Inspiring

Hello, loves,
Big ideas are a brewin' for this girl so I need lots of inspiration. Want some?

1) David Sedaris

Photo from here

I kind of want his life- live in France and write stories about the odd things that happen from day to day. His audio books are great road trip companions. High Plains Reader, an alternative newspaper in Fargo, just did this story on him. The fact that it sometimes takes him 11 years to write his stories is ultra inspiring. The ebb and flow of his work astounds me and it always leaves me wanting more. This story was my first introduction to Sedaris and one of my favorite Easter stories, well next to the resurrection of Jesus Christ of course.

2) Nike commercials. 

Nike's advertising is solid from year to year and many of them give me this "I can move the world" mentality. Here are a few of my favs:

3) Michael Scott

Photo from here

Sure, this The Office character is an idiot at times, but idiotically brilliant. His heart is as big as the world and belief stronger than the ocean. Some favorite sincere Michael Scott quotes:

"Finishing that 5K was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I ate more fettuccini alfredo, and drank less water than I have in my entire life. People always talk about triumphs of the human spirit. Well today I had a triumph of the human body. That's why everybody was applauding for me at the end. My guts, my heart and well I eventually puked my guts out. I never puked my heart out, and I am very proud of that."

"I didn't find the perfect moment. Because I think that today was about just having today. And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story, when people ask how we found each other. I, will see her, every now and then, and, maybe one year she'll be with somebody and the next year I'll be with somebody. And it's going to take a long time... and then it's perfect. I'm in no rush."

"Who would've thought, that the thing that would save this company would be work. And pancakes. In the end, this day definitely had its ups and downs. I realized that we don't have the biggest office, which is a surprise, because 165 square feet sounds like a lot, but we have people with the biggest hearts and I think for a small company, that is really-- [toilet flushes] someone went to the bathroom... that is really what's important."

4) My friends Dessi and Shelly

I only had a photo of Shelli, but, take my word, Dessi is GORGEOUS

They are both taking huge leaps of faith and believe strongly in the paths that are set before them. To do what they are going to do, takes an amazing breath of courage, but neither one of them could imagine doing anything else. I spoke with them individually about the life they've chosen and they remind me that each of us has a destiny and this is theirs. And they wouldn't have it either way.

5) "Why ponder thus the future to foresee, 

      and jade thy brain to vain perplexity?

      Cast off thy care, leave Allah's plans to him —

      He formed them all without consulting thee."

- Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat

6) The Sanford's Children Hospital

Photo from here

I had the amazing pleasure of attending a gala Saturday night in support of the Children's Hospital. That beautiful building and the passionate people who made it a reality gave me goosebumps, but the bravery of the children who inhabit the hospital brought me to tears. If we all had an ounce of the determination those children do, peace would resound. Over 1,200 people, donned in classy attire, attended the event in honor of what's already been accomplished and to show support for what still needs to be accomplished. I was so blessed to be there and I want to thank the Meyers and the Blues for inviting me. Simply incredible.

7) My sketch book

When I was younger, I begged my mom to buy me oil pastels to draw flowers and houses. I bought a sketch book and pastels a few months ago and it's amazing the creativity that flows through me after a couple doodles. I hadn't touched them in a couple weeks, but last Monday, I had a strong urge to just draw something. I filled three pages before bed. The next day, I went to work bursting with energy and came up with a fantastic idea for email art that required me to play with sidewalk chalk. It was a hit with the people in charge of the email and gave me a renewed sense of creative confidence.

That's all I have. Have a lovely Tuesday.
Heat

Musical love

Today, I sat my in the middle of my living room bawling, asking God to give me strength, hope and clarity.

A few hours later, I received two song dedications from two people who I love so very much. Both of them wanted me to know they love me and are there for me. And now I can’t stop crying because these are answered prayers. 

Here are the songs they sent me.  Share one with someone special today. It’ll probably make their day. It made mine.

To those two special people, you are my blessings, my rocks. I love you.

Hope

Hope is a little devil. 

Hope makes us believe in the impossible. Hope leads us to depend on silly notions and unrealistic expectations. Hope makes the bruises purple and the pain sting. Hope paints dream pictures that cover the hard truth.

Hope, though, gets us from day to day. Hope is the helping hand after a long fall. Hope makes life worth living. 

