counting my footsteps

Praying the floor won’t fall through, again

My mother accused me of losing my mind


But I swore I was fine

You paint me a blue sky

And go back and turn it to rain

And I lived in your chess game

But you changed the rules everyday

Wonderin’ which version of you I might get on the phone, tonight

Well I stopped pickin’ up and this song is to let you know why

Dear John, I see it all now that you’re gone


Don’t you think I was too young


To be messed with

The girl in the dress


Cried the whole way home, I should’ve known.

Well maybe it’s me

And my blind optimism to blame

Or maybe it’s you and your sick need

To give love and take it away

And you’ll add my name to your long list of traitors who don’t understand

And I’ll look back in regret how I ignored when they said


‘Run as fast as you can’

Dear John, I see it all now that you’re gone


Don’t you think I was too young


To be messed with

The girl in the dress


Cried the whole way home

Dear John, I see it all now it was wrong

Don’t you think nineteen’s too young

To be played by your dark, twisted games

When I loved you so, I should’ve known.

You are an expert at sorry

And keeping the lines blurry

Never impressed by me acing your tests

All the girls that you run dry hav tierd lifeless eyes

Cause you burned them out

But I took your matches

Before fire could catch me

So don’t look now

I’m shining like fireworks

Over your sad empty town

Dear John, I see it all now that you’re gone


Don’t you think I was too young


To be messed with

The girl in the dress


Cried the whole way home

I see it all now that you’re gone


Don’t you think I was too young


To be messed with

The girl in the dress


Wrote you a song, you should’ve known.

You should’ve known

Don’t you think I was too young

You should’ve known.

Now, I’ve written a woman scorned poem a couple thousand times. What drives me crazy about this is it feels like she has violated some kind of unspoken, secret writer’s code. I have no idea what the code is but it feels like someone should revoke her membership. It’s one thing to write a mean, scorn-filled poem about a person, it’s another to put their name as the title. (Yes, Taylor…what a happy coincidence that his name is John and you are writing him a “Dear John” letter, but…this by definition is not a Dear John Letter.)  I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. I’m not saying he wasn’t an ass to her and broke her heart. But as a writer…there is something called…finesse. 

The other thing that bugs me about this whole thing is it was no secret that John Mayer was a hound before she started dating him. (This is me speaking directly to Taylor Swift because I know she reads my blog LOL) 19 is not too young, girl. I had a fling with a 30-something year old man when I was 19. Not one time did I belly ache because I thought my age had something to do with our breakup. You were a grown up! You dated this grown man because you were a grown woman and despite everything that had been said about him, you wanted you some John Mayer. But you can’t play the waif and the crusader at the same time! Those are two completely different archetypes. Please…pick one.  You can’t write in one line “So don’t look now, I’m shining like fireworks” then write in the same song “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with.” Waif or Crusader? 

This isn’t a personal attack on Taylor Swift.  This is more a criticism of her writing style.  Naming names seems tacky…unless you are Eminem, in which case you do it as a source of therapy to keep from killing the one that hurt you. Also, “Live it, Write it” got old to me even before this happened. I was done when Taylor Swift wrote “Innocent” for Kanye West.  The arrogance was sickening. Some one that just wrote the lyric “Didn’t you think I was too young to be messed with” now feels mature enough to write “32 and still growing up now. Who you are is not what you did. You’re still an innocent” Let’s Take a look back at the night Taylor Swift decided she was a saint among men.

I guess you really did it this time
Left yourself in your warpath
Lost your balance on a tightrope
Lost your mind tryin’ to get it back

Wasn’t it easier in your lunchbox days?
Always a bigger bed to crawl into
Wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything
And everybody believed in you?

It’s alright, just wait and see
Your string of lights is still bright to me
Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been
You’re still an innocent, you’re still an innocent

Did some things you can’t speak of
But at night you live it all again
You wouldn’t be shattered on the floor now
If only you had seen what you know now then

Wasn’t it easier in your firefly catchin’ days?
And everything out of reach, someone bigger brought down to you
Wasn’t it beautiful runnin’ wild ’til you fell asleep
Before the monsters caught up to you?

It’s alright, just wait and see
Your string of lights is still bright to me
Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been
You’re still an innocent

It’s okay, life is a tough crowd
32 and still growin’ up now
Who you are is not what you did
You’re still an innocent

Time turns flames to embers, you’ll have new Septembers
Everyone of us has messed up too
Minds change like the weather, I hope you remember
Today is never too late to be brand new

It’s alright, just wait and see
Your string of lights is still bright to me
Oh, who you are is not where you’ve been
You’re still an innocent

It’s okay, life is a tough crowd
32 and still growin’ up now
Who you are is not what you did
You’re still an innocent, you’re still an innocent

Lost your balance on a tightrope
It’s never too late to get it back

 Those lyrics made me think she actually wipes her ass with feathers. Yes, he ruined her moment but it wasn’t like she was in the middle of open heart surgery. So for her to say “You are not what you did” means what? He is not an arrogant jerk that interrupts other arrogant jerks in the middle of a speech?…um…yes..yes he is and yes you are. He didn’t run over a handicap child, so stop it! Stop writing about everything that happens to you. Enough! This goes a step beyond playing the Waif. This girl loves to be a victim and then issue out redemption to those that have hurt her.

So back to the issue at hand. John Mayer has said a lot of crazy stuff himself. He has not been a fan of brevity when he speaks on stage and gives interviews and he doesn’t have youthful indiscretion to blame it on. Quite frankly, if you just look at his past behavoir regarding the women in his life, he’s kind of a douche. But at least he’s never written a song called “Dear Jennifer”, or “I Love me some Jessica boobies”. Because again, in writing, there is something called finesse. A little tact goes a long way and a tiny-veiled innuendo is much more powerful than plainly outing someone you are mad at (says the girl who wrote a poem called “Dear Friend”).  

My point…and I am all most there, Naming names is dirty business (especially when you are handing someone their ass lyrically) Sarah McLachlan wrote a heartfelt apology (not a slam) to an unnamed person in her 1998 song “Adia”. There are lots of rumors as to what the song is about and whom it was written for but Ms. McLachlan has never come right out and said “This song was written for my best friend for dating her ex-boyfriend then marrying him”. It’s better that we don’t know in my opinion.  Carly Simon released “You’re so Vain” FORTY years ago and we still have no idea who the subject is. We’ve speculated over the years. Most people think it’s about Warren Beatty. I think even Warren Beatty thinks it’s about Warren Beatty, but Ms. Simon is tight-lipped about the actually subject. That is why the song is still popular to this day. The mystery! Wondering who she is talking about and wondering if he feels like a heel every time hears the song.  But in the end, it doesn’t matter if the song scorns him, because her revenge was not in the words themselves, the release of the song or how popular it became. Her revenge came in the form of the therapy she got from writing those words down, gracefully, and clearing her soul.

