Helllloooooo again WordPress I haven’t forgotten about you, but I will admit I have forgotten about how to enjoy the parts that make me me.
Sidebar: You ever watch a movie that makes you rethink the way you’ve been operating lately, or in entirety? I watched one of those kind of movies tonight. Ugh — fine, it was The Intern.
Damn Robert De Niro playing a sweet old man. When did he change from an everyday mobster to a kind older gentleman? Maybe that’s the secret to old age, or movies. Anyways …
I’ve been through a lot of change in the last three months, and I think inadvertently let the things that make me me, slip.
I haven’t read a good book in ages. I haven’t written about anything that wasn’t expected of me. I began to think I didn’t have a love for words, or communicating with the masses.
After finally moving into my own place (again) and diving deeper into my new (awesome) job, I watched The Intern and immediately felt like I’ve let myself slide.
Another curse to my being. I’m too hard on myself.
I’m tired and transition takes time.
You ever feel all the change that’s happened over time hit you in one moment and it knocks you on your own feet?
Or keep yourself so busy you forget to take a deep breath and remember what’s really important.
It’s hard to remember life is short and you have to enjoy it.
So why am I feeling sappy?
Because of Ben (De Nero).
He’s a widower — married 42 years, was a business man for half his life and is trying to navigate retirement. He sees a flyer for a “senior internship” program and applies because he still wants to learn and despite his perceived loneliness, views life through an optimistic spread of light.
I know, it’s a movie. The point is about how it got my wheels turning.
I hope I can always remind myself I’m never too old to learn.
I’m never too tired to let my passion slip, and I’m never too discombobulated to remember I’m only human.
So, hello from the other side — learning life after landing a career.
Musicians don’t retire, they stop when there’s no more music in them – Louis Armstrong
Thanks to Netflix I have been re-watching one of my favorites, That 70s Show. After the Hubs gets home from work and before he leaves for school we watch a few episodes together; squeezing in time for each other before it’s time to say goodbye for the night.
We recently watched an episode where the audience learns ‘Donna’ likes to write and wants to possibly pursue a career in journalism. It got me thinking about how many characters in my favorite TV shows were or wanted to be journalists.
Hmmm, maybe subliminal messaging just turned a new leaf? Where my conspiracy theorists at? Just kidding, #aintnobodygottimeforthat
1. Rory Gilmore – Gilmore Girls
2. Phoebe Halliwell – Charmed
3. Carrie Bradshaw – Sex And The City
4. Clark Kent – Superman
5. Sabrina Spellman – Sabrina The Teenage Witch
6. Robin Scherbatsky – How I Met Your Mother
7. Donna Pinciotti
8. Kermit – Sesame Street
9. Rebecca Katsopolis – Full House
10. Harriet M. Welsch – Harriet The Spy
I’m not sure Harriet counts, officially. But we can categorize her as an investigative reporter in the elementary school department. This movie was one of my all-time favorites growing up. You’d have to ask my Ma how she managed the re-runs.
I’m sure plenty of other kids watched the same television shows growing up and connected with the same characters, and most probably didn’t want to pursue a career in writing. Personally, I can help but feel I might have been drawn to these characters for a reason and if anything, it’s another sign I might need to keep me motivated.
Somewhere in March I received an email asking how much my words were worth. Intrigued, I actually read one of the zillions of emails sent by the university, daily. It was informing students about a nonfiction conference in Grapevine, Texas. You could submit work and if selected, attend workshops with editors, authors and professionals in the literary world.
These selections would also be in the running for cash prizes. As a broke, almost graduated, ever-since-I-was-young-wannabe-writer and student, I submitted a personal essay, why not me. And I was chosen for selection! I was floored, I finally threw out my insecurities and dove in head first and it paid off!
The conference was this past weekend. I don’t think I have the words to craft a proper gauge on how I felt. You know when Hagrid tells Harry, ur a wizard -arry, and Harry begins to understand he won’t have to spend all his time with the Dursleys? Or, when Harry rides his broom for the first time and finds out his father was also a decorated seeker? Or … well I could keep the Harry Potter metaphors going all night … you get it.
The conference was more than just a learning experience. I felt like a grew as a person who loves words and reading/writing stories. Here are a few of the speakers from the lectures I enjoyed the most:
1. Anne Fadiman speaking about her book The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down. Her keynote speech left me feeling full. She emerged herself into a unfamiliar world of Hmong refugees struggling with new life in California. “I believe in accidents, without them I never would’ve wrote my book.”
