The break-up plan

With resolutions flying out of everyone’s mouth like the F word, it is almost inevitable to make a few changes. Why not start at the start of a calendar year and work your way onward. Day by day. Month by month. Or let’s face it, hour by hour.

Because honestly, if someone said give up text messaging--that alone would be on an hourly timeframe. Sadly I’ve hit that point where the phone is somewhat connected and calendars are filling. It’s a busy time.

Instead of creating these crazy lists about having to lose such and such amount of poundage and strut this body like Giselle. Or better yet, aim to save one million pennies for a down payment—or installment on property taxes. Pushing the holiday bulge and the budget aside, I’m mixing it up a bit this year.

A resolution (s) in the form of a break-up plan.

It’s easy. Painless. Completely guilt free. Hopefully.

We all have good habits and also bad habits that we tend to mull over more. This isn’t about mulling, or swearing to do something and letting it all fall to the backburner because the rebel in us says forget about it.

Resolutions tend to bug me in general because it strikes a red flag that somewhere in my mind gets short circuited and rather than saying, ‘Okay, we aren’t going to do that right?’ It’s says, ‘Forget that, that promise is moot-pass the wine.’

But I must digress that statement because that is just me. Some people are great with resolutions and that is fabulous.

For right now, because it’s not really a resolution it’s just a statement….I am breaking up with a few things because it needs to happen. It’s for a better day, a happier person. Or maybe it’s out of boredom because the morning is quiet and the sun is keeping me cheery. In any case, er goes.

DIET COKE – you are a bastard and god only knows how you have made it into my diet over the past few weeks. The sugary duds are bidding farewell.

JEANS – This is debatable. As much as I don’t wear you unless it’s a day for loafing, it’s time to keep to the leggings and dresses.

SNACKY TREATS – It’s about to get orange in here. Carrots are getting back on the plan. Cookies you are OUT.

WORK – I’m breaking up with YOU…as soon as a certain group has an offer--which is in the forecast.

BLACKBERRY – iphone or bust.

INNER-NOMAD – Building roots is far more important than moving on the fly. Please brain stop sending mixed visions of Manhattan and Toronto. Thanks much.

DRUNKEN CALL/TEXTS – I seriously doubt he thinks they are fun. Interesting, but not fun at 3am. And why do I answer them when they come my way? Either way—they are out.

….leaving the biggest for last

GIRLY BEHAVIOR [aka self-doubt] – This is being pitched on so many different levels. I am breaking up with eyeing of the telephone waiting for that message to come through. Texting him when he should be the one texting me. Forget that, I wouldn’t do that with a friend so I’m breaking up with that on edge feeling. He will call, as if we didn’t already know that. It's the behavior that I loathe most and cannot believe it has taken up shop in the recesses of my mind. But, as I am a woman--it was bound to happen at some point.

And so that is where it all lays out for now. A master plan that isn’t really a plan at all. It’s merely a statement of letting go. Letting go of a carbolicious drink that seriously needed the boot in the first place to set a reminder in my planner for messaging someone for getting the ball rolling with that job. Simple, silly little things that creep up and we don’t realize are a part of our daily routines. For now, it’s time to get on that detour curbing any inclinations to fall back to these habits and get on with it.

As I sit in jeans and riding boots. Hmm, fashion forward.

Cheers to a new year!

Ch-ch-ch-changes….

As much as I would love to start singing to my ever constant girl-crush of David Bowie, this is not that time. Nor is this the place for my voice to break any windows in the vicinity. For the first time in probably my whole life, the need to flee, runaway…move--is not pressing in. Usually every few months the urge to jet set and get away or start fresh begins to creep up my neck. It starts with the little notices in magazines or in television shows, my eyes pinpoint a destination and I crave to go. That craving turns to yearning, which turns into the impulse to get out of town. And move.

Why this happens, I honestly do not know. Maybe it stems from wanting to explore the world, maybe it’s a fear of staying in one place to actually build roots? Either way, this particular urge hasn’t hit me but others that lead up to it have. In one of the many daily reads, I came across an incredible article about how someone’s life changes drastically once they have made a serious life ‘alteration.’ I couldn’t help but see the truth in this statement. Since dropping everything and moving east, it has forced me to really break out and live according to the day. The moment.

After an incident the other night, something happened that felt like a splash of cold water in my face, waking me up from a deep haze I apparently had fallen into. Forcing me to really see someone. That spontaneous person who always challenged herself; the one who decided to bartend only because she wanted to learn how to make one specific cocktail. The same lady who gave up early education as a major and chose Cinema—just because.

