A friend of mine recently lost his job. After I spoke with him about the situation and what his plans are as a member of the unemployed world, I began to wonder what if that was me. What would I do if my source of income was shut off? What would I do if I no longer had a steady job that occupied 40 hours of my week? What would I do if I had no plan?
Then, a piece of me almost envied him. Sure, I know where my next pay check is coming from and I enjoy my job, but maybe he's going to experience something truly remarkable. Maybe by wandering a bit, he'll find what he's looking for.
I told him that this is a blessing in disguise, and today he called me saying the unemployed plans have changed. He is now employed and moving to Boston. For him, it worked out and the unknown only last a few days.
I know exactly what I would do if the rug was pulled out from underneath me. I don't have to think twice. How about you? What would you do? Maybe that's what you should be doing.
Some see rainy days full of gloom, I, however, see them full of magic. I'm inspired by the cool drops that hit my skin and hair and it's fairly rejuvenating to take worries out on puddles. It took me awhile to believe it is OK to jump in small pools of water in the middle of the street. Not only do I believe it is OK now, I believe it is necessary. After I wrote about dancing in the rain, my mother gave me these adorable boots. I christened them in during Monday's lovely May showers.
2.)
I've probably watched this video of Elizabeth Gilbert speaking about a billion times, but it's fascinating. The way she describes the creative process is dead on. Sometimes you can't predict it and it comes at annoying times, but you can't ignore it. This happens to me often. It's also interesting what she says about writing as a profession and its burden. I have those fears and feel that depression, still I love writing. I guess that is why this talk moves me the way it does.
3.) Old friends (part 1)
Denise and I touring The Haight Denise surprised me last week, saying she was in town. So we met for coffee and packed as much catching up in as we could in three hours. She is such a special person in my life and she leads me to believe that I can conquer the world. Just being with her for that short time lit me up and I can't wait for her next visit with her soon-to-be hubby. We live different lives, yet our friendship strengthens with the time. She took such a chance two years ago, and so far, it's been fruitful to her. That girl is going to do great things with her life.
4.) I adore this.
"Love doesn't die. It just gets buried under fear and failures to be brave. It gets buried under all that sludge."
5.) On road trips of 3+ hours, I usually rent a few audio books to make the miles fly. When I went out west to visit Roxy and Jeremy a few months ago, I listened to this NPR series, "This I believe." They are personal essays from people old, young, rich, poor, black, white and any color in between. These are simply remarkable. You can find several of the essays online, and I encourage you to check a few of them out. They will move you. A few of my recent favorites are I am still the greatest, The Beatles live on and Inviting the world to dinner. I hope to write my own essay someday. Maybe I'll even share it on this blog :)
6.) Old friends (part 2) This weekend, some of my old college friends and I met in Sioux Falls for shopping, dinner making and Mad Gab. It was wonderful. All those memories and old laughs filled me with joy. We are on all different paths now, but it's fun to think that, at one time, we were all at the same place and that's what brought us together this weekend. Lovely.
Mindy, Kieara, Laura and I shopping in a vintage store in downtown Sioux Falls. Kelli joined us later in the evening for some Mad Gab and catch up.
7. Ace of Cakes and Chef Duff
Photo from here OK, so it may seem lame to claim a Food Network show as an a source of inspiration, but this show is great. I don't watch a ton of TV, but if Ace of Cakes is on when I'm flipping through the channels, I definitely tune in. (And you can watch online!) The show follows Chef Duff and his bakery Charm City Cakes. Basically, the guy started his own shop, hired all of his friends and they make ridiculously beautiful cakes. What I love about Duff and his crew is that they aren't bakers, they are artists. Every time I watch it, I'm desperately crave to be in a business where I stay up all night being creative and doing what I love with my friends. What a great life.
That's all for this week. Now, go be inspiring :) Loves, Heat
The wind’s been flirting with the trees most of the day, forcing them to sway in the direction of its affection. But, as the sky transforms to a thick, ugly blue, the wind’s fury picks up and the trees follow accordingly. The temperature drops and the air prepares itself for Mother Nature’s wrath.
The wind, the trees, the ugly blue ski, the temperature, the air are welcoming the storm. They all know that once it has passed, life can resume with sunshine.
My soul feels the same. A storm is coming, and I’m anxious for it past. The waiting builds a muck in my head and stomach and I'm ready for it to spill over into a thrashing storm. On the other side of that quake, joy and warmth will welcome me like best friends do.
