TWP Creative Theme - NEWS

I think I'll do a little fiction... (Note: this piece was originally posted Mar 18 and, thanks to my pal Kerry, a few revisions were made on Mar 22)

He stared blankly, his hand gripping the collar of his bathrobe as he faced the officer. He had just stepped out of the shower when his wife called him urgently to come to the living room where the policeman stood waiting. His hair was still dripping and he hadn't had time to don any underwear. He started worrying about how he was sitting. He wasn't really hearing this. This wasn't the kind of news he could handle. His vacant expression and lack of movement telegraphed his shock. His wife busied herself with straightening the magazines on the coffee table over and over and she kept asking who wanted something from the kitchen.

"Ed? Ed? How about some water? Officer, would you like a cup of tea?"

The officer politely declined. "Sir, you understand what I'm telling you? There has been a fatal accident. Can you confirm a few things for me?"

Ed nodded... slowly. His mouth felt like someone had force-fed him kitty litter. He struggled to swallow.

"Does your son drive a blue 2005 Mazda 3 Sport, licence plate WNT246?"

"Yes." Ed's voice sounded odd, as though coming from a tunnel in his brain.

"Does he attend the University of BC and would he have been coming home this evening at around 8:00?"

His son was a freshman at UBC and received the car as a graduation present from his grandparents. He had made Honour Roll every year of highschool and they rewarded him for his hard work. He was taking extra credits at university because the academic advisor felt he would be able to handle the load. Ed had never had a problem with Michael. He was his pride and joy. He had always been closer to Ed than to his mother, Wendy. They weren't just father and son, they were fishing buddies and spiritual brothers. Michael was mature beyond his 18 years and had his whole life planned out. This couldn't be the end of all those dreams they talked about over the camp fire. Every summer, they would leave Wendy at home and have male bonding trips into the Interior. This couldn't be.

"Sir?" The officer's question shattered Ed's thoughts like a catapulted projectile smashing into his face.

"He's a freshman at UBC. Faculty of Engineering. He's usually home by now." Ed looked at the clock, it's white face and black hands showing 11:15 p.m.

"He's usually home by 9:30. He has a late class on Wednesdays. He's done at 7:30."

The officer wrote something down in his notebook.

Wendy suddenly rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen. "I just made a coffee cake. I was saving it for tomorrow. Michael can take a piece to school. He's late. I wish he'd call. I'm making tea. Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe, Ed?" She didn't wait for his answer. She disappeared behind the swinging kitchen door.

"Where did you say this accident was, Officer?"

"On the Barnett Highway, Mr. Jacobsen. At 8:oo pm there was a head-on collision when a yellow 1996 Camaro travelling westbound on Barnett crossed the center line in the 1700 block and collided with your son's eastbound Mazda. There was a fire in the front of both vehicles, but we believe both drivers were killed instantly. The remains are at the morgue for DNA identification. We will need to request your son's dental records as well."

Charred beyond visual recognition. Ed felt sick. He was glad that Wendy was not in the room to hear the details. Somewhere in his mind he thought he heard the phone ring. Suddenly he heard Wendy scream and the sound of porcelain crashing to the floor. The officer and Ed reached the kitchen door just as Wendy started yelling, "It's Michael! It's Michael!!!" As they opened the door, Wendy was collapsed on the floor, the cordless phone gripped in her hand and resting on her lap. Ed took the phone from her, thinking she had completely gone over the deep end. As he went to return it to the cradle he heard, "Dad? Mom? Hello?? Is anyone there??"

Ed started to shake. He brought the receiver to his ear and said, almost frightened at what he would hear, "M-m-mike?"

"Dad! Is everything okay? I'm at Lisa's place. I had a really tough day and I came over here for dinner. I was going to call, but we kind of got side tracked and then I fell asleep on the couch. Lisa woke me up at 11:00 and said my car had been stolen from the front of her house! I can't believe my rotten luck! All my stuff was in the car! Isn't that just the worst news??"

~End~

©2005 eslethbridge

Distractions Redux

I took this photo and using this (I have no idea how I came across it), and created...

Actually, my daughter kind of freaked when we did this - she looks like an alien! She's supposed to be "baby-fied".

Distractions ... but FUN

You gotta try these...

Mr. Picasso Head - thanks to AW at Delphiki (who writes some pretty cool stuff)...
and
Flash Face... I can't remember where I stumbled across it, but I did bookmark it at some point because it was fun.

BRAGGING RIGHTS!

