Friday, January 29, 2010

Slow Down, but Keep on Moving


Slow and steady
Image by tomas brechler via Flickr


I've been a stay at home Mom for three years now, but when I worked in financial services, multitasking with a sense of urgency was the golden standard. There weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish what needed to be done, and an ever-present school of wishes nibbled at the rim of my consciousness—things I wished to accomplish to increase my efficiency and put my team in a position to spend their time doing what they did best, selling, instead of floundering in minutiae that could have and should have been delegated to me or another associate, if only we had the time.

Today, while working on a weekly schedule and wondering if it's possible to purchase sanity by the ounce, it hit me. I'd never come down to Earth. I'd packed that very same golden standard on my back, from Wall Street all the way into Motherhood.

"Great!" you might be thinking. If ever a job requires multitasking skills and a sense of urgency, it's Motherhood. It's one half of the most demanding job in the world, if one is lucky enough to go into it as a Partnership rather than Sole Proprietorship; there are no higher stakes, no more important a charge, no "clients" more precious and deserving.

However, while one most certainly should expect to experience concurrences of will and nature where the golden standard is warranted, it should be held in a holster on the hip an arm's reach away unless, of course, one is a workaholic. In that case it should be kept in a locked vault in the basement, under a copy of The Tao of Pooh.

There in that hallway it hit me like a ton of bricks—slow down, but keep on moving. Pace yourself. I thought, this isn't the old pre-parent days when you could slam out a day's work, then go and pass out on the couch for the rest of the day and evening if you needed to recover. You're a parent now. Your job is 24/7.

When you are at home and not in an office, and you can make your own rules, concentrate on one thing at a time, most of the time. Sleep, take a breather, do what you have to do to relax and keep your sanity, but keep moving. Picture cross-country running rather than an elbow-knocking sprint. Think about doing one thing per hour for three hours instead of doing three things at once for two hours. You should be tuning out far less often to recover from the brain drain and mock ADD created by multitasking, and this should make up some time.

If you are a stay at home Mom like me, realize you don't need to justify your existence with a constant stream of busywork. Focus on what truly matters to you. What matters to me the most right now is the well-being of my children, my family as a whole, and nurturing my passion and my creative outlet: writing. The way I spend my time should reflect and support that.

Unfortunately, at the moment, it doesn't. Instead of burying myself with my habit of perpetuating and possibly even creating needless busywork just to feel intellectually and existentially solvent, I should use the situation to and for my advantage, and for the well-being of those for whom I temporarily resonate with God-like power and light.

Somehow I can't get it through this thick skull of mine that it's okay to take the day and do nothing with it but spend time with my children. That feels like cheating. Before becoming a wife and mother late in life, I had always worked and was confident in my ability to support myself. Now I am dependent upon my husband not only for his income, but for his support as a husband and father. This terrifies me. And so, I manufacture work for myself via blogging and social networking and tell myself it will lead to something someday, that I too am contributing to the family.

Until I can hold up a paycheck to my husband procured via my blogging or writing, I will always feel guilty that I get to stay home with our children while he has to spend the day at outside work. This is not his fault; I do it to myself. I've been told countless times that what I do matters, that there's no more important job in the world than to see to one's family. But in a society that turns down the volume on working women who are lucky enough to choose to be stay at home Moms, I found that I want to be heard.

And so I am in constant motion, trying to make something of myself while I spend my days in the comfort of our home. I'm looking at the wrong way, I know that. Every Mother of older children tries to impress on me the inestimable value of these years, when our children need so much from us, and are willing to hug us in public. I need to stop the madness. By slowing down I just might be able to coax time into matching my pace.

Like me, your child will peer in your eyes for signs of attention, to make sure you are dialed in. You know it's impossible to fool her, yet you persist. If you're thinking about a client, or the bills, or how to prioritize to make more time to spend with her, she will know. And it will make her sad. And eventually, if you do it enough, she just might tune you out, or stop believing you when you say, "Just five minutes. I only need to... and then I'll... I promise."

