tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23915758881897033442024-03-05T12:23:36.184-08:00Painting a New SunsetHeidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-57664308535150620932016-12-31T21:33:00.002-08:002016-12-31T22:20:24.244-08:00Goodnight and Goodmorning<span style="font-size: large;">I have a headache.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's really not how I expected this blog to start. Fact is, I started it hours ago and just deleted everything to start over.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Why?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because I'm tired.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I just don't have the energy to be clever I suppose. So you'll have to settle for the candid version of me and not the belligerent one.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm looking forward to 2017. It's already started in other parts of the world and I am <b>hopeful.</b> I want to quietly close the door on 2016 and leave it alone for awhile. Maybe talk about it later when I'm old and <b>wise</b>. Maybe.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I know it was a hard year for all of us. I never knew how a single year could be so <i>heavy</i> to so many people. My ignorance on that is apparent is last year's blog.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I still maintain it's up to <b>us</b> to make the most of it. How we handle the terrible and hopeless and <b>heart-crushing</b> is completely in our hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I hear you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And the daylight will break across the horizon in the morning. Like always. With the promise of <b>newness</b> and life. A new year, with all new adventures.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I get it now I think. Or at least, I'm starting to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The hope of new beginnings. It's more than an arbitrary calendar change. It's the promise of rebirth. The reminder that all things end, and new things begin.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We</b> need it. The end of the year. We need the symbolic closing of a chapter and we need to share it universally. We need to know it's okay for things to end and for new things to <b>begin</b>. And no time is that more felt or shared than the New Year.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2016 wasn't awful for me. But it was <b><i>full. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Stories were written and published, friendships were strengthened, new relationships forged, bad habits broken, loved ones were lost, tumors were discovered, hugs were given... And <b>love</b> was there. Through it all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Happy New Year.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's to hope and sunrises.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">May we have <b>more</b> than we can measure.</span><br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgNXJeSh3V4dCrKh_o7KA5LoeG72tAMEcd2T_S6KxQElqP7YAo0J6CF9vIDkRegcONGdfAB8cs2rEo_NKnZ2IXV6XBK_Hd3Y6ylD4T4Gm4ct2oufhSx3vJ9oe_APnGXkUKEYEEAFg4oE/s1600/doctowhoquote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgNXJeSh3V4dCrKh_o7KA5LoeG72tAMEcd2T_S6KxQElqP7YAo0J6CF9vIDkRegcONGdfAB8cs2rEo_NKnZ2IXV6XBK_Hd3Y6ylD4T4Gm4ct2oufhSx3vJ9oe_APnGXkUKEYEEAFg4oE/s640/doctowhoquote.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-47384739681538980882016-11-17T16:13:00.000-08:002016-11-17T16:13:12.624-08:00So I Have a Brain Tumor<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75qJ8I89fCfM23g8g0UcY9-0zSMZa0G1ve2GvDFVvqE2TVjd9RmlcLVTkY5GL0Efn1wZGARqFcTyKxz_Qk845RtlFpqEHwJep7tyz2w-yWCyIbjj_t7a7StberCar0fQn9iWC5mBYwAk/s1600/chuck8.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQGv9sHKcAk1J4gLy51bBzGUsi8gvSLfU4tAZp7b3cRBhvRaZoCvlnLLeomCvsHAm1TDVAkzzJ1cjjD0XPDvs55COyUd0rvDi3vA0MLOYwx-jyJ6zyzwbqyUrYEfMBV1IX-62za7qy5A/s1600/chuck10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQGv9sHKcAk1J4gLy51bBzGUsi8gvSLfU4tAZp7b3cRBhvRaZoCvlnLLeomCvsHAm1TDVAkzzJ1cjjD0XPDvs55COyUd0rvDi3vA0MLOYwx-jyJ6zyzwbqyUrYEfMBV1IX-62za7qy5A/s400/chuck10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don't freak out.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The good news is, it's not cancer. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I feel like I need to tell everyone that right away.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not. Cancer.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I also keep telling people it's not that big of a deal. Because, in all reality, it's not. It's a very small deal. 4mm to be exact. Just a tiny little deal that's affixed to my pituitary. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm not sure how long it's been there. My guess? A long time. Judging by my ongoing symptoms. But the stress of the past year or so seems to have really punched those symptoms into a whole new galaxy. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fatigue, brain fog, continuous weight gain (despite working out and eating healthy on a regular basis), inability to lose weight in my chest, pain in my joints and muscles, messed up menstrual cycles, migraines and more. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRlzp_WFmXzrSAeVVEamfYEUPS_xXNbHPk8iqLhuPRp1zIrsBHntl8ZWnC2rjQX0pPxs4F7K8a7tH2OYvc3HzgNO9Gdau0teK9Cgt8aS4j-8HK8WTOvN-9YACcj8DK1zKHCJMN4PgIqU/s1600/chuck1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRlzp_WFmXzrSAeVVEamfYEUPS_xXNbHPk8iqLhuPRp1zIrsBHntl8ZWnC2rjQX0pPxs4F7K8a7tH2OYvc3HzgNO9Gdau0teK9Cgt8aS4j-8HK8WTOvN-9YACcj8DK1zKHCJMN4PgIqU/s400/chuck1.gif" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was sad. Unnaturally so. I like being happy. I strive to be happy. I chase down happiness with a harpoon and make it my trophy. But it was getting more and more difficult to get out there and hunt for happiness every day. I kept telling people I <i>knew</i> something was wrong. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>[</b>And I think that's a really important thing to recognize in yourself. If you <i>know</i> you're not okay, if you <i>know </i>something's not right, please, please, please, go to a doctor. If your doctor isn't interested in listening to you, go to a new one. Keep going. Figure it out. Don't stop until you have answers.<b>]</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My first couple of doctor visits were incredibly discouraging. They did blood work and listened to my symptoms and sent me out the door with a, "Well, you're fat and tired." Because when you put on double digit pounds between doctor visits, they look at you with professional disbelief as you tell them you <i>do</i> eat healthy and exercise. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ3FrR8oFrWw14Am3ywsQsTe3Wfh7cMnpy2uBBSsnWmDbMJ3xtat5fvUD_07i51-y3evzkg5wVUJC1-XbYG5k_fbOaXzpFp5jXfsQn07LvFNWRHVbZUo32vf2JXToejueN8UartIy6e0/s1600/chuck6.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ3FrR8oFrWw14Am3ywsQsTe3Wfh7cMnpy2uBBSsnWmDbMJ3xtat5fvUD_07i51-y3evzkg5wVUJC1-XbYG5k_fbOaXzpFp5jXfsQn07LvFNWRHVbZUo32vf2JXToejueN8UartIy6e0/s400/chuck6.gif" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I can't even begin to explain to you the frustration with working out and having every workout feel like it was my first. There was no progress, no real muscle growth, absolutely no weight loss. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And the harder I tried, the worse it got.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until I finally went to an endocrinologist in Sioux Falls. I was referred by my dad and brother who both have Hashimotos. I thought maybe that would be my answer. I mean, why not? Both my dad and brother have it, we have very similar symptoms. It makes sense. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So this new doctor ran all new tests. Within a couple of days he had scheduled an MRI. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because. Tumor.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYRSUz1j9y-3SWcFflIEPvdGLfLeprPPVaDlZutrPAaK5S-RCDICr3LfHcMf9ZDwMDlot_Wps6yT_Z_iyFKxpdpdXtpcO1ssvsSwLBqRiGjSvm5oLQ5LxK-xS3015nrAMTqr3I1bK-s8/s1600/chuck9.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYRSUz1j9y-3SWcFflIEPvdGLfLeprPPVaDlZutrPAaK5S-RCDICr3LfHcMf9ZDwMDlot_Wps6yT_Z_iyFKxpdpdXtpcO1ssvsSwLBqRiGjSvm5oLQ5LxK-xS3015nrAMTqr3I1bK-s8/s400/chuck9.gif" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After <i>years</i> of feeling like I was just crazy, everything was suddenly moving very fast. I had a doctor who not only believed me when I said something was wrong, he was <i>excited</i> to help me figure out what it was. Though I can't say I was super happy about thinking it might be a brain tumor.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then, two days ago, I got the results. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Relief.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So much friggin' relief it was unexpected.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And while the problem really is (literally) in my head, I'm not crazy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDY133jtvQ_Gj77rJt4FVuKpIcV3WFy3VGi0Z48LIO3QEbKYN8KIUCwYaBhcYtSxYacKhNtiV9elS3ia7OP3-y5UrdfwW24TGhHdTHWe4sP_AZabFmwS33SaAiTmyR_DMLULt-BjdAZMs/s1600/chuck2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDY133jtvQ_Gj77rJt4FVuKpIcV3WFy3VGi0Z48LIO3QEbKYN8KIUCwYaBhcYtSxYacKhNtiV9elS3ia7OP3-y5UrdfwW24TGhHdTHWe4sP_AZabFmwS33SaAiTmyR_DMLULt-BjdAZMs/s400/chuck2.gif" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After so many years of blaming myself and trying to fix the problem on my own, I have this <i>thing</i> that is wreaking havoc with my brain and body. (And Hashimotos isn't ruled out. We just have to treat the tumor for a few months and then check things again.) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, the is my life with prolactinoma. I start cabergoline tomorrow and I'm excited. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth. I'm looking forward to fighting back now in the right way. I don't think it's going to be easy. In fact, I expect it to be the hardest thing I've ever had to do. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to keep writing. The stories may just take longer for a little while. (Brain fog is no joke, yo.) I'm not going to let a little tiny brain tumor stop me from chasing my dreams. But I do ask for your patience. You've all been so amazingly faithful to me and my stories. It's overwhelming at times when I think about the love you've shared with my words and with me and with each other. I am truly thankful for each and every one of you.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, don't freak out. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everything is going to be fine. I promise. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some days will be harder than others, but I'm more than willing to put in the work to make this the best life I can. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One more adventure. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-60128179330924931882016-09-13T16:43:00.001-07:002016-09-13T16:43:34.024-07:00The Writer and the Pirate<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="4lj1o" data-offset-key="bjaen-0-0">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="bjaen-0-0"><span data-text="true">I feel general discouragement when I think about online book piracy. It's frustrating and kinda ticks me off. But I mostly think about people who steal books online as rather faceless. Which is how I'm sure they think of me and all the other authors they're stealing from.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="1pl0r-0-0"><span data-text="true">But none of us are faceless, are we?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="abpkh-0-0"><span data-text="true">These past couple of weeks I have gone beyond discouraged to disheartened. Because people I know participate in piracy. I'm taking it personally. I know I'm not supposed to and I never did before. But when it's a friend, co-worker, colleague or even in this case a fellow writer, it burns in my chest. I think it's my heart. Possibly indigestion. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="156n8-0-0"><span data-text="true">Piracy is so big right now, it is affecting whether or not writers are going to make it. In some cases, it already has. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="2u0r5-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="chg97-0-0"><span data-text="true">But that's the bigger picture. And there's about a dozen blogs and articles going into great detail and depth on online piracy as a global issue.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="chg97-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="chg97-0-0"><span data-text="true">Tonight, I'm feeling personal.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="6vke7-0-0"><span data-text="true">Writing, telling stories, putting my heart out there...that's my dream. It's a big one. It's the kind of dream I never wake up from and am always chasing. It has it's own pitfalls and milestones. It's already full of heartache and hard work.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="77pni-0-0"><span data-text="true">When you download a book illegally, you're sending a message, passive aggressive as it may be. Your actions stand in the way of my dream. Your actions make my pursuit harder.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="4fj2g-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="agkp4-0-0"><span data-text="true">None of this means I have any intention of stopping. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="2evik-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="e14rb-0-0"><span data-text="true">So you've made it personal. You figuratively spit in my face and called me unworthy. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="16tg2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Hear me when I say you're wrong about me.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="5a0tm-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true">You're wrong about a good many of us.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true">We won't stop and we thrive on challenge. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true">What I want to know is, are you really comfortable being that person? Being the one who stands in the way of someone's dream? </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="42dst-0-0"><span data-text="true">Think about it and get back to me. </span></span></span></span></div>
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-78234750159143163712016-06-30T13:49:00.001-07:002016-06-30T13:49:27.991-07:00Love Letters Part 2<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Q_LBo0tZmAheTQYdYgSgEYw_VAxhK391jf4o6xvwpibWQJjqNl3T1IcthxkBP9fa_CLghqhfP3adTzvEFUrYIja_IlsLOQsl2ayMGEXI0k9NDTg8aP6CQFWzyOQULzjMp3fFXRfdaTo/s1600/Wood+Plank+Texture1+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Q_LBo0tZmAheTQYdYgSgEYw_VAxhK391jf4o6xvwpibWQJjqNl3T1IcthxkBP9fa_CLghqhfP3adTzvEFUrYIja_IlsLOQsl2ayMGEXI0k9NDTg8aP6CQFWzyOQULzjMp3fFXRfdaTo/s400/Wood+Plank+Texture1+2.jpg" width="388" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It happens in the small bubbles of time between the day-to-day events. The boring transitions that occur, connecting my life from one moment to the next. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I remember these transitions in my past being filled with a homesickness. A longing to get through with this next thing and get home. If the lull lagged and gave me even greater pause to think about the underlying emotion that existed in those spaces, I would whisper, "I wanna go home."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It seemed nonsensical. I felt it. As soon as the words passed my lips, my heart would tumble into foolish reprimand. How ridiculous to want to go home when I was very often already <i>at</i> home. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still. These pauses existed. And the ache remained. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know the exact moment they changed. I think I became aware of the switch slowly and suspiciously. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At first, I thought you were perhaps a fantastic distraction. An exuberant example of how life ought to look when it is well lived. Maybe my pauses were hurried now, anxious to join you in the next moment. I held onto you, while in the back of my mind believing the homesickness would eventually return. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's been more than a decade. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My transitions from one moment to the next are now filled with a very real sense of peace. A knowing that at the end of every day, you will come home. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I no longer wish for a home I've never known. Because I found it. Or, more accurately, it found me. It found me in those boring, empty pauses that hold life together like stitches in a blanket. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, when the lull lags, I take a deep breath and let myself feel it. The <i>knowing</i> of where I fit.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't wait for it to pass. I don't dread the tedium. I thank God for one more perfect stitch in our life.</span></span><br />
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-85378663689822962242016-05-20T20:57:00.000-07:002016-05-20T20:57:41.812-07:00Love Letters Late at Night part #1<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love you <b>now</b>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've loved you for a long time, but it's always been in the now. I love you in an <b>ever present</b> state of <i>being</i>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I loved you back <b>then</b>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we were <i>young </i>and we said ridiculous things about the <b>sunrise</b> and what we thought it <b>might</b> represent. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we were <i>sleepless</i> and <b>careless</b> and every little trip in the car meant more than the<i> last</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I loved you during <b>all</b> of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I will love you <b>tomorrow</b>, of that I am sure. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every day I know I will go to bed <i>loving</i> you and wake up the same. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Therefore, I <b>know</b> I will love you in a month, in a year, in thirty years. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But it has never felt like I <i>loved</i> you in the past. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And it will not feel like loving you in the <b>future</b>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because, and this is significant so pay attention, I will <i>always</i> <b>love</b> you <b>now</b>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-57320660489592590692016-03-31T13:28:00.002-07:002016-03-31T13:28:18.444-07:00The Weight of Your Life<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dLSQA-oc0FxLEHd2zlQWGbPglhRXhe0hxy6IVNl8uhePwdqavVeN2_Wx5Gi1Yh0lqZif91OfxdSi2Bz2z3krItDCPpTOFOrgKcP5isP-zkC321PT2pi14xib3aL-FGiAndWpy5FJvJw/s1600/IMG_20150307_0909140292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dLSQA-oc0FxLEHd2zlQWGbPglhRXhe0hxy6IVNl8uhePwdqavVeN2_Wx5Gi1Yh0lqZif91OfxdSi2Bz2z3krItDCPpTOFOrgKcP5isP-zkC321PT2pi14xib3aL-FGiAndWpy5FJvJw/s400/IMG_20150307_0909140292.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I lost someone this week.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Technically, the last day of last week, on Easter Sunday.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And also technically, <i>we</i> lost her. As a collective group of humans. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We all lost her together.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I never know how to respond to moments like this. They seem to be happening more often as I age, which I think is normal. At least, people say it is. People who have been there. People who have had the unwelcome and unfortunate experience of <i>losing.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a strange thing, the word "lost." Especially when used in the context of death. Because it's not as if they've been misplaced. We know exactly where they are, it is <i>we</i> who are lost. We are the ones suddenly without someone who had just been there moments before.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My thoughts often tumble around, mixing with my feelings on the matter, getting stuck and tangled. I sometimes blurt out a random memory or idea at the strangest times. Just allowing my mind to process it the way that it does, because fighting it would be tragic and even more painful. I keep thinking about the very obvious absence of her. The movement of the earth as she departed it—subtle, yet undeniable.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's odd... the weight of a soul. Especially a soul such as hers. When alive, you are aware of their soul, of their life and heart. It's clear in their eyes and speech and expression. But I have never felt the <i>weight</i> of a soul like when it departs.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An absence exists. One that I feel on every level of my conscience. Someone was there, and now they have left.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And the weight, the abstract, beautiful shape of their soul... Have I taken the time to enjoy it while she was here? Did I notice the big and little details that added up to all that was her?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were things I missed. Things I ignored.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until I felt the weight of her soul suddenly lost to me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But of course there's more, I think to myself. Of course souls do not simply cease being. They're too grand and too important and too <i>heavy</i>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My faith is such that I absolutely believe in more. In better. In paradise. I believe that the weight of a soul, unable to be measured by our meager and limited sciences, finds, at last, perfect rest.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I believe this goodbye is temporary.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I am so looking forward to seeing her again. </span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-71252959542602561622016-03-18T21:44:00.000-07:002016-06-13T10:16:20.523-07:00Being In Love With You<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I had never planned on falling in love with an explorer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I had no idea how to prepare for such a thing. I had believed love would always be messy and painful and a terrible thing to find yourself in. Explorers love the adventure. They don't give their heart to anything but the wind and wherever it wants to carry them next. How does an explorer fall in love when they've been in love with the unknown since the day they were born?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But how quickly your lips became the only place I ever wanted a kiss to land. How incredibly fast was the decision in my heart to follow you into oblivion if you so chose. Your tendency to run first and look later has always had my stomach in knots. But I would be a fool to let go of your hand. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbFwZ6xtTbJmIbI1lGaJkDUVB1uSmEsZ5rSln313F2WQdlZZVXFViEmgutknEhNluu3VkAOM1jq7Fp7Zdn7y36WECINvE9AekOwI9fwkhgO1Y-o36WfwbZD8pAf8CSAOO4LXIfgyX-L8/s1600/shutterstock_232553956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbFwZ6xtTbJmIbI1lGaJkDUVB1uSmEsZ5rSln313F2WQdlZZVXFViEmgutknEhNluu3VkAOM1jq7Fp7Zdn7y36WECINvE9AekOwI9fwkhgO1Y-o36WfwbZD8pAf8CSAOO4LXIfgyX-L8/s640/shutterstock_232553956.