Maybe as the rain falls tonight, so will my tears. Probably for no reason at all other than for the stillness that arrives when they are out of my stomach, my throat, my eyes.
Storms, of the physical and emotional kind, are sometimes needed. Without them, we’d never have rainbows.
Kirby and I several, several years ago (I adore old photos)
A friend of mine broke her phone and I offered her my old one. Although she ended up not needing it, I drug it out of a cluttered mess that is my filing cabinet and turned it on, hoping it would allow a quick trip back in time to a year ago. The welcoming screen was a bag of potatoes with “IDAHO” inscribed in a thick blue font., a picture I’m not sure I would put up now.As I scanned through text messages, I saw a few from friends I rarely speak to now, which, naturally, pricked my heart. And then I found one to a friend that simply said “I hate myself.”
I can’t quite remember what instigated such a declaration, but I’m sure it was the right combination of pity, forecasts of rejection and downright sorrow that hit the feel-sorry-for-me nerve at that particular moment. I tried to remember what was so upsetting at that time in my life that isn’t a general issue now, and there isn’t really one significant issue. The only real difference was me.
It amuses me how much I’ve changed in the last seven years. When I was 17, I was a girl without an opinion who had been rarely scratched by life’s hand. Yet, I consumed the world and believed I was at its center. I dreamed that first loves would last forever and that the only real happiness I would need is to be called someone’s wife. The number on the scale measured my self-worth and every day was met with a set of plans, rules and limitations. I used to view myself as a gray blob that just went along with the other blobs because it was the easiest and well-versed path. That was just me, and I didn’t care to test that idea.
As I aged, my opinions and morals strengthened and weakened. I’ve changed my mind on politics and religions to reflect what I actually believe, not what someone told me to believe. My heart’s been broken enough times for me to realize that a man can never define me or my happiness. And my trusted plans have almost broke my heart just as much, to the to the point that I’m beginning to withdraw my faith in them too.
My college years and the short time in Idaho were crucial to my current makeup, but the last year has had the most dramatic affect on my definition. As new details about me surface, this skin starts to loosen and comfort feels normal.
I’m in the same job, relationship status and circle of friends (for the most part) that I was a year ago, yet my foundation has sifted into a solid frame. Rough lessons in simple notions, such as forgiveness, compassion, honesty and reality, have brought out my defining characteristics and the idea of loving myself is clearer than it’s ever been.
Self discovery is an electrifying process. Its fun to see parts of my life solidify, even simple things like my taste in music or my vegetarian lifestyle.I’m passionate about things that I’m proud to be passionate about and am removing all concerns about others’ input to find my opinionated voice. And I can honestly look myself in the mirror and say "That woman is beautiful." I've never been able to do that before. Never.
This is very much a work in progress. I don’t like the fact that I let insignificant things and people ruin my attitude. I still beat myself down to a withering soul when I can’t take certain risks.
But, that’s OK. From the outside, it may seem like this has been a plateau year, but it’s been a necessity for what’s to come. My future careers, relationships and big adventures will appreciate the past 12 months. If I’m going to prove to the world that I’m amazing, all the pieces of me must believe it.
The following is a scenario I observed the other day :
A five-year-old girl dances the way five-year-old girls do. She wears a sequined and polyester pink dress and blue ribbon in pin-tight curly hair. She forgets where and who she is for a moment to become a princesse. Not just any princess though, but the most lovely princess in all of the land. Like any princess, she lives in sturdy stone castle and wears only precious jewels. She dances as if it is her only duty in life. Alas, she realizes she should have a partner, a prince.
She searches high and low for the handsome Prince Charming. He is supposed to beat the dragons and rescue her from an average life. But there is no prince. Not in this land. She begins to wonder if princes even exist.
A friend suggests she marry a ghost instead. The ghost bears good qualities, but can’t quite make a commitment, being that he is dead.
Frustrated the friend suggests the princess marry a goblin. Not seeing any other options, the princess settles for the goblin.
As I watched two young girls play this scene out, I was very disturbed. Even at a young age, girls are taught that princes don’t exist, ghosts won’t marry you and goblins are what’s left. No wonder so why so many of single female friends feel hopeless when it comes to men and relationships.
This is a great blog post about writer's block and the process writers go through to produce something worthwhile. I know I struggle with this a lot, so it's nice to know that more talented writers do too.
Bonjour, mes amour, I've been thinking about adding a weekly feature to my blog, some type of constant that's slightly entertaining than my ramblings. I've tossed around a few ideas but haven't found anything I think can write about on a weekly basis.