Slow down. But keep on moving. Schedule your time if you have to, at least until you can be trusted to your own devices. Write a list of everything you need to accomplish, followed by things you desperately want to accomplish to meet your personal, family, creative, or professional goals. Fit it in; make it work. This is not a new concept: if something is sucking your time and not fostering your spirit, your family, or your goals, put it in the "when I have extra time" pile. And do make that pile. It's the only way you'll allow yourself to put it aside. And over time if it turns out that you don't have extra time, let it go.

Check things off. With two small children at home, I have to snatch time for my personal and creative goals when I can. Therefore, it makes sense for me to schedule small blocks of daily time, with no set hours, to accomplish my writing and networking goals. Half hour of commenting on blogs, check. Half hour of social networking, check. Half an hour of writing, check. Perhaps I will create recurring tasks on Outlook and check them off after they are accomplished.

If you don't set time limits for yourself and your children are good nappers, most likely each of those half hours will turn into many hours, and you'll still end up feeling as though you accomplished nothing. By physically checking off items on our daily schedules, we build our self-confidence and self-trust. We take back control over our lives.

I'm  hoping that I will be able to render my childrens' time with me more fulfilling, tackle my personal obligations, and still honor my writing goals to my satisfaction. By slowing down and focusing my full attention on my babies or the task at hand to the highest degree possible, I'm hoping I will feel less divided and frazzled, that much closer to my children and to whom I want to become.

Around the New House by Joe Joe

I'm feeling more comfortable in our new Texas home. One thing that makes me happy is taking pictures.

[caption id="attachment_2673" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="This is what I see when Mom is working and I crawl under her desk to bite her toe."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2674" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lily's sippy cup is empty. Mooommy!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2675" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Mommy doesn't know this but she puts her hand on her face when she is thinking."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2676" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="I dragged the rocking chair into the family room from Mommy & Daddy's room. I was bored."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2677" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="I like my dune buggy."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2678" align="alignnone" width="225" caption="My feet are getting bigger."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2680" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Daddy thought he would be a big ball of blur in this photo. Hee hee."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2681" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Mom told me to stay away from this, so naturally I am taking a close-up photo."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2682" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Mom put this in the family room, then freaked out one day and put it in the back yard."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2683" align="alignnone" width="225" caption="Mom said she used to think I had six toes. She's nuts."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2684" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="My sister Lily likes it when I flash the camera in her face."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2685" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="That's it for now. Bye bye."][/caption]

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

It's hard out here for a pimp

From Rockymountainhigh's Flicr Photo StreamIf you're a blogger and you want people to actually read your blog, and you probably do, or maybe you don't, or maybe you do and say you don't or vice-versa, blogging is not enough.

Our blog posts by themselves are but a sneeze on the upturned noggin of Cyberslovokia. If you want to turn the head of Master Internet, Mistress Interweb or Uncle Intergoogle, you also need to develop the skills of a public relations professional slash search engine optimization engineer. (Isn't that how it's listed on Monster daht cawm?) The whole kit and caboodle.

Unfortunately, I don't have a good head for business. In my perfect world, left to my own devices I would fully submerge myself in the universal spring of creativity. I'd cover myself with mayonnaise and glitter, put on a beret, take a big swig of pumpkin butter and think my most private thoughts at you with my mind.

Sound terrifying? That's because it is. This is why things are set up the way they are. To keep us from turning into characters from Easy Rider. And, via the accountability borne of sharing freely what once belonged to us alone, to occasionally save us from ourselves. Plus, it ain't easy gettin' glitter out of your belly button.

Just to keep things decent, and bloggers civilized, we must also promote ourselves. That's why we're in your faces, irritating you like gnats up the nostril, networking and neck-licking like debutantes in a Miss Fancy Nosegay contest.

