Words I Have Never Spoken Aloud

“I am a runner.” “I am a writer.” Words I have never spoken aloud. Why? I guess because I don’t truly believe them. Yet. I’m working on it, but it is still a work in progress. I am still a work in progress. What words have you never spoken aloud because you don’t truly believe them?

Running - I don’t run fast. I don’t run far. I don’t win medals. Yet, I do compete. With every step I take and every mile I run, I compete against myself. Every night I set my alarm to get up and run in the morning, giving myself a little pep talk that I can/will do it. Every morning, when the alarm goes off I give myself another pep talk that I can/will do it. It is hard to get out of bed. However, I face the terrain, push myself mile after mile, uphill, downhill, and back home. I run because I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when I’m done, not because I feel like a runner. I try to lose myself in my music, headphones on, drowning out the voices in my head and my heart that tell me I’m not a runner. Recently, I’ve acquired a new running partner. He doesn’t accompany me on every run, but when he does I find I run better. I still wear my headphones, but solely for the music. This little person beside me doesn’t allow me to believe I’m not a runner…even for a minute. When I run beside him, I am a runner.

Why? He is my inspiration. I want my son to believe he can do anything as well. I want the voices in his head and his heart to always tell him he can/he will. I want to be his inspiration.

Writing - I’m not a famous author. I haven’t been writing long. I started this blog only five months ago. I don’t have books sitting on bookstore shelves waiting to be purchased. Writing isn’t effortless to me. I have to carve out time to sit and let my thoughts find life on my computer screen. Even with interruptions, as my fingers hover over the keys I work to translate thoughts to keystrokes to full-blown ideas on the screen. I write because I love to write. I write because when I do I lose myself in my thoughts and my words. When I write, I drown out the voices in my head and my heart that tell me I am not a writer. I write because I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when I’m done, not because I feel like a writer. Recently, my daughter has decided she would like to write a book. She says she wants to be a writer like her mom. I watch her sit with her laptop, a faraway look on her sweet face, her fingers traveling over the keys bringing her own thoughts to life. This little person beside me doesn’t allow me to believe I’m not a writer…even for a minute. When I see myself through her eyes, I am a writer.

Why? She is my inspiration. I want her to believe she can do anything as well. I want the voices in her head and her heart to always tell her she can/she will. I want to be her inspiration.

An (unedited) excerpt from Olivia’s book:

It was an ordinary day. Taylor was in her room texting her friend, Hannah. “Want to come to my party tonight?” said Hannah. “Definitely, but I’ll have to ask my parents!” replied Taylor, so off she went down the stairs. She went into the kitchen to see if her mom was there. Sure enough there she was making tuna casserole. “Um mom?” said Taylor “Can I go to a party tonight?”  “Absolutely not!” replied her mom “we are going to have a nice family dinner!”  “But mom please?” said Taylor. “No and that is final!” said her mom. Taylor stormed off outside to think. “If I’m not at that party I’ll be a total loser!” thought Taylor. Just then a portal-like thing appeared right in front of her! Before she knew it she was inside of the portal! She screamed, cried, and whined for help! “Mom!” she cried, but no one could hear her! Just then, she fell onto a bed of grass and flowers, but she wasn’t alone.

Tons of villagers had heard some commotion, and wanted to see what was going on. The villagers were angry! They were holding pitch forks and torches. Taylor immediately got up and ran ( even though she had no idea where she was going ). She ran into the woods and cried for help. “Help! Mom! Save me!” she screamed, but no one came. She kept on running, but she tripped over the root of a rather large tree. She fell to the ground, but immediately got up and kept running even though she was hurt. She soon realized the villagers stopped at the beginning of the woods because those were the woods that belonged to “The Destructor”. Taylor stopped and sat down. Her leg was throbbing in pain. When she took a look at her leg it was bleeding heavily. She grabbed a leaf and wrapped it around her leg. She looked at the size of the leaf and wondered ” Where am I?” Taylor didn’t know what to think. As far as she knows she was just sucked into a portal, and ended up in a weird placed where there were angry villagers. She was very tired, so she decided to leave the thinking for tomorrow and go to sleep. She curled up right then and there and went to sleep, but little did she know that The Destructor was on his way towards her.

