Synthetic Sensual Silliness...

	Flickering flames flow fluidly Traversing, tingling to touch Languidly lingering long, lovers Contemplate- cuddling, caressing, carousing Entertaining each exploration, exhausting Passions' possibilities, pushing past Until- used up, ushers In, identifying, idolizing idiosyncrasies Slipping slowly, silent slumber Dana McLennan

Focal Point

	Systematic of a concieved culture She fell between the arrow mark Woven with threads, she could not remove Protests rallied in her soul Automatic she would become a vulture A weapon, driven and stark Crafted by engineered molecules, unmoved Her resistance took its toll Thoughts like leaves wafted through Crumbling, slow in shards She learned to listen for the sound Her face wet with remorse The life from which she withdrew Present in the house of cards Tell-tale pieces of life unfound Dana McLennan

Classes are scheduled....finally....I cant wait...

	Writing is coming along. The block is slowly lifting. Maybe something profound will come from it. Maybe not, but at least I am writing. Now if I could just finish this room and turn it into my small sanctuary it would help. It is coming along, hope to be finished in the next week. Working on having 10 pages finished by next week as well. Lots to do.....

There is a revolution... and I am in the control tower!

So yesterday began my revolution. There are multiple plans of attack that will be carried out against numerous targets, growing in number each day, as I find something new I cannot abide by.

Phase 1........How to breathe!
November 18, 2011

  Since I have moved in my bedroom has been a storage closet. No longer will I sleep among all this crap! I cannot breathe in this room as it does not express my inner Goddess, and she is not happy, therefore I began the removal of said items. I need to decongest and unfortunately NyQuil isn't going to work this time.
     I started with the organization of business supplies, taking all of them out of my room, to sift through and compact better, while finding them a new home. I am not sure where this will be yet. I am giving myself a two day time limit to have specific items pulled out of the room until their new home is resolved. This is proving difficult as I live in a small space but no excuses, it shall be done.
      I also have a very clear picture in my head of what I want my room to look like when it is all finished so this is helping me, because I have a set goal with a carrot dangling. Removing the excess is not going to be nice but it has to be done.
     Some will be kept as they pertain to my business but will find a new home, some will be thrown out, and some will be donated....Then I will renovate! Speaking of which, is anyone in need a good free queen headboard and a dresser with mirror. It is bulky and on my nerves and taking up my precious air. I would be willing to trade either or both for a chest of drawers that is nice and slim.
     Now where was I...yes just to make sure I do this, but thinking smart, I will post pictures of my newly decorated abode in a month, sooo by December 18th.
     Also I have books, all kinds, hit me up!
     The problem with congested brain life is that you can usually look around you and see the congestion as well as feel it. It could be a cluttered house, a work issue continually following you home, an emotional crisis without a resolution, ( I have one of these too, but later), or perhaps just a list of to-do's that never seem to to get done. It takes no prisoners, just destroys. Your will, your creativity, your want, all of this..poof gone. Whatever yours may be, snatch it up by the tail, smack it around a few good times, then formulate a plan. Know your faults going in so that they do not become the enemy in this. You can do this!....really don't leave me alone in this.... I need some accountability.

Maybe this wouldn't be your ideal start to a personal revolution but every one begins somewhere, so find your grass roots.

Dana McLennan©

Every day is a new day .....Scarlett is a ruthless bitch.

