Shaken and Stirred

An earthquake isn't the best form of alarm clock that I know of. I would much prefer something a little more soothing and that doesn't freak the crap out of my cats.

I actually was drifting back to sleep as I had decided after my alarm went off at the normal 5:45 that my aching feet from an event I worked yesterday didn't need to hit the treadmill quite yet. The shaking started and it rattling the windows pretty hard. A little before the shaking started, I heard the cats scurry from their shelf-perches. Then they all ended up in bed with me. Chef, on the other hand, didn't wake up at all. That man can sleep through just about anything.

But the earthquake was just the start of a jarring day. It wasn't particularly bad or remarkable or even unusual in the sense that nothing happened that was out of the ordinary. But for some reason I was a little shaken in more than the physical sense today.

I thought of a question on my way out to my car. Pondering life and art and all those things that only seem to pop into my head when I'm trying to think about other things, less important daily duties, I thought to myself: Do you have to sacrifice something for your dreams?  Is that a prerequisite?

I honestly don't know the answer or am not sure there really is an answer. Do you have to sacrifice family to be a true artist? Or a career to have a true passion (assuming it's not in that career field, of course)? Clearly, there's no secret formula to making dreams come true. Other than luck. I'm a firm believer that luck (or timing or coincidence or faith or whatever you believe in) plays a bit role in making things happen. And yes, the harder you work the "luckier" you seem to get. I've heard that.

But I guess I found it appropriate on St. Patrick's Day to wonder: Is it luck or sacrifice that plays a bigger role in making dreams a reality?

What if. . .?

I've been working more on the book lately. Mostly to figure out some plot and character issues and to basically rip it apart to make it better. It's simultaneously horrifying and liberating. Okay, less horrifying. I'm really enjoying doing it. I probably should've done it before I actually began the meat of the project, but I'm going to say that it's my first attempt at a novel so I'm allowed-no, EXPECTED-to take the long way around.

Anyway, one of the questions really got me thinking. The question was: "What if. . . ?"

I think that question gets a really bad connotation sometimes. Most of the time when I think of what if? it's looking backwards.

What if I had swung at the called third strike in my last travel softball game?

What if I had continued with teaching as my minor instead of German?

But the exercise for this book was more about looking forward. Making choices for the characters and seeing how they'd turn out. Taking a moment to imagine things rather than presume. Letting your mind wander. And I've found that I enjoy letting my mind wander. Taking some time to focus and think and not be bombarded with the latest text that just popped up on my phone.

We all need some time to dream. I've forgotten that in the midst of the daily grind. What if I remembered to take some time to dream?

What if. . . .?

Viva La Resolution!

Not mine, but funny. 

It's the day, time of year, frame of mind to think about beginning again. I like new beginnings. Even if it's only on the calendar. New beginnings mean new possibilities and what's life if we aren't thinking of how it could be even better.

Or maybe that's just me.  Maybe you've already accomplished all your dreams.

I, on the other hand, have not. So instead of just wishing things were different, I pictured how I wanted things to be different by the end of 2014 and worked my resolutions from there. Not sure it will be any different, but I'm trying it.

By the end of 2014, I will:

1. Have a literary agent. So to do that, it means that I have to have something I want to show an agent, which means I need to get to work. I'm dreaming big here, so go with me. . . 
2. Have 1,000 per week visiting my blog. I'm halfway there now, so really it means that I'll just have to post more, read more, share more, and generally be more engaged. I think I can do that. 
3. Be down 40 lbs. I'm beyond pudgy, and I don't have to be. I run consistently. But I also eat consistently. Consistently bad. I'm over it. Time to hunker down and shed some lbs. 
4. Say 'no' more often. Specifically 'no' to a few things: 1) time-wasting activities like TV for the sake of TV and Candy Crush. 2) Events or activities that I get guilted into doing or going to. 3) People who are draining without any benefits. 
5. Say 'yes' more. Specifically to new things that I've wanted to do but might be too chicken try and to hanging out more with friends who I say 'no' to for no good reason. Additionally, this also means that I'm going to ask more of others, specifically to take Chef up on his offer for us to go out to eat more. 
6. Made unplugging from technology a habit. No more answering emails at 10 p.m. because my phone is by my side. I will use the sleep mode on my phone. I will learn what items are truly emergencies and what ones are just other people's emergencies.
7. Put more into my time instead of putting more time in. This includes writing, reading, working, and being present for my time at home with Chef. 
8. Use my money for good instead of evil. This not only means spending or saving more wisely, but also not buying stuff that leads to negating other resolutions--like toys to waste time. My one exception is the aforementioned dinner dates with Chef. 