In conclusion, never in a million years did I think I would agree with John Mayer on anything. But… I’m on his side in this matter; Taylor Swift’s style of writing is cheap and immature.

He depends on you.

More than you realize.

It’s true.

He needs more than toys and gadgets and games.

He needs you.

Right now you’re all he can see.

You shape the man he’ll one day be.

Will he follow in the path of your footsteps?

Emotionally vacant and relationally inept

She depends on you.

More than you know.

It’s true.

She needs more than clothes and lip gloss and shoes.

She needs you.

And right now you’re all she can she.

You help shape what she thinks a man should be.

Will she find security in anonymous faces

Or will she search for her father’s love in bevy of places?

A mother can’t show her son how to be a man

Or show her daughter the love a father can

So we depend on you.

More than you know.

It’s true.

The kids before will grow and grow

And what’s important for you to know

Your time of influence is temporary.

These children are your legacy

~ Lord Byron

It’s back. Sleepless nights, tired days. A complete and utter desire to build a cocoon and hide away from the world. Everything is flavorless and apathy has run a muck inside my head. Depression.  Part of me completely doesn’t care that it’s back (which is no good in and of itself). But the part of me that cares is that part of me that desires to write and when I get into that cycle where *I* consume my own thoughts, it’s damn near impossible to get any thing done. I can’t write because all my thoughts are stuck on the spider webs that are created because I haven’t written anything. It’s an unending cycle. I have several articles that need to be worked on. I could care less.  I have a manuscript that needs typing. Don’t care.  I could really stand to finish putting together that poetry anthology. Probably not going to happen. I have so much to do in the next 90 days that it’s overwhelming.

I’m not sure if one particular thing sparked it again or if it was never really gone and was just lying in wait OR if it was a combination of a bunch of things going on at one time. One bad thought turns into a dust veritable dust storm in my mind and that storm gets whipped up into a cyclone of self-loathing, self-destructive, self-doubt cycle that leaves my mind sterile. I can’t write, can’t think, can’t create. The only thing I can do is be depressed, which only exacerbates how I feel.The catalyst may be all the changes happening. My life is so very different from it was just two years ago and I don’t get to digest one change before another one is being put on my plate.

Still…I have a very strong need in me to push on and true to my conflicting personality, the need to move on beyond this may even be stronger than the depression I feel. Which may be all I need to get through this. I guess I have a tenuous relationship with hope just like everyone else.

Hopefully, I can get through this quickly and continue on. I know I have good things to look forward too, but damn it’s hard to see from here. I have my good friend that has taken on the role as my editor working on my manuscript. We are going to self-publish via kindle and create-space and I am super excited about it. So not all the changes that are happening are bad or forced upon me. I will keep writing because very simply, I must. Even if it’s just for a few minutes a day. I have to keep writing. I will keep my head up through my current crisis and wait for better days. There are clouds now, but soon there will be sun and I just have to wait for the silver-lining to reveal itself.

It’s been a while since I’ve spoken with you. We couldn’t have been more different but there where things I really liked about you.  You were smart and out-going, you liked to laugh. Those are things I found important. But a few things happened and we fell out of touch almost as quickly as we became acquainted.  In retrospect, I should have been a little wary when you, an adult, said you didn’t have any close friends. That’s a red flag.

So here is what I think happened. You needed something from me I wasn’t willing to give, at least not so soon in our new relationship. You were a person that always seemed to be running in crisis mode. Everything was about you, your life, your hurt, your heartache, your failures, your victories…every conversation, every text message…morning, noon and night. Dear friend, that is something that is taxing on an old friendship and we were new acquaintances and, friend I’ve been hurt before. I’ve been the friend on the other end of the line at 3 a.m. knowing that I had to get up with my children in a few hours because someone just like you said that they “needed” me. Then when your life is happy, I don’t hear from you. You move on and suddenly the person you needed more than anything has faded into the scenery, just a person you used to know.

Each time we spoke it had become a marathon. Sometimes I would barely get to say anything. Sometimes I didn’t want to say anything. Once, you got agitated when I didn’t agree with you on something. I guess you are used to people saying  “Yes, Dear” just to placate you. I don’t operate that way. I just noticed very quickly, how our conversations were always about you. Your life. Your problems. I very seldom even got a “Hey, how is it going?” But you did often offer me your opinion on what you thoughts I should be doing. You say things like “If I were in your situation.” Unsolicited advice is friendship arsenic.

I remember once you, when you let me speak, you found out some information about my life and you were shocked by it. You commented that you never knew that about me. The only response I could think of was that you never…ever..ever…let me talk. How could you know anything about me when you never let me speak? Still, I liked you a lot. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I see potential in every one. I am starting to think that is my most troubling character flaw. It gets me in trouble. Every. Damn. Time.

I think at the height of your crisis, you called me 23 times in one day. Twenty-three times. I was actually in bed when the calls started. Honestly, I turned my phone off. I didn’t know what else to say, how else to comfort you. Maybe I should have been a little more patient; maybe I could have just put my own feelings to the side and tried to be more of a friend to you but it was just too much for me. Especially considering what I was going through in my own life. So maybe I was being a little selfish. Maybe I was being a little self-centered, but that was something I needed to be at that point. A tender heart needs to be protected.

Now things are awkward between us. You ignore my text, my calls, my emails. Even when they are simple messages, just asking how you are settling. If things are going ok, I think you thought I didn’t care, which could not be further from the truth. I cared. I just didn’t want to be in the epicenter of your crisis. I didn’t want to be your priest, your doctor, your crisis counselor, your battered woman’s shelter, your substitute boyfriend…I just wanted to be your friend. That’s all. Now we have to ignore each other, we have to pretend that we didn’t have so many things in common. It would have been great to let our friendship grow organically. Over time, with no pressure, but you had so many things you wanted from me and expected from me in such a short amount of time. It makes me sad. I just wanted to be your friend.

