Letting go and being grateful

I know it's been a while. Last week I took the time to distance myself from writing. Lately I have been questioning what I am meant to do. I won't bore you with the story of my life, but I used to believe that I could achieve my dreams if I tried hard enough. Two years ago I decided to commit myself fully to my dreams. I grew tired of working job after job that stole my soul. I have many certifications and licenses but no 'real' degree. I hated school while growing up and I couldn't fathom the idea of another four years of the same thing. Especially repeating alot of the classes that I had taken for twelve years of my life. It seemed pointless, senseless and a huge waste of time and money to take math, english, science and any of the gen ed. classes. It also seemed pointless to go to classes that didn't pertain to the field. I still feel this way. I was a young single mother and didn't have all that extra time and money to obtain a degree.


Now that my children are pretty much self-sufficient and have their own lives I decided to take the time to chase my dream. I was done having a job just to pay the bills and survive. To me that is not living. It has been two years since I made that decision active. I was the frog that actually jumped off of the log. The first year was alot of research and learning. This last year has been spent putting myself out there, making myself available and writing everyday. I have struggled but taken all the action that I possibly can and it is proving to be unfruitful. I am out of time, money and self-esteem.

Last week I took a break from writing as I said earlier. I still read because I love reading but I took care of the spring cleaning and built some flower boxes and bought some new lovely tropical plants for the yard. Money I truly didn't have to spend mind you but it was worth it. I heaved piles of dirt and river rock all day Saturday and it was wonderful. I have been running everyday on the treadmill and reading while doing so. It's amazing how that passes the time. I have prayed and meditated endlessly all week hoping something would come to me, some answers about what I am supposed to be doing. I journal every morning and walk my dog everyday. I get my children where they need to go and encourage them to follow their dreams.


As I did the things I needed to do last week I thought that I might be inspired or something might come to me through the back door. It didn't. Before I decided to take this break I was seriously questioning what I am doing. I have come to the realization that I  have a great life. I have two beautiful healthy children, I am about to marry the best man I have ever known in my life and I have a beautiful home and a motorcycle I have always wanted. I don't have many close friends by choice because I attract people that aren't capable of being honest and loyal, two qualities that I have and am very adamant about. I am also a firm believer in practicing what I preach. I don't ever suggest to anyone anything I haven't done or am not doing myself. I don't share about anything I have no experience with. So as I was encouraging my kids to follow their dreams and telling them they can do anything or be anything they want, I had to put that into action in my own life.

This has proven to be fruitless thus far. I also believe that if I am on the path to what I was meant to do that things will fall into place and opportunities will start to come. This has not happened and I think that two years is a long time to put effort into something with no return. Yes, I love writing, but simply loving writing doesn't pay the bills. All the years that I worked a 'real' job I did attempt to write on the side but it didn't allow much time for all of the other joys in my life so I put the writing away until two years ago. Working a forty hour a week job and then writing during my free time wasn't an option for me. Some people would then say, "Then I guess writing isn't that important to you." Well, then I guess not.

I was a hopeless junkie ten years ago when I decided I wanted to change my life. I got clean and got to work on myself. As I have progressed and matured I started to believe that I deserved to achieve my dreams. I began to dream and have long term goals. I started to believe it was possible to change the course of my life. I am easy to encourage because I am quite gullible.  I am also very proactive in my life's mission to become more of what I am.

After the way I have lived my life in the past, I have more than I deserve right now. I guess it's somewhat arrogant to think that I could actually love what I do and make a decent living at it. If I got what I deserved, I'd probably be dead. So I am working on accepting what I have and just being grateful for that. Things have not fallen into place and no opportunities have arose, so I am afraid that I will have to go back to a 'real' job and let go of my dreams.


When my kids point out the eight gray hairs that I have acquired recently, I tell them that I love my gray hair. They look at me as if I am an alien from another planet. I leave it at that with them but I know the truth and the truth is that I never thought I would make it to an age where I could actually have gray hair. Well, I have made it and that will have to be enough. I have a nice life. So what if I have to work for someone else helping them to achieve their dreams and goals. At least I am giving something back. 

I love the connections I have found here via the internet and I love doing this blog thing. Unfortunately I have not found the direction that I need to keep me going and moving forward in this endeavor.


I still plan on maintaining my blog here, I love you guys too much to leave and we'll see what happens. Hopefully I don't lose too many of you.

