I’ve never really been what you’d call a social butterfly. High school and college weren’t about making friends, though that was a bonus. Instead, I relished the opportunity to learn. I looked forward to, or dreaded, certain courses depending on the teaching style, level of personal interest and motivation. Growing up a relatively shy individual being part of a large group created apprehension within me. If I was out of my comfort zone then forget it! I wasn’t going to the party, dance or any other social event where I didn’t feel comfortable. Eventually, my viewpoint shifted when I came to the realization that how people perceived me took up too much of my valuable mind space.
Thank goodness for creative writing! This tool gave me confidence when I lacked meaning, direction when I lacked motivation and value when the world seemed too big. The words I took the time to select in my writing mattered to me. I took great care in what I put on paper because it was the most valuable outlet I had available to communicate what I’d left unspoken.
Three years ago I took a chance and joined a local writers group. Ever since, not only has my writing strengthened but so has my confidence. What I have to say matters; whether it matters solely to me or anyone else is irrelevant. I love what I do. I’m making an imprint in this world while continuing the tradition of communication.
When I attended the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference on June 3rd-5th of this year I was slightly hesitant at the knowledge that I did not know anyone else there. I kept to myself when I first arrived, put pencil to paper and started writing. That is until I sat down for the opening presentation, closed my notebook and made eye contact with those around me. I became aware of how many other writers there are in the Philadelphia area. And while that realization could’ve amplified my worry of getting published I found comfort in so many others who shared my affinity for the written word.
I met some wonderful individuals during this conference, attended fantastic workshops and was impressed by those who chose to facilitate/instruct the individual courses. This experience is one that will stay with me for many years to come. It reinvigorated my desire to pursue writing on a professional level and that helps make this butterfly soar.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Pet Peeves
I have a ton of pet peeves. Truly, I do! For example, clothes left in dressing rooms, carts abandoned in parking spaces and cars that are apparently made without turn signals. My initial reaction upon seeing any of the above is immediate disappointment, frustration and annoyance. “Why are people so lazy,” I say. Then I stop, take a deep breath and re-examine my thinking. Sure, we all have moments when we're having an awful day and just don't feel like taking the effort to wheel a shopping cart 5 spaces back to its covered home.
Who am I to judge the reasons behind someone else's choices? Perhaps that person woke up to bad news, recently suffered a great loss or is overwhelmed with stress. My frustration, as true as it may be at the time, doesn't do anyone any good. Most of all me! So, the next time I answer the phone and a customer's unhappy, displeased and aggravated tone of voice greets me it's up to me to decide how I react. Do I counter their malcontent with my own? Or do I take a moment and realize there could be more going on in that person's life then I know?
How often do we say “Don't take it personally” then turn around and do just that? That annoyed customer may deflect her issues onto me because I'm the one who answered the phone but if I allow her actions to define mine then I'm only perpetrating further malcontent. I can't control anyone's actions but my own.
Those of you reading this will hopefully consider who really feels the effects when you become enraged because someone cuts you off, drives too slow or stops at a yellow light. You may honk your horn at me, that's your choice. But it's also mine to shake my head and continue on my way without letting your actions define mine.
All the best,
Kelly
Who am I to judge the reasons behind someone else's choices? Perhaps that person woke up to bad news, recently suffered a great loss or is overwhelmed with stress. My frustration, as true as it may be at the time, doesn't do anyone any good. Most of all me! So, the next time I answer the phone and a customer's unhappy, displeased and aggravated tone of voice greets me it's up to me to decide how I react. Do I counter their malcontent with my own? Or do I take a moment and realize there could be more going on in that person's life then I know?
How often do we say “Don't take it personally” then turn around and do just that? That annoyed customer may deflect her issues onto me because I'm the one who answered the phone but if I allow her actions to define mine then I'm only perpetrating further malcontent. I can't control anyone's actions but my own.