Taylor woke up and saw a little creature sitting by her leg. It was about as big as a puppy. It was very fluffy and looked like a very small mammoth! It had purple ears and legs with an aquamarine colored fur. Taylor stared at the little guy with curiosity. “Ok now this is just weird!” she wondered aloud. She thought for a moment. Then she realized “If I follow him I’m sure to find water and food!”  Taylor had a little backpack that she always carried with her no matter where she was. She pulled out a little note pad and drew a sketch of the little animal. “Are you ok?” Taylor heard someone say. “Did you just say that?” Taylor asked the little creature. She looked up and saw someone, but it was no Destructor it was just a little boy. The little boy was wearing jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and some sandals. He looked about six or seven. “Yes I’m fine, and who are you?” said Taylor. “I’m Peter, but the animals call me Pete!” Said the boy. “The animals?” said Taylor ( who thought the boy was insane and should just go home). ” I know what your thinking Taylor” said Peter.  “You what?” said Taylor. “I’m not insane.” said Peter. ” I can read people’s and animal’s minds, and that is why I said the animals call me Pete” said Peter. ” Oh I’m so sorry Peter” said Taylor. ” Follow me!” said Peter. So Taylor packed up her things and followed Peter through the woods.

As Taylor followed Peter through the woods she saw old abandon houses, broken down factories that looked like they had never been opened, she even thought that she saw a sparkle behind a tree or two. In other words, these were not the woods you would want to be in when you are alone. “Are we almost there?” asked Taylor. ” I think so…” Peter trailed off. “what’s wrong?” asked Taylor. “I’m not sure we are safe here, I-I can feel it” said Peter. Just then something jumped out of the bushes and took Peter. Taylor screamed, “Peter!!! Don’t leave me here!” Peter didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer because he was so scared it was like the whole world froze itself. Taylor knew she didn’t have to save him. It wasn’t her responsibility anyway, but Peter reminded her of someone who she couldn’t quite remember the name of. Taylor didn’t have all day! She decided to run after that beast that took her friend. Was Peter her friend? He never really seemed like one, but in a way he did. As she ran she heard a scream, a scream so loud it could make you completely deaf. Taylor stopped. It was the sound of a screaming boy.

The Search For Life’s Magic Editing Wand

“Stereograms are multi-dimensional, computer-generated, graphic images that contain hidden content (images and text). The hidden content can only be seen when viewed from the proper visual and mental perspective. Stereograms contain multiple levels of reality. The surface level usually contains a variety of colors and patterns that make stereograms appear chaotic and disorganized. Once we penetrate into the deeper dimensions of the hidden content, we discover the real meaning of each stereogram.”

Photo Credit: eyetricks.com

I think I might be a human Stereogram.

Allow me to break it down. I wasn’t the kind of little girl who enjoyed playing dress up. As a matter of fact, I was such a tomboy that I was most comfortable in my jeans with a torn knee and a t-shirt. However, as I got older I started to enjoy it. Maybe because dressing up then also entailed an evening out and the good time that accompanied it. I love going in my closet and searching for just the right outfit for the occasion, and twirling in front of the mirror once I’m dressed. Herein lies the problem…the mirror. At first glance, I’m usually happy with what I see, but much like the stereogram it seems I contain multiple levels of reality. The more I stand in front of that mirror, the closer and longer I look at my reflection, the unhappier I become with what I see. Much like the stereogram, I believe I start to see “hidden content” in my image I didn’t originally see. Unlike the stereogram however, the longer I look the more chaotic and disorganized my reflection appears to me. And, once I see those flaws it is all I can focus on, leading me to doubt the whole ensemble, making me question my exercise plan, and ultimately sending me spinning back into the closet to change outfits. When did I become such a girl?