And I'd rather stumble and lose 1,000 times than ever lose hope. Never, ever lose hope. 

Tuesday of Inspiration

It's Tuesday and guess what that means? Inspiration! Here are my inspiring things for the first week of June :)

1) If you have not seen this movie, you must.

It's simply amazing. I may or may not have cried. Twice. This film reminded me it's OK to still believe in the magic of balloons, adventures happen every day and it's never to late to follow you dream. If you haven't seen this, go. Now.

2) Amy

I'm so freaking proud of this girl. She decided to move to Portland. The world gave her several reasons not to go, but she didn't listen. She stuck to her dreams and reached the West Coast Monday. To pick up and move away from everything you know takes great courage. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I'm already looking into plane/train tickets and hope to visit her soon. Amy, you are a star and Portland is blessed to have you!

3.)
I tore this headline out of the Argus Leader a few years ago. It was the Sunday center package and a story I still love to hear. The article was about SDSU's version of Rudy and his desire to wear the Jackrabbit uniform. His college career topped out to less than minute of actual game time, but he didn't care. Just a year out of school, this particular player sent a check to Coach Stig. He loved that program so much that he wanted to support young athletes who felt the same way. That story inspires me to donate, to never give up and to always be thankful for what you achieve, great or small. This headline has been with me at every job and I'll carry it with me until it disintegrates into yellow mush. 

On a semi-related note: The development directors in my office give out a monthly Roadie award to someone who plays a crucial role in helping them accomplish their goals. They gave it to me for the month of May. It comes with a gift card to the University Bookstore. That made me happy :)

4.) This wall art at one of my favorite places.



5.) Lucy

The most inspirational thing in my life is people who follow their dreams. Lucy is a prime example. She's dream chasing and, at times, it sucks. But she believes in her dream so she keeps running after it. I believe in her dream and I believe in her. This girl is going places and I'm so inspired by the leap of faith she took to convert those dreams to realities. It's a long and tough process, but I have all the confidence that she can and will conquer those dreams. I can't wait to say I knew her when ...

6.) In my humble opinion, this is the best song ever written. It inspires me to write, to live and to love.


7) Modern Love essays

These move me and come from the softest part of the heart. I have a great idea for one, and hope to write it in the next month or so. Watch for it :)

Hope you feel inspired :) I do. Rest easy, children, and I will see you shortly.
Heat

Monday Blog goodness

So, remember how I wrote about my geeky obsession/inspiration from Elsie and her bf Jeremy? Well, Elsie is doing this awesome 24-hour blog session and I really think all of you must check it out! It makes me so excited because when I check her blog seven times today, like I do most days, there will be an update! And I'll probably have Jeremy streaming on last.fm. today. Woot. That is fabulous news because I have some major designing and writing to do today and Elsie and Jeremy are great inspirations for my creative process :) Melissa and I have made it our goal to make the nine or so-hour trek to Springfield to visit the RVA store and maybe meet them both. So, go check out her blog and check out her RVA store for some cuteness :)

Peace and cookies for a lovely Monday. Check back tomorrow for some inspiration :)

H

An unexpected path

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. 

I think someone's trying to tell me something

This quote appeared on two of my tea bags today. I only drank two. It's a God wink, in more ways than one. Probably needed to hear it twice.

Inspiring Tuesdays

Here, have some inspiration :)
1) Rain























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

A storm is nearing

A storm is nearing.

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. 

A plateau year

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.

And you know what? I am pretty freaking amazing.  

Princes, ghosts and goblins

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.

Hmph. 

Check out my new blog!

Hi, folks,

So I've decided to run a marathon and am going to blog about it! Hi-ya (insert virtual high five)!

Please check it out. Don't worry though, I always loves heathermangan.blogspot.com and promise to keep things rolling on the blogspot. 

http://asillygirlwholikestorun.wordpress.com/

Writing

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. 

Inspire

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.  

Gary Vaynerchuk @ Big Omaha 2009 from Big Omaha on Vimeo.

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.

Missy Higgins - New Music - More Music Videos

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!

Blessings,
H

Spontaneity

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.)

My perfect day

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.

Bed time now. Goodnight, loves.

White line

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.

A death and a new life

I have snobbish eyelids.

I'm aiming for ...

Delicious Ambiguity

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.

Enjoy.
H

Still ain't over you

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.