These days I blog to hone my craft and connect with people who entertain and inspire, laugh with me, and help me make sense of the world. I am discovering amazing people with shared interests who can and do introduce me to resources that will help me to realize my potential as a writer. I don't know how to do this by myself, nor do I want to. So I blog, comment on other blogs, and poke around inside your head. It's you that I want. You are the reason I'm here.

It took me a while to realize that.

That said, oh the horror, I created a Facebook Fan Page today. OUCH! Every time I say it God drops a giant iron anvil on my head. (Hmm... I wonder if I can absorb iron via the wound and put my cast iron skillet to rest... but I digress...) Who the heck am I to be creating a FAN page? Fan pages are for Roddy McDowall, not for regular, everyday folks like yours truly. You have Anne to blame. 'Twas her post about de-cluttering your sidebar that inspired the idea.

Please know that, despite what Dave Doolin might say if he had a really bad headache and a twisted ankle, I really don't think too much of myself. (Dave, I couldn't resist teasing. You know I am fond of you. Not in a creepy or inappropriate way, though. Not in the way I am fond of Jannie Funster. Ooh, come to Feather Heather, Jannie, ooh, that's it... bring the poodle, oh yeeees... )

In any case, I'm hoping it's a smart move that will help me to discover who among my friends is interested in my writing, so I may leave the rest in peace before they hire a hit man, and to develop new contacts in the writing world from which I may learn.

Hopefully, eventually I will be able to help others as well. If I ever get good at this writing business you can rest assured I will be thrilled to help other hungry budding writers like myself. (I was going to say hungry young writers, but, lol, yeah I know.)

How about you? Do you have a Facebook Fan Page? If so, please leave a link in the comments section below so that I may become your Fan. I'm probably already your fan, so let's make it official.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Life returns to normal

[caption id="attachment_2542" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="Our classy mirrored bar room, baby."]Oh yeah, we've got our very own mirrored bar room ladiez n gentz, that's raht.[/caption]

Our new house came with a fairly extensive learning curve. It's an odd U shape and sports more windows and light switches than the viewing room at Good Morning America.

I'm not a fan of ridiculously bright rooms. I like a subtle, glowing atmosphere. Hence, nearly every time I walk by the living room I flick off the overhead lights. Only I'm not flicking off the overhead lights, I'm actually flicking the switch that my husband's computer and light are plugged into. It's not my fault they put the switches in the wrong place. I'll get used to it eventually. Ahh, the little things we do on a daily basis to compound our marital bliss.

Which makes me think of this morning. I cooked eggs for the kiddos in a little cast iron skillet that we found buried in the back yard of our old house in Placerville when I was a teenager, scrubbed to a black sheen by my determined Mother. She read somewhere that I can get iron in my kids' diets by cooking with a cast iron skillet. I don't know if it's true, but I figure it can't hurt. (Note to self: buy some SOS pads.)



After an unsuccessful battle with the stubborn egg funk coating the sides of the skillet aprés cook, I tucked my tail betwixt my legs and trudged over to the side of the fridge to add non-stick cooking spray to my running list. Shocked and pleased was I to discover that my husband had added something to the list for the very first time: AAA batteries! However, since he was in the area, he saw fit to install judgment on my denotation of intent to purchase self-tanner.



Listen up, Mr. Smug with the natural golden glow. I'm sick of being mistaken for the recent undead due to my ghastly white pallor. Not only that, I'm convinced that if I carefully apply self tanner to the ridges of the cellulite craters on my thighs I will render them invisible. Again, I have no proof to back this up but it's worth a try. You'll be thanking me later.

We all had fun last night after bath time. There is nary such a pleasing sight to thine eyes as my babies Joe and Lily scooting around in their jammies, freshly-scrubbed and sweet-smelling, high on new surroundings to claim and explore.