Happy accidents, this resonated with me. I need to embrace all the humps because those are what put me in the right places at the right time, like this literary conference.
2. Dan Barry and Kassie Bracken speaking about merging the two worlds of journalists and photographers. The importance of collaborating with professionals to tell a compelling story.
“Writing about people of poverty like victims is a mistake. It’s not fair to them as an individual.”
I think it’s easy to feel sorrow for those who aren’t as well off as an “average” human being. But it’s not just about their monthly income, it’s about the story and how people of poverty survive.
3. The panel discussion with Caleb Hannan, S.I. Rosenbaum and Hanna Rosin. Hannan wrote an article about “Dr. V” and her magic putter. The outcome was tragic as the subject committed suicide during the interviews. His candid testimony led us to believe if you feel like something bad is going to happen, then you need to have an open discussion with your editor and vise-versa.
I personally believed he had balls to talks openly and honest about his mis-steps and answering the questions from his panel-mates. You can read the article here, and the letter from the editor here. And Rosenbaum’s after the fact article here.
4. George Getschow’s lecture about the importance of place in a narrative. “I’m always surprised to read an article that misses the importance of place.” Place is like a secondary character and it needs to be just as important as character development. These are the dimensions of place, as explained by Mr. Getschow:
The History- Research it and find out what makes your place tick.
Economy- How does the place survive. Is it an oil, ranching or low income?
What do people wear? What do they eat? How do they communicate?
Weather- It influences peoples mood for the day and how they dress. Using weather can reveal character.
Gestures- How do people greet each other?
Superstitions- paying attention to local legends or tales?
Sights & Sounds
As I sat in a dimly lit lush ballroom with desserts on top of clean white soft linens, tempting guests to eat their cake before dinner, the winners for the top personal essays and reported narratives were announced. The top three in each category were awarded cash prizes, and the top ten would be published in the literary journal Ten Spurs.
There’s no better way to say this then, I WON! My name is called after the 8-minute mark in the video below and I get on stage after the 9-minute mark. A professor of mine called my name as I walked by to get on stage and I tackled her into a hug. “I didn’t know you submitted a piece! I’m so proud of you!”
There is no better feeling than hitting a home run. Now that I know how it feels I want to do it again, over and over again as many times possible. This was the perfect way to kick me off into the professional world and end my stay with the University of North Texas, Mayborn School of Journalism.
It’s a cliche to say, “follow your dreams,” but it’s true. Many times I was red-inked, felt like a poor writer and told I’d never make any money as an author. My personal dialogue said the same thing. I finally told the voices the shut-it and jumped off the high dive.
It was a rough road. I felt exposed and unsure if I propelled my story with the correct words. I cried reliving certain slices of my life. In the end it all happened the way it was supposed to, why not me.
This conference also added readings to my already to tall stack of books. This list is more for me so I won’t forget, but If you’re looking for something new to read, all the better!
Recently I got an email from the University of North Texas about the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference. Every year, unbeknownst to me this conference is held in Grapevine, Texas. There are multiple categories to be entered in, but the ones I’m interested in are ‘Mayborn Writing Contests.’
There are three subcategories in this section are: Reported Narrative, Personal Essay and Book Manuscript. Each requiring a separate application form and fee to enter your writing pieces into competition.
I got the email early in the morning, didn’t delete it, but didn’t think anything of it until later in the night. Why not enter? Why not me? That mindset is the one I need to keep, I’m about to be graduated and I’m looking for the stars, as cliché as it might sound, it’s where I need to be!
The application deadlines aren’t until June, so I have plenty of time, though I will not be waiting last-minute to complete this. I’m also sure I will be entering in two of the categories, personal essay and book manuscript. I’m so anxious, excited and nervous at the same time.
I don’t have high expectations in winning the grand prize, wish differs for each category, but I’m hopeful that I do write well enough to make an impression, which is all I want to accomplish, because who knows, this may rub elbows with the right people and get me headed in a hopeful direction.
Though, winning would be FREAKING awesome. I could be that person who gets lucky, who knows what will be will be, I’m just excited that something has me pushing for what I want and I have a grounded idea of what I want to write about! Always good news!
There are always going to be opportunities presented that you should consider. My own fear should not be holding me back! So here’s to good luck and going out on a limb. I encourage you to do the same! It’s scary but it’s pretty exhilarating!
Sigh-our last full day in Colorado Springs, a bit more than bittersweet, we didn’t want to leave at all. If it were possible to move all our belongings in a blink of an eye, I think we would have.