So if we never speak again, my friend, I want you to know that I never lied to you. I never pretended. I did everything I said I would do. I’m a loyal friend but I’m not foolish. I was there for you when I could be, when I felt I should be.  The affection I felt for you was true, authentic, I want you to know that. The laughs, the smiles, the hugs, the drinks. That was all real. It’s too bad, because now the only place you will exist is in my mind. That place where the ghosts of failed relationships haunt the halls and rattle their chains and keep up an unholy racket that usually keep me up at night.  I hate when things end badly. I really do. Good bye, dear friend.

I wish you nothing but success and happiness. Please take care of yourself.

T

I do believe I am at the beginning stages of an eating disorder. Never in my life have I ever felt this way. I’ve always been comfortable in my skin. Maybe it’s too much skin for some, but for me it was just enough. Just right. But lately, I have found myself looking at thin women differently. I used to think that rail thin or hella curvaceous, all women are beautiful. But lately, I’ve been looking at thin women with envy. I say things to myself like “I bet her life is so much easier because she is what society accepts.” If you know me, you would know that is very unlike me.  Because I like me, well up until recently anyway.

In the last three months I have gone from working-out a 3 days a week, a half hour a day to 5 days a week, 2 hours a day. I was actually thinking that I can increase it with no real problem. Seven days a week, at least 2 hours a day. I don’t have a particular goal in mind but  I can hear that voice, whispering ever so sweetly to me “Skinny” and I want this to happen as quickly as possible. While some may applaud my efforts, I know that there is a problem brewing.  I think about my figure constantly. I need smaller arms, I hate my muffin top, my thighs…oh my word my thighs, how can I change everything I see in the mirror. Right now, I would give my left arm to be thin. Maybe my right one, too. Crazy, yes. But honest. I have a daughter on the cusp of her teen years. What am I to tell her when she comes to me and says “Mom, I want to have this ice cream, but I am worried about being fat.” Should my response be, “Good…you should worry because it’s a sub-standard life.”

I’ve been talking with friends about self-esteem lately. How everyone we come in contact with either adds to it or chips away at it. I guess lately my cup runneth empty, I’ve been coming in contact with a lot of people who have taken away from my self-esteem and it’s all lead to me really disliking what I see in the mirror.  There is no reasonable voice yelling loudly in my mind to tell me that this is not a road I want to go down. Nope, all I keep hearing is “Skinny

Because society keeps tell me that Thin = Happy.

What do you think?

I think that is why this challenge is so important to me. I want my talent to be a little less temperamental and a little more deliberate. I don’t think this is the specific focus on National Poetry Month any more. Their campaign changes just like any other non-profit, they have to keep people interested but this challenge is still very important to me. Please join me for the next 25 days (I’ve missed five all ready) on this journey. Maybe we can encourage and motivate each other.

Here are five poems to catch me up for the 30 – for – 30 challenge.

1/30

Between The Silence

When the greetings are done

And the laughter stops.

When the words become fewer

and fewer and fewer

 And the last remnants of any reasonable contemplations

 trickle off our lips and out into the ether

is when the silence begins….

It is substantial.

It is deliberate.

It is wonderful.

During the silence, moments that mean the most occur.

He rest his head on my chest

And traces imaginary circles on my shoulders.

I can hear him breathing, all most falling asleep.

He can hear me breathing, but I’m not sleeping.

We are content with the silence

And the absence of words

And expectations.

After the words ,

(The proclamations of intent, the posturing, the influencing)

and

between the silence…

(That moment when your world feels righted)

That’s when you fall in love.  

——-

2/30

Kindred

A floating spec among the flora

In search of a familiar aura

An attraction of equal strength

Our frequency on the same wave length

This city is not my home

But now I don’t feel so alone

We drifted solo for a time

But you’ve become a friend of mine.

You are Eos and I, Aurora

Floating freely among the flora

No expectations for what’s to come

But two is always better than one

——-

3/30

Skin

Absolute catharsis

From something so harmless

Soft, warm and delicate

Marvelously intricate

Fragile, yet pliable

Your touch, undeniable

No words can compliment

Your skin’s luscious scent

Tracing lines with fingertips

Followed closely by my lips

Nerves are hidden just below

Revel in the rhythm and flow

Sending signals of bliss

With each stroke and kiss

This is my life’s mission now

To learn your skin, from toes to brow

The gentle curves that beckon me

To make your skin a part of me

Softness, silken, summon, imploring

Rapture… oneness… melting… soaring.

—–

4/30

Lake Michigan

The sun shimmers off the water like a million crystals.

The sand is hot beneath my feet but the frothy water

Returns to the shore line like an old welcomed friend

to cool and comfort me.

It does comfort me

——

5/30

Home

City to Suburb, farm to factory

Orchard to Vineyard

Shore to shore

It’s a place I wanted to escape from for so long.

Now all I can think of is how to get back.

It’s more than just an address.

It’s more than just a state.

It’s a part of who I am.

Just as much as my arms and legs.

It’s a state of mind.

But no matter where I am.

I am never too far from home.

It is where my heart is.

I have been doing some rather deep thinking today!  Ha ha. It is a worry but it does happen to me quite often without really trying.

It must be as a result of the frivolous nature of watching the Academy Awards yesterday! And yet, a couple of things I watched on TV today have also forced me into this place. But first things first: The Oscars.

You see, I watched the end of the Oscars again last night with my husband Geoff, who had not seen them. As I watched the main awards and the acceptance speeches again, I was really impressed by only two “winners” (have you noticed, they NEVER call them winners?) and both of them had a standing ovation when their name was called out for the Oscar.

The two were Christopher Plummer and Meryl Streep. Both not young. In fact, Plummer is 82 years old (two years younger than Oscar, he said) and the respect shown to him was wonderful. Meryl is in her sixties and again, the respect was palpable.

Christopher Plummer was downright funny and demeaning of himself!  His first Oscar I believe. In his speech he thanked Ewan McGregor for being wonderful (did Ewan play him as a young man?) and then added “I’d share the Oscar with Ewan … if I had any decency … which I don’t.” Lots of laughter! He ended by thanking his wife who he said “saves me every day of my life.” Presumably from himself as he seems to be a renegade!  His wife looked surprised.  I loved his raw honesty about himself. I was impressed.