[caption id="attachment_2550" align="alignnone" width="225" caption="What's your order, Mom?"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2549" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Joe was moving so fast I had to snap this picture two seconds before he ran into the kitchen to get the shot."][/caption]

Here are some random pictures of the past couple of weeks for interested family and friends to peruse. Some were taken at home, others at Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas. Have a wonderful Sunday, everybody. :)



[caption id="attachment_2539" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lily and Brian camped out in our living room shortly before the move to Texas."][/caption]

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Considering a Weekly Link Love Feature


The Texas longhorn serves as the university ma...
Image via Wikipedia


Hello, y'all! It's me Heather from Teckshuhs!

I've been considering doing occasional link love type posts in the manner of Karen of Blazing Minds and her Weekly Round Ups, and DiTesco of iBlogZone and his Weekly Echoes. I look forward to learning what caught their attention that week. Sharing their discoveries also helps me to learn more about them and their interests, and makes me feel like I know them better. Love is shared, new contacts are forged, everybody is happy.

My only concern is that I may hurt some feelings by omission. To those of you who run and enjoy these types of posts, what are your thoughts on the implied politics? For the record, I am not offended when I don't see my name on link love lists at any website, and am always surprised and thankful when I do.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Let's get it back!


“There are no extra pieces in the universe. Ev...
Image by miss_blackbutterfly via Flickr


You know how it is.

You accidentally kick out a light bulb while dancing on the ceiling.

Your mini Dachshund rips out an oak tree in the back yard leaving a gaping, potentially dangerous hole.

You drive into a gated community and stop to read a sign on the gate, dumb to the fact that the gate is slowly closing on you, until you shock into life and peel out to the sound of said gate scraping along the side of your van, faintly reminiscent of the Loch Ness Monster being strangled by Mothra.

You fix none of this. You want to. The visual reminders niggle at you every. single. day. But who has the time? The money? The energy?

It's the same for me. I've been letting things slide lately. To be specific, I've been letting myself slide. I haven't been tending to my physical, mental or spiritual fitness. My body is in a state, and it's not one of the cool ones shaped like a boot. Oops, that's Italy.

My hair is in a tizzy, in the mornings slightly frizzy, and way too dark. I look like a vampire with carpet bags under her eyes. My body resembles a hairless older cat sitting atop a bag of battling birds. I'm lethargic. Can't concentrate to save my life. My nails, undone. Toes, unforgivably untended. Spirit, vacant and scooped out by the giant melon baller that is everyday life.

Mismanaged your money and can't pay the auto bill on time? Scoop, splat.

Wondering if you've made a horrible mistake by uprooting part of your family and moving half way across the country? Scoop, splat.

Best friend from back in the day scheduled for neurosurgery in early February with "a good chance of survival"? Scoop, splat. Can't breathe.

I've been spiraling away from the light. I know so many have it so much worse. This isn't about realizing how lucky I am. This is about faith. Faith in the rightness of The Universe. Faith in oneself.

Do I have the ability to put things back the way they ought to be? To scrape my hope and confidence off the sides of the microwave, where they exploded away from me sometime mid-December, and plop them back into the bowl of me?

Like you, I want things to be good. Heck, even great. So I will do it. I'm starting to learn that picking up the pieces of ourselves and having another go at it is a necessary part of life if we want to be whole.

Starting small, of course. I started taking prenatal vitamins again. I bought a horse hair brush to coax my hair into growing. I purchased some grapes, and an eggplant. Eventually I will eat them.

When the weather gets better I will rise with Dennis' alarm and take a bike ride, then come back and shower and put on a nice outfit and full hair and makeup, regardless of my plans for the day or lack of them.

Like a car revving behind the checkered flag, I will be ready.

I will get strong and stay strong because there are so many people I love, and so many I want to love, and there is so much to do.

Those of you who are my friends on Facebook who haven't blocked me out of self-preservation know that I used to post LIVE videos all the time. Now I'm going to inflict them upon you here. Because today is a good day for LIVE.

