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Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Chapter One (Take 2)

Here we are again. A blank page staring at me. Slowly showing intentions of becoming a story. Deleting a few times. Rewriting. Rewording. Reinventing.


There's something amazing about writing that has always intrigued me. The way you can sit down in front of that blank page and maybe not even know you have anything to say. Once you start piecing together the words, magically the story begins to spill out on the page, like it was locked in a rusty cage for years. No matter what the context of my story may be, I forgot just how much I needed this.


I abandoned my blog, and writing in general for quite some time. The problem with sharing your writing with others is the tendency to maybe censor yourself a bit. A little bit of censorship isn't necessarily a bad thing, because let's be honest, that's how the world works. (I know if I spoke every random thought in my brain, there's a good possibility I could be committed, or at the very least have to sit at the kid's table every Thanksgiving.) However, when you begin to write more for your audience and less for yourself, that exciting fire kind of dies down and something that was once beneficial can turn into something much more stressful if you allow it. 


The really important thing that maybe I forgot to remind myself is that all of our stories are a little messy from time to time. Sometimes our stories change. Sometimes our stories only make sense to us. And yes, sometimes our stories are sad ones. We're all just human.


Writing means a lot to me. I might not write every day, or even every month, but I'd like to start sharing my stories again. But, for me. If anyone reads and/or enjoys any of them, then that is just a sweet bonus. If anyone is so moved by my words that they want to buy me all the chocolate in the world? Literally a sweet bonus. Name a yacht after me? Nautical bonus. Okay...too far. 


Thanks for taking the time to read this short little, "Hey guys, I'm still here" post. I think I heard that rusty cage door squeak closed again. There's some pretty decent material still hanging around in there, but for now, just the really important words came out.





Saturday, July 27, 2013

I Think My Inner Barbie Grew Up

I started to write a relatively long Facebook post about my play date with Sassy Girl. Then I remembered that once upon a time I wrote a blog, and decided to blow some dust off of my Blogger page.

Totally not winning any awards for consistency any time soon.

Anyway, as I was saying, I had a date with my favorite girl to play Barbies today. We pulled out the classic Rubbermaid tub filled to the brim with half naked dolls, whatever tiny worthless accessories were spared from death by trash or heating vent, and tangled masses of whatever the heck their hair is made out of. 

Designer Kitchen Decor? 


Fast forward to play mode:

Sassy Girl - (In a ridiculously high pitched Valley Girl voice): Hi Sabrina! Let's go shopping. I need a new dress so I can get a boyfriend. 

Me- (In equally ridiculous high pitched voice) Oh you don't need a new dress. Whoever the lucky guy is should like you for YOU. Not because of some piece of fabric you put on your body. Besides, who needs a boyfriend? Look at me. I am smart, successful, and I certainly don't need a man to define who I am as a person. 

Sassy Girl - ...

Me- (Continuing high pitched feminist Barbie rant) I mean...look at everything I've accomplished. I went to college and now I enjoy success in my extremely profitable veterinarian clinic doing what I love. Do you think I needed a man to do this? Nope. It was all me. All in here. (Awkwardly moves stiff Barbie hand to sort of point at her heart.)

Sassy Girl - (Gets out of character by whispering) Mom...you're not doing it right. I want to find my Ken so we can play wedding.

Me - (Turns the volume down on Lilith Fair Barbie. Decides not to pull out Equal Rights Barbie.) Ok. Fine. Let's go to the mall. 

Doo dee doo dee doo dee do. Oh look, we're here. Man, that pink convertible can cruise. 

We "shop" for new outfits. I think the fact that I'm Mom really shines through in this comparison. Can you guess which one is MY successful, smart, classy Barbie? Dang you, Hannah Montana. 

Golly Gee! Where's my cardigan at now?


Cat Whistles


After the fun of outfitting the Barbies, I pull out a Barbie from the bottom of the tub. 

Me - Hey! This used to be my Barbie when I was little!

Sassy Girl - Oh she's really old. Hey, I know what we can do! She can go to the Sock Hop!!

Me - (Glares at innocent child.) Yeah. Great. The Sock Hop...