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I began this journey with you intending to love you even if you never loved me in return. Even if I was the only one risking my heart, I told myself I didn't mind. That loving you was a privilege. That loving you would be galaxies better than not. Your mind is complex and its depth is immeasurable. I wanted to walk among the forest of your soul for as long as you would allow. I swam in your stories of discovery and music and I pretended like I could make a home there. I could hide a piece of myself in your many layers and then even if we ended, a part of me would be with you always. I loved you without being careful. I loved you foolishly and obsessively. I loved you in all the silly ways a girl loves a boy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But then you started to love me back and a new chamber of my heart began to beat for the first time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Being loved by you has been the grandest adventure of my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">You love me the only way an explorer can. You love me in the questions and the lines drawn and crossed. You love me in your constant quest of getting my laugh, my smile, my joy. You love me in your careful yet unrepentant challenges to my comfort zone. You love me in the push. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes you reach for me in the middle of the night, just to be sure I'm still there. It wakes me, and I don't mind. Because it's a midnight reminder that you even think of me in your dreams. A thing I never expected, but now find I don't want to live without.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As time passes, I grow more accustomed to your ways. It doesn't scare me when you ask to see inside. Because, even though you may appear to be a brash and bold conqueror of things unknown, you are gentle with me. Protective. You stand guard outside my heart and you will fight to keep the dark from penetrating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And these actions have only made you more desirable to me. I never grow tired of the new discoveries I make as you let me shamelessly explore the forest of your existence. I had no idea a person could be so complicated and vastly beautiful. If I go too long without seeing you, I begin to crave you. The way a person craves fresh air after having been penned inside for too long. I need your ideas and words and dreams. I need to feel you growing and building and exploring.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And you give yourself to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I know I'm the only one allowed to see the raw and untamed portions of your heart. I know that I'm the only person allowed to run with you, side by side. Take me with you always. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As we grow older, I realize how rare it is what we've found, what we fight for. I am thankful. I am humbled. And I am very much in love. With you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I never planned on falling in love with an explorer. Looking back, how could I not?</span><br />
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-79801980447013682782016-01-10T22:06:00.001-08:002016-01-11T21:41:42.181-08:00Dear Tacos (a parody poem and heartfelt goodbye)<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Right after Thanksgiving and just before Christmas, I found out I'm gluten and lactose intolerant. YAY! Super fun! *snort* </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I've slowly been coming to terms with what this means for me for the rest of my life. As someone who's entire life revolves around pizza, it's been a heart breaking acceptance. And before you think I'm exaggerating about the pizza being my entire life thing, I will remind you, we served pizza to our 200 wedding guests dressed in lovely evening wear before our wedding.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I keep thinking that I wish I would have known the last time I had pizza that it was the last time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">It's not all that horrible. There are some truly amazing substitutes out there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But let's be real, it's not the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I prefer using humor to help me deal with new developments in my life. It helps to be able to laugh about the tough stuff. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But tacos, man. Tacos. I love tacos. And pizza, obviously. But tacos. Tacos are my one true food love. I would marry tacos if I could. I could show tacos a good time. All of my noms are taco related. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And I have to say goodbye to tacos as I know them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> So I've decided to write a parody farewell poem based off of Kobe Bryant's farewell to basketball. Because hilarious, that's why. (Kobe's original poem can be found<a href="http://www.theplayerstribune.com/dear-basketball/" target="_blank"> here</a>.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtse8__NRwq4jO_0GPik9SwZ8vyIN9h_Rl13owUvRqzOvdW-gK1WiSm8_KPBUyROnKVB_MFrDP_rK0H0iQGRkXjtUeDlWu4-rjWcD4_ErDSi2a_uKPOjC1IZXY3U9ZUb86zMuuJMfFgM/s1600/tacos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtse8__NRwq4jO_0GPik9SwZ8vyIN9h_Rl13owUvRqzOvdW-gK1WiSm8_KPBUyROnKVB_MFrDP_rK0H0iQGRkXjtUeDlWu4-rjWcD4_ErDSi2a_uKPOjC1IZXY3U9ZUb86zMuuJMfFgM/s400/tacos.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Dear Tacos,</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">From the moment<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I started building my own soft-shells<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">And adding loads of cheese<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">with fresh green bells<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">And layering in extras<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I knew one thing was real:<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;"><br /> I fell in love with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A love so deep I gave you my all —</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">From my mind & body<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">To my spirit & soul.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">As a six-year-old girl<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Deeply in love with you<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I never saw the end of the burrito.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I only saw myself<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Eating another one. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And so I ate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I ate any and every taco <br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">After every one I wanted more.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">You asked for my appetite <br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I gave you my heart<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Because it came with so much more.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I ate all the variations and versions</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Not because challenge called me<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">But because YOU called me.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I did everything for YOU<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Because that’s what you do<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">When someone makes you feel as<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">Alive as you’ve made me feel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You gave a six-year-old girl her taco dream</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">And I’ll always love you for it.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">But I can’t love you obsessively anymore.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">This fall was all I had left to give.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">My heart can take the pounding<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">My mind can handle the grind<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that’s OK.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I’m ready to let you go.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I want you to know now<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">So we both can savor every moment we had together.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">The good and the bad.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">We had given each other<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">All that we had. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And we both know, no matter what I do next</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">I’ll always be that girl<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">With the cheese laden tortilla <br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">and the happy, happy smile<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">all of the sour cream<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">taco in my hands<br /> </span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: 400;">one... more... bite...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Love you always,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 1.5;">Heidi</span><br />
<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-89770228268329317152015-12-30T17:29:00.004-08:002015-12-30T22:31:06.398-08:00Obligatory Year End Blog Post OR Eddie Vedder is Swoonable<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm trying to find a nice way to tell this year goodbye without sounding like I'm too excited for the arrival of 2016. Really, it's not like I despised 2015, I didn't/don't. I'm not even sick of it. I actually kind of liked 2015. But the calendar is the way it is, and 2016 is going to be here no matter how fond I was/am of 2015. And 2015 will be no more. I'm fine with this.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So back to my struggle.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This week between Christmas and New Year's when you have no idea what day it is, the date is irrelevant, and you probably ate too many peanut butter sandwiches while you were attempting to figure it out. This last bit is especially troubling if you, like me, just recently found out about your new life stipulation that wheat and dairy be eradicated from your diet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But it just <i>drags</i> on. This never ending week of posts from friends and coaches and colleagues titled things like <b>"Closure and Cloister, Ten Lessons You Should Have Learned in 2015;"</b> <b>"Call to Action: What 2016 Needs From Your Digestive Tract;" "The Coming Trend of Eyelash Removal and the Brave Pioneers Behind It;"</b> and my personal favorite <b>"Failing at Flailing: Your Inner Fangirl's Loss of Nerdido."</b> <-- (a nerd's libido, obvs).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm just ready for it to be done. Goodbye, 2015, it's been a <b>real slice</b>. But let's get on with it, shall we? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is this last week of lamenting all about? Think about it? We do it every year. Okay, not <b><i>we</i></b>. <b> You</b>. You do it every year. <b><i>I</i> </b>don't do it every year because, frankly, I'm kind of a <b>jerk</b> and half the time I don't notice that the year is on its way out until is over and done and it's calling me asking if nothing we shared ever meant anything to me. I hang up and roll my eyes at the obvious wrong number and feel bad for the poor bastard who has to deal with <i><b>that</b> </i>clingy handful. When it's over, it's over, am I right? </span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">*clears throat*</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's statements like the above that are the reason people cry when I talk, isn't it?