Operation Spirit
by LIVE


Heard a lot of talk about the ocean
Heard a lot of talk about the sea
Heard a lot of talk about a lot of things
Never meant that much to me
.
Heard a lot of talk about my spirit
Heard a lot of talk about my soul
But I decided that anxiety and pain
Were better friends
So I let it go
.
Did you let it go?
Let's get it back
Let's get it back together
.
Heard a lot of talk about this Jesus
A man of love, and a man of strength
But what a man was two thousand years ago
means nothing at all to me today
.
He could have been telling me about my
higher self
But he only lives inside my prayer
So what he was may have been beautiful
But the pain is right now
And right here
.
Let it go!
Let it go!
Let it go, my friend
And let's get it back
Let's get it back together

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Reality check, please!

Picture A Day June 3, 2009 - Angry Birds at Al...
Image by mlhradio via Flickr
If you're in the shower and a bird stares at you through your skylight does it mean you've "still got it"?

If you scoop up your toddlers and head over to Garland, TX (King of the Hill's Arlen, TX was based upon Garland) to visit Walmart are you officially a redneck?

Is it okay to drink Diet Coke while you're eating Honey Bunches of Oats if you can't find your coffee maker?

Is it acceptable to walk around the house in bare feet in Texas, and open the door to your new neighbor whose adorable daughter is selling Girl Scout cookies, or does this create a bad initial impression and compound your redneckery?

Why do we look fatter in the mirrors at a new house?

Is it the prenatal vitamins that make our hair so long and thick postpartum, or the pregnancy hormones, and if it's the former can similar results be achieved with a generic multivitamin?

Is it pointless to serve hummingbird food (to hummingbirds) during the winter?

Do toddlers prefer mittens to gloves?

What's the best way to lose the c-section belly flap?

Is it mean to let your dogs watch you prepare food through the kitchen sliding glass door, or does it make them feel like one of the pack?

Do carbonated drinks make you fat even if they don't contain caffeine?

Do squirrels like yogurt?

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Joe got his first real haircut!

Supercuts + Lollipop = Fun!
[gallery link="file" columns="4"]

A couple of days ago Dennis and I took Joe to SuperCuts for his first real haircut. His Grandma used to trim his hair, but a trim was way overdue and it was time for his first real cut. Joe did great! I was prepared for all manner of drama, but it never unfolded. Joe actually seemed to enjoy the process.

The woman who cut his hair was fantastic. She let him touch the buzzer before she used it, and made funny noises. She even put up with me helicoptering around them, clasping my hands together and squealing with delight.

I'm still emotional about the whole thing. I watched my baby transform into a little boy right before my eyes. Dang it, tearing up again here. Joe, I love you!

Friday, January 15, 2010

Texas, Heather. Heather, Texas.


Another Cold Winter Day
Image by velo_city via Flickr


I'm writing to get over the hump. I've never before written in this state, this town, or this room. I don't associate my present surroundings with writing. I don't associate my present surroundings with anything. It's all new and unfamiliar. Grey, cold, and confusing.

I lost it the other day. Freaked out and panicked. I thought we'd made a huge mistake in coming here to Texas. I've moved a lot, but always within the lap of Mother California. One town is as good as the next was my way of thinking. Wherever you go, there you are, and there's always something good about any place new, something to be discovered and learned from. Each move has marked a new era in my life. Some good, some not so good, but most downright enlightening.

The unknown has a way of making our demons scramble for a better foothold, and they temporarily reveal themselves in the process.

Here in Texas things look similar, but feel different. I have no ties that bind. I am floating. I can't feel a memory off to my left, across town, where I sought a book and chased Joe Joe around the corner of an aisle in Barnes & Noble, heady with the scent of wordlust, simmering ideas, and Starbucks coffee.