     Each and everyday I wake up and say today will not be yesterday. Today will not feel as if I pressed the rewind button on my week and that hell hath repeated itself just because it can. So each morning I do wake up and I repeat, as I drive bickering kids, this will be a good day, I will not succumb to the negative around me, I promise not to feed offending people to my friend Sharyn's wood chipper.
     I lived a long time in a negative place, some of it produced bright spots, but mostly it was just unhealthy. I have worked extremely hard to always keep my head above the water, emotionally and financially, sometimes failing. But I picked myself pack up and started over. I find that I am good at least at that. I am a survivor and I believe that is an inherent trait as well as social.
     I was taught many lessons throughout childhood. Some healthy and some not. Frugality, perseverance, drive, pride, hard work, internalizing emotions,confidence, insecurity, and a questionable balance of self worth. All of these lessons or traits have molded who I am today teaching me in certain situations the hard way but I did learn. I learned that I really don't care what other people think of me, I wavered with this for awhile, but in the end the inner bitch won. I do not believe I am superior. I will talk to anyone and befriend whoever but I cannot tolerate certain people and situations.
     I have been accused of this many times. Yes I am better than the mother who stays drunk all the time, and the drug addicted neighbor whose child starves because their cereal money is spent on the next fix, and I am smart and you feel as if I am being uppity, observe your own insecurities because that is your problem not mine. There are many things I do not know and I glean information daily from other people. I do not feel inferior because someone else knows something that I don't. When I say I am better than the above people it does not mean that I feel superior to them only that I am stronger than that. If anything I pity them and their situations.
     Because of this I have lost friends and acquaintances and I had to ask myself one day if I really cared. Of course I mourned the loss of these limited friendships but in the end they amount to nothing. I have had a select group of close friends for the last 20 some odd years, with their own ups and downs, that really matter. Most people in life come and go and hopefully a lesson is learned by both individuals. True friends are the ones who come and never leave and learn lessons daily from each other whether about the other or themselves.
     It is looking through these friendships that has taught me about myself and how the world sees me. Sometimes I care and sometimes I don't.
     Family shapes this struggle as well. I love my family difficult as they all may be. 90% of what I am made of comes from them. My mom has always been the epitome of unconditional love. You could axe murder the cat next door and while she might have beat my ass, been sickened and disturbed( I would hope), she still would still be there for any of us. My step-mom and I didn't always have the greatest relationship but we had ALOT of  fun and she stuck with me, when I most needed family support, when she didn't have to and I will always have a special regard for her because of that. My dad's parents died early. I cherished the times I was able to spend with them because my grandpa with his gruff teasing manner and grandma with her tattle tales about my dad taught me pride and strength in the face of adversity. They were a very poor people but they never lost faith in life at least that they let on and showed me that you just keep going no matter what.
     I grew up down the street from my maternal grandparents so I spent much of my life with them. My grandmother is an enigma. I am constantly learning new things about her everyday. She is so unassuming that it is hard to pin her down. She loves me and when I was little that was all I needed to know but she also taught me kindness, charity, and family. My grandfather, who just recently passed away, taught me and everyone else everyday. The man was a natural born, self taught, teacher of life. There wasn't a subject he couldn't discuss. Whether it was manners, humility, charity, academic, or hard work he was the go-to man.
     Then there are my siblings. I grew up in the same house with a stranger for a sister and a little bratty brother. My sister taught me that people are different and that doesn't make them unlikable and if I had a problem with her it was my problem. We just operate on a different spectrum of life and that is ok. ( I still think she's a weirdo, but she thinks I am too so we are even). That bratty brother, should have been my twin, because he's definitely my male counterpart in all things evil. It is amazing how similar we are and yet we do have our differences but it provides a balance. I have three half sisters that I did not grow up with full time but I love all the same. One in particular, taught me plenty about myself, when she was in her teens, I couldn't stand the little shit. Then I realized she was kinda me....oops...made me think.
     Then there is my dad. I left him for last because unwittingly he taught me the most about myself. I love my father perhaps more than other people. I know that early on I put him on a pedestal that he had no way of reaching. I know that now. My goal in life for along time was to please my father, make him happy with me, anything that would make him not leave me as well the marriage. Even as I got older, smarter, I didn't realize I was carrying this unrealistic expectation around. My dad was not perfect and hurt my feelings and probably pissed me off more than a few times but that was okay I told myself because hes my dad. I never gave my mom the same excuse and blamed her for many things that was never in her control while excusing my father.
He told me he loved me but I always felt it was conditional. Maybe it was his communication skills, maybe mine. It didn't really matter because the emotional roller coaster was still present. Over the years some issues were resolved but still doubts and my insecurities lingered. When I needed him emotionally he wasn't present. When I needed answers and clarity he offered me tough shit and deal with it.
     Perhaps that was emotional for him, that he passed on what he was taught, I don't know. In the end it wasn't all for nothing because I did suck it up and push through then I called my mommy for the emotional back up that was needed. : ) I never felt like I was enough and I suppose regardless of what he was capable of that was my problem to fix instead of blame on him. Through this my mom was unfailingly there and one day she told me either accept him for who he is and continue our relationship or walk away. So I did. I accepted that he wasn't perfect and I put his pedestal away. One day not long ago he said the words that for the first time in my life began to heal my Psyche. He told me how proud he was of me for getting as far as I had in life, struggling as I had, and maintaining. These were words I had thirsted for years for.
     During a recent conversation he talked about how you can't put much stock in what other people think all the time and that you have to live your life for you not for everyone else. He wasn't referring to our relationship but it was like balm on that healing Psyche.
     Last year I moved and took that move as a time to institute change throughout all aspects of my life. Some has taken, some is struggling, some is still in the works, and some of that change is fighting me every day tooth and nail, but with every old wound healed or at least understood and rationalized I am moving forward. Plenty of backward steps I have taken even since I demanded all this change in my life and while it has been difficult and parts of it soul crushing I know that tomorrow is a new day and I can start over. I am often asked by people who know me well why I can smile through all the drama and my answer is because laughing keeps the tears away. So i make jokes because guaranteed if you don't someone else will and owning it allows you to let it go instead of wallowing in self pity.
     So I struggle through each day. I fight the hordes of bad luck that is just waiting out there to piss me off. I realize that I don't have to like everyone and that I don't really care if they like me. In the end, I remember, I do have a friend with a wood chipper.
© Vartok   Dana McLennan