Meryl looked embarrassed when her name was announced and said as much when she was in front of the microphone, However, she went on to say she would BEGIN by thanking her husband who has been a support to her throughout her acting career. She did not want the thank-you to be an add-on at the end, drowned out by music.

Her dignity always surprises me but I’m not sure why it does? I should know by know. Meryl and Christopher are opposites in personality but I think what they both have in common is HONESTY about themselves. Meryl thanked everyone for the friendships and love she has shared with them all and ended by saying – with such passion –  how grateful she was “for this explicitly wonderful career I have had.” Such a gracious  and sincere speech.

But, what I obtained from watching this was that this two people absolutely LOVED what they do for a living. They are among the few happy people who have found their true calling and followed it with passion. I had been thinking about this since yesterday, after reading an article in a newspaper. How many people actually find their passion? Have you? I wondered if indeed I had myself?

The article was about a man called Nicholas, who is a lawyer by day “…and by night he’s a passionate Hollywood film historian with a penchant for fabulous costumes worn by the stars.” He has a blog site which is simply fascinating. He says in the article that someone described collecting as ‘a job’ because you have to always be ‘on.’ He then added “But you make time for the things you love.” Yes, here was a man who is passionate about collecting beautiful vintage dresses.

(Check out his blog site, you will see his latest dress there, the one Julie Andrews wore in “Darling Lilli” photographed at right).     http://vintagefilmpropsandcostumes.blogspot.com.au/  

But there was more. Just by chance I viewed a show called “Compass” – a spiritual program – about three people who had always felt ‘a calling’ from God (something I related to). However,  all did not go to plan and they did not pursue this calling, doing other things until they reached middle age. But, they had a sense of restlessness and they had no idea why. Finally, they had a moment of epiphany when they KNEW that they needed to follow the calling.

One, a politician, became a Catholic Priest. The woman (almost 60) became an Anglican Priest and the other an Anglican Franciscan Brother. All of them said that the restlessness then disappeared. “They had come home“. They had  found their calling and were very happy. I was confronted again by the passion that they displayed for what they were doing. Again, it was the thing they loved to do. 

It reminded me of a conversation I’d had last night with Geoff about my blog. Geoff thought I had given myself  “a life sentence” blogging every day and wondered how I could stand it! After I picked myself up off the floor from laughter, I said “But Geoff, I LOVE it! I think I have found my true calling.” He simply nodded, finally truly understanding. He has watched from afar these last 40 years, as I keep writing journals, poems and essays etc but do nothing with them.

Poor Geoff has been inflicted with watching my frustration – through late university study and then working for the government – wondering why nothing “felt” RIGHT that I was doing. I was restless in the convent and restless ever since.

And so you can see why I began doing some deep thinking today? I was trying to work out what was happening within me. Actually, LIFE was handing me the answers without much trying! Finally, just before I began this blog today, I realised  that I have found my PASSION!! I could write all day. I lose myself in researching and writing. Time flies by. (PS: remind me of this when I get tired one day …  or sick … or want to quit). Yes, I am indeed following my passion.

I truly hope that YOU will find your passion too. Make time for the things you LOVE doing today! I will leave you with a poem that the former politician – now Priest – shared today. It was taken from a poet who wrote the following for a poet friend who had died. The dead man had wasted his talents by a life of abuse and drugs:

When you appear before the Judgment seat of God,

God will recite by heart the poems you could have written.

And you will cry tears of SHAME for not writing them.

The Priest asked himself  “Is there a poem called The Priesthood which I sill have to write? I don’t want to cry tears of shame on my deathbed for lack of courage.” He then entered the Priesthood at 50 years of age.

What poem should YOU be writing today?

I actually dried some rugs out on the patio and in the later part of the afternoon I pulled the blinds back and let the sunshine warm the living room up.  I don’t think I could ever get tired of that feeling. The chill in the air around me and the warm sun on my face. *heaven* If that happens again tomorrow, I just may crack open those blinds and park myself on the couch with a book and some soft music. What is it about sunshine that gives one hope to push on for at least one more day?

Unfortunately, its dark and chilly again. My solar-powered engine is grinding to a halt. I’m feeling a bit tired from the days activities but I am also restless. It’s going to be a long night as all those familiar yet unwanted thoughts return to visit like they always do and like a reluctant chauffeur, I’ll be waiting to pick them up when they arrive. It will be a long night but hopefully the sun will come out one more time to rescue me.

Don't worry...I've got this all under control...if it falls under the umbrella of things that I actually do good..er..um..well.

It’s not a scheduled blogging day, but dinner is done, one kid is settled and quiet, while the other is outdoors and the husband is someplace that only he knows.

As I was sitting here trying to figure out what to do next I started thinking about all my hobbies. I am interested in things. A lot of things. A very large amount of things. I am just a creative person by nature and therefore I have the need…to create. So I have dabbled with and maybe even found some hidden talent in candle making, jewelry making, fashion design, clothing construction, pattern drafting, knitting, crocheting, drawing, painting, crafts, scrapbooking, song writing…well…this list is getting embarrassing, but I’m not done. Writing, poetry, singing and photography. Those are the big four. Those are the four this jack of all trades identifies with the most.

• Singing-I’ve been singing since I can remember. I don’t think there was a time I wasn’t singing. People around me are just used to hearing me sing pretty much all the time. I can’t sing like Jennifer Hudson (I’m kind of thanking God about that. She annoys me.) But I can sing like Tammy Michael and that makes me happy.
• Photography-Have camera will travel. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as Ansel Adams. I take a picture of something that looks interesting to me and when I get home to look at the pictures they just aren’t that compelling. Every now and again I hit the jackpot. I take a picture that fills that need in me to create. Lately I’ve been taking a lot of pictures of my kids. My daughter enjoys having her picture taken now almost as much as my son, so my tiny muses will keep me busy for a while.
• Poetry- I have a gift. That’s not to say I am gifted, I don’t believe I am some kind of poetry prodigy. A few rhyming words does not a good poet make. Maya Angelou and Emily Dickson need not worry about being dethroned. But… I’ve been writing poems since I was 11. I got the brilliant idea to sell them on Valentine’s Day, but my plan kind of backfired when a boy I liked bought one for the girl he liked. I was heartbroken but I just worked to inspire more poetry. I’ve been spending time recently working on becoming a better poet. Taking chances and stepping outside my comfort. I think its working.
• Writing- I think I was born with this passion. Words. Words. Words! I was an extremely imaginative kid. I would spend lot of time alone reading and playing by myself. I had friends. Lots of friends. But sometimes a girl just wants to be alone. Sometimes I would read books to myself aloud and record it on tape doing all the voices of the different characters. Then I would play the tape back with my Barbies acting out the played-back scenes. My best production was Cinderella. At age 10, I started writing my own stories and by the time I was in high school, writing, being a writer, was just a part of my personality. It’s who I am.  Who knows if I will ever find commercial success? I don’t even know if that matters to me anymore as I realize commercial success doesn’t make me any more…or any less…a writer. So million-dollar book deal or not, I will continue to create people and situations that have never existed and enjoy pretending that they do.