In the beginning of a trip, that first wake up means the whole adventure is in front of you, so when it ends, it feels like it came and went to quickly. As soon as you book a trip, it takes forever to get there, but when you’re on vacation, it flies by faster than the speed of light.
I’m just grateful I got to spend it with my guy and our two puppies.
After breakfast we headed into Manitou Springs to visit the cliff dwellings. These dwellings were homes to the Anasazi ( The Ancient Ones or The Ancestral Puebloans). The people of this culture lived from 1100 A.D. to 1300 A.D. in the four corners area ( Arizona, Colorado, Utah and New Mexico).
These apartment homes were carved into the side of the huge red rocks to protect themselves from invasions by intruders, so their backs were always covered, no sneak attacks from behind.
Cliff Dwellings at Manitou Springs 2015At the entrance of a home inside the Cliffs
The tiny narrow hallways and low ceilings gave you the feel of what it might have been like to live in one of these homes. The stairs were just as narrow and with the sun behind us, it was very dark.
A view from the inside. It was cool on the inside and felt damp.They are so cute, my three ruffs.A better angle of what we were looking at and how each home connects
There was also a museum housed inside a Pueblo. A structure made from clay and hay, because of the cold winters Colorado has, the snow melts the clay and has to be replenished yearly. I hate mowing the grass, how spoiled are we, can you imagine?
We were also in for an unexpected treat that day, there were wolves walking around, real life BIG ones. The Hubs and I got to pet and feed them, totally insane!
I was walking up to the female when the male, Ghost, came galloping up to me, nuzzling me with this long thick snout. I’m not going to lie, for a quick second I thought this was it. “Here lies Shannon, eaten alive by a wolf.”
The handler explained people adopt these animals and try to mix them with dogs, because they think it’s “cool,” and when they become an adult, they’re too much to handle and get left in shelters, or in the present females case, tied up to a tree.
Because they end up in shelters, nobody wants to adopt them and they end up being put down, a sad fate for a wild animal. So, he takes them in and cares for them.
The wolves eat between 6 to 9 lbs of raw meat a day. So the handler brings them out to help raise money to feed and house them. They can’t be domesticated, meaning you can’t house train them. They live in a huge back yard with man-made dens, another female wolf is the pack leader. You Go Girl.
Just giving Ghost a treat, from my bare hand!The hubby got to too!
After the dwellings, we dropped the dogs off and went to downtown Colorado Springs and historic Colorado City. Downtown was nice, a small city with clean streets. The homes were Victorian style, where the floors probably creaked and the banisters were hand crafted wood.
Historic Colorado City is like any historic area, small trinket stores, hand dipped chocolate goodies and a grassy area for guests to sun bathe on. It’s cute, nice for tourists and people who eat lunch outside.
It was built by a few guys who had enough money to spend, pretty much the same song and dance for any town in those days.
We got back to the hotel early in the afternoon and were wiped out. All the hiking and exploring caught up with us and we were done-zo. I crawled under the sheets and dozed off for an hour, woke up to The Hunger Games on HBO and a very hungry husband.
The Hubs found a restaurant that was inside an old Boeing KC-97, him being an avid aviation junkie, especially during the WWII era, so we had to go. It didn’t dissapoint.
The building surrounding the plane offered additional seating and plenty of eye candy hanging on every inch of the walls. The menus were newspapers you could take home as souvenirs and the waiters were dressed in airline attendant fashion.
Matt checking out the cockpitMe reading the local news, I mean looking over the menuThe view from outside
Let the record show, I Shannon, was in a plane willingly without any mild heart palpitations or panic attacks. Plus, the food was pretty good. I got an avocado burger, the Hubs got salmon pasta something or other and we split a brownie sundae.
A great way to end the day and trip, because in the morning, we had an 11 hour trek back home ahead of us.
About two weeks ago I got word I could be graduating early, YAY! The only stipulation was I needed to find another internship for the summer months. If I was unable to obtain one by registration in April, then I would have to ask the Dean for a special permission project – kind of like a graduate class, where you pick what you want to research and set up deadlines with a professor.
In a matter of five minutes, my entire world as I knew it, changed. I went from nonchalantly making my way through college, to having a fire light beneath me putting my butt in high gear, kind of like a dog chasing its tail. “OH MY GOD, I AM GOING TO FINALLY GRADUATE!” I screamed it to myself, to my husband and to my friends and family.
After the excitement settled, a wave of anxiety washed over me. “Wait, now I have to find a real job? How in the flip am I going to do that?” Almost immediately I thought I could puke on the spot. It was a feeling I wanted for so long, but I had’t thought far enough head, the moments after the light in the tunnel, I just saw the light and was happy with getting closer to that. So now what?!