I associate my former home with writing. It was there that I sat awake reading the Twilight series, and wondering to myself if perhaps I might be capable of writing something like that someday. It was there that I woke up early, too early, and plunked myself down in my chair and stared at my computer and typed away my subconscious concerns.

Not here. Here it is cold and scary and foreign. People are really into chicken here. I mean really into it. And steak. I've seen lots of gray sky, and naked trees, gas stations with unfamiliar names, and chicken joints.

And so I will crawl out of my hole and begin the process of nesting. My top priorities for our new home are comfort and function. Home must feel good, and feel like us, and serve us well. I will place my scent on the trees in our yard, and on the brittle winter grass. If I am feeling brave I might even watch and see the frisky squirrels as my neighbors, and resist the urge to snap their picture because they will be here tomorrow, and so will I.

It is time to peer out through my fingers and eyes at all that surrounds me, to take in the stark beauty of winter in our new home, and appreciate it, and fully open myself to the joy and mystery of a new life and new adventures.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

I can't see

Re-post: Originally posted August 12, 2009.

CITY OF BLINDING LIGHTS...
Image by d ha rm e sh via Flickr



Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be
He says, Bill I believe this is killing me
As the smile ran away from his face
Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place
From: The Piano Man by Billy Joel

Billy Joel sees what I can't. I've lived forty years inside my head, a landscape with which I am all too familiar. It is possible to bring the world into focus, but it's the exception and not the rule. When I encounter another I routinely avert my eyes lest he should volley a pleasantry for which I have no reply. I don't look at people. I feel them. I get a beat on their intentions by osmosis. I don't see them.

I am a coward.

Since I can not remember and describe that which I can not see I will duct tape my eyelids to my brows. When I walk past people I will look them square in the eye and elevate the corner of my mouth just so. I will perform the quick chin jerk that is the universal signal of acknowledgment in the land of men. I will practice the eyebrow lift, nod and audible release of breath followed by sheepish grin commonly offered to women with small children.

Is this seeing? I have a feeling it isn't enough. How can I exercise my vision without inspiring shudders of discomfort in the subjects of my consideration? Only creepy people stare.

Perhaps it's better to start small. I shall position my children in various places about the house and observe them and jot down what comes to mind.

It hurts my head to think about this. I'm not sure I can do this. I tried once and my efforts resulted in a page of prose worthy of submission to The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Is doing something very badly better than doing it passably? Is there a flip side to that joker?

I'll do it. I'll write what I see with no thought to the nausea it inspires. Shortly thereafter I will summon my old friend edit . Edit's cup overfloweth with forgiveness and second chances. After all, I can't do it alone.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

We're in Texas! Finally!


Cowboy Hat
Image by mtsofan via Flickr


And wouldn't you know it, we're all sick. AGAIN. I very rarely get sick. I can go years without so much as a sniffle. I suppose the stress of this move killed all of our immune systems.

Let me tell you - snot s'not a picnic!

I'm still in the process of getting our place and my Mom's place moved in and set up, and will be on the net intermittently. I hope to be back in full swing in a week or so. I also hope I didn't misspell intermittently.

Have a lovely Sunday. I'm wishing you a fun and exciting week ahead!

Huggles and Puggles,

Heather

Friday, January 1, 2010

We may or may not be embracing our personal energy


Dill Weed
Image by Marcus76 via Flickr


Re-post: This was posted nearly a year ago to the day, December 30, 2008, at my former blog, How to be a Woman. (I updated the section of the post referring to said blog with the correct tense.) Happy New Year to all you fabulous people! This year is going to be so puddingliciously awesome that I can quite literally taste it. :D

*********************


I'm new to social networking and social media. New to blogging. All of it. From an outsider's perspective, it's one giant fascinating ball of wax. Like sitting at the foot of a table watching a cross-section of society play Monopoly and fight over who gets the thimble while others scramble for a seat. Here's what I've observed over the last couple of days, and my pointless ruminations and blather about it all, contained in the form of a series of run-on sentences and inappropriately placed commas, sure to set Holly Jahangiri's frontal vein a'bulging.