Addiction to reading and writing

Here's the thing. I can't seem to stop compartmentalizing my life. I am calling this WIP fiction because it is based on my life and if my memory serves me correctly, it doesn't serve me correctly. Everything I am writing is based on my truth to the best of my ability and perception. Perception is a tricky thing as I'm sure you all know.

I have four separate documents going, they are all the different phases of  my life and then there's Shay.
My life really did go in phases as I look back. Each and every one of them was a life time. I have been to the dark side, the very dark side and I found my way out. And the funny thing about that is, I didn't even know it was bad until I started crawling out of the muck. I lose my breath sometimes when I think about it. For the grace of...

Anyway, I am at the B&N right now posting this. My intention was to pick up Bird by Bird and here I sit with four books in front of me. Now, I have four at home to read, one of which I am a beta for and it is top priority. I will not touch read any other book until TDYDK is finished. I promise.

I am usually pretty good about writing down the books I have found that I want and purchasing only one from the bookstore. I then go home and buy them from Amazon or B&N because I can read the purchased book while I am waiting for the others to ship. This time I can't. I have to have these books.  I own the Stephen King: On Writing Horror, but now I want On Writing.Why? Because I started to read the first few pages and realized how similar our lives were in some areas. And he's one of my favorites. The other one is also by Stephen King, Bag of Bones. I keep hearing about this book and how good it is. There it was sitting on the shelf waiting for me to pick it up and take it home. How could I resist?

I'm not buying the other one, so it's not even worth mentioning.

I have been able to write about 3,000 words so far this week. It wears on me to recollect a lot of my past so I have been fairly easy on myself this week. Even though I can't decide exactly how I am going to present this piece of mine I am writing.

That's it for now. I'll post more later. Maybe.

Love you guys.

~Live Happy

Shay here. I can't believe I finally got on here without her knowing. I see that Gina has quite the struggle listening to me when I'm trying to tell her my story. Hopefully she can get her own ideas out the way and eventually relax into mine.
I thought I would make an appearance here so I don't fade away. I thought Sunday would be a good day to do this since she is NEVER here on Sundays. Hmmph, must be her day off or something. Ah well, who cares, I just wanted to have my own voice since she's got her head momentarily up her ass.

I have found that I am at my most creative and inspired after I have been out in public interacting the human race. As irritated as i can get with that sometimes I find it is when I am most connected. I know that when I am irritated with mostly everyone on earth it is usually because I have something to work out with myself. This knowledge doesn't make me any more tolerant towards people it just allows me to take a closer look at me and work out whatever kinks decided to surface. My point is that when I can get out and talk with someone or help someone that I don't know, I am more inclined to create.

It is different than doing this with people I know. For one, it's comfortable and that in itself can stifle my creative process. And for two, if I don't know someone, I am free of judgment and expectation. I have no association with any guilt, joy or memories with this person so in a sense I am more free.

Doing something with no expectation and just for the sake of doing it does something to my spirit. It makes me want to keep doing it and suddenly a momentum is building.

Fuzzy Memories

For those of you that don't know, I am working on a novel that is loosely based on my personal experience.
As I was finishing up a chapter yesterday, I realized that my memory was a bit fuzzy on some things. Out of curiosity, I had called my mother to get some answers.

For whatever reason I have the ability to think about these times in a comical way. I look back and many things were so absolutely absurd that it's hard not laugh sometimes.

I couldn't quite remember how this particular incident ended. If I were to tell the story, I guess it sounds quite tragic, but it really isn't anything I wasn't used to. By the age of seven I had surrendered to what my life would be like. I knew it wasn't right but I was also aware that I was seven and I had no choice in the matter.

When I called, I warned my mother that the question was a bit odd and out of nowhere. I had explained to her what prompted the question and let her know it was coming from a place of humor. I wanted to brace her for the question. My mother can be a bit over reactive. Bless her heart.

"Do you remember when we lived with so-and-so? What had happened after you hit him over the head with a baseball bat?"

She was silent. I proceeded to tell her what I remembered. It turns out the reason she did it and why I thought she did it were close. Same subject, different findings.

She did throw in that she had complete control while swinging this bat at his head. ??? I just laughed.

It turns out that my mother was not arrested as I had thought and, he lived, which I knew but I just thought I'd let you guys know.  Eventually when I finish the book, you will all be able to read about this adventure and many more that Shay will be taking on vicariously through me.