Kiss me thru the phone

The pragmatic description of pop music today is that it doesn’t necessarily have to be good to be popular. Songs with a catchy romanticized chorus, fast beat and nice-looking front man are sure-fire hits, regardless of the tune’s meaning. If the image is good, who cares that the biggest song in the world last year told the story of one woman’s pursuit to kiss another woman and her tantalizing cherry chapstick?

On my soapbox, I can stare down at those teenyboppers who joyfully sing along to the nonsense from their sparkling iPods and judge them for their poor taste in music. In reality, some of the same music is stored on my “cool kid” device. Yeah, it’s shameful to admit, but Bob Dylan doesn’t really encourage me to show off my exceptionally awful dance skills. Stupid songs allow us to be stupid.

Some time ago, a big family came into the shelter. The mother and her children didn’t exactly fit the stereotypical shelter residents. Wearing a tailored white shirt, silver necklace and deep blue jeans, the mother spoke sweetly to me and the other volunteers. She smiled, not revealing any of the expected turmoil she was feeling underneath her soft white skin. I could feel her sincerity. She was happy to meet me. I can’t say I that would’ve been that kind just a few days after my entire world was flipped on its head, uncertainty and pain oozing out its skull.

I was assigned to the playroom that night and spent group time with the mother’s two youngest and three regulars, all girls. Usually, I just sway back and forth in a rocking chair, refereeing fights over plastic food and stuffed animals. But the new girls asked if I would read a story. Judging by cover art alone, they chose an epic tale of the Power Puff girls and a caterpillar. The story attracted the attention of all in the room and I had five girls, all under the age of five, sitting on my lap. They oo-ed and ah-ed at the adventure and called for an encore. For my own sanity, I suggest another book and Barbie’s trip to New Mexico was the chosen tale.

The baby of the group had enough and put up a crying fight. The other two regulars are used to the baby’s continuous screams so they blocked out the painful noise and invested their interest in plastic cars and rocking horses. The new girls, although, were concerned by the baby’s unhappiness.

“Why is she so sad?” one asked.

“Can we sing her a lullaby?” the other asked.

So, this is what a heart full of joy feels like, I thought and agreed. We sang “Hush, little baby,” even though I didn’t know the words and improvised until the baby calmed down.

The crying didn’t lull for long and the baby was at it again. The new little girls gave up and joined the playing. I watched these little girls in amazement and wonder what it would feel like to be in their place. They’ve been ripped away from normal life and now live in an unfamiliar place. At their age, surely they don’t understand what’s happened, right? But maybe they do. They talked about home and life just three days prior. Ever so slightly, I could tell that they knew life is now different. And it may never be the same.

A few minutes before group was to end, we joined the older kids, who were cleaning up messes from their craft projects, in the kitchen and dining room. A familiar melody blasted through a tiny clock radio and I winced as I recognized the tune to be “Kiss me thru the phone.” What an awful song I thought as I noticed one of the little girls swaying. Not caring about inappropriate lyrics and changing my mind about the song, I grabbed her hand and her sister’s.

We danced. We boogied. We let arms and legs flail as they pleased. We released any fear or worry pent up inside. The ridiculous song encouraged us to be ridiculous.

Driving home that night, I cried as I thought about those two little girls. If they could still find a reason to dance after what they went through – and I have no idea what that is – then I don’t have an excuse. Nothing in my life, nothing, should ever stop me from dancing.

Anytime I hear “Kiss me thru the phone” I crank it up, dance and remember that night at the shelter. If bad pop music exists for no reason only to make us dance when nothing else will, then I’ll consider it a blessing.

So, baby, kiss me thru the phone. I’ll see you later on.

Happy Earth Day

This video makes me giddy. And this song may or may not be my ringtone.

Celebrate the Earth; she is quite amazing.

I'm on a boat

At the shelter today, we painted pictures using noodles, plastic bags, brushes, cotton balls, wax paper, sponges and other materials that seemed appropriate. In honor of my current makes-me-really-happy song, I drew a sail boat. My little friend, R, drew a mermaid because that is what her future entails, so she tells me. Our art was museum worthy. I’ll probably hang it in my living room as a reminder of serenity and R will probably show off her lovely lady to her cat. As much fun as it was to unleash a little youth creativity, the best part came when R gave me a hug at the end of the night, thanking me for helping her. That’s better than being on a boat.