At work, we've had a string of groundbreakings and dedications this past month and each of them brought tears to my eyes. Engineers, farmers and athletes were all responsible for igniting this fire in me, this inspiration. It then occurred to me that it doesn't take much to inspire me, professionally or personally (I don't see this as a bad problem.) What usually happens, though, is that I'm geared up about something, but never shared that small flint of passion.
To sustain that fire and share my influences, I've decided that Tuesdays are going to be inspiration day on heathermangan.blogspot.com. Why Tuesday? Well, the newness of the week has worn off, but it's still far from the end. It's a lull day. For me, a good dose inspiration can get me through to hump day and, sometimes, it sustains till Thursday or Friday.
So, it's my goal to post seven pieces of inspiration each Tuesday and share with you all what takes me from day to day. It may be people, places, art, food, songs, TV shows or anything that makes me want to do something good for this world. Here goes my first Inspiring Tuesdays post:
1.) Elsie Flannigan I found Elsie's blog on a friend's blog roll awhile ago and now check it about seven times a day. She is so creative and is driven to produce only "cute" things. She is a great refresher for me when my creative process is stuck and thick mud builds in my head. What I've learned most from Miss Flannigan is that you don't have to move to a great big city to do what you love. You can make beautiful things in the place that you've always known. And Springfield, Mo., is a fine place to follow your dreams. Also, her boyfriend, Jeremy Larson, is my new favorite and I'm listening to him as I write this post.
2.) This quote was on my tea bag a few months ago and it chilled me. I ended up giving the one in the picture to a local author, V.J. Smith, days before his second book, Jackrabbit Tales, went on sale. A couple days later, the saying showed up again and I taped it to my work computer monitor. PS: My brother got me the kickin' Dunder Mifflin cup for Christmas. It's great.
"Everything I did in life that was worthwhile I caught hell for."
- Earl Warren
3.) All of this sunshine that we've been blessed with here in the Dakota of the South :)
4.) A few people Tweeted this speech and I listened to as I worked on some designs today. It was fabulous, and of course inspired me to go out and do what I love. Gary's message is captivating and he mentioned many things that I've been mulling over in my own life. This speech was seriously something I needed to hear. Warning: There is some foul language, but that's all a part of being passionate :) Also, at the 31 minute, you hear my Twitter friend John Meyer ask for a job. He should get one based on his guts alone. Hey, a brave Jon Favreau went out on a limb and corrected a Illinois Senator on his speech and now look at him.
5.) One of the concepts Gary discussed is doing the crappy things in order to do what you love. He talked a lot about working less-than-rewarding jobs just so that you can pay the bills. Then spend every minute of your free time doing what you love, so that you can some day make money from what you love. It's what Gary calls "winning." That accurately describes Kate. She is a copy editor to pay the bills, but a crafter at heart. When she isn't working, she puts most of her time and effort into making gorgeous cards, notebooks, notecards, tags and other great items. Her business is her dream, and she motivates me daily to sprint after mine. I truly believe that some day Kate's business will be her full-time job and she'll win.
Kate and I at Pebble Creek in January 2008.
6.) I've know I posted about this song before, but my absolute favorite writing song is "Where I stood" by Missy Higgins. Pretty much everything I write is under this song's influence. There is so much heart and passion behind it that I'm encouraged to always write from my own, whether the topic is requited love or bananas.
7.) The last few months, mornings have been really rough for me. I don't sleep well because my mind won't quit and I'm physically worn out from all-night mental battles. The one sure-fire thing to snap me out of a bad attitude in that situation, or any for that matter, is this girl walking into the office.
Melissa
Melissa reminds me that every day is meant to be filled with giggling and silly jokes. She constantly inspires me to be optimistic and a better person. Her last day is Thursday and it's going to be a struggle not to have her around. However, she will only be south about 50 miles saving the world. I'm so proud of the what she's chosen to do with her life and it motivates me to take that big leap of faith. She is my buddy for life!
Hope you enjoyed my first edition of Inspiring Tuesdays. There are so many other great people and things I wanted to mention but I'm gonna stick with seven for now. Be on the look out next Tuesday for heaps of inspiration!
My life revolves around endless sets of plans, but it’s my new mission to trade rational and planned decisions for spontaneity.
So when Micah called at noon on Saturday and asked if I wanted to go The Cities with him, Tara and Nancy, I only debated the matter for a few minutes. This is the randomness I keep telling myself I want, so to pass it up would be hypocritical. On that notion, I agreed.
