Five Weirdest Notes in My Notes Section on my Phone

As a writer, I like to think that brilliancy can strike at any time. When it does, I write it down in my notes section of my phone. Then I go back when I'm at a computer and further flesh out those ideas. Those prompts make up most of my blog posts. However, sometimes I sit down and go through my notes, and then wonder why in the hell I thought I would ever want to delve deeper into some of these topics. Here are five really lame blog post ideas that I took time to write down:

  1. Beer (Title): UNITA brewing porter (description). I wanted to start reviewing more products for my blog, and thought the Beer Expo was going to be a good place to start. I planned on keeping a list of best and worst beers to write about, but (as you can probably infer) I got too distracted with drinking and trying out an insane amount of sour cream dips that I wrote down a whopping list of one beer that I either did or did not like.
  2. Paddleball (Title): So the paddleball resurfaced since the move and it's better than ever (description). Awhile ago, I wrote a post about the Christmas paddleball tradition in my family. More recently, my roommate found it after a heavy night of drinking (milk) and was trying it out. It was hilarious. I mean, tears rolling hilarious. I even took a video (still cracks me up). So I sent the video to several people, and literally the only person that thought it was mildly humorous was my mother. Guess you had to be there.
  3. One-year anniversary (Title): When I started this blog a little over a year ago, my primary purpose was to articulate all the changes going on in my life (description). So this one was really well-intentioned, and to this day I am still brainstorming a way to make sense of this post. I really did start this blog as a documentation of the transition from college to work-life, but I always thought the blog would have a switch in focus. For example, I thought I would focus less on lessons learned, less on how much change I'm going through and definitely less about the mistakes I made and how to avoid them. However, I still learn a lot about life every day. My life is constantly changing. And I still make mistakes, get homesick, mess up normal adult activities, etc. I don't think those themes are ever going to go away. And I really hope they don't because having things change is a good thing, and learning is a great thing. I guess my one-year anniversary post could be about the misconception I had of adulthood (that has potential, right?).
  4. Blog (Title): I don't understand why people think they can walk all over you and then act surprised when you walk away (description). Obviously, this one needed a ton of work, as it didn't even get a title. But I also almost immediately knew I would never blog about that. I have a basic rule for my blog that I don't (or try ridiculously hard not to) sub-blog about people (or more-so, a situation in this case). I never want someone to read a post and think, "There she goes airing our dirty laundry." If it's my own dirty laundry, then yes, I shall air it to whoever listens, but I just don't think its appropriate or fair to include stories about people when their view isn't represented. The world needs a lot less of people complaining about people, so that's my blogging rule.
  5. Concept (Title): Union of all different plants. New ones have to wear suits to ensure they don't have viruses that only get tested at a certain age. Meet Will Smith look alike, distant yet welcoming...(description). This one goes on...and on...and on. I heard once that if you have a dream and want to remember it, you shouldn't move a lot when you wake up, and then write it all down. So I quickly typed out everything I could remember about the dream. None of it was as cool as it was when I dreamed it, but I was pretty positive I could recreate it when the time was right. The time is definitely not right, nor am I sure the time will ever be right.

Welcome Back!

Okay, so yes, I just welcomed myself back to my own blog. I'd love to say that I've spent these past 4-ish months discovering myself in a far away place or working hard after a crazy promotion or really anything exciting -- but nope, I just took a break for no real reason. If you scroll back a bit down the page, or click here, you may have already seen the writing on the wall. I could feel my creativity dying, which is actually a pretty terrifying feeling. One of my biggest self-proclaimed assets is my spark. Whether it's a tiny victory or a really big one, I can have a massive spark that ignites a whole project into action. And since I wasn't feeling that spark, I couldn't really keep going.

Now that I'm done tooting my own horn (beep-beeeeep), Id' like to give you a low down on my plan for this blog:

  • Much like most bloggers are supposed to do, I'm going to write.
  • I've already committed myself for at least 10 new posts, with an ongoing list of things that I want to write about.
  • To prove the above statement, here are 3 topics: wisdom teeth, Ebola and the Gold's Gym motto. Yup, going to be a ride.
  • I may even renew my domain name, but I've got a healthy amount of time to decide if I'm ready for another year-long commitment.
  • I'm going to diversify my topics. Since I'm not fresh out of college (eek, nobody likes you when you're 23, right?), I don't think its pertinent to focus on transition, as this is like my "real life" now, I guess.

So that's my commitment to this, so please stay tuned! I hope your thoughts aren't "Oh shit, I thought we got rid of her."