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Moving on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why all of the emotional attachment to a numerical based system of measuring the passage of time? Every January is the same: "This year is <b>MY</b> year!" and it ends the same: "Screw last year! Last year was the <b>worst!</b>"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of being a little bit <b>slutty</b> with your years. Maybe if you treated them the way <i>you</i> want to be treated, you wouldn't feel so devastated at the end when it dawns on you that <b><i>it's just a number and is not, in fact, an all powerful Oz promising to make your dreams come true.</i></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I spend this week rolling my eyes a bit and trying to figure out how I can cram one more gluten free cookie baking session into my daily life without drawing a lot of attention to myself. And also, planning a birthday (he's turning five this year. <i>Star Wars </i>the theme).<i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Stop</b> putting so much pressure on the year to do and be great things for you. Do and be great things <b><i>for yourself</i></b>. That's right, I said it. Do it <b>FOR YOU</b>. The year doesn't matter, it's a way to mark off the passage of time and remind you to pay your bills so that you don't freeze to death in February when winter finally shows up (it's coming. it always does).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Say goodbye to 2015 with a blown kiss and a jazzy wave. Have your party if you must, but curb your hatred. If 2015 let you down, that's on you. Maybe your New Year's Resolution should be to place less responsibility for your <b>emotional happiness</b> on a Stardate, yeah? Maybe, just maybe, <i>this year</i> *rolls eyes so hard it hurts* you take control of your life and make it yours.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yeah. I like the feel of that. This life is mine. The dates don't matter except to mark the beginning and end on my gravestone of where I started and stopped. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/Nkgv3LoQY2o" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But the in between is <b>mine.</b></span></span></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0ZM9oqrGhW8BWEY7a01PgDn3OPf1Pvde7kK6nyIAq5_ol-KR2XUO0H1RbvimhAE8GxnXDVz3YNyXflsrvmH9YmNboCYBTnCy7lcCdKXDLCosVvrfQUaS1qmLyxNLuTOouNrR9p_x6pU/s1600/tumblr_lnc26xid001qc9ekbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0ZM9oqrGhW8BWEY7a01PgDn3OPf1Pvde7kK6nyIAq5_ol-KR2XUO0H1RbvimhAE8GxnXDVz3YNyXflsrvmH9YmNboCYBTnCy7lcCdKXDLCosVvrfQUaS1qmLyxNLuTOouNrR9p_x6pU/s400/tumblr_lnc26xid001qc9ekbo1_500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-19840553090106584802015-09-29T21:37:00.000-07:002015-09-29T21:53:51.804-07:00Running Through the Next Field <span style="font-size: large;">Every month I have an anthem. I play it loud and I sing it louder— much to the dismay of my child and neighbors. I am not a good singer. And more often than not, I really play up that fact by doing my best Adam Sandler and/or Fat Albert impression at the same time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">October begins in two day (less than that at this point), and I'm already singing that month's anthem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before I tell you what it is, let's talk about what happened this month.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I released <a href="http://amzn.com/B0112SS6Q8" target="_blank">BRAND NEW SKY</a> into the <b>wild.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's the sixth and final book in the Double Blind Study series. It wasn't an easy book to write. So it's completion was both a relief and a heartbreak for me. I didn't want it to be over with. This entire series was a big deal for me. <b> Huge</b>, in fact.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've told the story many times about how and when and why I started writing, so there's really no need to go over that again. But this series was the beginning of something <b>new</b>. It was me finally getting those stories <i>out</i> there, instead of keeping them to myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sharing the <b>adventure.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So many of you joined me along the way and I will never stop being equal parts grateful, shocked, and humbled.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As BRAND NEW SKY made it's way into ereaders worldwide a couple weeks ago, I was struck by the fact that this was the <i>least</i> stressful book release ever for me. I had an awesome team helping me get things sent to bloggers and readers, and an amazing support system that kept my head focused and didn't let me get overwhelmed. I normally freakout the night of a release by drinking wine and eating chocolate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not this time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This time, I was writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because the next story <b>begs</b> to be told and I wouldn't dare to silence it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, while the release wasn't stressful, that doesn't mean that there wasn't/isn't still some very strong emotions attached to it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because the series is done, and now it's a <b>new</b> beginning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm running. Towards the next story, into the next adventure. Completely and totally clueless how it's going to turn out and I'm not scared.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have this song pounding itself into my head and heart. The anthem of things to come. The song that's currently annoying my neighbors. => <a href="https://youtu.be/7q1D9n_ADx0" target="_blank">Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I suppose this is what I get for <b>falling in love</b> with an explorer. He makes me unafraid to chase down the dawn of the next dream.</span><br />
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-12479336796075148302015-08-26T20:42:00.000-07:002015-08-26T20:42:06.593-07:00Hell Yeah, I Rememeber Aurora <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvymudsWSfVeIIqr0pqT8l4k4gYgKdbxsJKkKJv573wGICNGqfGQPPbpTSNYd3ZSMjGHoz01lI0eZ83tdk0fgSV0Q2eyO-fJhuvOpykgQWwWvB8Xy4AIzfNmQJDOpD5O7_A5x54higyI/s1600/11150407_1007189332643024_2155036864618889617_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvymudsWSfVeIIqr0pqT8l4k4gYgKdbxsJKkKJv573wGICNGqfGQPPbpTSNYd3ZSMjGHoz01lI0eZ83tdk0fgSV0Q2eyO-fJhuvOpykgQWwWvB8Xy4AIzfNmQJDOpD5O7_A5x54higyI/s640/11150407_1007189332643024_2155036864618889617_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo belongs to Roswell Films/ HBO</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The above quote is from me. I said those words out loud to myself a few months ago and then added it to that stunning picture of Dave Grohl they kept using in the Sonic Highways promos. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was in the middle of writing Sway and Ryan's story. I was just at the part where they're really getting to know each other. That fun, happy, you-know-good-and-well-it-can't-last stage. And I was falling in love with them.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was Dave's fault.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's always his fault.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every time I fall in love, he's playing the soundtrack in the background. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And I fall in love every time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Each book I think that <i>this</i> couple will be the one, the ultimate couple. I will love them the most and no one will ever replace them. Then I get to the next story and the next soundtrack and it starts all over again.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe that's just the way it has to be. Maybe I can't honestly write their story unless I'm fully invested in the outcome. That outcome being all the love ever forever. With sprinkles on top. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So here's the rub. I'm working on a story right now that doesn't follow the pattern. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It's a prequel (my betas have promised to not let me George Lucas the shit out of it). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ryan's origin story.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">See, I got into this thing with her and Sway, and realized she was a very complicated woman. So much so, that I couldn't get into all of it in Sway's book because it's <i>Sway's</i> book. I floated the idea of writing her story and some of my pre-readers and close friends have encouraged it. <i>"Have at it, Plucky Duckling! Hoist the mainsail!"</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(They didn't use those words, that was in my head. Judge away, there's so much more in there you don't know about.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ryan's story will be about who she is and how she became the Ryan we all meet in BRAND NEW SKY. It's not a romance. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But it <i>is</i> a love story. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Going through my notes, writing these first few chapters, I find myself falling in love with her. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And guess who's playing the soundtrack?<i> </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This novella's anthem is Foo Fighter's "Long Road to Ruin" because it's Ryan's song. It's where she's at right now and it's not a great place.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But it will be.<i> </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i> </i> </span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-60680790601833742442015-08-22T21:20:00.001-07:002015-08-22T21:20:20.535-07:00The One About Romance<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It should come as no surprise that music is kind of a big deal for me. Maybe it's because I have no musical talent whatsoever and so I'm drawn to its mystery. Maybe it's because some of my earliest and most treasured memories are of my beautiful mother playing the guitar and singing me love songs. I think those things probably tangled together to form a desire in my heart to explore it further. Not the music so much, but the emotion behind the song. The people, the story, the <i>soul</i> of the song.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to be a part of it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My small contribution to the writing world is my best attempt. Yes, I write romance. No, I'm not ashamed. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I want to take people on an adventure. And if the slow, dangerous exploration of a person's heart isn't an adventure, then I don't know what is.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For what is more mysterious than the intricate layers and motivations of a man? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What has led to more misunderstandings and more victories than the quiet diligence of his soul? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What does he see? What's the color of the sunset from out of his eyes? What kind of memories are replayed with the sound of an old song on the radio? Who is he? Where is he going? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every story is another cliff dive for me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stand on the ledge, feel the wind whip harshly at my body, stealing my breath. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to jump. Every time. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have to tell the story. Their story.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's my song. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On to the next one. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-86095316013754955762015-08-19T20:38:00.003-07:002015-08-19T20:38:53.760-07:00Right Behind Me, Everywhere I Go<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Good evening, gentle readers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> It's been a while, yeah?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Growing pains is the only reason I can give as to my absence. I mean, I could go into the details of what this summer had been like for me on a deeply personal level—digging into the dark emotional abyss that is my heart and laying it out on the floor for all to see. But I won't. Because it's just not me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I will tell you that this summer has been one of discovery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">In the midst of all the happenings in my life, I finished a novel and thus the Double Blind Study series. It's currently with the editor and dare I say, I'm proud of this one. More so than the others. Not because the writing is the best (it's not), and not because it's going to change anyone's life (it won't), but because of all the things I learned during it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I might be back in a couple days to unpack some of those things. Right now I'm just sort of savoring this feeling. It's quiet and simple and I'm enjoying it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">No matter how hard life can get, there's always these amazing people who shine their light right into my life and save me. I guess that's what I'm reflecting on tonight— the bright lights.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And I am grateful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-54612753609285037822015-06-13T11:32:00.000-07:002016-01-28T13:34:51.373-08:00The day I woke up in Birmingham OR Sweet Home Alabama<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Maybe y'all noticed that I've taken a break from blogging for a couple of months. I needed the break. Too much was on my plate and I started dropping the things that seemed less important until I could get caught up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I recently attended my first book signing in Birmingham, Alabama. I had been planning this trip for many months and it kept changing and morphing into a whole new beast. It made me nervous. Until it got to a point during the planning where I had to make some hard calls. I had to call it quits on a few things. I canceled a total of three photo shoots that I had been looking forward to. I ended up taking Cap and Bear with me. I didn't go to any of the author meet-ups, I didn't make it to the after-party. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about it until after.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I loved meeting all of the readers. Truly. And I've always thought of myself as not being very good at "peopling." I really, <i>really</i> liked meeting all the new people. Pretty much every person I came into contact with, I fell in love with just a little bit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We spent the day after the event walking through Birmingham. And something happened. Something peaceful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">If you know the history of Birmingham than maybe you can feel the weight of that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My recent personal life has been... difficult, to give it a word. I was feeling tense and anxious and completely lost when I got on our first plane in Omaha. But there is something about being high above the world that puts things into perspective. It was as if my heart reset. It cleared it's cache of negativity and I was able to fill it with new things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I really like this life I have. If that makes me arrogant or insane, I don't care. I'm content with my present. There's a peacefulness in acknowledging the space that your mind and heart are occupying. I spent an entire day surrounded by art and history and science. I had gone from feeling like my brain was a water-logged sponge, to feeling like my soul had finally set anchor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">And that feeling lasted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Our flight ou<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t</span> of Birmingham kept moving due to the weather in Chicago. When we finally got to Chicago, the weather had made a fine mess there as well. It was nearly midnight when they told us we finally had a plane but no pilot. My friend Kellcie asked if we were in a secret remake of <i>Airplane</i>. Still not sure about that one. Our terminal was loaded with grumpy, tired travelers. And I watched my four-year-old dance with his father and make those tired people smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">So, yeah, I love my little family and the life we get to share together. And I'm glad I brought them with me even though that wasn't the original plan. I think having them there with me healed that scorched portion of my heart that had been fading quickly. And now I feel whole.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My life is still moving. I'm still running towards the future. But some things that I had planned on, have changed. At first, that was a scary and sad thought. But you can't force something that wasn't meant to be. I'm continuing this journey. I want to see how it finishes. I plan on doing my best, because it's all I have.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-26156836960155524992015-03-17T16:19:00.001-07:002015-03-17T16:19:17.490-07:00Things My Father Taught Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am, by nature, a very private person. I don't broadcast the most intimate details of my life because it seems inappropriate and frankly a bit tacky. I have secrets. Things that are mine and I plan on keeping them that way. I'm always, still, surprised when I see people tell everyone everything about themselves ever. But I'm even more surprised when I see them tell everything <i>about someone else.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now, I'm not talking about gossip or backstabbing or slander. Those are separate issues. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm talking about those moments in peoples lives that are not and should not be treated as a spectator sport. Personal things. Big news, tragedy, heartbreak, loss, ailment, intimacy, triumphs over obstacles, etc. I'm not saying no one should share these things about their lives, that would be ridiculous. What I've noticed is the blatant and boisterous announcement of news that belongs to others.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I don't get it. But I think that has more to do with watching how my parents handled things like that. And how they still handle things like that. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There's a reason that my mom or my dad gets called first when tragedy strikes someone. A trust has been earned. A stalwart resistance against the curiosity of the world. They're first instinct is to protect and serve. Their circle is small, the information tightly controlled. I can't even tell you how many times or nights they've spent in hospitals, on roadsides, in stranger's homes, traveling across the country. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They have no desire to attract attention. I think that if they did accidentally attract attention, they would consider their mission a failure.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Part of what they do is give the power to the person it belongs to. If it's good news, then they should be the ones telling it. If it's sad or awful or the worst thing ever, they should be allowed to reveal those things in their own way and in their own time. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I remember asking my father once, during my rebellious youth, why he didn't want people to know what he had just done for someone. I'd gone with him to help someone stranded. My father has been, and always will be, a Jedi mechanic. I have no idea what he did to fix this car <i>specifically</i>. I just knew that he had a skill set that was needed in that moment and he'd done just that. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We were driving home and he was very quiet before he said something that stuck with me. "That's not why I did it."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It seemed like such a simple answer. But I never forgot it. And it repeats in my head every time I see or hear someone declare something they've done for someone else. I think, "Is that why? So you felt justified in talking about it? So that you were the focal point of this moment?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's a lesson I learned well. I find myself doing the same thing. Shying away from letting others know how much I know about an event or a person. It's become second nature to me. I don't just protect my own secrets, I protect the secrets of others as well.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I can promise you, I have been witness to events that you will never hear about. I have seen the best of humanity in the most private and secret of places. I have watched my mother be the most amazing and admirable woman I will ever know. I have watched my father display the exact characteristics that make me proud to be one of his children.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've learned that to declare yourself as part of someone's life changing event, you put the focus on yourself. Is that appropriate? Did you earn that position? Or did the person whose life you just took a moment of credit for, make the mistake of trusting you to just be there for them? Are you doing <i>good</i> with your very loud words?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Maybe I was raised in a weird way. Maybe my parents taught me to be more private than your average bear. Maybe it's bizarre to you, looking from the outside in, as to why I would hold my tongue and keep things to myself.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Or maybe, just maybe, they taught me something invaluable. Something I will never forget... How to keep it secret and keep it safe.</span></span><br />
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<br />Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-42971038424674947932015-03-12T15:28:00.000-07:002015-03-12T15:28:58.585-07:00Life Inside a BoxI sat down today to write. Then I decided that I should probably
build a playlist. Then I ended up distracted by the thoughts that the
playlist created. So I mostly ended up staring at an open document
terrified that I was going to screw the whole thing up.<br />
<br />
I
haven't written in more than a week. I needed the break and I needed
to do other things, but I was really looking forward to getting back to
it. It's interesting how life can look at you and just be like, "No." <br />
<br />
But I will be writing later tonight. It's burning inside and I have to let it out.<br />
<br />
I guess I have to get my thoughts in order just a little bit first. I have to put some things away and take out others. <br />
<br />
I'm starting here. It feels like the beginning. <br />
<br />
I've
spent a good amount of my life being afraid of beginnings. Beginnings
signified that something had ended. And endings... I don't like
endings. <br />
<br />
I won't let you stop me again.<br />
<br />
I have worth.<br />
<br />
Endings are simply regenerations.<br />
<br />
