Superstitious Rituals

Hello once again, Readers!!! I finally saw The Great Gatsby last night and I loved it! I know that it has had a lot of mixed reviews…and I can understand why…but for my tastes and love of the novel, it was amazing!

But that’s not what I wanted to write about today. Prepare yourself for random information that really has nothing to do with anything and may even make your eyes cross! My eyes are crossing…a little.

Ready?

Today I wanted to write about superstitions. They are so silly aren’t they? To place the outcome of a situation on one little detail that is most likely irrelevant to the problem. But I have so many and I can’t stop believing in them! How do you stop and feel comfortable in letting go, because really, I think it comes down to just letting go. You can’t plan the future because no matter how much you prepare, things will happen as they happen. We really don’t have control in the grand scheme of things. Right?

I know…you are probably wondering where this is coming from.

Well, I finished the Born in Flames trilogy. The third book is in the hands of my publisher now waiting to be reviewed. That means I can move on to another project which I have been dying to do. All these ideas have been floating around in my head, plus I have my NaNo project (which is my current WIP) to finish.

As I started reading through what I’ve already written and decided to change a few things, I decided that I wanted to write in a different font from Courier New (which is what I wrote trilogy in). But I just can’t bring myself to change it. What if by changing the font, I change my ability to write. Or I jinx myself?

Wow. Did I really just admit that absurdity. Yep. I did. And I have a few others too.

Like parking in the same areas to ensure I have a good day, switching laptops to write on, or even blogging a certain way. I don’t do it all the time, but on occasion, I find myself creating rituals that I become dependent on and scared to break. The whole point of me telling you is to share the silliness. It made me laugh the second I realized what I was doing. I’m not going to let fear of the unknown stop me or cause me to create silly fixes that have absolutely no power in changing my future.

So I’m going to change the stupid font and park in a new section. Wish me luck…lol.

Now to leave you with a question: Do you have any superstitions or rituals?

Echelon out ♥

I Fear My Fears

Hello once again, Readers!!! AHHHHH!!! Someone help me!!! There’s a scary thing on my blog post! Eeek!

And scene.

Doesn’t that picture like totally freak you out. Like oh my god. Totally.

So I was sitting with Sonya the other day, shooting the shite, while skimming through Pinterest when I stumbled upon this here photo. Now for those of you who don’t know me, I am a supreme scaredy cat. Supreme to the max. I hate the dark. Absolutely, positively, will never be friends with the dark.

And to make matters worse, I am a scary movie addict. My imagination is verrrrryyyyyy loooonnnnggg. I have seen way too many films to ever recover from my fear. It’s the adrenaline rush that gets me every time. I just can’t resist even though I know that I will pay for it once the sun goes down.

Example:

I don’t have a bed frame because of that stupid urban legend about the guy under the ladies bed. She waited for her dog to lick her hand each night to tell her things were okay and on the last night of her life, it wasn’t the dog licking her hand. *shudder* Yeah, the dog was hanging in the shower.

Or the fact that every time I am in the dark, I feel like there is a ghost lurking or a man hiding somewhere. I can’t even drive down a dark, tree-lined road at night without thinking the girl from The Ring is going to pop out…lol. I am retardedly (there I go making up words again) paranoid. It’s bad, plain and simple.

So I should probably get to the point of this post so as to not waste any of your precious time. Your time is precious to me, my precious…lol.

My husband tells me the best way to deal with fear is to meet it head on. Especially my fear of the dark. Of course I made him explain, because how do you meet the dark head on?

He told me to think about why I am afraid of the dark. The dark is not a person. It cannot reach out and harm me. It is simply what happens when the earth spins us away from the sun. So I thought about it. It’s not so much the dark, but what is inside the dark that I cannot see. It’s the unknown that I am afraid of. I don’t know what is hiding in the shadows, therefore I fear it. I am blind to the future therefore I worry.

This can be applied to all of you who haven’t made that last leap in finishing your writing or publishing your work. What’s stopping you?

I felt the same way when I realized that my first novel was about to be published for the whole world to read. I barely ate for days because I had worked myself up over it. I even debated if it was the right choice. And of course, most of my thoughts were negative ones. The usual, “What if they hate it,” or “What if no one reads it.” You know, those pestering thoughts that plague every writer and even hold some back from ever publishing.