I am much the same when presented with a photograph of myself. Again, at first glance I think it’s not bad, but upon further inspection I can’t keep my finger from gravitating toward the delete button. There are very few photos of myself that I really like, and even then that photo is probably the fifth photo taken because the first four were deleted. Anyone who takes a photo of me, knows there is an approval process before it can be shared through any social media. On a recent trip to NYC, some strangers offered to take a photo of my husband and myself in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. I disliked the photo so much, I asked the police officer standing on the corner (much to my husband’s embarrassment) to take another photo of us. Then, I had him retake that photo! Thank you Mr. NYPD!

I’ve always wished I had a magic wand that would allow me to immediately edit those photos, and ultimately the reflection I see in the mirror. My husband doesn’t understand my warped perception of myself, and quite frankly I don’t either. How can I see the results of my hard work from running and weight training one day, yet not see it another day? I see what I see though. When my son was around two years old, he was crying one day and could barely get the words out when I asked, “Why are you crying?” Between breathes he said, “I cry because I cry!” Well, I see that warped image because I see that warped image!

This week, I’ve held an editing wand in my hand though not one I could use on my image. You see, I’ve been editing my soon to be published book, Red Circle Days, and do you know what I’ve discovered? I have come to the realization that my reflection isn’t the only thing that can generate self-doubt. As I read through my writing once more, I begin to doubt the quality. I start to feel that no amount of editing will ever make it good enough in my eyes. I start to envision my book sitting on store shelves collecting dust after a handful of copies have been purchased by my mom, other family members, and good friends. So…I struggle to move forward in the editing process until it is complete, much like I struggle to turn away from the mirror and head out the door in search of something good. I know I will keep trekking along on my road to a fitter me, and I know I will keep trekking along on my road to publishing my first book. I will continue because I can’t give up on either journey. My son may cry because he cries, and I may see a warped image because I see a warped image. However, magic editing wand or not, I write because I write!

Do you have any aspects in your life, where you search for that magic editing wand?

Embracing The Spotlight And Learning From Shadows Cast

Photo Credit: hardwoodparoxysm.com

What does one write after the post that got more attention than a two-year old’s temper tantrum in aisle five of your local supermarket? If you’re me, you write absolutely nothing for days on end because you just don’t know how to follow that. If you’re me, you learn that the spotlight showers you with warm light while also casting shadows. If you’re me, you learn that putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard is an act of courage that can be therapeutic for both writer and reader alike. If you’re me, you learn that you still have much to learn in this great big complicated world, and that a Weekly Writing Challenge can challenge you on a whole new level.

How often in life have we heard the phrase, education is key and been told to hit the books because you’re nothing without that diploma? It has been years since I have attended an academic institution, yet am still chalking up lessons. I’m not sitting behind a desk attentively listening to the professor and frantically taking notes, but I am still learning. The lessons I’m clocking these days are life lessons and taking notes may not be a bad idea. While I am a firm believer in getting that diploma and striving toward academic excellence, there’s no arguing with the value of life lessons.

How sad would it be if everything we know, we really did learn in kindergarten? There were definitely some good lessons there which many of us should brush up on from time to time. Sharing, good manners, kindness, waiting your turn… basic common courtesy far lacking in our society nowadays. However, let’s face it, the most important lessons are the ones life provides. Life experiences are what teach us how to be better. It’s those life experiences that make us realize just how strong we are, sometimes surprising ourselves more than those around us. While life shows us our strengths and our weaknesses, it also teaches us how to walk through that fire and come out stronger on the other side time and time again.

The thing about life lessons is you can’t sign up for the Tues-Thursday class at 8:00am. You can’t buy the book that will guide you through each lesson, and you certainly can’t get the Cliff Notes. There’s no Dummies book for life. You just have to live it! You have to keep your eyes and ears open and don’t let one pass you by, because I guarantee you it won’t be made into a feature film. You won’t get to grab some popcorn, sit back and enjoy the show, because those life lessons on the big screen were someone else’s not yours. You and I have to take it one day at a time and embrace each lesson life presents because each one is meant for us individually. What we do with it is solely up to us!