This is one of those entries that I am not sure why I am writing this. Maybe it’s so I can look back at it on blue days and remember that I do in fact have some discernable talent. You know those days, right? The days when it feels like everything you do turns to mush in your hands, like you just can’t focus yourself in any one direction long enough to make an impact, like you are a jack of all trades but a master of none…Personally, I have those days at least twice a week so while I love you, dear reader…this entry is for me today. But if you need some encouragement of your own, sit down and write out your own “Stuff I’m sorta good at” list and look at it on days when you need to remember that being a jack of all trades is actually pretty cool. Who wants to be a master of just one thing when there are SO MANY things to be passably decent at? Not me.

Usually when I go through trouble, I can typically handle it with quiet dignity. That’s because I usually have a trusted friend close by. I don’t mean to beat this information into the ground but I think everyone knows that I am in Pennsylvania, no friends, no family. Just my husband, my kids and me….soon to be just the kids and me.  So I am torn between trying to retain my quiet dignity and being completely and utterly heartbroken by what this has become. Because the fact of the matter is solid and unchangeble. My husband wants to move on with his life…without me.

So this a list chronicling my emotions thus far.

• Some days I am good, in fact, better than good. Somedays I can hold it together with a grace and resolve that makes people question if I really care. That’s just my cool, calm and collected side stepping up and letting the Real Tammy retreat to her quiet place.

• Some days I am angry. I can look at a mess He left some where and I can literally blow.my.top.  On those days there aren’t enough walls to punch and I don’t even get in the car because the first person that cut me off or followed to closely would be the victims of  a melt down of epic Britney Spears proportion.  “….and in local new, a bizarre fight broke out at a traffic light as 33 year old single mom, Tammy Michael, Roundhouse kicked a car that cut her off in traffic for 45 straight minutes while yelling Roadhouse over and over again.”

• Some days I am very sad. I am a miserable person to be around because I would make Debbie Downer and Buzz Killington look like party animals. I usually keep to myself on those days. I don’t want to bum anyone out or be the kind of person that only talks about their problems. So I don’t talk to any one.

• Some days I am apathetic. I walk around singing Moroon 5 “Nothing last forever” and shrug my shoulders. I gave it my all, right? I got a cool last name and two kids out of the deal.  So at least there is that.  Meh

• Some days the Jaded & Cynical part comes out. She is the head of the Man-haters club. She knows that all men every where no matter what circumstance they are in are all dishonest, deceitful, lying, heartless, remorseless, cheating bastards and they will do whatever or say whatever to get whatever they want regardless of how it will affect others. I think she wears Doc Martins.

• Then there are days were I am on an emotional roller coaster…All my nerve endings feel exposed. I feel E-V-E-R-T-H-I-N-G all at once. That’s when the Real Tammy comes out because she is just a bundle of hurt feelings, raw nerves and conflicting, tangled emotions. She wants to scream to the world “I am hurting.” but she isn’t even sure any one cares so she internalizes, maybe eats some cookies and does her best to continue on with her day.

I don’t know the point in writing this. I’m not asking for anything from any one. (ohh that sounds like #5 coming out) I guess I am mostly just airing out my own laundry. Trying to give myself a minute to acknowledge the way i feel so I can move on with my day. I think this is my permission to myself to feel fragile, to feel the need to protect and be protected, to let #1-6 have their moments and when they are done…quietly put them away and move on.

I’m good at moving on.

Today is Poetry Tuesday. I was going to intro this. I was going to explain it and get into detail about the metaphors and this and that. But I changed my mind. The poem speaks for itself.

Cracks in the Facade

Two Tall and stoic buildings

Standing side by side

The tiny bit of space between them

Resembled a great divide.

The elements brought wind and rain

The buildings would sway and twist

But the stoic figures never changed

Never softened in the midst.

The structures were an awesome pair

The Jewels of a golden city

But the space between was neglected

Growing sterile, cold and gritty.

Time took a toll on one structure

Its trusses in disrepair

The tower’s outside were a grand sight

But its interior needed care.

Fine lines finally began to show

A crack in the façade

Evidence of the neglect

Ripples in the sod

Once, two stoic buildings stood

Now ones a crumbling shell

The other stands with its mate

But only because it’s compelled

And when those trusses gave way

The decaying building fell

But it didn’t fall upon itself

It took down the other as well

If they could have supported each other

If they had greater care

If the trusses weren’t allowed

To fall into disrepair

If the space between them

All ready thick with emotions

Wasn’t allowed to break its dam

And be flooded by an ocean

Then maybe the structures could have been saved.

We know it break the heart of God

When we sit by and do nothing to cure

The cracks in the façade.

This is the writers version of a torn ACL

I have been extremely busy lately. I’ve been rerwritng a manuscript, blogging, writing my article and sending out mad agent queries. Well, thrusday my finger started hurting and friday it was swollen and i could barely bend it. Saturday and sunday i was trying to man up and play through the pain but by monday i was at urgent care.  Diagnosis…. tendonitis due to over use. Yes, you read that right. I have tendonitis in my index finger due to over use.  I have literally been working my fingers to the bones, or at least to the swollen, red, inflamed tendons. I’ve got some pretty awesome meds to help me with pain and swelling, but they also cause my eyes to cross and for me to say things that make Matt’s eyebrows leap off his face. I’m don’t drink, i don’t smoke (anything) so these meds make me feel pretty loopy.  (the first four side effects are dizziness, tiredness, drowsiness and headache.) After the awkwardness I caused last night, it’s best i not say anything more…lol. It seems that I am being forced to take a break. I’ll catch up on some reading and point at random people. I can type with 9 fingers, it just takes longer when your medication induced loopiness keeps moving the keyboard!