The day after I realized I could graduate early, I signed up for PRSSA – Public Relations Student Society of America and started to attend the meetings that invites professionals to guest speaker. Real people in the real world. Rubbing elbows and putting myself out there, was something I hadn’t wanted to do in the year and half I was enrolled at the University of North Texas, because ever since I moved here I buried myself into a cocoon and it was nice and cozy in there.
In the meetings I would walk up to the professionals, shake their hand and introduce myself, a scary irrational fear I had, what if they laugh or blow me off? I went on agency tours with PRSSA to organizations and did the same thing. In those moments I was brave, even if I didn’t think I could be. Stepping out made me realize something.
I could do this, why not me?
A chant I have been telling myself the past month. A similar mantra the 12-man chanted in the stands while watching their beloved Seattle Seahawks make it to the Super Bowl, twice. Why not me.
I have an interview this Friday with an organization I hope to be a part of, The American Red Cross of the North Texas Region. I would be tasked with writing blogs and other content for them, as well as engaging with the social media giant it houses. I couldn’t be any more excited for this opportunity.
I also signed up for a student media tour in Frisco, near the end of the month. An all day event lasting from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. I can’t wait to put on my Sunday best and hand out my resumes. I will be meeting with professionals from i Heart Radio, The Dallas Stars ( hockey team), the Rough Riders ( minor league baseball team) and many more. An opportunity I can’t pass up on because of my own personal fears, it’s illogical.
That little voice of doubt and fear I have carried with me for most of my life is finally being quieted. I can do this, I want a job and I will get one. I won’t settle for anything less. Why not me?
I have always been a driven, motivated and hardworking being, in everything I have tried to accomplish. I just lost sight of who I actually was, I needed a reminder.
There are so many things I want to do in this life and I finally have grown the right mindset to achieve them. I will not allow myself to hold back, it is no longer an option, I will be graduating in May and I will get a job doing what I enjoy, I won’t settle for anything less, and neither should you.
The art of writing is a sacred being, its appeal is charming and the idea easy, the latter is never true. Writing isn’t easy and it never will be. If you write long enough you acquire a passion for words and new ways to express them, but it’s never an easy journey, though nothing worth while hardly ever is.
Any soul who enjoys the magic of writing remembers when they first got the itch to put pen to paper and create something creative. Any “great” remembers the craving to prefect a skill became apparent. A jolt of weightless energy that hits you hard, causing the lightbulb to brighten above your head. That’s what I want to do!
Personally, I was little, maybe six or seven, too little to actually be thinking about future plans, but I knew I enjoyed reading what I wrote and creating short stories were my fav.
I acquired an eccentric style of writing while in grammar school, and my mom thought it was adorable. I had a funny tendency to only write on the left-hand edges of my paper, the rest of the paper seemed tainted. I remember thinking, look how many pages I can write! Well, when you only use half the page …
My signature trademark was soon corrected by the first or second grade, whenever the teachers start to send you home with real homework. I’m sure it’s Pre-K now, the books are heavier and the snow they have to walk to school in is deeper.
Anyways, my itch started with writing fan fiction, I didn’t know that’s what it was called, but regardless, anybody remember the T.V. series Arthur? Yes, yes I did. I wrote my own stories for Arthur and his family and friends to wander through. I wrote some stories that were funny, others were sad. Mostly, I liked to write ones that had a good moral buried in it. Typical Shannon, I was seven going on 30.
My mom used to keep them in her dresser, the bottom right hand drawer. By the time I was in my teens the drawer resembled how stuffed and worn it was, papers were being pushed from the sides, the handle was hanging on by one screw and the drawer had long been knocked off its frame. It was the perfect setting for where my mom crammed us kids’ works of art.
The prized possessions were all slightly brown and had obviously seen better days. Every once in a while I wonder if my mom still has them shoved in that drawer, but the memory vanishes by the time one of us calls each other.
It took years of denying any worth to my writing before I told myself to shut the -efff up. I started my higher education with the thought I’d never leave education, I’d just become a teacher. I did my classroom visits and almost ran out the door, though working with kids was rewarding.
I think that when something sinks its teeth into you, it’s hard to deny the sting it leaves. Writing got its dirty paws around me long ago, and the sooner I realized it, the quicker I believed I did have a purpose. College really does seem to suck the life out of you sometimes.
When did your passions sink their teeth into you? Was it a furry, ( what was Arthur? An Aardvark?) cartoon friend that sparked your enthusiasm!?
RamblinRandol 