Loves,
H
P.S.
Sorry the blog has been slackin’ a bit. My schedule has been jammed pack, but hopefully some good things will pop up here in the next few days.

Easter Joy

A main Easter tradition in Pierre is a massive egg hunt on the lawn of the governor’s residence. Volunteers shower the newly green grass in an assortment of brightly covered eggs and sugary treats. Children – some years dressed in Sunday best, some years in winter coats – line up on the lawn, waiting for that whistle to blow and signify the right to greedily sprint and seize as much as candy a plastic pink basket or Walmart bag can hold.

My parents took my brothers and I to the egg hunt every year. It was my favorite part of the day. Running through the grass in a spring dress, attempting to gather more goodies than I deserved. My loot didn’t always seem as plentiful as other kids, and sometimes I was disappointed in myself, but any sense of failure was eased by a piece of chocolate.

After one particular hunt, I was apprised my few pieces of taffy, chocolate and sugar coated bunnies as failure. I really wanted that big egg or gift certificate to McDonalds, but those other faster, better kids got them. Sulking, I made my way through the crowds to find my parents. I passed a boy crying. His basket was empty and his father was trying to console him. “Did he not get any candy?” I asked his father. He nodded his head, appeasing a nine-year-old girl. I reached into my basket, grabbed a piece of candy and placed it in to the boy’s basket and ran off before either he or his father could say something.

I’m not sure how the boy acted to my gesture, but that moment has stuck with me. Something filled my heart that day. I wanted to do that more. Not necessarily give my unwanted candy to a stranger, but sharing. It felt good.
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Today represents sharing. It represents hope, giving and life. Easter reminds us all that we have the ability to be better people and this is a perfect starting point.

I stepped into some severe insight recently. However, it didn’t calm the hurricane inside me, like I had hoped it would. The Hurricane didn’t spin faster; it just kept its normal pace. I just wanted resolution, but I wasn’t sure where to find it.

On Saturday, I went to the beach for no specific reason other than it felt right. The tan sand hadn’t changed in the four years I’d been absent. The water didn’t seem to mind my presence or notice it. Then something rushed over me and I hastily grabbed my journal and wrote the following passage:

I love you more, Heather. I love you more than the doubts and condemnation you put on yourself. I love you more than anyone else will. I love you more today than yesterday. I love you more for the person that you are than the person you want to be. I love you more.

I’m not sure where those words came from, maybe it was me or maybe it was a higher being speaking through my pen. It doesn’t really matter where the voice came from. I just needed to hear it.

On this rainy Easter day, I believe those words. For the first time in a long while, I believe in myself. My hope dwells within my abilities and skills and I know I can accomplish good.

Today, I’m full of life because of what this day represents. Easter joy has inhabited my spirit. I’m ready to change, live and share this life.

Happy Easter, all. Be happy. Be hopefull.

Love you dearly,
H

Friends in transition

While I was deciding to move back to South Dakota, I made several pros and con lists. These lists usually included names: names of people I wanted be in my life again and people I didn’t. His name was on the pro list, in fact, it was a big advantage. I had a feeling that if I moved back, he could help me transition back into a former life as a new person.

Before my final year of college, a few friends – some in the Journalism program, others not – told stories about this character named Lee. He was an advertising major and a big fan of fun. They were surprised in my lack of knowledge about him, but I imagined that one day or another I would eventually meet him. We knew so many of the same people and Yeager Hall is not that big; it had to happen.

Our senior year, we had a class together and were both working at The Collegian, so our friendship naturally bloomed. We bonded over the Twins, random-themed parties and Megan Vogel. We finished our collegiate careers sitting next to each other at graduation and making jokes about Scooter Banna Pants.

With our degrees in hand, we were both headed to different time zones, me of course to Idaho and him to Nashville. I didn’t really expect our friendship to continue much outside of Brookings city limits, so I was a bit surprised when the first phone call came from Tennessee. It soon became a weekly engagement and a comfort zone.

Our conversations lasted usually an hour and our friendship deepened. We saw life in the same sense as we were enduring that awkward transition between college and the “real world.” Defining a life path was far beyond our maturity; we couldn’t even find the starting line. We didn’t understand our surroundings, but we understood each other.