Here’s what I think: Who cares? Opinions are around every single corner. Most of what we see has been built off of opinions. There’s no escaping it.

A big part of life, is experiencing fear. Maybe fear makes us stronger…if you meet it head on that is. My husband said that he has plenty of fears, but he doesn’t shy from them. He faces them, shoving his fear far away from his mind and using it to fuel his courage. And he’s absolutely right. How are we to ever know what we can be if we shy away from the unknown?

That doesn’t mean I am investing in a bed frame though, lol. Sorry, but I don’t need something else to check every night before bed.

I digress.

That is all folks.

Echelon out ♥

See what I mean…freaking creepy! Even Harry can’t sleep without being bombarded by sparkling, lurking men.

Fenn’s Journal

-Day 3

The date didn’t go as planned. I should have known. When does anything ever go as planned for me? Is it even worth writing about anymore? I flip back through this journal and the majority of what I see is unplanned, not normal events taking place. What happened to the days when things made sense? Did they ever make sense?

There was a small moment, at the restaurant, when Aurora looked at me. I mean, she really looked at me. The blush in her cheeks and the way she bit her lower lip, it always happens when she’s nervous or embarrassed. She said I was the yin to her yang. I know that sounds silly, but it was the look in her eyes that made the statement so much more. The wall between us broke a little more.

At least I thought it did, because right when I was about to admit my feelings, she cut off me off with a load of crap about how she doesn’t want to ruin our relationship. Stupid girl stuff. She has to sort every freaking thing out. Nice and neat. Love isn’t neat. It isn’t something you can plan. Why can’t she see that?

Just asking that…scares me. What if she can’t see it because she doesn’t feel how I feel?

Blah. I’m sick of thinking like this. Something’s gotta give. I won’t even touch on what happened after the restaurant. I’m not ready to walk through that just yet. Saying that my denial backfired big time, is a HUGE understatement. I’ve got a lot to think about.

Oh, Aurora lost her journal. Well…she says she lost her journal. I’m not sure if I believe her though because I offered to buy her another and she said no. So much for that idea.

Later,

Fenn

 

A Pink-Wrapped Gift

Hello once again, Readers!!! My daughter is two!!!!

Two years ago today, on 01/11/2011, my daughter, Scarlett, was born. She was another planned C-section so the doctor tried to rush and get her out by 11:11 (to complete the matching date), but missed by three minutes. I begged for them to take their time lol. It didn’t matter to me either way…I just wanted her healthy and happy.

With her, things were a little different. I already learned most of the lessons of raising a little one with Logan. I knew what to expect…therefore I could actually enjoy every moment rather than worrying if every noise was a sign of something.  Typical first-time-parent syndrome. You learn that every fall isn’t the end of the world, every cry doesn’t mean they are unhappy, and discipline is not going to hurt them. Trial and error at it’s best.

Logan was three when we decided to have another child. We didn’t want a huge age gap between them and were ready for another. I missed holding a baby and Logan was sprouting right before our eyes, past the cuddling stage. Once the decision was made, we found out a month later on mother’s day that we were carrying. And at 12 weeks (thanks to a wonderful ultrasound tech), I knew it was a girl.

Hearing those words, “You’re having a girl,” was insanely awesome. I already had my boy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my fingers crossed that it was a girl. That is what Damon and I have always wanted. A boy and then a girl. The rest went by so fast. It’s like I wasn’t even pregnant.

And then the stars aligned and she was born. Again, Damon and I both wept happy tears when her cry pierced the busy operating room. The first thing I asked was, “She’s still a girl right?” Typical fear…check the fingers, toes, and gender. And yes indeedy…she was still a beautiful, healthy, peaceful little girl. When I held her in my arms for the first time, I almost couldn’t see through the tears of joy.

Watching her grow up with an older brother is such a blessing. They are so good to each other. Logan is patient and understanding, and always offering to help. He tries to teach her and play with her, even when she is being a typical toddler and throwing a fit. They crack me up. She chases him everywhere he goes screaming, “Where going Go-gan?” Too cute.