So I am going to take a couple days to recoup and come back healed and ready to take on the blogosphere by the latter part of this week.

Thanks, Tammy

Thank you for being a friend!

So I was talking via text with a friend. I had a big move (from Michigan to Pennsylvania) but she’s had lots of big moves….and she is pregnant. But she said, “It takes some hard work to really have [sic] true deep female relationships.”

After we finished exchanging text I thought about it for a bit. She’s right. Female relationships are hard, hard work after a certain age. I watch my daughter navigate the world and as we moved from Michigan to Pennsylvania, she left all her old bff’s behind and came here and immediately made new ones. That just doesn’t happen when you are an adult. I don’t know exactly what factor complicated adult female friendships so much but it’s definitely harder to make (and keep) friends after a certain age. Maybe it’s because like sisters, you aren’t related, you when things get tough, there isn’t the “But we are family” band-aid to help heal hurts. When things go south in friendships, we tend to just let it go.

I’ve never had a large entourage of friends. The closest I ever got to that was the crew band crew we used to hang out with. (no, we weren’t all a bunch of nerds. Band is a sport in black schools. There is no such thing as a band or choir geek in black schools) But as an adult my circle of friends grew smaller and smaller until it was just one. She wasn’t a true friend. She was always trying to hold me back…I bought a CD player she’d say why, you don’t have CD’s. I was getting married, she’s upset that we didn’t wait for her to show up fashionably late (2 hours), I take singing lessons, she says why, you can’t sing? Enough incidents like that and you start to realize, hmm…this person isn’t really a good friend. But I can’t complain too much…in fact at all. Because I have been blessed by 4 terrific women that were in my life at different times but all had an impact on me. Sharie Bryant, my oldest friend. We’ve known each other since 3rd grade. That just doesn’t happen any more. Dana Haggins, my childhood bestfriend. We were so different but it was ok cause it worked. Angela Ford, She and I sang together on our way home almost every day. I would not have made it through my freshman year without her and last but not least, Virgie Wilson. I invited myself into her wedding party. The rest is history.

There has been a lot of dark spots in my life. But those dark spots were made just a little bit lighter by having a good friend to turn to. Having a good friend that’s willing to be there during the bad times is like looking into the face of Jesus and hearing him say Don’t be afraid to lean on me in your times of need. “…my yoke is easy, my burden is light.”

But you know what that means, right? In order to have a friend, you need to be a friend. So it can’t be a one way street. I had a friend…HAD…a friend and our relationship was so lopsided that it eventually fell over and broke. The tit for tat friend is just as worse. Well I did that for you, so you need to do that for me. Eventually you feel like you’ve gotten yourself locked inside of some kind of contractual obligation and you don’t know how to get out of it. I think the worse is the “My problem is worse than yours.” friend.  The friend who will try to one up any past, present and future problem you have. You’re experiences will always fall short of the pain, anguish, torment, joy, happiness or elation that she has felt or will ever feel. You get to the point where you think, what’s even the point of sharing.

Even with all that history, I am still a proponent of female friendships. Through my experiences have I learned what a good friend is, but i have also learned to be a good friend in return. It can not be one sided. You can’t go into relationships with preconceived notions of what it will be. I hear a lot of people saying negative things about female friendship. They don’t trust females, they don’t get along with females, etc. I suggest there may be some internal housekeeping you need to do because it may not always be the people you choose to hang around. There is scientific data to back up the value of female friendships. I found the following info on about.com

~~~~

Longevity – Married men live longer than single men, yet women who marry have the same life expectancy as those who don’t. However, women with strong female social ties (girlfriends) live longer than those without them.

Stress – For decades, stress tests focused solely on male participants, believing that all humans would respond in the same manner. When these same stress tests were finally conducted on females it was discovered that women don’t have the same, classic ‘fight or flight’ response to stress that men do. According to the research presented in The Tending Instinct, women under stress have the need to ‘tend and befriend.’ We want to tend to our young and be with our friends. Time with our friends actually reduces our stress levels.

More Stress – A study conducted by the UCLA School of Medicine found that when we’re with our girlfriends, our bodies emit the “feel good” hormone oxytocin, helping us reduce everyday stress. By prioritizing our female friendships and spending time with these friends, we take advantage of a very simple, natural way to reduce our stress.

Even more stress – Prairie voles, a monogamous rodent, have a similar response to stress. When a male vole is put in a stressful situation, he runs to his female partner. Female voles, when stressed, immediately run to the females they were raised with.

Self-esteem – A recent study by Dove indicated that 70% of women feel prettier because of their relationships with female friends. It’s no surprise that our self-esteem is highly influenced by our girlfriends; this is important to understand for girls as well as women.

The Health Factor – Women without strong social ties risk health issues equivalent to being overweight or a smoker – it’s that serious.

~~~

But outside of the health factors, having someone that has your back, loves you like a sister, will chastise you like a mother, and you can talk to her about ANYTHING and she will encourage you and lovingly rebuke you at the same time…well.. its absolutely amazing. A friend will help you move, a good friend will help you move a body

Stanzas to a Friend by Mary Darby Robinson

AH! think no more that Life’s delusive joys,

Can charm my thoughts from FRIENDSHIP’S dearer claim;

Or wound a heart, that scarce a wish employs,

For age to censure, or discretion blame.

Tir’d of the world, my weary mind recoils

From splendid scenes, and transitory joys;

From fell Ambition’s false and fruitless toils,

From hope that flatters, and from bliss that cloys.

With THEE, above the taunts of empty pride,

The rigid frowns to youthful error given;

Content in solitude my griefs I’ll hide,

Thy voice my counsellor­thy smiles my Heaven.

With thee I’ll hail the morn’s returning ray,

Or climb the dewy mountain bleak and cold;

On the smooth lake observe the sun-beams play,

Or mark the infant flow’rs their buds unfold.

Pleas’d will I watch the glitt’ring queen of Night

Spread her white mantle o’er the face of Heaven;

And from thy converse snatch the pure delight,

By truth sublime to MENTAL feeling given.

And as the varying seasons glide away,

This moral lesson shall my bosom learn,

How TIME steals on, while blissful hours decay

Like fleeting shadows;­NEVER to return.

And when I see thy warm unspotted mind,

Torn with the wound of broken FRIENDSHIP’S dart;

When sickness chills thy breast with pangs unkind,

Or ruthless sorrow preys upon thy heart;

The task be MINE to soothe thee to repose,

To check the sigh, and wipe the trickling tear,

Or with soft SYMPATHY to share thy woes;

O, proudest rapture of the soul sincere !