Those of you reading this will hopefully consider who really feels the effects when you become enraged because someone cuts you off, drives too slow or stops at a yellow light. You may honk your horn at me, that's your choice. But it's also mine to shake my head and continue on my way without letting your actions define mine.
All the best,
Kelly
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Lightening my life
I've been thinking a lot about happiness. About what that truly means. How do I define joy and happiness in my life? There's this nagging disagreement within me that takes exception to the idea that one must endure grief, overcome difficulties and suffer pain in order to truly value life in all its glory.
And life is glorious indeed. At least, it should be. In my humble opinion. Why is it necessary to be miserable, grumpy and depressed in order to come out the other side a much thankful and joyous individual?
Have the difficulties I struggled with over the course of my life so far made me capable of reflecting upon these very issues? Or have I always had the capacity to do so? There's no way of knowing; of going back in time and predicting what my life would come to be. But I do know each choice in my life was a contributing factor to my own happiness level. I spent many years absorbed in misery, depression and malcontent. I desired so much for my life but didn't see a way to grab hold of it. To pursue my dreams of a fulfilling career, marriage based in respect and love, and a strong foundation of friends.
I kept wishing, wishing, wishing for more. For life to bestow something upon me. Instead of changing my mindset to recognize all that I already had. I chose the unhappiness because it was easier in many ways. Succumbing to the deep black hole of sadness that lived within my stomach was something I became accustomed to. I understood it. I embraced it. I kept it safe. I wrapped myself up in a cocoon, put on my headphones and sought help from a higher source. All the time whining about why my life was so hard. Why couldn't I get passed the misery, disappointment and cyclical ups and downs of life in order to be truly at peace and happy?
It took an unlikely situation of irrational fear for me to realize that I had a choice. A few years ago, after spending a year living on my own in a converted apartment I became afraid of turning on a light. No really. I did! After a minor electrical issue I was more comfortable keeping the lights turned off in my apartment. I was terrified of turning on the switch in the event that it would spark a fire. And so, I would stay out until it was time to go to bed, keep the lights off and curl up in my warm, comfy bed.
Needless to say, my unexplainable, frustrating, worrisome fear of electricity led to a family intervention of sorts. An in-depth discussion with my father, a reinforcing girl chat with my mother and sister, and a need to write out my frustrations were the catalysts to my realization that I was afraid of sparking the light in my own life. Afraid of actually achieving my dreams.
I could decide to live in regret, resentment and disappointment or treasure each moment. As I lay in my parent's bed staring at the ceiling my mother came in and simply said, "I'm really getting worried about you. This isn't right. You're lying here alone instead of sitting with your 3 year-old nephew and playing "Lite-Brights". Parden the pun, but a light bulb went off at that moment. I realized that my precious toddler age godson was living a life full of laughter, happiness and unconditional love while I sank deeper into my own self-inflicted depression.
Each day since I've made it a constant goal to be more aware of my life and how I perceive it. The world around me is a little brighter all because I make the choice to turn on the light!
All the best,
Kelly
And life is glorious indeed. At least, it should be. In my humble opinion. Why is it necessary to be miserable, grumpy and depressed in order to come out the other side a much thankful and joyous individual?
Have the difficulties I struggled with over the course of my life so far made me capable of reflecting upon these very issues? Or have I always had the capacity to do so? There's no way of knowing; of going back in time and predicting what my life would come to be. But I do know each choice in my life was a contributing factor to my own happiness level. I spent many years absorbed in misery, depression and malcontent. I desired so much for my life but didn't see a way to grab hold of it. To pursue my dreams of a fulfilling career, marriage based in respect and love, and a strong foundation of friends.
I kept wishing, wishing, wishing for more. For life to bestow something upon me. Instead of changing my mindset to recognize all that I already had. I chose the unhappiness because it was easier in many ways. Succumbing to the deep black hole of sadness that lived within my stomach was something I became accustomed to. I understood it. I embraced it. I kept it safe. I wrapped myself up in a cocoon, put on my headphones and sought help from a higher source. All the time whining about why my life was so hard. Why couldn't I get passed the misery, disappointment and cyclical ups and downs of life in order to be truly at peace and happy?