So that's it. That's my list. What's on your list?

I Had A Dream...last night about my friends

Last night I went to sleep and in my dreams I had some visitors. All of them made me happy. One of them made me a little sad. Sad as in nostalgic sad, not as in depressed sad.

I had a dream about going on a weird job interview where the other competing candidate and I were at a picnic table and the interviewer was asking her tons of questions. When it was my turn to be asked, she kept spastically interjecting and I was getting pissed. Where were my friends? They were on the bench beside me. They weren't there for an interview or even as my life character references. They were just there.

And it was weird. I mean, the above is weird in its own right, but that's not super dream weird. It's weird enough to be odd, but not weird enough to be easily distinguished as a dream. At least when I was in the dream. So, anyway, the other interviewee was sitting next to me and mocking that I was wearing a suit (She was in a formal top, but jean cut-offs on the bottom--kind of how you imagine newscasters during the broadcasts). When the interviewer was turned away, the other candidate said to me "You can totally tell that you're not from California because you're way too overdressed." After a few times of cutting me off, I completely shifted to her direction and said "I was kind enough not to interrupt you during your interview and I expect the same courtesy or there will be consequences."

Anyway, she ended up throwing a fit and left, and the interviewer said "Sorry about that. She's clearly not a candidate of your caliber, Ashley, but she looked good on paper."

At this point, I left the picnic table interview in the park with my friends--Anne, Amanda, Schultz, Brooke and Lara. They all supported me and even let me blow off steam about how I wasn't sure if I wanted to work for a company that interviewed girls in cut off shorts in the park at a picnic table.

We went from the park to my old house in Evansville. What made me happy was that I know the type of conversation we were having was making me laugh in my dream and could and will probably be replicated in some form at some point in my life. Maybe not the conversation, but the feeling of being with my true friends having a fun, funny moment.

What made me sad was that I haven't seen or talked to one of these friends in years. There was no falling out, just a falling off. As in, she seemed to fall off the face of the earth. Not that I was all that much better, but I did make several calls and left messages with no return before I gave up. About 18 months after my last attempt, I got a birth announcement for her second baby. I felt horrible because I didn't know she was pregnant. It was then that I realized that we'd really drifted apart.

In the end, I woke up mostly happy because I have great friends who even in my dreams are right by my side supporting me. I think my dreams are telling me that I miss my friends and I'm tired of interviewing.

Dreaming of Mike Rowe

Last night was repeated proof that I watch too much Dateline and 48 Hours and other related news murder mystery shows. I fell asleep with a Dateline on about a swindling Indianapolis man (Purdue graduate, of course) who faked his own death to avoid creditors. However, my subconscious took me in another more pleasant direction.

I was dreaming of trying to hook my girlfriend (Amanda, shout out to you) up with my ex-boyfriend, who just happened to be Mike Rowe. For those of you not familiar, he's from the Discovery Channel's Dirty Jobs and those Ford Commercials (see picture below). However, instead of him hooking up with her, we ended up back together. He got down on his knee to propose just as he got a phone call. The phone call lead to a helicopter taking him away.

Just as I was wondering what was going on, Amanda explained to me that Mike's first wife had disappeared 10 years ago from "Indianapolis County, FL" ( I even saw a map in my head like it was on Dateline) and that they just had a lead on her whereabouts. "How could you have dated him before and not know that?" Amanda asked me in my REM state.

Then I woke up.

While any dream with Mike Rowe is a step in a positive direction, I think I still prefer dreaming about my mom.

The object of my subconscious affections, Mike Rowe

Random Thoughts of a Tuesday

Chef and I watched a show on Fox called "More to Love". It was exactly like The Bachelor, except the contestants were all plus sized. It made me realize a couple things. Stupid and bitchy women are stupid, no matter what their dress size. Chef had the line of the night. When the Bachelor was asked what his type was, he replied "Everyone in this room." Chef's remark "Yeah, because you all have a vagina and are actually talking to me."

Other random thoughts:

• Last night worlds collided in my dreams. In one, I was explaining to an ex-boyfriend how he could totally implement an AHA school program into his teaching lesson plan while we played basketball in the cul-de-sac from my childhood home.
• Folding machines are great when you have 2500 sheets of paper that need to be individually folded. However, they are loud and not as convenient when they start pulling multiple pieces of paper to fold at one time just for funsies.
• The week that I've started organizing and delegating is the week that the department's shared coordinator is on vacation. It was purely a coincidence.
• I have an unexplained sense of dread that is starting to cloud my disposition.