Friday morning, June 29th, I awoke to Sinner's virtual poke in my ribs:
"Woman!! Wake up! It's Pink Diamond Interview day! You don't plan on sleeping the whole day away, do you? Plus, you have to go to work today! C'mon!!!"
I was extremely tired. It had been an unusually stressful week. I tried, in earnest, to remain positive amid obstacles in the face of a life changing event. But I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and dragged myself to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. I wished I could have my caffeine intravenously.
When I finally sat at my computer to post Sinner's Pink Diamond Interview of Joseph V. Sultana (http://goo.gl/EhE93), I realized how much I loved writing as an Indie Author in particular and writing overall. I love all that this new career path encompasses. It's pretty awesome!
You see, I began working as a Candy Striper when I was 14 years old. Granted, until I was about 20 years old, all of my work experience consisted of part-time jobs in various fields. However, except for one year after my daughter was born, I have been lucky enough to work consistently, full time, as a secretary - for the better part of 35 years - in industries that run the gamut from advertising to hospitality and ending in the legal field. But I don't see those years as time spent building a "career."
I had kids and bills to pay, so I followed the money; or as today's youth would say: "I chased the cheddar." Quite frankly, I never really, truly enjoyed what I did. I mean, some of the people I've worked for have been really nice and my current boss stands above them all; but, some have not been so nice.
At this point in my life, I am just plain tired. I had been living my life by rote; just making sure to meet my responsibilities. I thought I would rest when I retired. Now, being so close to "retirement," I don't want to waste any time resting! I'll rest when I die!
Recently, I became a client of Ralph's Design and Deli. While discussing services with Andi Reis in an email exchange, I stated that I only really just wanted to write. I admitted that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about marketing and promoting and all that stuff! Yes, that is true, but as a "Type A" personality, I need to know what's going on. I need to be able to express what I want and get it done. And that is exactly what I get from Andi so that I CAN write. Absolutely LOVE that girl!!
So, what does writing mean to me?
First, I'll tell you what it is not. Writing is NOT work for me.
It is a way for me to escape from daily stressors. Writing calms my nerves; it quiets the voices in my head and though this may sound crazy, it regulates my ADD. When I'm thinking about a current WIP or potential projects, though the thoughts are darting about in my head like shooting stars, there is no turmoil.
I'm at peace. I don't think I've ever been happier in my life than I have been since I began writing.
~~ML
The Romance Reviews
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Happy Father's Day - 6/17/12
I woke up this morning to a text from my daughter wishing me a Happy Father's Day. I, in effect, left her father before she was born, though the legalities would suggest otherwise as my divorce was not official for some months afterward.
Looking back on her childhood, I can honestly say that I wish I had done a better job at raising her. I wish I had been able to provide for her the kind of home life that I was lucky to have. I'm not saying our lives were unstable during those years -- we had a roof over our heads, clothing on our backs and food in our tummy but I sincerely believe that she missed out and I take full responsibility for that.
Those years were hard, but we had a lot of laughs and we did a lot of crying. We also grew up together. Like every parent and child, we have faced some challenges and continue to do so, but I am very proud of the woman she has become. Plus, she gifted me with my little man!
I often mention my Dad. The pain of his loss still lingers. Someone once put it very simply to me. He said:
"This kind of pain is like arthritis. Sometimes you have good days; and sometimes you have bad days. You've just got to keep going. He wouldn't have it any other way."
He was right.
I think of my Dad every single day. It is now 2,467 days since he's been gone.
He was my daughter's de facto father. I know she too feels his loss. He used to spoil her. The memory that is most vivid in my mind right now is the one of the day he spent shopping with her. One Easter holiday, he took her shopping for an outfit.
He had previously volunteered to drive her around to do that. She must have been about 10 or 11 years old; maybe a little younger. She already had an image in her mind for the outfit she wanted to wear. But, she still had to stop at every single store along their route to see what the pickin's were; only to end up at the first store they had visited. After all of that, my Dad stood beside her as she paid for the first outfit she had laid eyes on in the first store they had stopped in.