Instagram Inspiration

As a social media specialist, part of my job is monitoring all social media sites for people talking about us. Most of the time, I end up having to inform people that we actually donate the money people give us, and not pocket it. It is draining dealing with how rude people can be, but one discovered tweet makes ciphering through all the bullshit absolutely worth it. A girl tweeted a link to Instagram, which she labeled as a picture she bought to support us. Obviously, this intrigued me, as I didn't know of a picture promotion we were having, so I clicked. And what I found was the most inspirational piece of social media content that I've ever seen.

A five year old boy is hand drawing pictures of all his favorite animals to sell to friends and family in order to buy chickens for a family in need. He's five and already has a bigger heart than anyone I've ever met. Naturally, I wanted to write about it, because who can honestly hear about what he is doing and not want to find a simple way to give back, just like him.

I reached out to the mother, who was incredibly proud -- as she should be. I could not wait to write about this young boy, yet when I sat down to write, all I could think of was writing about how moved I was from what he was doing.

Clearly there is something wrong with me that I couldn't get past my own feelings to write about him. I was just so enamored with this kid's story that it was essentially blinding me from being able to write about him without writing about me feeling so strongly about it. As if, I believed that people would not understand how amazing he is, unless I said how incredible I thought he was explicitly in the story.

And that's when my writer's block broke. This five year old's passion for drawing and helping people reignited my passion's flame for writing. I knew I had to write a great piece in order to capture his story. I needed to figure my shit out in honor of this kid.

The post is still in progress, but after staring at the screen for what was close to an hour, I was finally able to break ground on writing a piece that captures how wonderful the five year old is without including myself in the article. I'm very excited to be back in the writing mode. I've made it over a huge hump, all thanks to a little kid drawing some really meaningful pictures.

Creativity Hiatus

My blog as fallen silent as of late, which is weird because I think of it often. Almost once a day, I think boy, I really need to write. But I couldn't. And I have no idea why. Can creativity just take a break? I've had tremendous writers block, where every topic I wanted to talk about just simply didn't feel right. One of my mentors at my new job left me with the parting wisdom of: If it feels right, then it probably does. If it doesn't feel right, then it isn't. Somehow writing hasn't felt right lately, and it's impossible for me to pinpoint why.

I used to come home everyday with a list of topics that would make great blog posts. At any time, there would be three to five ideas written up, with specific examples, that I would just need to recount for the post. As of late, nothing has felt "written," and I didn't want to force it. Everything used to inspire me and make me want to share it, and now everything feels like something I'd like to internalize and store away.

But hopefully the freeze is starting to thaw. Nothing is worse than feeling like one of your passions is losing its fire. Ever since I was in first grade, I loved to write. It can't die this quickly.

And I think that is the significance that tomorrow's blog post holds for me. A spark reminded me of my passion. Pure, elated, childish passion, which makes you feel like you can change the world. And I am so excited to share it with you all tomorrow.

Throwback Thursday: My First Blog Post

I have found a hidden gem to share. Apparently, my most embarrassing life moments are the ones people like to read about the most (go figure), so I am giving in. (I say this because the most read posts on my blog are My Beef with Headwear, I'm Too Awkward to Network, and Absurd Ways I've (Attempted to) Make Money, which I would consider to be my most embarrassing posts). I stumbled upon my very first blog post ever on accident, which is weird because this has happened before. Let me elaborate. A few months ago, I made a gmail account so I be a part of a google hangout with all of my group mates once when it was snowing. When I created my account, it somehow connected to a Blogger account I had opened in high school. There were not too many posts, but they were all angsty and teenager-ish, so I took them down immediately before anyone might accidentally read them. Crisis averted, or so I thought.

Just this week, I wanted to sign up my old email account to the mailing list to be alerted every time a new blog entry was posted. Sounds narcissistic? It probably is. But the reason I did it was to see how it looks in an email form. Anyways, when I signed up for the list, it already had an account attached to it. YET ANOTHER ANGSTY TEEN BLOG I HAD CREATED BACK IN THE DAY. I'm not sure why I had two very poorly maintained blogs, but I did.

In honor of Throwback Thursday, here is the lone post of my old Wordpress blog in all of its moody glory:

So, I read Spark’s The Last Song last night. Oh. My. God. I bawled like a baby. *SPOILER ALERT* Uhm, heartbreak, but totally saw it coming.  Maybe because I have just gotten off a long stint of poetry, I saw it from the first pages about the leaves turning, falling, and then the puffs of life dying. Or something like that.  Oh and the title is a dead give away. I mean, really?!! Who else would it be referencing other than that father.  Overall, there was only one thing that killed me in this book.