It took an unlikely situation of irrational fear for me to realize that I had a choice. A few years ago, after spending a year living on my own in a converted apartment I became afraid of turning on a light. No really. I did! After a minor electrical issue I was more comfortable keeping the lights turned off in my apartment. I was terrified of turning on the switch in the event that it would spark a fire. And so, I would stay out until it was time to go to bed, keep the lights off and curl up in my warm, comfy bed.
Needless to say, my unexplainable, frustrating, worrisome fear of electricity led to a family intervention of sorts. An in-depth discussion with my father, a reinforcing girl chat with my mother and sister, and a need to write out my frustrations were the catalysts to my realization that I was afraid of sparking the light in my own life. Afraid of actually achieving my dreams.
I could decide to live in regret, resentment and disappointment or treasure each moment. As I lay in my parent's bed staring at the ceiling my mother came in and simply said, "I'm really getting worried about you. This isn't right. You're lying here alone instead of sitting with your 3 year-old nephew and playing "Lite-Brights". Parden the pun, but a light bulb went off at that moment. I realized that my precious toddler age godson was living a life full of laughter, happiness and unconditional love while I sank deeper into my own self-inflicted depression.
Each day since I've made it a constant goal to be more aware of my life and how I perceive it. The world around me is a little brighter all because I make the choice to turn on the light!
All the best,
Kelly
Saturday, February 5, 2011
A public service announcement
I am a product of the public school system; and very proud of that fact! I never had to wear a uniform, learn any specific theology, or endure unreasonable expectations. That's not to say that I loved every single part of the public school experience. I did not. My biggest complaint was the restrictions placed upon the students by the administration. It felt more of an obligation to go to school than a personal enhancement regimen.
I hated getting into trouble; which is odd because I so rarely did. I suppose it was more disappointment that bothered me more than anything else. I had the disorder known as "people pleasing" from a very early age. Once I arrived at Junior High School the disorder became more intense; yet at the same time it battled against my ever growing independence. It was about that time in my life when I realized that my opinions were valid, even though they were not always asked for. You become a teenage and all of a sudden the level of respect you receive severly diminishes. Why? I don't know. What I do know is that it bothered me beyond reason.
Once I got to high school the irrational rules and expectations placed upon the students by those in a decision making position was at a frustrating level. I distinctly remember receiving the Student Handbook one year, which was almost as thick as a Shakespeare anthology, and being told that you couldn't graduate unless you turned in the signed page showing you read the Handbook. Really? That determined my ability to graduate? That meant that I had achieved what was needed from an education standpoint? It was absolutely ridiculous to me, but I signed the silly thing; without reading it.
I have a great respect and admiration for those who choose education as their chosen profession. I have from a very early age. At this point in my life I am surrounded by teachers in my private life. Numerous family members and dear friends are among those who work so tirelessly to impart wisdom, education and opportunity to the future generations. I loved my teachers, from a child's perspective. I didn't always like the teaching style of all of my professors but I respected their position. Their hard work and dedication to their craft impressed me and demanded my affection. Just as in any other line of work, there are always those who lose track of why they ended up in the career they're in now. You can easily become disillusioned, feel unimportant and disrespected despite the passion you have for the job you do. Teachers are not alone in that plight.
It wasn't until I CHOSE to continue my education on a university level that I realized why I disliked my high school experience so much. And it had nothing to do with my teachers; it was the self-serving, afraid of lawsuits, taxpayer pleasing administrators who treated the students as inferior that riled me up so much. In college, I didn't have to raise my hand or ask for a hall pass in order to use the rest room. I simply would get up quietly, leave the room and return just as unobtrusively as I left. Yes, it's possible! I also was responsible for my attendence, and subsequently what I put into my education I received two-fold. I so wish, looking back, that I had been treated with the same level of trust and respect in high school that I received in my college years.