(Eligible, NICE girls may click on the picture for a closer look.) Ookpik, graduating from Maple Ridge Secondary School in June this year, will be the class VALEDICTORIAN!!! WooT!! Sooo proud... wouldn't that be a horrid reflection on the school if their class Valedictorian couldn't get into the university of his choice!?!??? Ach! **Thinking positive, thinking positive, thinking positive...**

TWP Creative Theme - WINGS (All caught up now!)

Arrgh. Having problems with HELLO posting to my blog so I signed up for Flickr account and am still trying to figure things out. Anyway, click on the image for a larger view... I think it takes you to my Flickr site but I'd rather have any comments posted back here. I made it in Adobe Illustrator - something I've been playing with a lot lately. Since I got my new Wacom Intuous 3, 9x12" digitizing tablet, I've been going nuts and having fun - too much fun. Haven't been doing enough writing and composing.

The poem I wrote (if you can't see it):

On faerie wings

Our dreams take flight

To lift our souls

Into the night

Our thoughts no longer

Fettered here

But free to traverse

'Round the sphere

And soon we see

Great fantasy

And loose ourselves

In reverie.

©2005 Eleanor Lethbridge

Today...

Today I managed to...

1. Get out of bed
2. Make a pot of coffee
3. Hand my daughter a bowl for her cereal and point her in the direction of the milk. (Hey, she's 13. She can manage.)
4. Get dressed. Oddly enough the jeans I put on that were in the pile of clean clothes on my bureau weren't mine! After I got them on, I gasped - they are my 18 year old son's American Eagle jeans! I actually like them because nowadays, all the women's jeans are made with that stupid spandex! But these jeans actually are like jeans used to be! My son said he'll never wear these again... I shouldn't have told him I wore them. Now I'll have to pay him for them. If I promise to never tell any of his friends that I wore his jeans, I wonder if he'll get over it. (Please note, I mention this because my son is slender and I was actually amazed that I got my middle-aged butt into his jeans.)
5. Brush my hair and brush my teeth and wash my face.
6. Drive my daughter to school.
7. Pick up my son and 3 other kids from the highschool and take them back to the elementary school.
8. Drink the now cold coffee from the pot I made when I got out of bed. Can't bring myself to throw out coffee, no matter how awful it tastes.
9. Read 8 e-mails.
10. Answer 6 e-mails.
11. Read and contemplate today's Purpose Driven Life.
12. Read and meditate on today's Our Daily Bread.
13. Browse the artistic contributions at Illustration Friday
14. Comment on some of the above.
15. Read one more chapter of Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller (he also wrote - and I've read - Blue Like Jazz)
16. Listen to 4 volumes of Nat King Cole
17. Do one load of laundry.
18. Put some dishes in the dishwasher. Sad but true - I use the dishwasher.
19. Digitally enhance a picture of a dragon and submit it to Illustration Friday
20. Draw and Photoshop to death a picture of an old man.
21. Take my 2 younger kids out for lunch and then back to school.
22. Buy a newspaper and read most of it. (Also managed to skim through People, Us, In Touch, Chatelaine, Good Housekeeping, and Better Homes & Gardens before buying the newspaper.)
23. Get started on setting up a new website for a friend's business. Still lots to do though.
24. Talk on the phone for the first time with someone I "met" through Illustration Friday and we just ended up emailing each other back and forth. She's a HOOT! This lasted over 45 minutes...
25. Go grocery shopping.
26. Referee a spat between Spootie and Sk8erBoi.
27. Discuss a problem at length with a sad friend via MSN Messenger - I think this took about an hour.

I now have to go make dinner. Then I have to finish the website and the logo for my friend and do my daily writing (this doesn't count...). I'm tired....

TWP Creative Theme - Catch up session #4

Sigh - this is the fourth one I missed (I told you it was a sad state!). After this, I'm caught up and hopefully will be able to contribute for the current week's theme of WINGS.

This theme is RACE.

(I kinda went long on this one... couldn't help it.)

"...a family, tribe, people, or nation belonging to the same stock; a class or kind of people unified by community of interests, habits, or characteristics."

Why have I chosen to focus on this definition? Because I am part of a "visible minority"... I am ethnically a Chinese woman living in a predominantly Caucasian environment. I live in Canada where multiculturalism and the acceptance of other ethnic systems is taken in a "mosaic" approach rather than the "melting pot" approach of our American neighbors. The individuality of each ethnic group that has migrated here is supposedly almost sacrosanct and of great importance... at least that's what the government pamphlets say. I am not sure that is totally accurate.