And ye who flutter thro’ the vacant hour,

Where tasteless Apathy’s empoison’d wand

Arrests the vagrant sense with numbing pow’r,

While vanquish’d REASON bows at her command.

O say, what bliss can transient Life bestow,

What balm so grateful to the social mind,

As FRIENDSHIP’S voice­where gentle precepts flow

From the blest source of sentiment refin’d?

When FATE’S stern hand shall close my weeping eye,

And seal, at length, my wand’ring spirit’s doom;

Oh! may kind FRIENDSHIP catch my parting sigh,

And cheer with HOPE the terrors of the TOMB.

Sometimes you get lost here and sometimes God gets inside of your GPS to send you here.

 First a warning. You are going to get nothing but total raw honesty from me here. If you can’t deal with that, I suggest you exit now. This is my blog and I will not censor myself for your comfort.

When I say I have random thoughts. I’m not joking. I swear blogging is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night, thoughts going full throttle like I’ve never been to sleep. Other times I wake up in the morning with my thoughts trickling like a leaky faucet. By the end of the day I’m at full scale blown out fire hydrant. My thoughts rush down the curb and making boats out of leaves and other debris until they finally swirl down the the nearest drain.

Today’s random thought came about while i was in the shower. I had my tuneskis going. My zune (no i don’t own an ipod.  I don’t want an ipod, so get off my back) is as random as I am. It goes from country, to classical to pop to contemporary christian to gospel and back again. ETC…. A song that normally gives me chills (because its what i imagine the heavenly choir singing every time Jesus walks into the room. Total Praise is the song) and I could barely concentrate on getting squeaky clean because all I wanted to do was change the song. Then I remembered the day before, I used to be very passionate about Christian music but after having to reload my zune yesterday, I actually considered taking all the Christian music completely off. So in that moment. I had to think about it. What’s my problem?

Then another question. Are you mad at God?

God and I very much have a parent/child relationship. I pout and stomp and refuse to listen and He is my ever patient Father. Showing mercy and compassion in some instances and loving discipline in other instances. In no way am I debating the existence of God, but sometimes I feel abandoned (I know vdub…I am still singing orphans of God, three years later..lol)  And I can’t help but wonder, What is this all about and do you remember me, I’m your Daughter. Your princess?!?!

A little back story….

My mom went to the same church from the time I was in utero until I was old enough to go off and find my own church( She went to this church up until a couple years ago). It was an old baptist church with a *tiny* congregation. The pastor was an old school preacher but I never learned much about the bible there. Did a lot of singing, a lot of clapping and a lot of amen-ing, but I was always confused. In fact, I was 13 before I learned that God and Jesus were separate (but the same, I know, I know) entities.

Did I mention we went to church every Sunday? Because that’s important.

We went to church every Sunday but I didn’t learn until I was 13 that Jesus wasn’t just one of God’s nick-names. Sad, i know. A lot of shitty stuff happened to me in a very short amount of time. I am a lifetime movie. All the bad things you can think of that could happen to a young girl short of pregnancy happened to me, plus a car accident that almost killed me.  Any way. I made a decision very early that I didn’t want to be a christian. I saw a lot of hypocrisies,(a relative that molested me as a child went to church with us regularly) a lot of Sunday faces  and i figured if this is what being a Christian means, then I would just have to regretfully decline. I still believed in God, (and once I learned the difference) I wanted to follow Christ, i just didn’t want to be a Christian. I would live a good life, be kind to others, yadda yadda yadda… and you’d be able to call me a lot of things, but a hypocrite would not be one of them.

In the mean time, I dabbled in Hinduism, Buddhism and Wicca before ultimately meeting a nice Christian boy to settle down with. (the end of that sentence my my word count 666….weird.) I saw the light in Matt and I wanted what he had. My Bestfriend had that same light. I needed what they had. So I decided to accept Christ so I could get me some of that. I said all the words, listened to all the music, read all the right things and I felt dead inside still. Then I started partying. Hard. HARD. H-A-R-D. Food had no taste, water did not quench my thirst and the air was dry and dusty. I had been dropped kicked into the wilderness. I was spiraling hard but ultimately the desire to get closer to God came from an authentic spot in my heart and not the spot in my head that wanted to impress my new husband and best friend. So 4 years after first “accepting” Christ I did it again and there was no one there but  God and me. There were other people in the room( I was at the Lighthouse young adult service at Woodside Bible church) , but there was no one there but God and me. On July 19th 2006 i was baptized and that, besides the the adoption days of both of my kids, was one of the greatest days of my life. I grew as a Christian tremendously while at Woodside and even got to the point that I was comfortable feeding others and not just being fed.

Then more stuff started to happen. Bad stuff. Still through all my tears I praised God and counted every blessing. I was waiting for the beauty to shine through the ashes of what was being torn down in my life. I got to see a glimpse of it before more refining fire and another pile of ashes.

More fire, heap of ashes.

Fire. Ashes.

Back to the present…

Now I seem to be stuck in a cycle of  seasons of uncontrollable wildfires, followed by drought which….spark more wildfires. More ashes. Every time I think the flames are gone and I can start digging out of the ashes…an ember then WHOOSH. I never expected my walk as a Christian to be a charmed life of royal riches, but I am at a point where I feel I have been dropped off in the wilderness again. No water. No map. No hope of every finding my way home. This is the brutal honesty part of the ride, kiddos. There is part of me, that feels abandoned. That part of me feels that God has turned his back on me and that I in turn should do the same to Him. That would turn me into some Ricky Gervais type person that felt so insecure in/with my relationship with God that I had to constantly take pot shots at Him to hide the fact that I feel hurt and abandoned. Eventually the wildfires in my life would be fueled by hurt and that hurt would manifest itself into hostility at any thing Christian. (Did I ever tell you that I was a psychology major before i switched majors?)

But none of that makes sense in my mind so it must not be where my heart is leading me. I believe in God the Father, creator of Heaven and the Earth and I know…even during the times where I am feeling the heat from a brand new fire… that He believes in me.

On a sidenote. I miss being in a community of believers. I am restarting the search for a church in the fall.