What do I value most about my public school education? The diversity; among the students, the teachers and the subjects. I went to school to strengthen my education, not to socialize. That was a bonus! It was up to me whether I succeeded or not. And my definition of success may have differed from others. I failed in high school because I didn't have the confidence to speak up and voice my opinion when I felt it could improve the situation. I succeeded in college because I understood that it was up to me to detemine my own path in life.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Workshopping
Hello to all my followers (aka me, myself and I)!
It's been quite some time since I last posted to my blog. That's not to say I have not been writing though. I have been. And quite fervently for that matter. I've been working on my novel, forming a non profit corporation and organizing/faciliating writing workshops.
Not to mention that I started a part-time job last month. Unfortunately, due to the nature of our economy and health insurance necessity I am still in search of a full-time position. Oh, to make my living doing what I love! Why can't I? I doubted for many years the realistic opportunity of following my instincts when it came to a career. I didn't believe I could make a living out of writing, singing or any other entertainment focused interest.
It's just been within the last year that I came to the realization that the only thing holding me back was me! If I continued believing I couldn't make a career out of my passionate, creative interests then I only had myself to blame. I had to take a step back, re-examine my point of view and embrace the soulfulness within.
Art has always and will always be the connecting link between my physical existence and my spiritual growth. Music, writing, film, television and musical theatre have been my salvation; my source of strength and indentity for so many years. But I never understood the reason I relied upon these entertainment outlets instead of the "real life" avenues which were more acceptable.
Art therapy and music therapy are well represented in this society for their beneficial assistance to others. Yet, my belief that art is not only beneficial but necessary for spiritual growth has not been examined; so far as I can tell anyway.
And so...I keep shopping around for the career best suited to that which I am looking to achieve. A life full of laughter, joy, purpose and creative expression. To feel fulfilled even during difficult times. To be surrounded by people who offer support, strength, love and laughter. To be respected for my insights, opinions and motivation while still yearning to learn all that I can.
Best wishes!
It's been quite some time since I last posted to my blog. That's not to say I have not been writing though. I have been. And quite fervently for that matter. I've been working on my novel, forming a non profit corporation and organizing/faciliating writing workshops.
Not to mention that I started a part-time job last month. Unfortunately, due to the nature of our economy and health insurance necessity I am still in search of a full-time position. Oh, to make my living doing what I love! Why can't I? I doubted for many years the realistic opportunity of following my instincts when it came to a career. I didn't believe I could make a living out of writing, singing or any other entertainment focused interest.
It's just been within the last year that I came to the realization that the only thing holding me back was me! If I continued believing I couldn't make a career out of my passionate, creative interests then I only had myself to blame. I had to take a step back, re-examine my point of view and embrace the soulfulness within.
Art has always and will always be the connecting link between my physical existence and my spiritual growth. Music, writing, film, television and musical theatre have been my salvation; my source of strength and indentity for so many years. But I never understood the reason I relied upon these entertainment outlets instead of the "real life" avenues which were more acceptable.
Art therapy and music therapy are well represented in this society for their beneficial assistance to others. Yet, my belief that art is not only beneficial but necessary for spiritual growth has not been examined; so far as I can tell anyway.
And so...I keep shopping around for the career best suited to that which I am looking to achieve. A life full of laughter, joy, purpose and creative expression. To feel fulfilled even during difficult times. To be surrounded by people who offer support, strength, love and laughter. To be respected for my insights, opinions and motivation while still yearning to learn all that I can.
Best wishes!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Disappointed in Bucks County
Sitting here at the Borders cafe in my local town I should be working on the second draft of my novel. I had intended to do so when I opened my laptop to write. But something within me kept pulling me to focus my attention elsewhere. So after I complete this post I'll venture on to exploring the world of fiction. Right now, I need a non-fiction break.
I've been wholly consumed with disappointment lately. On so many fronts. Disappointment in not only my fellow citizens but in those of governmental power. Not everyone, mind you, frustrates me lately. But a good amount do. It is those who choose to speak with disdain, hatred, and judgment that have infiltrated my goal of positive thinking.