So far between Monday and now, I have written 10,000 words, with a slight interruption for an emergency with my dog. She's ok now, just some minor surgery for an aging girl.

I was also offered an opportunity to be a beta reader for an upcoming author, Terry Towery. I am enthralled with The Devil You Don't Know, but unfortunately only get pockets of time to read it. It is a great read and I know you will all be looking for his name on bookshelves soon.

Ta~ta for now.

~Live Happy

My Blog Is Carbon Neutral

I am now the proud sponsor of a tree. YAY! It is scheduled to be planted on April 19th. Me and my new tree are going to work together on keeping my carbon footprint as small as possible. My computer puts off the carbon and my tree absorbs it.
Have a tree planted for free to neutralize the carbon from your blog or website.
Just send an e-mail to: CO2-neutral@kaufda.de with your blog link and they will plant a tree for you and list your blog as a participant.


You can read more about this at:
http://www.kaufda.de/umwelt/carbon-neutral/1-tree-1-blog-how-it-works/
Just write a short blog post about the program “My blog is carbon neutral” and include one of the buttons on your site (ideally in the sidebar). Send the link to your blog to CO2-neutral@kaufda.de and we plant a tree for you, neutralizing the carbon dioxide emissions of your blog. The trees will be planted in the spring of 2010 by the Arbor Day Foundation.

Of course I have multiple personalities ~ I'm a writer

Good afternoon my wonderful blogger friends. I just wanted to share my week with you and where I'm at with all of this.

While writing this novel, I have questioned what I am doing a few bazillion times, but I keep forging through. I have gotten so many wonderful suggestions and have tried them all, or, well, most of them. The best advice I have received so far, in hindsight, is just write the damn story. Just write. And every time I get that suggestion, it's exactly what I do. This is how I have gotten as far as I have.

I keep changing my mind about how I want my first novel to be so I have three different stories going all with the same theme. There is one in particular that I keep going back to. So, I decided to put everything I have written in order. I have found that what works for me is to write what comes to my mind that day. Forcing myself to write in order wasn't working, not at this point anyway. Maybe as I get more seasoned that tactic might bode well.

When I write, I write furiously and nothing else exists on this planet. After I finish emptying my brain onto the page, I think about the frame and then title the chapter so that I know what it's about. I had no idea what I was doing, and still don't, but as I have gone through, I can actually see order. It is making more and more sense as I move forward. Like I said before, some of the characters decided that what I was writing wasn't doing them justice, so they did their own thing and I'm grateful they did and that I allowed them to do so.

This process can make me feel as if I should be committed from time to time, but it's definitely worth it and as I go through it, I see more clearly than I did before.

Of course I have moments where I am completely mortified by the realization that after all of this, there is that HUGE possibility that no one will want to read this thing. It's those moments that I begin the endless spiral toward an emotional breakdown. It happened this week. And although it feels as if I got next to nothing done this week, in my defense, I was interrupted by my sadistic side.

For the week, I have an estimate of about 6,000 words into the novel. Not a lot I know, seeing as some days I can jam out 8,000, but it is what it is.

I worked on my box, chest, whatever you want to call it, either way it has "other" connotations, and I'm just not happy with it. The curtains still aren't finished and the ideas aren't coming to me. It's frustrating. So what I'm thinking, is I may put that one aside for a minute and start on another piece.

Part of the problem is that I work so much better under extreme pressure and this whole freedom thing is tripping me up a bit. I have tried to trick my little sadist by giving it a fake deadline, but she's too smart for that. So I will continue to just learn as I go and confront the evil little troglodytes as they pop up.

Well, as much as I would love to ramble on and on I have a smelly dog to bathe. Happy Saturday.

~Live Happy

Visions and Laughter

Have you guys ever been in the middle of a conversation with someone when out of nowhere you have a vision of just whipping an apple at their head? Or while they're talking to you and nibbling on something, just walking over with a dead pan expression and slapping their stupid little treat right out of their hand? Well, I do. This happens to me quite often.

When this happens, I can't help but to burst out laughing and then I'm sure you can picture the look on someone's face while in the midst of their story, I just begin to giggle uncontrollably. I actually have to make myself concentrate at times so that these images don't interrupt what I am doing in the moment. The best is when I'm alone and this happens. Then I laugh even harder when I hear my own laughter and realize I'm by myself laughing my ass off. (Please don't commit me).