Sometimes people create lists that contain mentions of other people. Those mentioned on the lists are happy, but those not mentioned are hurt and often feel betrayed.

Why then do people devise such lists? And why do people continue to care about them? Why are people who create such lists often catapulted to the top of the social networking strata if they aren't already there?

For the same reason Rob and Amber were so successful on Survivor. They were leaders, and others thought them untouchable. Also, because in the world of social networking people rely on other people to spread the word about them, and to make introductions. To get a nod of approval from a big cheese in the world of social networking can send flocks of followers one's way. Why is this a good thing? Exposure. To promote your brand. And for some, to quote THE Neil...

"...I got an emptiness deep inside
And I've tried
But it won't let me go
And I'm not a man who likes to swear
But I never cared
For the sound of being alone'"

There is a lot of resistance out there to positivity. There are a lot of life coaches on Twitter and Facebook, a lot of people telling other people how to use Twitter and Facebook, how to present themselves, how to express themselves. How to "be".

There are people making a living this way. I don't mind them myself. For the most part, they are a harmless bunch. And is it really such a bad thing to be around people who encourage us to stop wallowing in our own muck and self-pity, embrace our energy and our personal power and just GO FOR IT?

I suppose it is if you're not the go for it type. Some would do well to drop their wall of jokes and listen to what they have to say. Being happy is okay. Happiness and positivity are not tantamount to idiocracy. But all people weren't meant to be energetic and perky. Just because one is low key and expresses him or herself with a quiet and sardonic wit or a dark seriousness does not mean they are not embracing their energy. Some dance to the beat of a different drummer. Any attempt to alter them is, in my opinion, a crime against nature.

There are posers among us. Or poseurs. Or possers. Depends on the observer calling out the poser. What is a poser you ask? I have no idea. If you know, please tell me. I am so out of the loop. But posers or poseurs or poosers are apparently supposed to be blackballed on one's Twitter, or Friend Feed, and we're not supposed to Digg posers. Don't even think about Friending them on Facebook. Why? Apparently posing is anti-social. Unless it's in a cute hat and on your avatar.

We may or we may not be dillweeds. If we tell other people what to do, it's likely that we are dillweeds. I'm starting to suspect that being a dillweed is not a good thing. I'm even starting to suspect that I might be a dillweed.  :o

Some people didn't get the tongue-in-cheekocity of the title of my old blog "How to be a Woman", and thought that I was positioning myself as an authority. A natural mistake to the casual observer. But to anyone who actually read my blog, this was laughable and couldn't have been farther from the truth. The whole point of this blog was that I haven't a clue how to be a real woman. I am an apprentice. I'm on the path, not the path. I admitted that I am a big jerk who is flailing around, trying to learn how to be happy, how to be strong and steady and do right by the family I love. I'm going to get there someday.

However,  I am perfectly alright with being a dillweed. Takes the pressure off. And I like pickles better than cukes anyway.

Twitter is addictive. There are so many fascinating people out there. I really, truly mean that. They're out there, and they are actually willing to communicate with you. There are talented artists, writers, singers, comedians, business moguls, you name it, there on your Twitter screen. Right there at your fingertips.

Where else are you going to be presented with the opportunity to communicate with such incredible people first-hand? At this point, I would argue nowhere. Not like this. Not this instantly gratifying. And if you're nice to them, they have to be nice to you. Heh. Because if the rest of their followers should witness them being a jerk to you without provocation, then they're likely to hear about it. You've got them over a barrel. Ain't it cool?

Note to self: Do not become obsessed with losing followers. Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter. (Thanks, Annette.) Just be yourself, have a blast, and let the chips fall where they may. Note to self: Spend less time on Twitter and more time with your kids and your projects. Note to self: A little Tweeting is perfectly okay.

Signing off,
Dillweed in California