I need a change. That rich trait is something that is so comforting, so near and dear to my soul. With the weather shifting into the winter months, there certainly can be no time wasted by sitting on my rump and baking cookies—despite how delicious they are. Well, that is an understatement. Baking cookies for a cookie exchange—well now that is completely okay in my books.

Yesterday, I called out of work. This is something I rarely ever do. Not because I was sick, but because I wanted to take the day and plan. Evaluate and Tackle. Music got turned on, the medusa wave didn’t get straightened, lululemon and I were best friends. As I was putting a picture away, crumpled up in the corner of a box was a sheet of paper that I had filled out years ago. On it was a running list of all the things I had been wanting to do. A wishlist.

I curled up on the floor next to my bed and skimmed through it and immediately started crying. -Buy Flowers weekly (done) -Send cards out to friends regularly (done) -Train for a marathon (done) -Move to Chicago or NYC (done) -Buy a flat in Paris (still wishing) -Get a Kitchenaid (done)

With the exception of about three (out of more than one hundred) everything was something that over the course of four years was accomplished. I stared in disbelief, shock and awe.

Where did that woman go? Who was always rushing to do something wild and crazy? She got drunk. But in all seriousness, reading that sheet of paper brought back that warm feeling that this lady needs a list. And that list is not getting crumpled up and tossed into a box like a time capsule. No, it’s going straight onto the calendar, or is being turned around into registration forms for classes on god only knows what.

Here I was slowly beginning to get nervous about the winter months and turning into a hermit, but that is not the case. These changes are coming hard and they’re coming fast, the days are getting filled with yoga and floral arrangement courses. Classes on how to do facial make-up so we don’t look like hot tranny messes to others that coach you through ‘Doing him, Dumping Him or Dating Him.’ Secretly, openly here, I’m excited for this one.

So in the light of Mr. Bowie, even though that song doesn’t even come close to meaning the same thing….I’m making some changes and getting some fun out of life.

I’m sexy and I know it…or at least with heels and lipstick I can be

It’s October, and the detox is officially over with a capital O. For the past several weeks I have been going back in forth between spending more time away from my house and out with friends or just clearing the mind and trying not to sulk. Or to be completely frank--wasting the night away sipping one too many cocktails and forgetting my own personality. Because it was about regrouping and finding something out of your comfort zone (s). And that personality, is me, but she was hurting and needed to get drunk and scream. And eat lots of gelato that is now making crunches so much fun.

It’s over, and god only knows I never thought these words would ever come out of my mouth. EVER. Everything is good, every day is filled and that is a sweet deal. Granted, this little period of getting back to ‘who you are’ felt like a refresher course for Calculus 405 in college, but still. It was needed for everything to be washed out of my confused mind. Which is the always present and never now ending theme.

And yet, here it is. The simple truths that are blinded behind everything and everyone around. They’re over, forgotten and forgiven.

Maybe it’s the fresh color on the hair, the tanned skin, or the red stilettos that seem to be attached to me right now because they scream ‘outrageousness is here.’ Whatever it is, it’s fully embraced and it’s about god damned time.

…or it could possibly be the writing that is amping everything up and building the excitement about potential freelancing. About penning someone else’s story which makes me not think and allows me to just go with the flow each and every single day. The chance of being able to quit a job that I do not enjoy and do something that feels right in my bones and makes my skin sing. I’m leaning toward the writing setting everything on fire. There’s no shame.

The other morning I went out for the day. Put on a cute dress, slapped on the purple heels and just went with it. Every day for the past few months, I’d been eyeing that dress, rolling my eyes at the shoes wondering why in the world it had not been worn in ages. Funk be bygones.

It’s understandable, and it happens. And you know what, you have to get over it. If you sit around and mope about it, time is still getting wasted and a chance at god only knows what could be slipping off in the distance. That dress was like a fire alarm going off inside of my head. This woman, she had partially joined the witness protection program. Though, not really because I’m not socially inverted and actually do go out, but things had been slipping off of the radar that are as much a part of me, as well anything else.

It was time. Time to clean out the wardrobe of clothes that hid a body that needed to shape up just a tad, dye the locks but steer from an emo-clad color and go with something a little on the sultry side. To wear the purple heels.

I feel like it’s been a serious complex of personal issues lately, and it has been because of reasons that will go unannounced on this forum. That’s for Dr. Drew to address and I’m still waiting for an available appointment. It is very hard to see all of the people around you and not judge yourself for your 'shortcomings' or acknowledging your accomplishments. Even so, breathing is easier today. It’s better than it was a year ago. It’s definitely easier than sixty five days ago and because of it, my heart is bigger and I’m saying adios to certain thoughts. Expectations that had quietly become my own. I’m saying goodbye to the lost hours and shouting a big hello to all of the time that lay in front.