When I arrived in Canada from the Philippines in 1973, I had very little perception of racism. We had many Caucasian friends in the Philippines - North American and European. The Philippine history included Spanish colonial rule for 200 years, American "protectionism" for more than 50 years, and a continuous influx of other Southeast Asian ethnicities making the islands home. While the Chinese Filipinos and the semi-European Filipinos (referred to as "mestizo"), were visually and usually economically distinct from the aboriginal people, I had never been called some of the things I was called nor encountered blatant, ugly racism until I came to Canada.

I remember walking through the cafeteria in my new high school, already in a bit of culture shock, when I heard someone yell, "**expletive** Nip!" I didn't react because I didn't know that "nip" meant anything other than a small bite or pinch. My new friend turned quickly, her blonde hair whipping around and her ice-blue eyes flashing anger as she engaged the source of the remark, "You're stupid! You don't know anything! She's not even Japanese!" The retort was, "They all look alike." My friend grabbed my elbow and rushed me forward faster than we had been going. I was shocked by this unprovoked verbal assault by an absolute stranger.

In the Philippines, I was always asked to read or recite things in class because they thought I had a rather "American" accent to my English. This was because most of my friends were the children of American businessmen and military people stationed in the area. We also didn't speak any other language but English in our home. My mother was from Hong Kong and spoke Cantonese and "the Queen's English" and my father's family had immigrated to the Philippines from China. The differences in their Chinese dialects as well as my mother not speaking the Philippine native language dictated that the best way for everyone to communicate in our house was English. However, upon coming to Canada, I realized that I did not have a westernized accent at all - I had a distinct Filipino edge to my English. I worked very hard to get rid of that tell-tale diction. I was bound and determined to at least sound like I was born in Canada if I couldn't look like the white kids. I didn't want to be called names again. It hurt and it angered me.

My husband is Caucasian of Russian ethnicity (from what we can figure out from the adoption papers) and he grew up in a small town. When we were married, I was shocked to find out that his deceased mother's mother (his maternal granny) was racist. She came to the wedding, making sure she looked at all of us non-whites with narrowed and cold stares. She by-passed me in the reception line completely! Can you imagine my shock? Bypassing the bride?!?? Even my husband was surprised. I wondered why she had bothered to come to the wedding. Probably curiosity more than anything. Anyway, long (and ugly) story short: she whispered to my new husband as she left the reception: "I feel so sorry for you... marrying into this." She later wrote my father-in-law and said she had disowned Will for marrying an Asian. We haven't seen or heard from her in 14 years. My hubby sent her Christmas cards for a couple of years but his dad then told him that she didn't even open them. End of relationship. Sad. I think it sort of blew me away when my father-in-law said, "You can't really expect anything more from her. She's ignorant and what with the war..." The war??? He was referring to the Japanese in WW2. My mother watched Hong Kong and China be overrun by the Japanese invasion and my father's family lost everything in the Philippines when the Japanese invaded. My mother witnessed the atrocities of war on the Chinese people and so did my father. War is evil and brings out the evil in people, regardless of color. I guess it goes back to the same thing I heard in highschool... "They all look alike." Funny thing is, my father-in-law used to refer to the guy that owned the Chinese restaurant in his small town as "the Chinaman" ... he would say it just like that even in front of me. I don't think he had malicious intent, but it was odd and he really wasn't aware of it.

To be honest, my mother had issues with the Japanese race for a long time after the war - not really a hatred, but certainly a preference to not associate with them too closely. But I think the fact that she is a faithful Christian has helped to heal that.

My children are "haffa's" - half a Chinese, half a Caucasian. My oldest son is often asked if he's Native Indian/Aboriginal... or Hawaiian... or - and this one cracks us up - ITALIAN. My daughter thinks she looks like Lilo from the movie Lilo and Stitch. I think she looks Hispanic. My youngest son looks... well... we can't figure him out. When he was younger, he looked like a little Irishman. He has large, brown expressive eyes but a definitely rounder, sloped nose and a round face. I don't see them as anything but gorgeous. They don't see themselves as anything but "Canadian, eh?".

I acknowledge that there is racism by black people for white people, by Asian people for black people and white people, and even in Caucasian groups, there is racism between ethnicities... Slavs vs. Croats for example. People of the same "color" against their own countrymen just because of "tribal laws" or religious background. I also admit that I've felt some form of racism for other Asians based on generalized behaviors that I dislike. But I'm working on curbing my human tendencies to paint any race with a wide brushstroke based on bad impressions from a few.