If you’re me, you decide to continue writing with your own voice whether anyone is listening or not. If you’re me, you decide to continue challenging yourself on every level. If you’re me, you learn that embracing the shadows as well as the spotlight is a lesson in and of itself. If you’re me, you decide the only way to be is to just be me. As my wise, new blogger friend says, “when you do that there’s no pressure.”

Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words Take Two

Photo Courtesy of Cheri Lucas

I cling to him, feeling the slippery slope of time catching up to me as the ticks on my watch drum in my ears like a tribal rain dance circling round my brain. If only I could freeze time and force it to turn around and head back in the opposite direction, even if it is against oncoming traffic. I know this is a route he is all too familiar with as he has spent his life on a similar road, always heading in the wrong direction, dodging incoming obstacles. It wasn’t always like this for us. There was a time when we traveled a different road, one smoothly paved with stones of hopes and promises. The uphill challenges on that road seem like small bumps compared to the mountainous climb that is his life now. I hold on tight savoring the hug, not knowing when I will have the opportunity to experience it again. My only thought being that it is the kind of lasting hug I will revisit time and again in the future, when he is out of my reach once more. It is the kind of hug that also makes me revisit the day I officially lost him.

I found him in his room. The youngest of three, he was the only one left with a room at home. As I approached, trying to connect words of comfort I didn’t believe existed, I realized he was putting on a shield of armor I would find impossible to break through. As he tied his green apron strings and adjusted his name tag, the look in his eyes showed turmoil more akin to a battle weary soldier than a nineteen year old stock boy. As my sister and I carried on with our distant lives in other states, my brother had lived the daily nightmare of slowly losing the man we all thought invincible, our father. He said he wished he could just go to work like normal…like none of this was happening. My heart understood his wish more than he would ever know. Still, I couldn’t let him leave as panic swelled within me and the minute hand ticked on the black cat clock on the wall, left over from our younger years and more innocent times.

I did what I thought was right at the time. I somehow convinced my little brother to stay and face our nightmare with the rest of us, and within a couple of hours of being home our father looked around him and took in each and every face in that room including my brother’s. He asked our mother if all his loved ones were there and when she reassured him they were, he took a deep breath and finally went home. I hugged my brother, grateful he had stayed by our side.

I would like to say that was the end of our nightmare, but for my brother it was the beginning of something much worse. For the next eighteen years he has lived behind bars with visitation rights that are never long enough, and in a cell that doesn’t often see the light. He is trapped in darkness. Of his own making or mine?

You see, the day my brother stayed and witnessed our father’s death he died along with him. Gone was the nineteen year old stock boy who played basketball with his headphones on because to choose between the two things that gave him the most joy wasn’t possible. Gone was the son who took pride in handing over the earnings of a grocery store employee to help with the bills at home. Gone was the light in his eyes. When I look into his eyes now I still see the turmoil of that fateful day and no medication has ever been able to erase it. So…I find comfort in revisiting these hugs, for it is the only reminder of the person I once knew.

Weekly Writing Challenge

My Word-ly Travels

She loved to read and became so lost in her books it was as if she left her bedroom and stepped into the very places those stories took place. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of faraway places. She envisioned herself traveling around the globe and even outer space. Her dreams were those of a child with no regard for schedules or finances, only visions of new worlds to be discovered, adventures around every corner, and meeting people so different from her they would forever touch her soul. The mountains she’d climb, the seas she’d cross, and the dirt roads she’d leave her footprint on would be experiences she would carry close to her heart and like an old weathered album pull out to relive those travels of years gone by.

Dreams are what life is made of, but sometimes life has other plans. I still have those dreams but haven’t traveled much outside the United States. The blue markers on the map show where I’ve lived. I’ve moved a few times, but all within the United States except for Puerto Rico where I currently live. It’s a United States Territory.

I’ve spent a lifetime dreaming of all the places I wish to experience, yet my words have reached farther than my wildest dreams. In the four short months I’ve been blogging, my words have reached every yellow marker on this map. I started blogging as a way to share my writing, my stories, my random thoughts. I envisioned a small group of folks, mostly family (thank you mom) and friends, reading my posts and maybe clicking the like button or leaving a comment.