Nothing about our short stay was well thought out. We had three missions: get Tara a palm reading book, go kayaking and find some swagger. We did all that and learned about flute beat boxers, drove past Josh Hartnett’s residence, enjoyed Sunday morning breakfast at a nearby little league tournament, contemplated the meaning behind "Breakfast at Tiffany's" for the first time, ate pizza delivered by super heroes and heard the best rendition of “Kiss” by Prince in the entire state.
It was completely random. It was completely irrelevant to my to-do list. And it was completely appreciated. I desperately welcomed those 32 hours of escape.
People have told me before that sometimes you need to surrender plans and just live. I’m really starting to believe that.
Here’s to spontaneity.
(PS My SD cards were not cooperating this weekend, so no photos recorded the randomness. Maybe that’s a good thing.)
When I was younger, I would have troubles sleeping to due to a racing mind. Some things never change. One of my tricks to quiet my thoughts and relax enough to fall into a slumber was planning my perfect day. I would start from the time I awake to the time I went to bed, detailing my activities of one day in my so-called perfect life.
I’ve got an early run tomorrow morning, but my thoughts are popping in and out of my brain stirring deep notions that are inappropriate for this hour. It’s been awhile since I used my sleeping trick and I’m a bit intrigued of how it’s changed as I’ve changed. But I’ve got to get some sleep.
Here, now, is my perfect day.
The day would probably be a Sunday, but it doesn’t have to be. Sundays are bright and soft days and I naturally assume that the perfect day would be a Sunday.
I’d wake up early, like 7 or so, for a run, preferably by the beach. I would feel the morning ocean mist mix with my sweat and the morning rays would kindly smile at me. My body would ache from the workout, but it’s a good pain. I would feel each of my ligaments stretching and flexing with appreciation. The distance or time wouldn’t be important, just the relationship that exists with my body and Mother Nature.
Once I returned from my run, my significant other would have breakfast and a fresh copy of the New York Times waiting. We’d sip coffee, read tales of heroes and comment on the headlines, design and photo choices. After breakfast, we venture downtown for market shopping. We’d select fresh fruits, vegetables and breads for dinner and purchase bushels of fresh flowers to lighten our house. We scan antique art and vintage clothing, stopping for a moment to take in the hustle around us. We’d meet my parents for lunch at an outside café near an inner-city lake. We laugh and talk graciously, never caring about time and to-do lists.
After lunch, we’d return home for light naps. The muses would speak, no sing, loudly and I’d lock myself in my office, blaring soft and symphonic music. Words would rush through my body and on to the page, leaving me to be only the vehicle of their journey. It would be effortless and smooth. Once the intense feeling had passed, the piece’s strength would echo and I’d know that I found my sweet spot.
Friends would be arriving soon, so we’d set out to make a daring, yet simple meal. It’d be comfortable and all together too delicious. Once our guests arrived, we’d pass around wine and feast off of God’s produce and delightful conversation. Hours would pass without anyone noticing until we could feel grogginess assume position. Everyone would say blessings for the time spent and depart for shuteye. My significant other and I would grab one more glass of wine on our veranda and take in the night’s art. I’d climb into a fresh bed and savor sweet dreams of the day to come.
A white line runs straight through the middle of our lives. There is no beginning nor ending; it merely separates. Some people live far away from the line, never bothering to care what lies beyond it. Others live close to the edges, sneaking peeks and believing it’s better on the other side. Me, I’m chained to that line and desperately want to rid myself of its burden.
This coveted line is the divider of our realities and our dreams, the actual and the could be. One side is the life we imagined having as children. The other is the life that fell into place. Our interpretations of these two lives develop as we do. Aspirations are added and subtracted with each day and experience. These lives are never definite, but always existing.
Crossing that line takes the perfect combination of diligence, sweat and courage. For some, making it to the other side was a never question. Others have no desire to step over. But for the majority, that line is the source of our insanity.
I’m staring at that line. Its shade of white mocks me. It laughs at me, saying “Yeah, right.” It knows what side I want to be on, but doesn’t believe I’ll ever make that hop out of the middle.
But I want to, I do. I can’t stay in this transition. Either I take a leap or I settle. I’m not interested in being comfortable, but I don’t know if I can overcome all these messy doubts to chase those dreams. Heck, I’m not even quite sure what those dreams are anymore.
