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Life Happened…

I wrote this in December of 2015, right after I finished my Associate of Arts degree, and never published it. I’m not sure why. I mean..life happens. I guess that’s why.

 

Life happened.

I have been told that it has a tendency to do that.

But, while I put most of my life on hold to work toward finishing my A.A. degree, life continued as if I didn’t matter.

Can you fathom? Seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it?

In the last 6 months, while I set aside my creative writing and some of the flash challenges I normally partook… partaked.. partooken? Ehh, whatever… I took part in (yeah, that works), pushed aside my gaming addiction for homework, and forsook (I got that one right… I think) my personal relationships to attend class, 6 months passed by. I know, I said 6 months at the beginning of the sentence and it seems redundant, but my point is that 6 months just zipped on by and I wasn’t a part of a lot of it.

Quite frankly, that kind of irritates me.

And now, at the end of those 6 months, I have my Associates of Arts degree (emphasis on English, of course) and I am on winter break before I dive back into school to start working on my Bachelor’s degree. But there is this void in my life. I got so use to the business of school, the constant deadlines, the homework and papers that needed to be done, the readings that need to be.. um, read, and the always present looming threat of failing a class, that now, in the calm and afterglow of it all, I can’t seem to relax.

The best way to describe it would be like running off a… you know what.. better yet, let me just show you what it feels like…

Yeah, that’s about right.

My life has been on hold while streaking forward at an incredibly increasing pace. Sounds a bit impossible, but because of my schooling schedule, I have placed a lot of what I would normally be doing on the side.

My Xbox cries to me some nights, begging me to play a game. My DVR is starting to threaten me with erasing some of the shows that I have let sit idle and unwatched for too long. Hulu is even chiming in with some of the shows that I loved to watch starting to disappear from the cue (because apparently, you have to keep up with the current episodes or miss out… ).

On top of that, anything even remotely writing oriented has been relegated to the simmer spot on the back burner.

And now that all my schooling is over (at least for this semester), the walls I have erected to keep all that stuff away have dropped, and everything is clamoring for my attention.

All at once.

A few days ago, while having a conversation with a blogging community friend, her comment to my dilemma made me put my situation into the following thoughts:

It is very akin to being in a bucket and the floodgates open up, you struggle to stop all the water coming in, frantic because the onslaught is overtaking you, putting your hands here and there to stem the flow, feeling the water rising, your heart rate quickening, just trying to find a foothold in order to at least stand a chance.

All the while, because of the panic and the self-inflicted need to accomplish stuff… let me say that again… stuff… you fail to recognize that if you just take a deep breath and go with the flow, most of that stuff will take care of itself.

Life is funny that way.

But the trick is, not to let the inflow of stuff kick off the anxiety of failure. That will just kill you. And I would love to tell you I have learned this trick, but truth be told, I am constantly having to go back and relearn it every few months. I think they call that… life.

 

P.S. (from today in 2018… ) I still have this issue. That’s a hard trick to learn.

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Sometimes…

Sometimes, when people ask me to edit or critique their work, this is how I want to respond.

Apparently, this isn’t what I’m supposed to do, though.

I Hate This Feeling…

It’s Friday!

I would normally be ecstatic about this fact… ok, anyone who knows me knows I’m rarely ecstatic about the weekends (for multiple reasons). But this Friday has an especially demure aspect to it.

Week one of classes is coming to a close… and I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed something important.

I take all online classes and they all have a “check-in” kind of thing to make sure you are actually in the class. Most of the time it’s some sort of introduction where  you write a brief bio about yourself (most of mine are so filled with snark (shocker, right?)) and anything else that the professor has asked.

I did all those. I think. I’ve double checked and even triple checked…

And still…

I hate this feeling.

Not Dead Yet…

I’ve been absent. Probably not noticeably so. I’d like to think my voice has been missed by those who follow me, but I’m not so high on my own horse to believe that.

It’s been at least a month since I have posted anything, and quite a while since I have been doing any kind of regular… anything. Even over on my other site.

But, as a way of excuse, the summer semester just drained me. A literature class and a creative writing prereq class, crammed into 6-weeks each, are enough to cause any gray matter to liquefy fairly quickly.  In that time frame, I read so many stories and different critique styles. I read Stephen King’s On Writing (a book I highly recommend if nothing more than for reading a memoir (of sorts)), and also was introduced to Joyce Carol Oates (of who’s book, SourlandI read (or portions of it).

I also went away for vacation to Tennessee. A family vacation.

Oh, and I got A’s.

Which, come on, is really all that matters. Right?

I’m thinking I should probably write some of this stuff into its own posts. Maybe a book review or two, a vacation post with photos, and other stuff.

/shrug

Oh, and my brain finally started to solidify, finally.

Just in time to start Fall semester and the four classes I am currently taking.

Mental masochism, for the win!

 

 

My Sharpest Memory…

My sharpest memory is of the day I stopped being my daughter’s hero. I thought for sure I could wait until she was at least thirteen before that title would be stripped away. But at eighteen months old, I was becoming the monster that would fuel her nightmares for years to come.

An hour before, I was happily at work, going about my day. Then the panicked phone call, the drive home, and the drive to the hospital.

Now, her body wrapped up like a cocoon in a blanket to keep her arms down around her sides, I was the one who was forced to hold her down while the doctor and a nurse worked on putting stitches into her forehead. All she could do was look up at me with her big green eyes and plead with every ounce of energy she could, “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

This is the part you never hear about while growing up. It’s one thing when they deserve correction. But no one prepares you for when you have to be the ‘bad guy’ for all the right reasons.

Truth be told, I’m not sure who suffers the nightmares of that moment more. Because the entire time, she stared into my eyes. The entire time she tried to get her arms loose and have me make it all go away. The entire time she wanted me to hug her. And because I couldn’t, the entire time, my heart broke just a bit more.