Instead, my words have floated their way across oceans, climbed mountains, twisted and turned along winding dirt roads, zipped along busy highways, fluttered through open windows and made their way to living rooms, hotel rooms, kitchens, studies, offices, and bedrooms, backlit on person after person’s computer screen. Thousands of pairs of eyes have focused on my words, read them, felt them, and hopefully were touched by them in some way.

View Larger Map

My words have accomplished the stuff of my dreams. I haven’t crossed oceans to faraway lands or climbed mountains, or left my footprint on narrow dirt roads. I don’t have a weathered album, real or in my mind, of travels to relive. Yet, I look at this map and smile a little. My words have reached so many so different from myself, and in so doing have ignited something in these readers that has compelled them to click that like button or leave a comment, each time touching my soul across the distance in the only way possible.

Thank you yellow markers for opening your homes to me! Thank you Google Maps for my weathered travel album. And thank you WordPress for a first class ticket around the globe!

Sky is the limit: where would you recommend I travel and why?

If you would like to participate in the challenge or read more about it, check it out here >>>>>> Map it Out

Santa Loves My Blog!

Merry Christmas to all my friends, family, followers, and neighbors in the Bloggerhood! I hope you’re enjoying a lovely morning surrounded by your loved ones and a nice stash of goodies. Apparently, Santa (and my hubby) think I should keep blogging, since I found these kick ass shirts under the tree this morning. I also received an early Christmas present last week in the form of a contract with a publisher! All this encouragement may cause me to finally start calling myself “a writer” without stuttering. Merry Christmas to me! Keep calm and blog on my friends!

Will The Real Little Miss Wordy Please Stand Up?

I think it’s clear that I love to write. The more I write, the more I want to write. I am flattered to have hundreds of followers in the short time I’ve been blogging…only three months actually. I am taken aback by the kind words, the encouragement, and mostly that there are people all over the world (some in places I couldn’t point out on the map) with nothing better to do than read my random thoughts. In all honesty, when fellow bloggers think of me when it comes to award time, I feel like somewhat of a farce. I almost look over my shoulder to see if there’s someone else standing up to be recognized as the real Little Miss Wordy. There is so much talent out here that I am just pleased as punch to have snuck in the exit door when no one was looking. Shhhh…don’t rat me out! Stick around and hopefully I’ll write something that will touch you in some way. If I can make one person truly feel something in the process of sorting out my own thoughts and feelings while doing something I’m passionate about, I will view that as icing on the cake. Thank you for reading!

I also want to thank those who have awarded me the following, but more importantly awarded me the encouragement to continue doing what I’m doing here.

Thank you The Broken Road!

Thank you Vina’s Delicious Recipes!

Thank you Joy is Now!

Thank you Chatter Master!

Thank you Lantern Post!

Check me out using the new photo gallery feature! Go me!

In the spirit of giving, I am not going to select the limited number of bloggers, which fall in the right number of followers range etc. I figure if I’m following your blog, it is because something you have posted has spoken to me at some point. I have probably already mentioned many of you in my Holiday Sharing Blogger Challenge. For those I couldn’t work into that post without becoming Little Miss Way Too Wordy, you should be listed below! Share the love in the Bloggerhood! Pay it forward! Use the ping backs! Link back to other bloggers! Spread the word! Oh, and Happy Holidays!

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How Much Stuff Do We Really Need?

Every year we kick off the holiday season with Thanksgiving, a day when we stuff the turkey, stuff ourselves and give thanks for all the people and stuff in our lives. We’ve barely had time to digest the Turkey before we’re out the door to be the first ones in line to get more stuff to place under the Christmas tree for our family and friends, more stuff to ensure we are the most decorated house on the block, more stuff to find a place for, more stuff to dust, and more stuff to ultimately ignore. When is it enough? When is it too much?