Lee was reassurance that my doubts and fears were valid, but he gently reminded me that they didn’t define me. He was a calm voice when I wanted to scream. He was a joke when I needed a laugh.

Eventually, Lee decided to move back to South Dakota. The job market in Nashville wasn’t very generous and he believed he would have a better shot of snatching a worthy job back home. So, he left that life behind and put new hope in a familiar place.

Four months later, I found myself in a similar position. Now a different person, I struggled with finding my identity in a town I was supposed to never see again. The faces and buildings were the same, but the emotions were strangers. It was a new life dancing with an old, and it was a terribly lonely ballroom.

But Lee was there. He knew what that felt like. He knew. Neither of us planned to be back to Brookings, but it was our reality.

Our friendship morphed again. I found myself feeding off his creativity, Micah’s too. Their insane conversations and quirky comments encouraged me to think differently. I saw situations in a new light and absorbed a witty attitude. We developed a “gang” that demanded peculiar activities. And, eventually, being in Brookings felt right at this time in my life.

Last week, Lee started a new job in Sioux Falls. I was a coach and confidant through the application process and was absurdly delighted when he was offered the job. It’s a much better fit for him and he is still fairly close to his girlfriend (who happens to be one of my best friends - I introduced them), family and friends. It didn’t hit me until later that Lee would be gone.

And now he is. Lee came to Brookings to find clarity and direction, and maybe he hasn’t completely obtained them, but he is off to a good start. Brookings gave him what he needed, then it was time to say goodbye. Sioux Falls isn’t Nashville, but it’s on the right path.

I jokingly told Lee that now I have to go. If he left, I should too.

Brookings was never a final landing place for Lee or I, at least not now. It was the line between A and B. I’m still on that line, finding my B. One day, it will come. I’ve got to be patient. When it does, Lee will once again play the role of a supporting friend.

Opening Day

Today should be a national holiday.

To my family and friends, it is.

The world shifts a bit when the doors to beautiful sculpted stadiums open and dirt and hot dogs aromas seep out. When the steal cleats meet fresh grass and the sound of a cracking bat mimics bell tones, life attracts a new luster. As my father says, on baseball’s opening day “all is right in the world again.”

Baseball season begins today (OK, for some teams it began yesterday, but it’s a proven fact that the season doesn’t actually start until your team takes the field. For me, the season begins today as the Twins take on the Mariners.) Opening day is truly reflective of spring – it’s been a long winter, but now the birds sing, the flowers bloom and John Gordon’s voice floats joyfully over the air waves. It’s a giddy feeling, one that brings innocence and youth.

For some people, baseball is about the sport. The historic rivalries, the big hits, lofty catches, the athletic talent, the names, the stats, the wins, the losses.

To me, baseball is about the game and what it symbolizes. I can’t stammer off stats, but I can smell the Metrodome hundreds of miles away. When I close my eyes, I can feel the fluorescent lights of Hyde Stadium bathe my skin. And, even though I’m a vegetarian now, I can still taste hot dogs from the Complex.

My father has always referred to me as World Series baby as I was born on Game 2 of the 1984 World Series when the San Diego Padres beat the Detroit Tigers 5-3. (Tigers went on to win the series 4-1.) The ideal story would read that the nickname paved my life as a baseball devotee, but not so.

Despite the fact that my life was immersed in baseball, I resisted fan hood. From the ages six to 18, at least three nights of the week – usually four and sometimes seven – were spent at a ballpark. Both my brothers played at all levels, I played softball for six years, my dad was president of the Pierre Baseball Association and my mother was in charge of staffing and stocking the concession stands at the little league complex. Summer was baseball and not much else. Even our vacations were always centered around a ball game.

Growing up, I didn’t care much for baseball. It was more of annoyance than something I enjoyed. I hated being at the ball park every night. I hated that we couldn’t go anywhere unless a ball park was within a 60-mile radius. My resent shadowed the true splendor of baseball.

Then one day, it all made sense. The realization didn’t come with some triumph motion from Heaven, but subtly. It became clear that baseball was much more than nine players, a bat and a ball. I began to see the game the way my brothers and father do.

Basketball is quicker and football sells more crowds, but nothing can compete with baseball. Loyalty and unity run deeper in baseball, although quite present in other sports. When you attend a game – at any level – you feel strangely connected to all those around you, even opponents.