Well, both of my children have the same idiosyncrasy. My daughter and I were sitting at McDonald's innocently eating our Big Mac's when a guy walked by our table and my daughter just broke out in hysterics, which made me do the same. When she could catch her breath enough she began to tell me that as the guy was walking by, she said, "Wouldn't it be funny if he just took our Big Mac's and threw them on the floor and kept walking?"  We laughed so hard tears came to our eyes. And my laugh is one that causes my body to jerk uncontrollably, rock back and forth and you can hear it from across the street. Periodically throughout the day this image will flash through our minds and we crack up again.

It could happen at any time, anywhere and out of nowhere, I just laugh. The people who know me, know what's going on and I'm sure it might be quite embarrassing at times for them but it's a curse I (we) have to live with. And they have learned not to ask, "What?" because it takes me a good hour to explain what I just saw due to a lack of oxygen and ongoing bouts of laughter.

I used to enjoy this affliction before I realized that most people don't find it as humorous as I do when I try and explain the picture. "Whipping an apple at someone's head? My gosh, they could be seriously hurt," someone might say to me. Then of course I feel like an evil soul that has come to roam the earth for an eternity of obscene visions and twisted laughter.

Sadly enough, it even happens to me at funerals which I won't go into here. I'm sure you can come up with your own scenarios, which would make you agree with most people in  my life saying that I have a sick sense of humor.

But now, I guess it's not a curse after all, someone has sent me a girl and a boy who can enjoy these little glimpses of hilarity with me. YAY!

~Live Happy

Oh, and so far this week I have cranked out an estimate of 8,000 words. I'm finding that I am going back trying to remember who had green eyes and who had blue or if they are returning the keys or the gun. And every now and then Shay and Jake will carry on their own little conversation that doesn't quite go along with the plan I had for them but I'm going with it.

For now, I'll just write and edit later.

As far as my painting goes, I spent all week trying to find the right red. I also bought myself some pastels. WooHoo! Oh how I love pastels. I tend to draw on my walls every now and then so I figure the non-oil-based pastels would be best for washing off if necessary. Dave thinks the stick figure with big hair walking across our living room wall on a tight rope is kind of dumb, but I like it.

Share

As you guys may know already, the sum of all my parts make me up as a whole. On some days, some parts  function more emphatically than others. Today, thankfully, it seems to be the part of me that really wants the world to work together so that everyone wins. It is possible you know?
What I have realized through this writing journey, is that we need a hook. A hook. Everyone needs to be hooked. Humans are programmed to need a hook. What is the first question when starting anything? How can I hook people? It's how we get people to buy stuff. And then ultimately form some sort of addiction because when when we're initially hooked, it feels good. And then, we continue to look for that initial feeling so we become obsessed. And then comes greed.

What is wrong with providing a service without a hook. What would happen if we just did what our hearts told us to do and gave what we had to offer without coming up with a plan to "hook" people. What if we allowed the people that are supposed to receive what we have to offer just to show up without "hooking" anyone? There have been many times that I have read a book without a hook, simply because I could identify or or because I thought the content was interesting in some way.

What if I titled a book simply because it fit or because I liked the title. Because it represents what I think the book should mean or means to me? Not because I want to "hook" people but because I wnt to share with people?

WIP

So far this morning I have pounded out another 3,000 words to what may be an entirely useless chapter in my novel. I started out by writing a formal bio for Shay's boyfriend Jake so I could post it here for you guys, but then I sidetracked myself by being inspired to write in the actual novel. It can be quite draining because I mix in my own personal experience with Shay and then I start to think, Am I going to offend someone by writing this? What if they know that I'm referring to them in my novel?  Then I have to steer myself in the direction of simply not caring at this point. I'll worry about all that when it's finished. I'll revise as necessary. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing, well, maybe plunging my toilet but this is truly what I want, no matter how daunting it may be at times. It's stuff like this that makes me think I'd be more fit to work at Starbucks or something. But then I come back into reality and realize I don't like people all that much and I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut. I was born with no filter and it seems that science has not quite gotten around to learning how to install them. You would think they'd get on that shit seeing as how it's such a common defect with people. So for the time being I know this is what I am meant to do.