On a final note, I close this discourse with the words from a familiar children's song...

Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow, black and white
We are precious in His sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Oh that we were all more like Jesus....

TWP Creative Theme - Catch up session #3

The theme was MEMORY:

Wow... three catch ups in a row. I think I've lucked out with this one because several years ago I wrote a poem called "I Remember." So, here's my contribution (late and probably never to be read by anyone else) on this The Writing Parent Creative Theme.

I Remember

I recall...

the happy days,

my childish ways,

the chicken-pox,

white bobby-socks,

the games I played,

the plans I made,

the teenage talks,

the peaceful walks,

the swimming pool,

the private school,

the cooking class

I barely passed,

the lessons learned,

the times I yearned

to be elsewhere

without a care,

the hopeful dreams

and hopeless schemes,

the loves i had:

some made me sad -

when they would end

I'd lose a friend,

the seasons past,

years flee so fast;

time has flown by

and now I sigh

"Je me souviens...

I remember."

©1982 eleanor lethbridge

(I was only 22 years old at the time...)

TWP Creative Theme - Catch up session #2

The theme was ATTITUDE:

I was going to write something about the attitudes that my children seem to be adopting lately and then go on some unbridled rant about how our society and television/movies and advertising have really messed with the minds of our children and turned them into snarky Bart Simpson-types but on nasty steroids. But then I thought, "Why not take on a POSITIVE attitude about this topic?" So, at the risk of turning into Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (read it here for free, folks) or nauseate everyone with a Pollyanna take on the hard realities of life, here goes.... (And if you ARE nauseated, grab a bag and heave and then scroll to another entry because frankly, this is my blog and I'll write what I dang well please...)

When things go wrong in my day, I have two choices: I can choose to allow them to bother me OR I can choose to accept them as a necessary part of some life-long learning curve and move on.

If I choose to allow them to bother me, I have two choices: I can choose to allow them to fester throughout my day and permeate everything I say and do, thereby spilling over into relationships that may have nothing to do with the initial disaster OR I can choose to let them just bother me for a bit, get it out of my system, scream into a pillow, and then move on.

If I choose to allow them to fester throughout my day and permeate everything I say and do, I have two choices: I can choose to treat every person in my path as though somehow, somewhere, sometime, they contributed to the disaster (even though it's likely that they didn't) OR I can choose to recognize what led to the disaster and who actually may have contributed to it (if anyone other than myself) and then deal with it appropriately and move on.

If I choose to treat every person in my path as though somehow, somewhere, sometime, they contributed to the disaster (even though it's likely that they didn't), I have two choices: I can choose to be a total hag and refuse to take anyone else's feelings into consideration possibly ruining someone else's day and possibly causing them to scream at the next person they meet or kick a dog or something OR I can choose to take responsibility for my own actions, apologize for any outburst that may have unfairly been aimed at unsuspecting and innocent bystanders and move on.

If I choose to be a total hag and refuse to take anyone else's feelings into consideration, I have two choices: I can accept that someone may retaliate and make my day even worse or I can lock myself in a quiet place, pray for patience, peace and most of all for forgiveness from my God for being a total hag and then move on.

I figure that rather than go down this path and all it's side-trails, I might as well just cut to the chase and MOVE ON. So that's my take on how attitude can affect the rest of my day and ultimately the rest of my life. Get over it... recognize my own responsibilities for things, and MOVE ON.

**Please don't hold me to this too strictly when I next rant about something somebody did that affected me negatively or the next time I belabor some point about the unfairness of life. I'm just dealing with it and moving on. :D**

TWP Creative Theme - Catch up session #1

Okay – this is a sad state. I signed up to get motivated and somehow lost steam somewhere between the coffee maker and the laundry room. Crud… It’s not that I haven’t been motivated or creative, I just never made it to actualization. It’s time to snap out of it.

The first “The Writing Parent” creative theme of the week that I missed was on LOVE. Here goes...

LOVE

adulation, affection, allegiance, amity, amorousness, amour, appreciation, ardency, ardor, attachment, case, cherishing, crash, crush, delight, devotedness, devotion, emotion, enchantment, enjoyment, fervor, fidelity, flame, fondness, friendship, hankering, idolatry, inclination, infatuation, involvement, like, liking, lust, mad for, mash, partiality, pash, passion, piety, rapture, regard, relish, respect, sentiment, soft spot, taste, tenderness, the hots, weakness, wild for, worship, yearning, zeal

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When we are little children, we LOVE everything. We love ice cream. We love kittens. We love snow. We love to play with our toys. We love preschool. We love our preschool teacher. We love Mommy and Daddy.