How your flowers grow.

These flowers you so greatly laid
Upon the dust, you have made
A beautiful garden, a calypso dream
A fairies haven, so it would seem
But I know what lies beneath the soil
your loving hands, art, and toil
For you see, I've held your gentle hand
You watched me flourish, as did your flowered land
Despite snow, rain, drought, and wilt
You never deserted the faith you built
We flowers may rebel from the vine
With guidance and nurture you grew us fine
By smile or touch or stern command
My soul will always hold your gentle hand

©Vartok     Dana McLennan

Never go away...

It has only been mere weeks but it feels like just yesterday and forever in my head. It is like walking through a fog where you know something is not as it seems but you cannot see it clear enough to decipher its meaning, knowing something is out of place but cannot put your finger on it. I get up each day, perform my morning ritual, whether walking the dog, delivering the kids to school, or heading into work, usually all on auto pilot. Those mornings when the last child is packed off and I can head into the yard with a cup of coffee and take the dog for a lazy stroll, I find myself drawn to all that the early hour has to offer. Dragonflies lazing on the porch, birds just waking up, new buds on flowers or the changing of the leaves bringing news of fall.

            I breathe deep the fresh morning air, cleaning out the last remnants of the previous day’s stresses, watching a duck skim through the water in the lake and I want to call you and tell you about this duck. He has a rather unique color and markings that I have not seen before and my curiosity has risen. I realize you cannot answer me.

            The other day at the store I found the neatest thing, a massive calculator the size of a large book. Better than that it was on sale for a great price so I put one in the cart for you because I know how you like to be able to see the screen and how the extra-large buttons make it easier for your arthritic fingers to punch in the numbers. As I am at the check out I suddenly recall you won’t have a need for this.

            I was hoping you’d call the other night on my way home from a late shift because you couldn’t sleep. I would share a story I heard about an Armenian that came into the shop and listen to you tell me about the idiot politician on the television. I can listen to you for hours and hours about gardening and politics and history. It doesn’t matter that I already know something (or that you had told me previously), don’t always agree with you, or have a thousand questions. I love our late night conversations on the phone when everyone else is sleeping. I dial the phone to call you and remember your voice will not be on the other line.

            How selfish of me to assume you would always be there. That is what one does when they love someone so much though. Assume that you will never leave. How very unfair for you I suppose. Now who will tell me all about those damn Republicans? Who will you talk to when you can’t sleep? When would it be a good time to put that seed down? What would make these grapes grow better? Why did you have to go?

            I know it will be ok. I know you were tired. I know that you really aren’t gone. I know when I  listen that you are still talking to me. In every decision you guide the way. In everything you taught us you will remain.

I love you and that will never go away.

©Dana McLennan

To Still The Within

I sit, manuscript almost ready, determination on thunder cat go. It is time. I am going to finally put paper in envelope or in this case, many papers, packaging off my soul to be judged. Submission. Rejection. Depression. Re-submission. The ugly little circle of the publishing world. A world where only the lucky and Stephen King survive. I feel like I am putting a stamp on my child and dropping it off in the night deposit box. So final. No calling it back. Like karma, once out there it will come back, the question is will you want it to? Ugly with red marks, scarring its once pristine white with black Arial symmetry, ripping through me like a knife. Do I submit.....or no?



< --- My most recent muse

Death of a Working Brain.