On another note, I have been vigilant about writing and envisioning what my success will look like and for the most part it's been great. But there are some days when, and I know this sounds silly, it's just too much effort to pull myself from the dreggs of the quicksand that is my mind. Sometimes I just want to sit in my shit. I allow this for about fifteen minutes and then I force myself to write about my dream life. It eventually turns out well and I feel better and more inspired. I may break and go paint my furniture, which is also turning out better than I thought. Here's a picture of the top of the chest, the lid, I have started working on. It's no where near finished, but it's also a work in progress.

Or I do this. (Blog) This is my break from the fierce suction of emotion that Shay can take from me on occasion. This chapter in particular is her reminiscing about her childhood days. Phew! Can we get some happy going here? I'm trying to figure out how to make it a little lighter a bit more humorous.

Any suggestions?

Soul Mates Award

Look! Look! I got another award. I love awards. It's from my crony Terry Towery at A Writer of Wrongs. Thanks Terry. I would give this award to Terry if he hadn't already given it to me. He has been supportive and motivational on my writing journey and his blog is absolutely fantastic. He's a pretty interesting and entertaining guy. You should go check it out.
Okay, so the rules for this one are to pick five followers to give this to and make up big, fat lies about them. So, here goes...

First up is Meleah over at Momma Mia Mea Culpa who by the way recently won the title of Ms. Italy in their 2010 beauty pageant. She was an assassin for the Italian government, it's just like the Mafia, and was given the key to the Doritos factory where she had her last job. She eventually retired and decided to build a straw hut in the jungles of Columbia where she now stitches baseball's for a living. (Wink Wink).

Next is Kellie at Women's Life Link. She is a street performer at Piccadilly Circus in London and regularly shows off her mad snake charming skills by Eros. She had to flee the United States for taking her lion to the movies and she ripped the tag off of her mattress, but the worst part of it all was she was wearing her Wal-Mart clothes when she did it.




 

Third on the list goes to Dana and clearly has a guilty conscience because she blogs at Confessions of A Random Chick.  Confessions! I'll say. She moonlights as a clown and does parties for the retired community when she's not too busy sluggin' 'em back. Her day job is the only woman Matador in existence; the bullfighting kind not a jet-powered missile.

 

Fourth is Nancy at The Retired Biker Housewife. She is actually a Time Bandit and has met Coco Chanel when she traveled back to the 1920's. She was a part of the Women's Rights Movement and would frequent the speak easies with Zelda Sayre, Louise Brooks and Charlie Chaplin. When she traveled back to 1857 she gave Joself Gayetty an idea that led to the invention of toilet paper. Ten years later she gave Walter Alcock the idea to put it on a roll.

 And lastly is Wendy a.k.a.Quillfeather at W.M. Morrell's Musings From Down Under. She is an archaeologist who was present when the red granite head of Amenhotep III was recently discovered. She was so enraged that she cast a spell on the archaeologists that stole her thunder. She turned them into Aye-Aye's and they haven't been heard from since.

It was hard to pick only five because there a few more I would have liked to include and you know who you are. You're next up if I get another award from somewhere. ;) I love all you guys.

~Live Happy

Domain

I bought my domain name so the blogspot part of the URL is removed. The URL is now just
http://amuseinmypocket.com

It will still direct you to my blog even if you use the old domain name but some of the gadgets won't work, like the Follow Me button. So if you have me listed on your side bar as blogs you follow please take out the blogspot part, if you would be so kind.

Shay ~ Character Bio

Shay was a vivacious, curious child. She is a free spirit but it’s hindered by all of the voices from the past. Shay had a heart that spoke loud and clear to her and she always listened to it without question. There was no difference between her heart and her mind, they were in perfect alignment with each other. It never mattered to her much what others said; teachers, mom, grandparents, etc... Although, she liked what her grandfather had to say because she respected him and he protected her and allowed her to be who she was.

Shay lived in the moment, as most children do, regardless of the grown-ups always trying to pull her out of it. She wasn’t big on rules but she would never cause harm. She wanted to be friends with everyone and didn’t understand the pettiness that went on to cause her friends and family to fight with each other or get mad at her.

To Shay, life was magical. She holds a secret that many forget. Life is meant to be fun and lived to the fullest. Anyone can do anything they want. Life was a wonderful gift and Shay was determined to explore every aspect of now and waste no time with meaningless chatter about history and algebra. She didn’t care how a plus b equaled c. She didn’t care that a guy named Christopher Columbus discovered America; maybe. She could have cared less about the extensive detail of any war that ever took place. And most of all, Shay couldn’t understand how anyone could teach anything and name it as fact, when they weren’t there to experience it themselves. Her most prominent thought was usually, How do you know? You don’t know. You weren’t there. Shay wanted to explore and live in what our predecessors made possible. That’s how she would show her appreciation to them. She would live to the fullest in her freedom.