Watch me run.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-85738813101912275292015-02-24T20:05:00.001-08:002015-02-24T20:05:23.793-08:00The One About Love<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So it's Tuesday, not my normal day for one of these. More than that, February is almost over and I haven't posted one on here since January. Not that any of you are keeping track of that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I was having a conversation with Cap last night (like we do), and we got pretty heavy (also, like we do). I've been mulling it over in my head all day and thought I'd share the bulk of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I write romance (someday I'll write a blog to address all the genre bashing, this isn't it). At first blush, it might seem odd, that a person like me would write romance. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Well, what do you mean, 'person like you'?"</b> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You may ask.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">If you've met me, you might understand. I focus heavily on logic and practicality in my conversations. I tend to be dry and cynical in a realist sort of way. I have a hard time with feelings (not just mine). I think it's unwise to make decisions based solely off of emotions. However, I do recognize that a majority of the human race does exactly that. I tend to tune out the arguments of those that have zero facts and are based on feelings. I become almost clinical in my relationships.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So, the fact that I write romance novels, may seem... weird. Stories about love, friendship, life... and all those pesky emotions that manage to get tangled along with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Writing a romance isn't just about the tingles and feels that come along with two people falling in love for the first time. At least, not for me. I can't speak for other authors. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I wonder if they call them romance novels because it's the shortest way to say "The Complex and Intricate Secret Heart-Battles That People Wage Every Single Day of Their Lives."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">That's what I'm trying to capture when I write. The difficult, complicated, and all too often misunderstood people who deserve to have their story told just as much as the next person. Because don't we all have a love story to share, or one that we dream about, or one that we're fighting for right now?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Writing for me is a way to capture and display the struggle that every heart faces, in their own way. The fight, the fear, the joy, the devastation, the hope... It's romantic, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I don't think I need to go into how relationships are difficult. I think there are plenty of self-help books, internet gurus, and overpaid therapists that have drilled that into society enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">We all decide to deal with those difficulties in one way or another. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Cap asked me last night why I decided, more than once, to let something go. A big something. Different big somethings. Some with him, some with others. What was my logical reasoning for moving past those things?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And I told him the truth. Like I always do.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I won't stop loving.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Holding a grudge, being bitter, keeping score... none of those things make me think I'm making practical life choices. Life is guaranteed to suck, I promise that the one you trust the most will let you down. You're going to have more awful days in a row than good ones sometimes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Therefore, loving is the logical solution. Love is the only thing that makes sense. Love is what's the most important to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Maybe I won't win. Maybe I'll lose at everything ever. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">But if the worst thing someone can accuse me of in all of my life choices, is that she couldn't win because she just wouldn't stop loving those who meant the most to her... I think I'm okay with that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-24178525935970826742015-01-31T17:48:00.001-08:002015-01-31T17:49:00.849-08:00A poem for my Captain<span style="font-size: small;">Getting ready to publish my poems for the first time (and probably only time). I wanted to share one with you. I think you can guess by the title who it's about. February 14 and you'll be able to own the whole collection.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;"><b>Captain</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">I
love it when your hair is crazy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">and
you tell me I'm an angel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">When
the air is clean in my lungs,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">and
your voice is soft in my ear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;">don't
be so dramatic,” you say.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">then
hold me,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">until
the drama subsides,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;">and
I will be stronger come morning.</span></div>
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-71691393152443782922015-01-27T16:03:00.004-08:002015-01-28T09:48:09.709-08:00Procrastination and Kitten Juggling<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What is going on? Why am I writing a blog in the middle of the week when I should be writing my intro to the Poetry Anthology? I think I just answered my question.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I procrastinate like a mofo. I think the only one who can even come close to topping me is Laura. I like to stay busy and just a <i>little </i>bit stressed out. I tried to explain this to Cap. He thought I had too much on my plate and thought maybe I'd be a little less stressed if I got rid of a couple of things. He said this because he has my best interests at heart. What he didn't realize is, the very idea of not being stressed out a little bit, stressed me out. I think that if I didn't have several creative projects surrounding me at once I would truly go mad. It's like it's the only way my brain knows how to function, juggle all the kittens, balance all the bananas, twirl all the traffic cones. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here's the difference though in my type of stress and "your" type of stress. I choose what I want to do. The thrill of trying new things, staying busy with new stories, building my body to where I want it, those are <i>good</i> stresses. They make me grow as a person, challenge my mind, push me to succeed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bad stresses are manipulative people, sickness, financial struggles, relationships that drain you rather than fill you, loss of personal control. Those things suck. And they will continue to suck until you're dry if you let them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So back to my good stress. My fifth novel releases on Thursday. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have a website now.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I get to see Miles again soon. The same weekend that Naked Came the Trio releases.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Which is what I'm supposed to be working on right now. My intro to the anthology. But I'm avoiding it because, while it was my entire idea to do this thing, I'm having significant doubts about adding own work to be among the gorgeous words of my two compatriots. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I find my work here... lacking. It's young and unpolished. But honest, I suppose. Which is all I can really expect of myself-- to be honest. Going through my notebooks and trying to decide which should be included and which should be ignored. I keep thinking of a line from a Jewel song, <i>"My youth, scattered along the highway."</i> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm very proud of how far I've come, though I think I could have done a few things differently or a few things better. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That probably just comes with the business of juggling kittens.</span><br />
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Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-13453816204109778242015-01-23T22:57:00.001-08:002015-01-23T22:57:40.909-08:00A teaser of things to come<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If you read the blog I posted earlier for Ms J, you can relax. I feel better now. I worked out all my issues by using my words and my head is back to where it needs to be. Mostly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm tired and I have a lot on my mind. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm going to keep this short because, while I want to write, I don't want to write it all here. I have a couple characters that I need to delve into and see what's got them in knots. I may have mentioned that I have many projects going on at once. It's more true now than ever before.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And I switched from listening to Incubus tonight to this: <a href="http://youtu.be/7q1D9n_ADx0" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/7q1D9n_ADx0</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I'll give you a glimpse, a tease of what's in my mind. The smallest little bit of a story that has every intention of ripping out my heart and showing me what it was made to do this whole time.</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">************</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">L,</span> </span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIkFcUFixumLIK-dfFHB9fkBh0P3zO310p2MZ2dJJaAdR-XsDRNyg0AJeAm-v-2eEU-Dxf-9c8_07WfMcL3M4FxmsLdJk2l1d24eFXjR3ukn0cGs7M3CGA3QGP-Xb0hVOrf4rUii1jVg/s1600/DSCN5158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIkFcUFixumLIK-dfFHB9fkBh0P3zO310p2MZ2dJJaAdR-XsDRNyg0AJeAm-v-2eEU-Dxf-9c8_07WfMcL3M4FxmsLdJk2l1d24eFXjR3ukn0cGs7M3CGA3QGP-Xb0hVOrf4rUii1jVg/s1600/DSCN5158.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sometimes the words are harder to find than at other times. Occasionally my feelings get in the way of the declaration. It comes out all garbled and messy and entirely too transparent. The anger is easier to deal with, it's focused and burns like a fire. I know where it's going and I sure as hell know where it's been. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Even in my show-and-tell, I hardly show. And I never tell. Self-preservation and all that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm sorry. I wanted to stay, and I suppose most of me will. I just can't stay and watch you try to get Venus to revolve around Jupiter. That might not make sense to you now, hopefully it will someday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm sorry I can only tell you how I feel in code. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my own promises. I'm sorry I can only leave my heart with you. I know it doesn't seem like much, since it's so quiet in your grip. But it's the only thing of worth I had on me anyway. Keep it, it always brought me a fair amount of luck.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's winter in Wyoming. It's time for me to head south. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ten</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>************** </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-37232575332158668172015-01-16T22:54:00.000-08:002015-01-16T22:54:00.728-08:00Toxic Is My Favorite Britney Song. Coincidence?