     Occasionally my head goes numb with everything that fills it all day. Actually it is more often than not. I sit and I ask if I am going crazy or is it just everyone else around me. I hate to sound selfish but when this happens my writing suffers and that in turn makes me feel even more insane. There are days, filled with hours and hours of stories floating through my brain, sometimes present even when I sleep.
       I awake, filled with great paragraphs and clever lines, even better profiles of characters and more vivid plots. Then, the inevitable happens, life. It is the number one most annoying thing holding me back.
      LIFE.
     I run to write down my newly formed clarity on napkin, kid's homework, the fridge in crayon, but before I can make it the dog trips me, my son is having a moment of obnoxious "poor me" syndrome, my youngest daughter is whining about everything, and my oldest is worried that she is going to be late to school while spending 45 minutes in the bathroom.
     All the while I am getting the screaming, chaotic, barking cup of coffee that is my morning and something forms over my mind, like glaucoma, blurring my visions of best selling novels, page turning suspense, and five more minutes of peace. This thing called Life isn't always what it is cracked up to be, but I have hope, they have to move out someday? Right? Then, my brain, if not riddled with Alzheimer's might hopefully still be able to form a sentence past, "No, you cannot hit your sister with that!", and might be successful once again of having a coherent thought.

My Slow Death©

The knife it twists, oh so deep
in my heart, filled with excruciating agony
slicing, bleeding, bits of flesh on floor
your voice violates my senses
drawing me to kill
the inner most part of me
no feeling, no pain
no recognition, no blame

Glazed apparition, of a life known
shredded, achingly apparent in waking actions
rearing its' head, biting into my memories
forcing me to die
heart, withering brown
no flow, no sight
no flame, no light


©Vartok Dana McLennan

This Deception ©

The clock is ticking
Time moves so slow
caught in a web
of lies and deception
A deception that grows
Hidden, alone
Yet everyone knows

Silence
Deafening madness
Corrupt, vile motives
City streets glare
A spectrum of possibilities
Did it choose you?

Flashy scenes
Catalog stares
The lies that you told
Confusion
Terror strikes
As the needle sinks
Nowhere left to wait

Nowhere to hide
Now that it's been tasted
Not a tear shed
For you anymore
Pain
Insufferable pain

Quickly
Before the end
Did the lie make you happy?
This deception
That you called life
Did reality taste
Bitter?



© Vartok  Dana McLennan

Symphony©

Lightning like a gentle lovers caress
Water rushes over the leaves
Pulling me, loving me
Thunder pounds the keys

Sweeping seas of agony
An affair of the heart
Spanning miles of earth
Rain falls upon the notes

Memories wildly flowing
Calling me, lost in the rush
Hollow dreams fall to the wayside
Winds whisper to the chords

Reflections in the stars
Of eyes that glow so bright
Spilling tears, drowning
Symphony complete

1998 Vartok© Dana McLennan

Burnt Remains©

Tracing through the ashes
What sits in the stillness
Before the winds carry me away

The ashes, my life, history
Scattered fragments of days gone
Broken dreams, in pieces on the ground

Winds pick up- blowing the ashes
These burnt remains
Of what I have become

Away

Vartok© Dana McLennan

Changes

 One of the many changes that I have planned to embrace this year, a breast reduction. This is something I have thought long and hard about and have attempted a few times. I say attempted, because a doctor would never give me a medical referral. Finally a month and a half ago I went to the doctor and she granted me that golden ticket. She contacted a plastic surgeon and said they would call me with an appointment.

I have been a double d cup since the dawn of my pre-teen years. That at least is what the regular department sizes tell me. Maybe if I would have gone to and been sized by a professional fitter they would have told me I was larger..oh joy. But alas it was not to happen, something about paying 80 dollars for boulder support kept me at Walmart. School years were not pleasant as comments about my overly large breasts ranged from the sexually perverse to the nickname "Dolly". Really? If I were Miss Dolly I would have zero waist and the money to remove these suckers at will. I suffer from back, shoulder, and neck pain. The insides of my upper arms bow rather than lie flat against my sides and I do believe that the sheer weight of them is possibly crushing my esophagus. You laugh but I swear I am serious.

I slowly started discussing my plan with family and friends and received mixed reactions. Of course everyone would be worried about the surgery itself and then the ramifications of this particular one. Female friends thought it was great, (mostly because they know themselves that a larger chest is not always amusing), male friends went into three stages of acceptance/denial, take your pick.
Stage 1- Whaa
Stage 2- but they are great, why would you want to get rid of them
Stage 3- Oh I think you are making a mistake, let's not talk about that anymore, that's silly, Who wouldn't want big boobs?

I'll tell you.... almost 70% of the naturally large by genetics women you know.....that is who
The only one impressed by them are men.
If you had 2, 20 lb breasts, you would have a backache too and not care what some sexually deprived/oversexed, again take your pick, man thought.