My daughter and I often recall that story. We always crack up laughing and I always end up with tears in the corners of my eyes.
Yea. He was Superman alright! I would have been pissed off if she had done that to me and he just supported her in her quest for the perfect outfit. Not a single complaint came out of his mouth to her.
When he later recounted his shopping jaunt to me, his frustration escalated as he told the story. In the end, he just laughed it off, saying:
"Typical woman!"
Since my father's death, I've often thought about how he would feel about my newfound passion for writing. I can only hope he would be proud. While I sit here and type out this post, my heart beats a little faster. I struggle with the sting building up in my nose and the tears that burn in the corner of my eyes now threatening to break through the dam.
All I want is to smell his essence, I want to put on some bright red lipstick. I want to kiss his bald spot. I desperately want to hear his voice again, even if it's just to hear him tell me to "stop doing that shit!" ... those are the words he would use. And, I want to watch him as he shakes his head to and fro in either utter annoyance or total disbelief that I would be so silly.
Finally, I want to make him laugh out loud and I want to give him a bear hug.
Ay Papi! I miss you so much! I don't think I'll ever stop hurting.
.jpg)
To all my friends who are fathers, both men and women, Happy Father's Day!
Enjoy today as it is in your honor. But don't forget the indelible memories you have etched -- and will continue to etch -- in the hearts of those who call you "Father."
~~ML
Looking back on her childhood, I can honestly say that I wish I had done a better job at raising her. I wish I had been able to provide for her the kind of home life that I was lucky to have. I'm not saying our lives were unstable during those years -- we had a roof over our heads, clothing on our backs and food in our tummy but I sincerely believe that she missed out and I take full responsibility for that.
Those years were hard, but we had a lot of laughs and we did a lot of crying. We also grew up together. Like every parent and child, we have faced some challenges and continue to do so, but I am very proud of the woman she has become. Plus, she gifted me with my little man!
I often mention my Dad. The pain of his loss still lingers. Someone once put it very simply to me. He said:
"This kind of pain is like arthritis. Sometimes you have good days; and sometimes you have bad days. You've just got to keep going. He wouldn't have it any other way."
He was right.
I think of my Dad every single day. It is now 2,467 days since he's been gone.
He was my daughter's de facto father. I know she too feels his loss. He used to spoil her. The memory that is most vivid in my mind right now is the one of the day he spent shopping with her. One Easter holiday, he took her shopping for an outfit.
He had previously volunteered to drive her around to do that. She must have been about 10 or 11 years old; maybe a little younger. She already had an image in her mind for the outfit she wanted to wear. But, she still had to stop at every single store along their route to see what the pickin's were; only to end up at the first store they had visited. After all of that, my Dad stood beside her as she paid for the first outfit she had laid eyes on in the first store they had stopped in.
My daughter and I often recall that story. We always crack up laughing and I always end up with tears in the corners of my eyes.
Yea. He was Superman alright! I would have been pissed off if she had done that to me and he just supported her in her quest for the perfect outfit. Not a single complaint came out of his mouth to her.
When he later recounted his shopping jaunt to me, his frustration escalated as he told the story. In the end, he just laughed it off, saying:
"Typical woman!"
Since my father's death, I've often thought about how he would feel about my newfound passion for writing. I can only hope he would be proud. While I sit here and type out this post, my heart beats a little faster. I struggle with the sting building up in my nose and the tears that burn in the corner of my eyes now threatening to break through the dam.
All I want is to smell his essence, I want to put on some bright red lipstick. I want to kiss his bald spot. I desperately want to hear his voice again, even if it's just to hear him tell me to "stop doing that shit!" ... those are the words he would use. And, I want to watch him as he shakes his head to and fro in either utter annoyance or total disbelief that I would be so silly.
Finally, I want to make him laugh out loud and I want to give him a bear hug.
Ay Papi! I miss you so much! I don't think I'll ever stop hurting.
To all my friends who are fathers, both men and women, Happy Father's Day!
Enjoy today as it is in your honor. But don't forget the indelible memories you have etched -- and will continue to etch -- in the hearts of those who call you "Father."
~~ML
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)