Today, I will watch the Twins start the season with my friend, a Red Sox fan (don't worry, also a Twins fan). My brother would find that sacrilegious, but it’s not about colors and team affinity to me. We’ll enjoy the game, embrace the break from reality it ensures and remember that we have six months of this glory.

We’re gonna win Twins, we’re gonna score …

Simple Beauty

Every photographer has a niche – people, wildlife, food, plants, fashion, etc. For me it just happens to be the glimpse of light that shines through a roof of trees.

Before I go on, I must declare that I do not dare call myself a photographer. That title is reserved for those who take photos on a consistent basis and have actual talent. But I wish I could be good at photography. Good photos mesmerize me. They speak to us through in every emotion and language. The only thing that can captivate me more than a stunning photo is goose-bump attracting writing. Although I’m not a photographer, I like to dabble in the art.

When Melissa used one of my tree photos in a sympathy card she designed, it occurred to me that I take a lot of those types of photos. When the sun’s sparkling rays lace through the mess of leaves and branches, I’m inspired. Inspired to take a photo, to enjoy the moment, to smile a little bit more.

The other day I was out running and struggling through the emotions. I stopped to walk a bit and happened to look up while underneath a tree. The sun smiled through barren branches and reminded me spring was on the way so it was OK to be happy. And like that, all the gunky feelings were gone.

Some people seek peace from mountain tops and ocean beaches, and although those calm me, they aren’t very accessible in South Dakota. When I need a rush of hope or a sliver of strength, I find a tree and look up. Heaven looks down and grants my wish. I take photos of that moment to capture the sun’s good side and have a permanent reminder of how simply beautiful life can be.

Above are a few of my favorite tree/sun shots. I hope you see what I see in them.

I just don't know what to do with myself

The thing I loved most about being a reporter was the ability to experience someone else’s life. One day I rode along with a highway patrol man, the next joined a young Native American woman in a sacrificial buffalo hunt. I listened to a 17-year-old girl describe her triumph over cancer (twice) and three mothers who coped with their Marine sons’ deployment to Iraq by becoming friends. A hippie from Colorado taught me to ski and a mayor heightened my awareness of Idaho’s serious water issues. I got a preview of most lifestyles without paying the ticket’s full price.

Each new experience intrigued me enough to want to follow that path. Of course, the next day, I would want to jump paths for something else I tried. Being a reporter actually fed my indecisiveness. I was able to try something for enough time before my attention wander onto something because that was my job. If every day as reporter was that glamorous, I doubt that I would’ve left. Actually, I probably would probably end up right where I am now.

My restlessness is getting the best of me. I keep dreaming up new ways to live my life and great goals I could accomplish. In the last month, I’ve wanted to be a/an: graphic designer, full-time volunteer, florist, freelance writer, camp counselor, business owner, au pair, nomad, bartender, English teacher in a foreign country, martyr, activist, public relations manager for a non-profit, master’s student, organic farmer, novelist, world-traveler, social marketer, children’s book author, grant writer, waitress, counselor, and – oddly enough – a reporter. Some ideas are dreams I’ve had for a while, and others popped in and out of the running as I go through the emotions. Welcome to my daily thought process. It’s quite maddening.

Normally these thoughts wouldn’t get the best of me, but my itching to leave this town strengthens daily. So, I pursue these ideas and am either disheartened by my ability to fulfill the chosen destiny or another destiny suddenly becomes more appealing. Mostly I am scared to death that I will fall flat on my face. Maybe that is what I need the most.

What I forget is that none of these are permanent decisions and that having a “life plan” is a rather illogical goal. I’m not a patient person, especially when it comes to life, but I can’t expect to do all that I want to do in life by the time I’m 25. But what I can expect is to not have expectations and to live my life by what is best for me right now.

My main objective is to not have regrets, so maybe I should reexamine that list and pick out the ones that I want crossed off by the time I’m on my death bed. Do those and don’t let my enemies – doubt and fear – get in the way. Simple enough, right? Umm ….

Even though these thoughts cause pain my stomach and headache, I believe they are a blessing. All I really want is to make the most of time on Earth, and not all people feel that way. It’s possible for me to do that, I just have to believe it.

P.S. Attention Faithful Blog Readers,
I’m accepting suggestions about what I should do with my life. If you know of something great that I should be doing, I would like to hear it 
Loves for you all,
H