This past year has encompassed many difficult challenges within my community. Political upsets, taxpayer disgust and economic strain have unleashed a fury of negative actions from those overwhelmed with a desire to vent. Understandably, we are all doing our best to deal with the circumstances we face every day. Some choose to act with care, kindness, decency and thoughfulness. Others allow their bitterness, anger, fear and need for self-preservation to reverberate their every action and words.
As a result, I have been bombarded with all the negativity swirling around my fellow Bucks Countians. I allowed their unhappiness to infiltrate my life. I didn't know how to vocalize my disagreement or frustration as to how they were handling the challenges we faced. I couldn't understand why so many people were blatantly callous, cruel and selfish toward others who were doing the best they could given the circumstances.
I've come to realize that my journey does not, and should not, be dependent on the actions of others. If they choose to live a life full of hate, misunderstanding and misery than it is up to them to rectify the way they live. I still shake my head when I hear someone complain with hatred in their tone, or want to tear up the paper when I read an editorial diatribe. "To each their own" I like to say. I may not always agree with someone else's opinion but I respect that we're all learning. How someone deals with the challenges they face differs with how I'd handle the same situation. Doesn't make me right and them wrong; or vice versa. It just makes us individually experiencing the ups and downs on this ride we call life.
All the best,
Kelly
I've been wholly consumed with disappointment lately. On so many fronts. Disappointment in not only my fellow citizens but in those of governmental power. Not everyone, mind you, frustrates me lately. But a good amount do. It is those who choose to speak with disdain, hatred, and judgment that have infiltrated my goal of positive thinking.
This past year has encompassed many difficult challenges within my community. Political upsets, taxpayer disgust and economic strain have unleashed a fury of negative actions from those overwhelmed with a desire to vent. Understandably, we are all doing our best to deal with the circumstances we face every day. Some choose to act with care, kindness, decency and thoughfulness. Others allow their bitterness, anger, fear and need for self-preservation to reverberate their every action and words.
As a result, I have been bombarded with all the negativity swirling around my fellow Bucks Countians. I allowed their unhappiness to infiltrate my life. I didn't know how to vocalize my disagreement or frustration as to how they were handling the challenges we faced. I couldn't understand why so many people were blatantly callous, cruel and selfish toward others who were doing the best they could given the circumstances.
I've come to realize that my journey does not, and should not, be dependent on the actions of others. If they choose to live a life full of hate, misunderstanding and misery than it is up to them to rectify the way they live. I still shake my head when I hear someone complain with hatred in their tone, or want to tear up the paper when I read an editorial diatribe. "To each their own" I like to say. I may not always agree with someone else's opinion but I respect that we're all learning. How someone deals with the challenges they face differs with how I'd handle the same situation. Doesn't make me right and them wrong; or vice versa. It just makes us individually experiencing the ups and downs on this ride we call life.
All the best,
Kelly
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Drafting
The first draft is done!!!!!! And was completed by July 4th. Now, I've given myself 3 months to review, revise and revisit (?) draft#2.
Accomplishing that goal felt absolutely magnificent and for about a week I didn't pick it back up again. When I finally did, I found a chapter that needing tweaking and went to work. An idea came rather quickly that helped clarify a primary conflict in the story.
I truly love the revision process! I don't mind criticiques or constructive criticism one bit. I'd much rather have someone tell me what needs fixing or clarification now then have readers confused and frustrated later on.
So, here I go along the next path in my novel writing venture.
Best wishes,
Kelly
Accomplishing that goal felt absolutely magnificent and for about a week I didn't pick it back up again. When I finally did, I found a chapter that needing tweaking and went to work. An idea came rather quickly that helped clarify a primary conflict in the story.
I truly love the revision process! I don't mind criticiques or constructive criticism one bit. I'd much rather have someone tell me what needs fixing or clarification now then have readers confused and frustrated later on.
So, here I go along the next path in my novel writing venture.
Best wishes,
Kelly
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