Two years ago, I moved to Pocatello, living on a notion that “I chased a dream to Idaho.” I tear up thinking about that Heather. She thrived on fear and had a good idea of what she wanted out of this world. She was in love and was surrounded by good friends, but gave it all up for a goal. She refused to let hurdles block her path. When they did, she reminded herself she was on a chase and that was enough to return to the course.
This Heather is caught in a tangled heap of life paths. Her friends are drifting off on their own chases and she’s never been lonelier. She is stuck in thick mud and the walls are too slick to climb. Her body trembles with restlessness and she can’t quite figure out how to calm it. Rejections come daily and this Heather would give anything for an ounce of hope that the Heather from two years ago possessed.
I need to make a change. I need to cross that line. Maybe it’s moving just to be somewhere else. Maybe it’s taking a huge risk on a worthy cause. Maybe it’s starting over again. All I want is to follow my destiny but my patience with this life is running out. I need a fresh breath and directions to the right side.
I need to chase a dream. In doing so, I’ll step off the white line.
Hello, lovely fish, My boss sent me this quote today and it's so very true to my own life that I decided to share it with you fine people. Continuing with the sharing theme, I created this design for an event postcard and thought it would add a bit of splash to the bloggarino. I changed the colors and fonts for the purpose of this post, but you get the idea.
It's been 1 year and four months and I still ain't over you.
I was just a naive girl from South Dakota living without fire when I met you. You introduced me to a new world and a new version of myself. And eventually, I fell. With you, I discovered passion.
Together, we were a beautiful mess. We danced so swiftly my friends didn't think we would ever part. We were envied and unstoppable. Some of my life's greatest moments were spent with you in the late evenings, pushing each other to be better. You forced me to look deep within my soul and see all there is to love. For that, I loved you.
But as much as I loved you, I hated you. Thousands of my salty tears were shed at your expense and you were an expert at exposing my demons and faults. You laughed at my insecurities and had no problem revealing them to the world. You left me broken and confidence-less.
You had the ability to take me from the highest point on the Earth to the lowest in a matter of minutes. Ultimately, the roller coaster lost luster and drained my energy. I've tried to walkaway before, but this time, this time I had to let go.
On a cold January day, I said goodbye. A new suitor came a long and presented the fresh perspective I craved. It wasn't a theatrical departure, mainly because I was exhausted and ready to rid myself of the pain you caused. Sentimental tears came, but I always understood that I was making the best decision. Our passion was extinguished by reality and our destinies began to pave different paths. I assumed your absence would cause a dull pain for a few weeks - maybe a month or two - and then fade away as new loves surfaced. I would tuck you neatly into my history book, always thinking of you fondly but never rereading that chapter.
The pain didn't fade and I didn't forget about you.
New loves did appear, offering opportunities that you never could. They showed me what I could be and the good that I could do. I daydreamed about the places I could go, the people I could meet and the peace I could bring to the world now that you and I were no longer. With these new loves, I could have a wonderful life.
Still, I think about you. Every sad love song reminds me of you. I guess I haven't entirely eliminated you from my future. Sometimes, in casual conversation, I still claim you as mine and I as yours. I don't know if I could ever accept us not together.
It's crushing to see you with other people, even in an unhealthy relationship. I'm envious of that person's agony over you. At least it's agony with you.
I scold myself for feeling this way. We shouldn't be together. You're unstable and unreliable. Your future is murky and unpredictable, but I still can't help but long to be a part of it.
We've flirted here and there since our split, even having an nonchalant affair this winter. Even then, we fought, but the passion ignited once again and people noticed. At times, it gave me for hope for us.
To be happy, I don't need you. I can find contentment with other loves, but maybe that's just settling. They present remarkable things, but are they really what I want? When it's all stripped down, you are what I want. You've always been what I wanted.
What I can't ignore is that you, Journalism, are the great love of my life.
To be with you again, would involve severe risks and sacrifices. Failure is more probable than success, but I can't ignore my feelings for you.
In the last one year and four months, I've come to realize that I never want to live a life in which I'm not a journalist. Never. I'm just not sure I'm fit to play any other role and any other career title feels fake. Any journalist knows its not a job or career. It's a life-long love/hate devotion and those truly under its spell can't escape. The world could offer all of its riches, but you can never take off your reporter hat. Even in a stable PR job and a dying newspaper industry, it's hard to not miss that life. I've tried not to feel this way, but I'm not sure I can keep it in anymore.
I'm not sure where life will take me in the next few months, but I'm still and will always be in love with journalism. I'm a journalist and that's my burdened destiny.
