Stuff I Found in the Dryer

I've been going through my blog drafts and have decided to share some previously unpublished material.  It's in no particular order and probably makes no sense, but here it is anyway.


Fury Neighbors:


I live in the country.  Not just rural, mind you.  Country.  We're talking cotton fields, hay bales, and roads that don't have proper names.  As a country-dweller, I've grown accustomed to seeing lots of critters running about the countryside.  Most folks out here just let their pets roam free.  And while it may not be the best thing to do, the animals appreciate the freedom and regularly pay visits to neighboring yards and porches.



Over the years, I've gotten to "know" a lot of the neighborhood pets.  Or at least, I've noted certain characteristics an quirks that they have and have given them fitting nicknames.  The first of these is The Happy Dog.  The Happy Dog is a big ol' German Shepherd-looking dog that lives down the road.  He usually stays in his yard and the surrounding fields, but he runs around that area with a carefree spirit that just makes me smile.  He loves to chase birds, and not birds on the ground.  Birds way up in the air.  He bounds through the field looking up at the birds flying above him as if he is just prepping to take off and fly.  His exuberance always lifts my spirits, and sometimes I just want to run around that field with him, looking up into the sky, carefree and happy.



Across the street from The Happy Dog lives The Ambush Dog.  His nickname is pretty self-explanatory.  Whenever he sees a car approaching, he runs and hides in the deep ditch beside his house.  When the car drives past he leaps from the ditch, barking and yapping, and chases the car down the road.  He's nearly met my tires a couple of times, but brushes with death never seem to deter him from his game of Sneak Attack.


Then a Cloud of Doubt:


I often wish that I didn't think quite so much. I tend to over-think. I ask myself, "Why is this so important? Who will benefit from it?" The answer? Maybe only I will ever benefit from this little "habit" of mine. Does that make it any less valuable? So I've spent a year writing something that a handful of people will read in an online forum, so what? It's important to me. It's like chocolate cookies. They have no nutritional value, but they make me happy. This makes me happy. The process makes me happy. Scribbling till the heel of my right hand is blue makes me happy. Even if no one but a couple of basement bound sci-fi geeks ever sees it, it makes me happy. And unlike the chocolate cookies, it won't make me fat.


Freaky Friends:

In my life, I have had a steady succession of crazy friends. I don't mean crazy in the good, make-me-laugh, so-much-fun way. I mean crazy as in the scary, should-be-locked-up way. I seem to attract these kinds of people. I am a weirdo magnet, a bizarro beacon, a loony lighthouse. Maybe it's because I'm too nice, but crazy folks seem drawn to me like moths to a porch light.

I honestly try to help them too. I take it upon myself to try to "fix" them. I have truly been able to help some. However, there have been a few that have been beyond help other than a touch from God Himself.
 

One of those is a crazy chick I'll call Sunny. Sunny has a great personality; smart, funny, warm. However, Sunny craves drama. There is always some major crisis going on in Sunny's life. If Sunny doesn't have real drama, Sunny makes up drama. During the course of our friendship, Sunny was constantly stalked, harassed, raped, attacked, etc. There was always someone after her. For the longest time, I believed her stories and thought she was just really unlucky. Finally though, I was forced to see the truth, and I was devastated. How could someone who was supposed to be my friend lie to me like that?

Since then, I've come to realize that Sunny honestly believes that all this stuff happens to her. In an attempt to protect her, I confronted her. She was on the verge of getting into serious trouble with the police for filing false reports, and I tried to warn her. She denied any wrong-doing and that was the end of our friendship.
 

I thought I was done with her, but she popped back up a few years later and tried to start some drama with me. I didn't take the bait, so she tried to get my husband fired from his job at the university. I confronted her again, and again she denied it even though I know for a fact that she was the culprit. She was unsuccessful anyway, so it doesn't really matter.


I should really clean out my lint trap more often.

Makin' Like Sherlock

Short version. Not dead.


I haven't posted in ages, but that doesn't mean I haven't been working.  For the past year or so, I have been busily scribbling off this and that, poetry, short stories (fan fiction), etc.  I've written more in the last 10 months than I have in the last 5 years combined, and I think I have at last found my voice.


With that discovery came an even more mind-blowing one.  I discovered that I can do this.  I can write.  I can not only write, I can share it with other people and chances are they will like it.  Wh-what?  That's crazy, right?


I have struggled for years to find my niche, my thing, my career.  I've been left feeling rather useless because I didn't feel I had any "marketable skills."  I'm not a salesperson, or a nurse, or a real estate agent.  I'm an Artist.  I'm a musician, actress, singer, crafter, writer.  I create and express.  That is my calling, my career.  Will it be very lucrative?  Probably not.  However, I've never been really concerned with making money.  Oh sure, money's great.  I guess.  I've never really had any, so I can take it or leave it. 


I'm ready to leave my doubts behind and fearlessly jump into this new pursuit.  It's a passion, a compulsion.  I'm giving in to it. 


I've sent off a few manuscripts, published some poetry and now I'm looking into freelancing.  It's totally new to me, but I'm excited to explore the possibilities.   I'll try to make somewhat regular updates on my progress, so stay tuned.