She rolled at four months, crawled at six, and walked at 11. He first word was dada (again), and she is the most cuddliest, sweetest baby ever. And I love watching her with Damon. Growing up without a father really makes me appreciate what I now have…what my children have. A great dad who will always be there for them.

She sings more songs than I thought a two-year-old could sing, she dances, loves running in circles, loves chocolate milk, counts to ten, gibbers and then bats her eyelashes, screams when she doesn’t get her way and then comes out of time out wanting a hug. She is my baby girl. She is a treasure and completes our family.

Now I’m tearing up. Too many dang birthdays. But on a neat note…I am now 26. My daughter is two and my son is six. Cool right?

Echelon out ♥

How My Life Really Started ♥

Hello once again, Readers!!!! Today is 01/09/2007.

Six years ago today, I brought that little boy up there in the photo, Logan, into this world. I was scared as hell and hoping to God that I wouldn’t screw him up. I was responsible for this little, innocent life. He was all mine (with the exception of my husband), and was a vision of perfection; an angel handed to me by the something bigger than myself. Something I didn’t understand until my name became Mommy. He is how my life really began.

I was 19 and happily married to my high school sweetheart. I didn’t have a real care in the world. My life had no real direction. I was all about living in the moment and enjoying my youth. I told you I was rebellious. My husband and I worked and then did whatever young people do. We went to the movies, the clubs, out to eat…things you do before you have real responsibilities. Spur of the moment ideas to curb the boredom of having no purpose.

And then we found out we were carrying.

Suddenly, the world stopped spinning. It had to. I needed to have a concrete foundation for him; a stable place for this little baby that was the combination of myself and the man I loved more than anything. We had immortalized ourselves into something that would soon become the center of our world.

We grew up in a short amount of time. My husband took a better job and I continued to work up until I couldn’t anymore.  He grew and grew inside my belly, happy and safe from the world. We started saving our money rather than spending it, we bought a reliable car (that I am still driving), and we read as many baby books as we could to prepare ourselves. It felt like it took forever when in reality, it was just a short blip in time.

And before we knew it, the big day had arrived. I had planned on natural birth, but my son was born via C-section. He was 9lbs 6oz. Yeah…there was no way I could have managed natural lol. I remember laying on the operating table, listening to the sounds of whatever they were doing, waiting for the inevitable cry. I kept asking Damon, “Baby?” He smiled and shook his head every time.

Until finally they pulled him out. His cry was immediate, and honestly, it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life. I remember looking over at Damon who had tears rolling down his cheeks. He leaned down and kissed me, a kiss that spoke so many words. It was one of the moments when you know everything is exactly how it should be. Everything is okay.

And then they brought Logan over to me. He was bundled up like a pea pod, so serene. They laid him on my chest and there he was…all mine forever. Of course I kissed him while trying to hold back the joyous tears that knotted in my throat. My husband took him into the nursery while they finished up the surgery. The smile on my face stayed for so long, my cheeks burned as I stared at the ceiling with this harmonious feeling resting in the middle of my chest.

I had a baby boy. A beautiful, healthy baby boy.

My mom stayed with me the first couple of days to help me rest (from the surgery) and really, just to help curb my fear. Eventually though, she had to go. I had to face this alone. It was my road to walk. I was no longer a child, but a mother. She left that Wednesday. I remember looking down at him thinking, What now? It was one of the most scariest, eye-opening moments of my life. So I grabbed a rattle and moved back and forth in front of him. And then we fell into the routine called life.

He rolled over just before he hit four months, crawled at six months, and walked at 10 1/2 months. He was a quick learner and his first word (other than dada that I remember) was Ga-ge-go (motorcycle) lol. I stayed home with him for a year until I had to go back to work, where I stayed up until March of last year.

It has been a long, strenuous, loving, and enlightening road. The road of being a parent. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. He gave me a purpose. He made my goals important. He made my decisions have meaning. I want him to see that anything is possible, no matter where you are in life. I had no idea I wanted to be a writer. Not until the time I spent staying at home with him. It took another couple of years after that until I even attempted it. But I did…and I have him to thank.

His imagination is so vivid and strong. His strength is insane. His heart is full of love. He has so much potential and I will be there every step of the way, pushing him to go for his dreams and supporting him in his decisions.

I love you, Logan. Happy birthday!

Echelon out ♥