When we are teenagers, we still love a lot of things. We love that new outfit. We love going to the mall. We love hanging out. We love that new song. We love that new band. We love that hottie on the television show. We love that cute guy (or girl) in Biology class and then another cute guy in English class (or girl) and then another cute guy (or girl)… “love of the week.” We don’t love school anymore and we don’t love too many teachers. And we certainly don’t think we love Mom and Dad as much as we used to because they start cramping our style. (In fact, some have been known to scream “I hate you” at their parents in the teen years.)

When we are in our 20’s, we love ourselves. We love our jobs or careers. We love our new condo. We love our new car. We love our independence. We love to party. We love the Manolo Blanik designer shoes we saved up for for 8 months. We might love our parents again as long as they aren’t trying to marry us off or force us to do what they want.

When we are in our 30’s, some of us love another person more than we love ourselves and some of us love ourselves even more than we did when we were 20. We love our new house. Some of us have children to love. Fewer of us love our careers. We love going out for dinner without our children in tow. More of us love our parents again because now that we are parents ourselves, we realize just how smart OUR parents really were. In fact, there’s a saying that the older we get, the smarter our parents get.

When we are in our 40’s and 50’s, we love ourselves as we are. We love our partners more deeply and more maturely. We definitely don’t love our jobs but rather want to love a “vocation” and want to love having our own businesses or being our own bosses. We love that our children are almost fully grown. We love chocolate (although I think we have ALWAYS loved chocolate). We love peace and quiet. We love our new-found spirituality. We love our freedom. We love our “me” time. We love our parents as much as we did when we were little children because we know we don’t have much time left with them.

When we are in our golden years, we love naps. We love reading (more than ever). We love Ben Gay because it works. We love our grandkids especially since we can spoil them and send them home to their parents. We love elevator music. We love going slow and appreciating the beauty of the things around us. We love the “good old days.”

Love… ain't it grand?

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1 Corinthians 13: 1-8
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

I have always clung to this definition and description of love. Even if you are not a Christian, this is one of the best illustrations of what real love is.

Time

Funny how it just gets away from you... slips through your fingers as you hold a cup of coffee and stare out the window. I'm not sure why I have lapsed into being such a time-waster. It's a really annoying thing. I have a list of stuff I have every good intention of completing. I try to have realistic goal-setting... but then I think I suffer from chronic daydreaming... or "distractionitis futilitis."

My father is coming up on his 93rd year... the last 10 months have seen him go through a noticeable decline in his health. My mom is trying so hard to do everything to make him comfortable and to rally his spirits. She is tired too now. I think I'm afraid that he's going to leave us to be with the Lord before I can get this done... I know I'm not doing it for HIM, but he's definitely a part of this. I want to let him know that I tried.

Time... I don't want to live in a pressure-cooker of time... I have always disliked the confines of schedules and the discipline required to keep them. Not that I can't do it, but I've never liked it much. In flashes of maturity, I'll realize that it's essential to discipline myself and my children and to recognize the benefits of efficiency and good time management. I like to think that I'm even pretty good at organization and planning... I was certainly quite capable of it at work. Maybe I'm one of those people that needs to be kept on a leash of some sorts - some disciplinary parameters with dire and harsh and horrible consequences. This is a confession of sorts... I'd get rid of every clock in my life if I could. Of course, that wouldn't work since I need to actually complete things by deadlines. Sigh.

More stupidity from This is True...

TRY, TRY AGAIN: (From www.thisistrue.com)

A robber who hit a grocery store in Minneapolis, Minn., made the mistake of putting his gun on the counter so he could use both hands to scoop up the $2,000 in cash he got from the heist. As he was stuffing the money into a shopping bag featuring a Smiley Face, the clerk grabbed the gun, pointed it at the robber, and ordered him to leave. The robber did, but came back a few minutes later asking for his gun back. During the ensuing fight the robber's mask came off and he fled a second time, again without his gun. Police arrived just as the robber was leaving. They charged Dantzler L. Thomas, 24, with aggravated robbery. Officers found a left glove in Thomas's car; it matched a right glove left at the store. (Minneapolis Star Tribune)

That's all the stupidity I can handle sharing for one day. ~Elle~

The Madness... the sheer madness!