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We've reached the part of the evening where the dancing has begun. If you don't believe me, check this out, that's totally me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'm dancing because I hit all my deadlines and THE HOPE THAT STARTS will launch as planned. This makes me incredible happy. I am also dancing because dancing is the best. Especially when done alone and for no reason. This might not make sense to you. Most people dance in groups, with other people. Not me. When I dance with other people, the derp face comes out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Now, derp in motion is way better than still derp. Ask <a class="g-profile" href="https://plus.google.com/103024615698946106984" target="_blank">+Laura Gibson</a>, she knows. But it's not good on me, ever. Because when the derp face comes out, you can be sure the manic elbows are going to be making an appearance. They stick out, they fly up above my head, they jam themselves in peoples eye sockets. And the legs get super stiff. I'm like a zombie with rickets. I teeter and collide with people, causing mayhem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But the best part of me dancing in public is my smile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm making this face because I am completely aware that my body is ruining everyone's good time and I can't stop it. It's out of my hands. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is why at social events, you'll usually find me in the bathroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But when I'm alone... When I'm alone, I let it all go. my body is fluid and graceful. Finding the rhythm comes as naturally as breathing. I have no fears, no reservations. I feel the music and let it take me where it will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating. I actually have no idea what I look like when I dance alone, because... alone. Duh. I imagine it's probably closer to this</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Doesn't really matter. I know how it feels and It. Is. Awesome. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't even care that my house smells like charred plastic and irresponsibility. I hit my deadlines. I kicked that formatting ass. I drank the Cabernet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm gonna dance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-38249935974879238702015-01-09T18:25:00.000-08:002015-01-09T18:31:49.101-08:00I Wish This Blog Had More Taylor Swift In It.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I'm working on a new project, and you know me, there has to be music involved. Music is part of my process. Not just in writing, but in all my major life events. The music of the moment has always impacted me greatly. Still, there are songs that can start out of the blue and I will get lost in the memory.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I asked someone to pick their "theme song" so to speak. It helps me get a feel for how they view themselves. I guess it's not that simple of a question, especially if you're not like me and surround yourself with music night and day. Then I remembered in psychology class when we were asked the same question and I immediately wrote my answer on the paper. I knew what it was before the question was finished. Then I sat there, bored, for the rest of the class as everyone else hemmed and hawed and thought about it until they picked something out of frustration.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Is that song <i>still</i> my "theme" song? No. But it was then, for all the reasons that it needed to be. I was 17 and scared and unsure of who or what I was going to be or become. But that song made me feel like I was going to figure it out. Curious? You can find it here--><a href="http://youtu.be/Td21W-NZEiI" target="_blank">Closer to Myself</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But I also have a list of songs that are "reserved." Most of them just make me smile now, some make me sad. But they're still there and they're still important. They're songs I won't be able to use while I write because in my head (and heart) they're reserved for a specific person/place/moment. I guess I plan on using them for my semi-autobiography. But not every song made it to "theme song" status. This one did--><a href="http://youtu.be/HRYxCBBHh9I" target="_blank">Gray Matter</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">**Side Note**</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm going to be publishing some old poetry next month (surprise!) with the Trio. So if you want to know more about the years where that song was my theme, read that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My theme these days is a little less dramatic and a little more sweet. Because that's where I am now. In a few years it might be something else entirely. It's me coming to terms with the things about me that I should be okay with but there's still a struggle to accept. A song to myself--> <a href="http://youtu.be/_3MkE0pFXkw" target="_blank">Can't You Just Adore Her?</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So here's your homework assignment. And you can choose to comment here or email, message, text, Morse Code, whatever you need to do, but I want to know your answers. What's your song? Right now. Not what was it or what do you want it to be in the future. What is it right now?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's not a permanent decision. It's a song that invokes a feeling, an emotion. Something that says, "This is where I am and this is how it feels."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Share that with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-57324044597585576002015-01-03T12:18:00.001-08:002015-01-03T12:28:32.297-08:00Advice You Don't Want, But Probably Need <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Okay, this blog might not make me any friends. But I think still needs to be said.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Writers, aspiring writers, writers who think they're writers but have yet to write anything, please read good writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think it's important—so important that I took time out of my day to blog about this when I really should be hanging out with Sway—to read well written books.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I find that my writing suffers when I read things that are written... not well. However, if I keep reading well written things on a regular basis, it reflects in my writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, before you all start to unite in madness about how reading "corrupts your voice" let me stop you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I stay away from rock star novels. I love them, don't get me wrong, and I have a whole list that I'm planning on reading <i>after</i> I finish my series. Because corruption of voice is a real thing and I don't want to chance it. I also don't want to be reading a book and see a similar idea and think that I'll never do it that well or someone will think this is where I got the idea. It's too much of a distraction and it'll make my job that much harder. So I avoid rock star novels like no other. But not joking about the list. I'm going to go on a reading binge as soon as this series wraps up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I still read in my genre though. I read all the time. I read way more than I make public because I can't always say nice things about what I'm reading so I keep it to myself. I have HUGE opinions that belong to me and me alone. I have no desire to inflict every single one on you, just the important ones (insert creepy winky face). If I read something and LOVE it, you'll know, I'll totally share the crap out of that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So let's go back to corruption of voice. If you're reading things that are poorly written,<i> that</i> will corrupt your voice. More than that, I believe it actually vaporizes brain cells. Did you know that you can't regrow brain cells? Once they're gone, they're gone. That's it. No more. You have what you have and if you waste them on getting blackout drunk or reading piss-poor writing, they're still the same amount of gone. Which is wholly and completely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is why I download samples. I have this habit of reading poor writing and trying to fix it in my head. It's exhausting and drains me of much needed resources. If I can't get through a sample without trying to fix the issues, I won't read the rest. For example, first person present tense is incredibly difficult for me to read. It has to be done very well for me to not look at it like a blog post. A novel shouldn't read like a blog. It should read like a novel. It's supposed to suck me in and transport me to an all new reality where I don't even notice literary rules being broken. I have a handful of authors who I have no trouble reading who write in first-person-present. I love them. They are awesome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So I try to read amazing stuff. It stimulates my brain to think in different ways, go in new directions, jump-starts stagnant ideas, pushes my creative boundaries. Especially the classics. Right now I'm reading three books at once. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexander Dumas. I tend to read more when I'm writing, it makes a hell of a difference. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Do I write like Austen, Scott, or Dumas? Oh, hell now. Not even close. But they make my thoughts reach for the stars. And the stars is exactly where I want to be when I'm writing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here's a true story:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I read a book once that had a decent storyline but was badly executed, poorly handled, and it read like a rough draft. I actually had to listen to heavy metal music with headphones to keep me awake while I read it because I kept falling asleep. THREE TIMES. I was under the impression that if I started something, I should finish it. I have since revised this belief to make the exception for bad writing. See, after I finished that book, I was broken. For almost a month I couldn't write at all. I was depressed and sad and lacked any motivation at all. So I read all of Penny Reid's books in a week and suddenly I was cured.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because she writes funny, smart, witty stories that I absolutely adore. (READ HER THINGS NOW.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is my plea to writers: be the best you can be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">No, not everyone is going to go down in history as a literary genius like F. Scott, or lovely Ms. Austen. But you can be the best YOU. You're limiting yourself when you fill your head with CRAP. Stop doing it. I can tell. You're not fooling me. If you're satisfied with reading books that are bland, predicable, and quite frankly <i>stupid</i>, then your work is going to reflect that. Very obviously. Why push yourself when you're reading others that clearly don't care about doing their best? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or, and I can't even believe this is even something I have to address because it's ludicrous to me, if you're not reading <i>at all.