She ignored and avoided anything that seemed to cause strife and anger; which was almost everything. Shay could not stand negativity. It seemed the world was overrun by these types of people. This left Shay alone quite a bit and she didn’t like to be alone. But she would rather be alone than surrounded by assassins.

Shay had a very strong and powerful way about her that she was unaware of. Shay disagreed with her mother most of the time; or maybe it was that her mother disagreed with her. She couldn’t understand why the mom would come home every day, miserable and angry, complaining and crying about her job and the people she worked with. Shay couldn’t comprehend why the mom would go back to a place every single day that she hated. Why didn’t she do something she loved?

As a result of her view on life, Shay was continually treated as if something was wrong with her while growing up. When she became a teenager, she was pretty well programmed subconsciously to feel as if she were defunct and irreparable from the inside out. This is when her mind and heart separated. She began receiving conflicting messages within herself. As she got older, she was in conflict a lot with her view of the world and the way others saw it. Things became more difficult for Shay and it wasn’t fun anymore. Her self-confidence started to decline and she was angry a lot of the time. They had succeeded in breaking her spirit and she didn’t even know it.

In 7th grade she met someone that understood her and seemed to bring the fun back. She smoked her first joint with B. This is where things really started to go downhill for Shay. She found an escape from the misery at home and she wasn’t willing to let it go. This led to a series of erroneous events that included, rehab, medication, an overdose, more rehab, plenty of arrests and eventually leaving home. She was determined to find the joy that she knew existed in life. She also knew she wouldn’t find it living with her mother and her mother’s husband. This is where she began her journey of self-exploration, many mistakes and finding her own happiness; so she thought.

Because Shay had little coping skills and lack of direction she had to find things out the hard way. Life was not turning out the way she wanted. Living an oxymoron of a carefree, confident junkie was not what Shay had in mind for her life. Still not caring what people think and still not big on following the rules, Shay does what she wants. Yet another phase in her life of self-exploration because she decides once again, that this is not the life she was meant to live. She had visions of her life and this wasn’t it. She knew she could have it all, she just didn’t know how. But she was ready to learn once again.

Poop Doodie

It turns out it has been nice enough all week so that the poop that has accumulated in my back yard was sun dried enough to finally pick up. Yay! And I wanted to get it picked up before the next snow. It snowed last November and my yard has been covered in a two foot blanket of snow up until last week.

I put on my picking up poop shoes, double wrapped my hand in Jewel bags, and grabbed an extra  one to put the poop in. Well it turns out that I needed a 13 gallon garbage bag to hold all the dried up white turds.

I forged into the battle field and the shit was abundant. I would put the bag down, bend over and scoop. As I was dropping the duty into the bag, I would see another pile out of my peripheral vision. I would pivot my foot and turn without standing up. This went on until the area I could reach without moving the bag was entirely poop free. I would stand and scope out my next site, which was only two steps away. And I repeated this process for about an hour.  There was poop everywhere I looked! It seemed to go on for miles.

I would tip toe around the yard walking slowly and quietly, with my infra-poop goggles, so I could do a sneak attack on any left over doggie muffins in the yard.

The task finally ended and I had to double bag the garbage bag. Lifting it into the big can was no small feat let me tell you. I'm just under five foot four and the can's opening is almost that. So to lift a fifty pound bag of shit without a big scene was quite the art form. Mission accomplished. Thanks for stopping by.

I would have put a picture up for you but I didn't want to over do it. Plus, it gets your imagination muscles working. ;)

Insert head here

This is what I feel like most of the time. Once I remove my head, I'm sure things will start flowing.(Ha! No pun intended, I swear. I just got that myself).
Between, writing articles, fiction, non-fiction and painting furniture, I get lost in what I'm really doing. I'm having fun, don't get me wrong, but I am still getting to know myself in this free state of mind and play. It's not really free. Everything has to come with a bit of discipline. It's hard to be your own authority figure, especially when you don't like authority.

But for now here's the article that was written in accordance with the interview.
My friend Terry Towery, did some editing for me. Go check it out, if you haven't already.
Human Trafficking: Sex Slavery In America

~Live Happy

2,000 words today so far.