1.  The father dying.  It practically killed me.  I mean, when it was talking about the last time he was ever going to hug his son, and that she realized he would never be there to walk her down the isle at her wedding, who wasn’t crying by this point.  And cancer??? Is it even fair to write about it?  I mean, who can read about cancer and not cry.  Everyone knows how horrible it is, and almost everyone has been directly or indirectly affected by it.  Thats a cheap one, Sparks.  But lets think about this: Kids- having to watch your parent die prematurely, and parents: think about knowing it was the last time for seeing your child.  Maybe thats what did it for me.  The last of everything makes me weirded out.  Little things, like the last time I will be somewhere, the last time living in my dorm, the last time I am eating at a restaurant, all get to me.  I guess finality, the thought of not going back scares me.  But in a somewhat ironic twist, so does the thought of forever.  Eternity, when I picture it, is a swirl of clouds that never ends.  Eternity feels like its going to trap me in a cycle that I will never get out of.  Basically, extremes of ends and the never endings are terrifying. But now back to the book.

My one real complaint is how Sparks wrote this for the movie.  I haven’t seen the movie (yup, your fault Miley), nor do I know much about it, but I feel like the book was written specifically to be made into a movie.  Sparks put subtle hints for making it into a movie.  For example, their first kiss was described as quick and “not like an overdone earth shattering kiss common in movies today” or something along those lines.  Really!? You are going to try to influence the movie that much.  Please, try to make it any more obvious that you want the movie your way.  Just write the book for the books sake and not for a movie.

So lets recap: The book made me cry and wonder why on earth I was even reading something this depressing and the thought of going to the movie makes me want to cringe.  I could barely read the tragedy, but to see it acted out: Yeah, I don’t know that my heart can handle it.  That being said, I can’t say its a bad book in the least.  It made me think.  And I can’t stop thinking about it.  So plus one for you Sparks.  You ripped out my heart.

A Really Pathetic Poem

Like I was saying in a previous blog post, Writing About Writing, I adore writing, but am highly limited in regards to my success in a variety of styles. To strengthen my point, I am about to take one for the team, willingly allow myself to be embarrassed, and share a poem I wrote. In my own defense, I happened to write this after a long evening of consuming a certain beverage, and was rather stressed about work. Without further adieu, here is probably the worst poem you've ever read: I'd drink away my problems but I don't have the finances for it.

So instead it's just me and the ceiling having a staring contest.

I'd toss it all away and start again, but I've tried that and everything finds it way back.

Back where? Back home?

If home is where the heart is but my heart isn't in one place, does that make me homeless?

Let's just burrow that thought back down into the recesses for another loneliness.

Now let's just break this poem down. First off, I wrote it when I had been drinking, so the first line is not even factual. The second line is accurate EVERY NIGHT as I lay down to sleep, and there really is no actual qualm about it. Third line, well I have moved but not much is creeping in on me at the moment. Nor do I actually have any demons that could even make their way out of any closets. And let's just wrap up this emo laden poem by saying that I actually have a home. It's Richmond. And if that doesn't count, I can always go back to my home in Connecticut.

Beyond the content not even making sense, it says something that I can only attempt to write poetry when I'm not in my normal state of mind, because normal me knows that's something to avoid. Furthermore, is this even a poem? Nothing rhymes. There's no symbolism. The general message is barely there. I will be willing accepting rotten tomatoes for this disgrace to the poetic writing form.

Writing About Writing

One of the biggest realizations I had at NASCAR was that I loved to write. This really isn't anything new, so it's more of a rekindled notion rather than a realization. Anyways, I compiled a mental list of how I came to the conclusion that writing is probably one of my few true passions in life. Here's some of the highlights from the list:- To start with an obvious one, I started a blog as a hobby. - I really wanted to study English in college but didn't think it was pragmatic enough. - When I'm at work, I sometimes daydream about writing for myself rather than our clients. - I casually google search topics such as "creative writing seminars" like that's what normal people do. - When I ran into my first grade teacher she said she thought I'd have become a writer.

So clearly, if first grade me liked writing and so does current me, it's something I should be doing more of. However, the only type of writing I love is self-reflexive humor pieces, opinion editorials about inane current events, and extensive research papers.

Journalism doesn't quite work for me, as the most hard hitting news story I've written is about leggings not being real pants. Even when I wrote a front page article about the African drummers that came to our school, I somehow rambled at length about me dancing to it. How no one edited out my editorialized narration about myself is beyond me.

I've also dappled in fiction, and see this as the most probable fashion of actually pursuing writing, except for the issue that unless I am retelling exact stories, my imagined ones make no sense. My first piece of fiction that I remember writing was from third grade, where I wrote a story about taking a walk behind my house with a frog and then running from a bear, only for him to come tuck me into bed. When you're a kid you're supposed to have a good imagination, except for me apparently.

If I had it my way, I would take Joel Stein's job. The guy just writes about himself all the time and is hilarious. Getting paid to disseminate my opinions to the masses is essentially what my end goal would be. Unfortunately, that job doesn't really exist to apply for. Trust me, I've been trying.