</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, I get not having time to read when you're in the editing process and it requires intense focus, but that's temporary. Realistically, you should have a book on your metaphorical nightstand that you plan on returning to as soon as you can. Writers who claim they don't read piss me right the hell off. It's like, really? You expect the world to read your stuff but, you, great awesome wordsmith, are too good to pick up a book? Is it beneath you? Get over yourself. The best writers read. Period. End of discussion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That would be like a mechanic too busy to drive. Or a pastry chef who doesn't eat food. Impossible I tell you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">OH! And mix up your genres. Don't be a book snob (ew, I judge you for your judgements). Read the classics, read new things. Read something ridiculous and fun. Just read! ( I feel like this can apply to a lot of things, like music and movies as well. Genre hating is stupid and you're missing out on life. Really). I love me a good thriller, or romance, young adult is wonderful. It's not the genre that matters, it's the quality of the storytelling. That's where you should be focused. If it makes you think, if it compels you to better your craft, then read it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Read the crap out of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-54082142220778029592014-12-26T22:12:00.000-08:002014-12-26T22:12:07.767-08:00Cold Medicine Has Got Me Working Overtime<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I write blogs on two different sites. This one and the Ms J. This is my personal one. This is the one where the truly weird will emerge at a moments notice. And, if you're a very devoted reader, you may catch a drunk blog float by in the wee hours of the morning during a blizzard when I'm home alone and bored and have a bottle wine. I will delete it very quickly, because we can't have things like that out there. But if you're clever enough, you'll see it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tonight is a very special blog. You see, tonight is a blog derived from the the worst cold of my life and NyQuil. I should be going to bed. But instead I'm working. And blogging. They're similar but not the same. I have no idea if this will make a lot of sense or none at all. I promise to do my best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But I'm working at the same time, so I keep jumping back and forth to add things here and there as I think of them. What am I working on? If I told you, you'd never believe me. No, really. It's completely unbelievable and I'm so pumped this is my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I sent out the ARCs for THE HOPE THAT STARTS today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can we all just take a minute and think about that? Like, this is book 5. Of a series that I never planned on writing. And I'm so very excited about this one because it has all the nerd references and the nerd love and I get to look at pictures of Miles as I write because he will always be Harrison to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In full disclosure, there was a moment in the beginning/middle that got a little sketch. I wasn't sure if I was going to publish LEARN TO FLY. I could only get one person to read it (sister shout out!), it was a weird idea for a romance, I had no idea if people would like it. Come to find out, not a lot of people did. But enough of you did that I went ahead and wrote book 2 (which still happens to be my favorite, I don't care if you hate it). And now we're up to book 5.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This band, these characters have been so incredibly fun. It's going to be difficult to say goodbye. I have Sway's story left. And maybe Carl's someday in the future. But otherwise, that's it. I don't know if I can actually walk away from them entirely so I've come up with an idea that will probably make me lose my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm going to write a collection of short stories about the band members as chosen by the fans. I will have a form you can fill out if you want to be a part of it. (See! Working!) The idea is that you, the fan, will choose a song that you love, a band member, and a scenario. Then I write a short story based on that. I will put them all together in a collection and basically give it away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Do I have time to do this? No. Not at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm also working on a whole new series that I hope to have out to you sometime next summer/fall. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Plus a super secret project (that's what everyone is doing now, right? something that no one cares about so we call it secret and hope that they start to care), involving writing and writing and tearing my hair out and twisting my brain and writing some more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And now has come the portion of the evening where I can no longer fight the NyQuil. I need to go to bed. I will see most of you on the other side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I leave you with the very wise words of Nick Hexum:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Stay positive, love your life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2391575888189703344.post-35077267285312195432014-12-19T18:12:00.001-08:002014-12-19T18:12:17.119-08:00Come Over So I Can Cuddle Your Brains<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jumping onto the coattails of the other blog I wrote today, I will further talk about things that have no relevance to your life. Hurray!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If you haven't read the first one (because, why would you? unless you're stalking me) then you can get it here --> </span><a href="http://msjblogandreviews.com/2014/12/19/a-glimpse-into-my-method-happy-meals-peroxide-and-people/" target="_blank">Ms J Bog and Review</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Though this one will have no Spike gifs and more introspection. Boring, I know. Before you read further please note, I'm not trying to be mean. I've been told that I speak/write aggressively. *shrug* In my head, I'm just being precise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So... here we go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Perhaps you've noticed (I'm only addressing your notice to be polite. because I know the likelihood of that is zip. unless, again, you're stalking me *waves*) that we (me, Laura, Kellcie, Jo, etc--basically anyone with an alter ego on Sherlock) talk about our Myers Briggs personality types like it's a real thing. To us it is. If you don't get into all that, that's totally fine, I don't hate. But it's made the way my brain functions so much easier for me to cope with. Because I'm weird, I've always been weird, and it turns out there's actually nothing wrong with me (har har, laugh it up). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't want to bore you with all of the details of how I got to the conclusions that I have. Especially if you don't find it even kind of interesting. If you're curious about my super weird and abrasive personality type (INTJ), you can go here to get a good overview --> <a href="http://personalityjunkie.com/the-intj/" target="_blank">http://personalityjunkie.com/the-intj/</a> But it's not required reading and there will be no test at the end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What I want to write about today is a small section of my head that most of you (stalkers included) don't know about. The part where I notice everything. Especially if it doesn't belong to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Let me explain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I like people. I like how everyone is different. We're a product of our personalities, our hearts, souls, experiences, geography, perceptions, etc. No two people are exactly alike. And they shouldn't be, for Pete's sake! My brain picks up on the nuanced differences. The similarities are obvious for obvious reasons, but the things that set us apart are what make us true works of art. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. The way people pronounce certain words, their eyes when they talk about different subjects, their posture, the rate, frequency, and intensity of their laugh, their million different smiles, frowns and blank stares. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I really like people. I really like honest people. I'm not saying that I like it when people spew about their own contrived self-importance because, to them, that's being honest. What I'm talking about is the honesty of their living. Their expressions are their own, not borrowed from someone else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because there are far too many scavengers out there. Maybe you think you're getting away with it. Maybe you think no one notices that you pick through the flesh and muscle of real people, tear out what you wish were yours and wear it like the Reavers in Firefly. Yo might be fooling a lot of people. But you are not fooling me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Going back up to what I said earlier. I notice everything. I don't always point it out (read:never) because I've known enough people like you to know that it would be a waste of time. You're going to get defensive and dramatic and then roll over and play victim until I "stop picking on you." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But... I. Notice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You're not fooling me. Which is why you're boring to me. Because you're a knock-off. Like gears grinding in protest, I hear the painful way the bits and pieces don't fit together. People have a flow, they have a unique energy about them. It can be confident, cunning, dangerous, insecure even. But it belongs to them. <i>You</i> feel like someone wearing eight different Halloween costumes on Easter and still begging for candy. You. Don't. Flow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I'm talking to someone who is honest about who they are, I feel it. It's warm, and soothing. It feels natural and mysterious and exciting. They pull me into their rare and beautiful undertow and I'm... enchanted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">About 10 years ago, Cap and I were dating. He was out of town with a couple of friends at the Voo Doo Musical Festival in New Orleans. I was on my own that weekend. Working, as usual. One of his roommates, we'll can call him John for lack of better name, stopped by my work and asked if I wanted to hangout that night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">John was weird. He freaked people out. He made inappropriate jokes and deliberately started fights with people becuase he thought it was funny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I probably didn't fit with the type of people he normally hung out with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So obviously I said yes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We sat in the living room of their house in candlelight and played chess for a few hours while drinking beer. The lights weren't on because they didn't like paying the light bill. So candles it was. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We talked about everything. The posters on the living room wall would probably make another girl uncomfortable. He pointed that out. I hadn't noticed. We then talked about each poster and what it represented and how it made us feel. It was strange. (If you would like to know what the posters were, private message me. this is a family blog)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was awesome. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was a connection that was new and interesting and amazing. John frightened me sometimes with his explosive anger. He had a tendency to overreact. He fell in love too fast and too hard. He was a hypocrite who was fine with that trait. He was also always, <i>always</i>, sweet to me. Careful, even. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">John was honest. Sometimes totally messed up, but honest. And he's still one of my favorite people to this day. Even if he has pissed off everyone else who loved him and burned those bridges.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe it's just the latent punk rocker in me. I applaud individuality. Be yourself, no one is going to do it better. Even if it's weird and people don't respond well. Chances are I'm gonna love the heck out of you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">However, if you're putting on pieces of people like it's your new cardigan, chances are you're going to piss me off. Chances are I'm going to avoid you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I especially notice if you've attempted to steal bits of myself. Because guess who knows herself pretty well? You can blame the Ni. So when you start putting on bits of me, I see that too. Big time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And trust me, you are not rocking it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09720745044284147366noreply@blogger.com0