A week later, I was notified of my appointment and time. Excitements crept in. I began dreaming of a smaller chest size, a new trip to the lingerie store where they don't carry trebuchet size bras, and way less back pain. I show up and guess what, the Doctor didn't. Mistake in scheduling. Are you trying to make me cry? So I reschedule for the following week and leave depressed. I really, really want these suckers gone.
I return a Wednesday later and sit in anticipation for my appointment at 12:30 p.m. I wait and around 1 p.m. the doctor strolls in through the front door, phone attached to ear, like he's prepared to leave again for lunch. I am not enthused. A nurse calls me back and I enter the room at 1:05, she begins to ask me questions rudely mind you, then the doctor calls for her and she walks out mid-sentence. Very nice. I overhear him say to her, " While you are finding her paper I am going to see the next patient." I assume it is me because he just came in and had one patient, surely I am next, after all my appointment was at 12:30.

WRONG

He entered another room in which the door was obviously not closed, had her show him her breasts which had undergone recent augmentation, says they look great, come back in a week. He then finishes up with the original patient and enters my room. My nurse never did come back. The time on my phone reads 1:15.
He sits, asks me why I want the surgery I tell him, he answers his loudly ringing phone, reading my file under his breath but audible while he takes a personal call, hurriedly explains he is in with a client, hangs up and says as he's standing,  "you have to stop smoking for 6 weeks or I won't do the surgery". "Come back then if you have stopped." And then he walked on down the hall.....

I look at my phone, it is 1:22. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

So I do some research and find out this doctor has complaints against him, lawsuits, and mainly is or was a dentist, NICE. Disinterested office staff,  rude nurses, botched surgeries, and ignoring patients after the surgeries who have complaints of infection. I am not feeling a surgery coming on but I will search for a new doctor, one who might actually give a damn about where his money is coming from.

In the meantime, here are some links if anyone is interested in this for themselves. Always check your individual state licensing board for marks and or suspensions against a license.

Channel 6 News Report: The Cost of Plastic Surgery
Board Certification
Doctor Credentials
Mayo Clinic
Medline Plus
The American Society of Plastic Surgeons

Balance

So every day I struggle. I have struggled for years. There is always some problem or new drama that I thought for sure would be the death of me. Just an endless wave of heartache and troubles. The most important thing that I failed to realize over the years was that these problem while hurtful or hard to deal with would still be there, my reaction to them could have been so different. I don't mean running around screaming against the world reaction, I mean in how I let it drag me down, take me out of the game, and create this illusion in my head that prevented me from going forward with anything else. And it all boils down to one innocuous word, balance.

I have none, hell even as a kid I could trip over my own two feet. Seriously though when it comes to the day to day living I couldn't and still sometimes can't achieve a rational balance. For so long I have raised my kids, worked, made all of the household/child related decisions that somewhere I forgot how to fit me into that. I wanted to write but someone was sick. I needed an emotional break from my children but their father would not keep them that weekend. I received little to any help always causing me to become overly stressed by my choices. I wanted someone else to make these choices.

How would the rent get paid if the car needed worked on? How am I suppose to work and pick up my often disobedient child from school? How am I supposed to write my great novel when kids are slobbering over me asking when they can eat? Do I buy the healthier brand of food or the one I can afford?

Those might sound like silly questions but when daily you are pounded by hundreds of these types of questions and the decision and outcome of your possible choice weighs solely on your head it can be very daunting. I wish someone had told me about balance. Unfortunately I don't think it's taught but rather learned. I even believe some people are ingrained with it. How nice for them but what about the rest of us?

Slowly with some of the new changes in my life I am growing to understand my perfect balance. I don't believe balance is the same for everyone. Yes we all have work, school, children's social and sporting life, deadlines, and doctor's appointments, but I'm not merely referring to that which can be put on a calender.
Maybe for some it's God, for others it's downtime with family, for me it's personal.

It is how I react to situations now, how I balance the calender, my many jobs, children and their issues, and having me time.
For so long I thought if I spend more time on my self by writing and creating that I must be taking away from my children and time solving the mountain of problems that loomed over me. I didn't realize that if I had taken that step that possibly even then I might have resolved some of those problems immediately.

It is a daily struggle still. I have to keep a date book or I will go insane. I have a work, kid's activities and jobs, appointments, two side businesses that I am running, and writing,
Finally, my writing has a permanent place in my day to day life other than in my head. It is now on paper or in my computer but nevertheless it is still out of my thoughts and into realization. Sometimes it might be two am in the morning and I am writing because it is the first chance of the day to do so but I can be happy because I am made the choice.