So what does all this mean? I dunno. In the course of typing I can tell you that I don’t feel angry at God. I feel abandoned sometimes, but not all the time. Maybe I really didn’t want to listen to that one particular song today. Maybe the reason I was considering taking all my Christian music off my zune is because I have 4 David Crowder albums, 5 Chris Tomlin albums and I don’t know how many Newsboys albums and I am sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. That actually makes a lot of sense.  What I do know for a fact that I am in a wilderness season again. I don’t have to try to tough it out with quiet dignity. I can cry out to heaven, call a friend, ask for prayer, read the bible, talk a walk (not likely…its hot here and the hill are practically vertical.)  and I know that as long as I keep my eyes on God that I will not end up a lost soul in the wilderness forever.

Psalm 142: 1- 2, 3a, 4-5
“With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. When my spirit faints within me, you know my way!

Leviticus 26:11-12 “I will set My dwelling in and among you, and My soul shall not despise or reject or separate itself from you. And I will walk in and with and among you and will be your God, and you shall be My people.”

Romans 8:38-39 “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

2 Corinthians 4:7-9 “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. ” (KJV)

In life we seem to miss so much. I’m not referring to the things we see, or even the things we learn. It’s the real things that exist without our influence.

Parts of life, as I have suggested above, like birth and death, ambition and time, with or without our acknowledgement , they will exist with a strong impact upon our lives. We choose how we look at these subtitles. We choose how we define them. what im trying to say is, we choose our present moment.

There are people who are ultimately happy, no matter what dagger life throws at them. Yet there are some, who suffer depression constantly. Take a closer look at your own life. what are you choosing. And be honest, Depression, illness, ect, does not have a heart beat or a mind, therefore, alone, the disease itself cannot choose you.

I’ve suffered. and for many years, I blamed society and I blamed my lack of knowledge. But in reality, when im completely raw with myself, I wanted to suffer. I wanted to disappear, because I thought that how I would be seen. I wanted to die, because that’s how I thought I would stay alive in people minds. I wished to be perfect for everyone, because I didn’t feel, I was enough as I am.

But when I faced my fears and fed my courage with passion, When I unlocked the chains I kept around my soul, I saw and felt things I hadn’t felt and seen in a long time. I chose to be happy by letting all my worries go. I allowed my true and inner self be exposed to humanity. and in return, my world was calm. My life than welcomed, new friends, new passions and a new way life. I started to attract what my soul genuinely craved.

What are you choosing? Are you truly happy?

Choose again.

A word known world-wide, and a word that sparks caution in all whose mind it treads.

But lets talk specific types of infection. Every day, every moment, you are spreading some type of  infection. for example, as the age-old saying goes, A smile. An ongoing infection that circles the world without cure.

A smile. There is more to it than you see. It is deeper. I wasn’t aware of this until last night. I experienced an eye-opening moment that changed my view of smiling and its impact.

For those who are unaware, I am a flight attendant, I see hundreds of people everyday. I witness all makes of emotion and all genres of people. I’ve always believed that a smile is just a smile, and if u give your smile to someone it will automatically make them feel warm and accepted. and if you’re the one receiving the smile, you have been infected.

Now, we’re all encouraged to smile at everyone to promote a positive society and a happy worldly vibe. This, is not always the case. Here is my story.

Before I board my passengers I put on my flight attendant face and infect every passenger who walks onboard. I’ve always believe I was making everyone day, until I was on the receiving end last night and embraced a specific moment.

I was tired, rushed, delayed and just wanted to go home. I was feeling pretty average. And to my disappointment, I think I may have shown this to my customers. In theory, a ‘smile’ would have perked me up.  And I was waiting to accept one. A passenger walked by, Squinted her eyes, beamed her pearly whites, smile and said “thank-you and goodbye” I spiritually accepted this smile and in all honesty felt worse.

How is this so?

It got me thinking, is what we feel, behind every smile, passed on in the infectious gift? I believe so. My experience speaks for itself.

Still feeling drained, tired and soppy, I continued to disembark our passengers. About 10 passengers down the line, another’s eyes interlock with mine, smiles says “thankyou goodbye” and continued after the leader

I embraced this smile and was instantly infected with energy, happiness and warmth. I not only felt more alive, but I accept my self a lot more. What was the difference between the first smile and the second?

Was the first given to me by someone who was made to believe, you must smile at everyone despite how your feeling inside and force the infection, and was the second just nothing but pure?

I believe every smile comes with baggage. Who are you giving your baggage to? This moment stopped me in my tracks and really made me think. Should I be forcing a smile on my face every day despite how im feeling and pass on my dull energy masked with an honest and raw happy intention? or Should I show my real emotion and hope someone infects me with their pure smile?

Do yourself favour today. Be aware in every moment, read the fine print beneath the smile you accept. Edit your own.

How are you feeling. What are you really passing on with your smile, and whose smile are you missing out on because you were made to believe you MUST smile to receive a smile.

Don’t be misunderstood today.

Show your RAW intentions. Smile with honesty, and accept with gratitude and caution.

Watch:
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I would call my blog, “The No-Spin Zone,” but that moniker has been claimed by Bill O’Reilly. Obviously some people appreciate raw honesty about life, ministry, and faith. Others may write me off—I don’t know this for sure—as a hyper-negative, never satisfied, glass half empty, moaning prophet of doom who should look more on the bright side of things. Maybe they’re right.

My regular readers might like to see this “top ten” list of articles from The Thin Edge of the Wedge for 2007. My statistics only go back to May, but here’s what they show in order of traffic:

1. Getting hot as hell in Florida for SBC Calvinists
2. Tragic murder of Arif and Kathy Khan in Pakistan
3. What does a “shepherd” look like?
4. I dare you to read “The Shack” book
5. Illinois pastor reflects, “Reformed” training at SBTS not asset to “career” but rather to pastoral integrity
6. Think twice before you invite a friend “to church”
7. If they mean to have a war, let it begin here
8. Jim Elliff, “Why do we meet in homes?”
9. Rethinking “full-time ministry” in light of 1 Corinthians 7
10. Hargrave refutes Vines, challenges Sullivan to “do the right thing”

Thanks to everyone who visits The Thin Edge every now and then, especially my “regulars” (you know who you are) and those who comment on my stuff. For those who lurk in the background, come join the discussion and tell us what you think! If you missed any of the above articles, please feel free to check ‘em out: go ahead and revive the comment section if you like, because many of my readers actually subscribe to the comments and we’ll know right away that you have joined in the discussion.