So this is my last post on dating. On feeling down and out because honestly, a Kleenex and crappy made for TV movies can help this one. Crying with a box of sour patch kids in my lap and a crystal light stain on my lips. And taking a peripheral vision and turning it into tunnel vision and forgetting about the world that exists all around. A world that I am part of and am no longer missing out on.

Amen, to that.

I {heart} NY

There is something about the written word that frees my soul. It is a part of my life, the days, the hours; it allows me to feel full and complete—within your creativity. When I started writing the short story for a friend, that love, that sort of intoxicating feeling you get after being introduced to something that interests you…consumed me.

I have finished the story. Thank god. It took a couple of months to pen out the 100+ pages, but I am proud of that story. My friend loves it, and it was something that I needed to do. It was a wakeup call for something that has been missing for months.

Writing comes naturally, it’s a love, but to take so much time and invest it into characters and a plot and actually post it out for thousands to read opened up my eyes and opened the doors to opportunities.

It has opened the doors to fresh ideas, new people that I honestly never thought I would talk to, people that have become daily contacts with conversations I look forward to. All because of a few words that were penned out.

The story Reading the Defense is in total six chapters, after the fifth chapter I clammed up and didn’t get writer’s block…but did get a sort of ‘conclusion block.’ I had become emotionally invested in the characters that had been created, emotionally invested in the people who it has been reaching out to since the end of May. I knew that in writing the ending I would have to really step up my game and put everything into it. But I had stalled, for nearly a month. I received emails from people wondering what was going on.

Would I finish the story?

When would the final piece get posted?

Stress consumed me, over a short story. A very good friend that I am eternally thankful for, has a house in New York. On the Pennsylvania border, in the woods. It is secluded and on a private lake, where coverage for your phone and email is non-existent. The land is rich with history—literate history. Playwrights once lived on the lands, current writers live there, artists have homes, etc. It is a prime area for the creative mind.

She and her husband knew I was writing and trying to wrap up the story, knowing this they invited me to come out for a weekend getaway. To get lost in words. I hesitated at first, because I am obligated to my job. Obligated to my work ethics and morals.
Forget my work ethics and morals. I slept on it and decided to listen to my soul.

Listen to the words that were taunting me. Dreams that were begging for me to pursue.

I went to New York. I spent three long days taking in the raging sun, dipped into the lake, watched everyone play bags and drank a few too many drinks. And wrote.

Wrote the conclusion.

Amidst the wooded bliss, I was able to listen to the ideas freely and pen the final pieces down. It was like I was possessed for those few days.

It was the exact place I needed to be, and the fact that friends saw and knew that warms my heart. I got home and transcribed my notes, rushed it out to my editor and…posted it. Online first and then converted it over to send to my friend.

The response has been overwhelming. To some people it may be nothing; to me it is the world in gaining enough confidence and networking the most out of something to make a go of this story. Of future stories. There have been requests for an epilogue from several readers, because they too are invested in the characters.

It has been a tumultuous couple of months getting this story locked down, it has come miles from the first section when I didn’t have an editor to the last chapter where the writing expanded and my editor made less marks and praised the work.
I am proud of the little story that could, and am going to keep writing for the site that is hosting it for now. Until I find another site for another genre,until I get fully published, though I must say, writing Women’s Fiction/Chick Lit…is fun.

If not a little racy at times, but still fun nonetheless.

A part of me thinks that I would still be twittling my thumbs trying to sort out the conclusion had I not gone to New York. Had I not been sitting amongst the high trees and gentle breeze, sweating and drinking. I’d like to think that I owe New York for that, that I was in a state of mind that can only be visited when there for this one story. And for this story, it was perfect.

For a better look as to what this post is about, follow the link to Reading the Defense. As a general note, the piece is romance/erotic in parts.

Daring to believe and follow a dream

Disclaimer: This is not a typical post, but more of a note for someone.

If you were to sit down and come up with a single word that drives your thoughts into motion, how could you answer? What truly inspires you to chase your dreams, whether it be working a standard office job, strapping on a red cape to be Superman-or She-Ra, a twelve hour shift at the shopping center or be a stay at home parent?

An answer that comes to mind was recently voiced by a ridiculously gifted and incredibly genuine designer that was part of So You Wanna be a Designer.

Everything.

She said it so casually, almost wistfully, and yet you knew it could never be overturned. Something right in front of you or something so small you would overlook, everything that is out for our eyes to see is inspiring.

This is such an amazing way to think creatively, but even as a non creative, its a wonderful staple for life.