And while all the other problems are still here, brakes are bad, electric is over due, hours cut at work, misbehaving children, they will still be there when I finish my writing, Had I not written, the problems wouldn't have been any different but with having done so, I am.

When I Awoke.....

     Early last year my friend concocted the idea that we should go to Cancun. Many times she has invited me on various trips. I always answered no. Of course,  I wanted to go but the usual stopped me...I can't leave the kids, too much responsibility, my job, etc etc..you get the point. This time I thought no and said yes. I really wanted to go. I have always wanted to travel and something this time felt right. So I made the arrangements, paid my part, and started dreaming of blue skies and water.


     This would be a good time to tell you that I had only flown once in March of 2009 and nearly had a dozen panic attacks both ways and swore never to do it again. (This is lie, there is an exception...more on that later.) Along comes May, we are set to arrive on Cinco De Mayo. We leave out of St. Louis to Dallas. I breathe, I don't pee myself, amazingly we make it there alive. So we are in Dallas...everything is swell..we shop and stop at a bookstore in the airport. I want to save money but I can and do buy books everywhere so I tell myself this is just a browsing trip. Glancing through a particular wall I come across two books that really interest me. I pause, remember I am not spending until Cancun, then walk on.

     We are prepared to board when an announcement is sent that our flight is indefinitely delayed. This makes me nauseous as the longer I waited the more nervous I was bound to be. We decide to sit, then eat, then when hours later we are still there, go for a walk. She wants coffee. There is coffee at the Starbucks attached to the book store. Oh no I already won that war. If  I go back will I spend? Can I say no? The answer is maybe. Had this book not been so compelling I would not have bought the second one also...I blame the beckoning display.















    This is the book I couldn't let go. I also purchased a book by Cash Peters.
     Finally we boarded and to quell the panic rising I settled into my seat and opened her up. I began to read and kept reading, before I knew it Cancun was right under our landing gear and I had not died. Due to our late arrival and the drive to our beautiful Tucancun hotel being a good twenty-five minutes we chose to have a few drinks with friends and turn in. Shows how old  I am getting. Anyway after a shower I padded across the stone floor and flounced into the indoor chaise, popped open a Modelo and began to read again.

I never stopped, that book became an extension the entire trip, relaxing, mind opening , and embracing this wonderfully brave women, Rita, as she found herself again after many years of just sleepwalking through life. With each page I was remembering who I was, (the writer who struggled to balance writing and kids), with each chapter I felt stronger, and with each adventure she had, the wanderlust that existed in my soul from childhood slowly came back.

      I was in Cancun a week. It took everything in me to hold off reading the last few pages of  freedom I was discovering in a strangers story until I arrived home. I needed to finish it at home and alone. I think I needed to know that I could hold that book in my hands at home and feel the same way I did being thousands of miles away. To know it wasn't just the draw of the salty warm air and collected seashells luring me into a false sense of excitement.
 
     I arrived late in the evening, had dinner with the kids, listened to their week without me, and turned in early.

     When I awoke, I sent the kids off to school, and set out to unpack. My eyes settled on "the book", immediately I knew it was the right time to finish it. By the last paragraph I knew that change was coming. I knew that a direction had been charted.

   Months have passed, almost a full year now, and while the changes for the most part have been small I remind myself of something I taught my oldest child when trying to learn. Baby steps.
 
     For years I have been letting the external pressures get to me, to mar my day, to rule everything from my mood to my radio. I am done. I am taking my life back. Back to the delicious liberation I felt when I was that girl living on the edge.
    

Reinventing Me

     Life has a funny way of throwing curve balls at every stop along the highway of life. Depending on the pit stop you make or the exit you get off, everything changes. The scenery. The direction. The location. Everything. The one constant on that trip is the mode of transportation. My body, my brain, somewhere the shy child later to be the shy teenager, purpose driven graduate, all resides in that constant. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the necessaries of life as we believe them to be that along the way one becomes lost.


I have become increasingly lost. I want that person back. The person inside my brain that knew exactly who she was, what she was going to do, to become. The girl who was going to buy the van and create wondrous poetry and brilliant works in it on the way to Monterey. The girl who was going to write somewhere new everyday.

The dictionary states that reinvent as a verb means bringing back into existence or use. It is time I came back to existence.

Time to start living again...

Time to be the girl who was going to live by the edge of the world.