I received this from This Is True and the sheer stupidity compelled me to share this with you. Amazing how things are done:

=====================================================
THIS is TRUE for 27 February 2005 Copyright www.thisistrue.com


STRIKE 1, YOU'RE OUT:
Raven Furbert, 12, has four relatives in the military stationed in Iraq, including her uncle. To help her remember them, she wore a patriotic red, white and blue necklace, a Christmas gift. But officials at Mont Pleasant Middle School in Schenectady, N.Y., told her the beaded necklace is contrary to the school's dress code, which bans "gang-related" clothing. They said if she continued to wear it in any visible place, she would be suspended. When they discovered she was wearing the beads hidden -- not visible -- they told her to remove them. Furbert's mother, Katie Grzywna, says the girl was previously a good student, but is now frequently targeted for detention, so she has filed a federal lawsuit against the school. "I'll be really glad when this is all over," Raven says. "I just want to wear them for my uncle" in Iraq. (Albany Times-Union) ...Who, if you asked him, would say he's there to fight for our freedoms.

STRIKE 2, YOU'RE OUT:
A drug dog doing a routine sniff of cars at R.E. Lee High School in Staunton, Va., alerted near the car parked by student body president Sam Dungan, 17. Officials demanded he let them search the car but Dungan, the son of a defense attorney, called his dad instead. After all, it was his dad's car, since his own was broken down. His father, James Dungan, arrived at the school and consented to a search, since "I don't smoke marijuana, my wife doesn't smoke marijuana, and my son doesn't smoke marijuana," he told them. Bad idea: the search turned up a rusty Boy Scout knife and a bottle of cream liqueur, left in the car after a Christmas party. Good enough: Sam was suspended for 5 days for "possessing" a "weapon" and alcohol on campus. He also must attend alcohol counseling. (Waynesboro News Virginian) ...On the other hand, he may have a good malpractice case against his attorney.


STRIKE 37, YOU'RE OUT:
Susan Bartlett, 34, a teacher at Pine Grove Elementary School in Brooksville, Fla., was "out of control," colleagues say. She allegedly yelled at colleagues, smoked pot at school, "burped loudly" in staff meetings, and called children "stupid" in class. Yet the worst the school would do to her is enter a reprimand in her record -- and extend her contract for another year. School officials finally took action when, in a staff meeting, Bartlett "pulled her pants down and showed her entire bottom to the whole group of teachers in the room," an incident report says. The penalty? She was ordered to take a drug test. Bartlett refused that demand, saying there was a "lack of just cause," and only then was she fired. (St. Petersburg Times)

...The difference between the kids and the teachers: the kids don't have a union.

(Un)Productivity

Today marks the 142nd day of my life outside of my last job. I quit working a 9-5 (or rather 8-late) job in mid October and decided to dedicate a full year of my life to developing my writing for children and getting at least well on the road to being a published author. So far, so not happening! Okay, granted I subtract 14 days or so for re-adjusting to life without working my butt off to fulfill someone else's dream and with minimal compensation or equitable appreciation. And granted there are those interruptions called daily life with children, spouses, friends, and telemarketers. And then there was that whole interruption of the holiday season and birthdays. And granted my father hasn't been in the best of health and my mom has been suffering there too and I was going into Vancouver and spending time with them that was not spent writing things down. I have no other excuses... oh wait... I have one more excuse: I've been doing a lot of drawing and doodling and sketching. Other than that, it might be that I'm not sure what direction I'm going in.

I went to the Vancouver Public Library on Feb 21 to attend a Q&A session with some local published authors. It was billed as "Everything You Need to Know About Getting Published" - after 2 hours, it occurred to me that I already knew most of what was being discussed through all the research and reading about this task that I'd done on my own over the past 142 days. I'm wondering why I haven't taken advantage of a couple of "headstarts" that God has blessed me with: my brother is friends with Randy Alcorn and with Allen Say. The former doesn't write children's books and the latter is an award-winning illustrator and author. But they are both published many times over. The other thing is that my sister and niece are both educators and have agreed to help me with the curriculum alignment aspect of one of my book ideas... But I'm still not there. I have revised the story about 6 times now and I'm still not happy. For crying out loud: it's not like it's Wuthering Heights! It's a PICTURE book.

So... what can I do to boost productivity? I've got to stop getting distracted (I think I discussed this before in my post on goal setting - SMART. Discipline... discipline... discipline.

Sigh... I think I need to go to sleep... I'm depressed now.