With model for a 'timeless' piece - Courtesy of Kenmore

Latonya Williams has been let go from the show. I was heartbroken, as was everyone around. From day one her drive and determination was so clear and contagious, there was no way, tears were ready to fall. She pushed and pulled from deep within to create pieces that pulled her creativity on all levels and broke past a comfort level of designing only to craft a realization.

She dared to follow, to be what her soul knew all along.

Inspired.

Watching her reaction to the result and then seeing her the next day, this is what makes her a breakout and someone to keep on your radar. It eases the feeling you once thought was heartbreak and turns it into absolute wonder.

She sees the purpose of her gift and wants to share that with people around her. Yes she was part of a contest, but talking with her today she sees.

She already won the contest. It was a contest of getting past GO. For grabbing hold of your hopes and fears, strengths and weaknesses and following the path you know is right.

For now, as she acclimates herself to establishing her fashion line there are no tears to be shed. Life is happening, dreams are being explored and inspiration is ever flowing.

Life and a true calling is beckoning.



I am ever thankful that I have a friend who opened her arms and embraced this show that has become such a part of my Thursday routines I have no clue what will fill that time come the end next week. This friend that extended the designers to her friends and family and that I got an opportunity to see within the past seven weeks what someone is capable of. Fashion is a work of art and that is exactly what I would define the designers that are part of such a raw and cut throat industry. They live, eat and sleep with a needle in their mouth and ideas spewing from their eyes.

Take a moment and be proud of who you are, where you've come from and know you can go anywhere.

Keep an eye out for Elizabeth Smith Fashions and follow Latonya on twitter to see where her journey takes her.

If tears are to be shed its for nothing but excitement and the knowledge of opportunity.

Latonya, you have a heart of gold and are an inspiration to those you have met, and will continue to meet. I told you before and I stand by it. You are falling into greatness that can only be yours. Now is the time. Following you beyond girl because you will make it happen! And I am totally getting one of your dresses the minute it hits Ootra!!

Grabbing a bull by its horns with a leaking black pen

There are some days where I feel as if I am planning for something more than I am actually doing things. Then there are other days where I am living minute by minute thinking to myself, 'What plan?'

I don't really know what exactly it is, or why I do this but somewhere every couple of weeks, months or yearly I stalk out a park or coffee shop, sit with an ulcer induced cup of potent coffee and start evaluating. Call it boredom, self critiquing, whatever it is, its a distraction.

A pro and con list for major aspects gets written up and from there (and a pot of coffee) a game plan is devised.

The yearlies have always resulted in relocations, which thankfully that itch is nowhere near a place to be scratched. All others fall in the likes of anything else in the means of self improvement and releasing any ties of holding negative thoughts and wishes, I chose to spend a day doing just this.

After several hours in, and mindless writing I stared blankly at the lists and noticed much repetition. There was a common theme, and after snapping out of a caffeine induced coma I breathed in a deep sigh and dug out a fresh piece of paper only to go nowhere.

The theme is bold, and so very typical.

Things are not as they seem, well how can I turn them around so all objectives are beneficial. How can these things be all that they seem and more.

How can I get them done. Its time to get 'er done.

Its finally beginning to feel like Spring in the area so every night after work I'm walking along the river and maybe venturing out to the prairies to jog (run Morgan run...on flat surfaces). Let's get physical...again!

Work is not what it was cracked out to be and settling just isn't going to fly. I want the city so that's what I'm going to get. Let the job search commence yet again.

Self publication is the means for now, and with that means getting passed the worry and actually publish out independently. A personal deadline was created and its really going to happen. Its time to invest in photoshop for graphic design help-shit.

Fitness, cooking, art etc classes are going to be this girls best friend for the next several months until I figure financing a Masters Program. I like the friends I've made thus far but know more are always welcome. And why not learn something along the way.

I want to be courted for a change and with that means I've got to step up and step out more than I already do. The online jag failed epicly by distractions. Emotionally I was miserable and needed to clear the air. That and I was all too focused about turning thirty and being SCH: single, childless and a non-homeowner. All that still looms but is not as strong, I'm going about each day being my normal carefree self and am living without forcing.

I'm tired of waiting and am taking matters into my own hands as it always should have been, always has been but slipped slightly. There's no real plan at all, looking back at previous 'plans' they've all come through almost brilliantly but were too precise. Too methodical, for this its just about keeping busy, keeping away from nagging thoughts and just breathing.

Is it May already?

It's a pretty silent Sunday here, one that has the sun shining (despite the raging meteorologist predictions of rain)and a day to be spent with a head held high and plans in getting things done is well in order.

Keeping this one short and sweet, get out and pick some flowers if you can, buy a bouquet and relax. Because it's Sunday. Because it's May. Because you can.



Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour onto others without getting a few drops on yourself
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Happy May Day