In this video, Father Scott J. Brown references a family in Ethiopia who seems content with twenty-eight possessions in a 360 square foot hut, a very different picture from the average 2500 square foot American household. At what point do we have enough stuff in our lives?

How Much Stuff Do We Really Need?

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Sarah Book Publishing

Scott J. Brown is also a children’s author. His latest book, a must read, tells the story of three kings who face the dilemma of (gasp) having to come up with a personal gift fit for a king when the shops were already closed for the day. Purchase The Gift of You here and share the story with your children this season.

Holiday Sharing Blogger Challenge

Challenge: Write a post that mentions other bloggers while also mentioning some of your own posts as well. The trick is to incorporate it into your post in a meaningful way. It can be in the form of a story, a letter, a conversation…get creative! Then post a link to your post in the comments below. Don’t forget to link to the bloggers and posts you reference so everyone can reap the benefits of just a few of your favorite things. Give the gift of sharing and share this challenge with other bloggers!

A Blogger By Any Other Name…

Photo credit: just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com

I’ve only been blogging since September 11 of this year. I had been jotting down some random thoughts and sharing them with a few folks, but that day I was compelled to share my thoughts with a wider audience in a formal way. Maybe it was the significance of the date since my first post here was about the meaning behind the red circles on our calendars. Maybe I just wanted to be around more people like myself, who have thoughts or a moment of joy we need to share in order to de-clutter our brains for more stuff. Regardless, I started blogging and never looked back becoming so familiar with other bloggers that I refer to them by “name” even when conversing with friends and family.

For example, I love to share my Milk Duds story with other people and always mention that Chatter Master had an equally sweet story about Milk Duds which is how she found me. Speaking of treats,when I told my girlfriend that Keeping it Real Mom’s son knocked over and shattered a wine glass while reaching for a Halloween sweet, she audibly gasped. The sweetest part was his apology and her beautiful display of patience to the incident. I would have pulled out my Emergency Contact list because I’m a control freak like that. Although, I have exhibited some patience of my own as I waited for Coastal Mom to rejoin us while she worked on her book. It’s okay I was still eating, still praying, still loving while Sass and Balderdash was still looking for a job, Ad- libb3d was still writing jokes, and Creative Liar was well still lying but in a creative way that would make us all proud.

This arena of ours provides a courage by keyboard that encourages our right to share, our right to learn and even our right to bitch because let’s face it parenting is funny, motherhood is an art, and we brave, smart, bold people have every right to help the world see things from our mom’s eye view or whatever your perspective may be. I’ve got a story and you’ve got a story or fat lies and fairy tales or an organized chaos of thoughts that should be heard. No matter what we are sharing, we are touching people, making them smile, making them laugh, making them angry and leading them to that special point when crazy meets exhaustion and you feel like your shoes are on the wrong feet; all while watching a clown on fire like a train wreck of thoughts on the run you can’t peel your eyes from.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know what to call most of you other than your blog names, and to me they roll off the tongue like the name of an old trusted friend. Funny how that works. I’m sure most of you refer to me as little miss wordy when you spend countless hours enlightening/boring folks to tears with my musings much like I share Charlotte’s musings too. Strange how you can feel like you know someone when you’ve only seen glimpses of their lives float across your screen, and you don’t even know them by name. Well, except for Danny Breslin and Cristian Mihai who are the king of states but also the opposite of Madonna, and went the route of embracing their real names. If those are some form of stage name guys, I’m not gonna be happy. I’ll have to explain to everyone that I now have no clue where all those sticky notes and quotes I shared with them promising a new free life came from. They’re going to tell me to piss off and there goes the celebration. No daddy drinks or shanpagne all around! I’ll be the sadder but wiser girl. It’s okay…I’ll take it like a grown up.

What? You Like My Blog? Piss Off!

“Nice shoes.” “Great hair.” “Love your outfit today.” All fine compliments, and all compliments that would bring a smile to our face, brighten our day, make us stand a little taller. I’m five foot two and half and I’ll take any opportunity for a little more height, but it’s more than that. A compliment is a positive thing to be shared and received in a positive light. You wouldn’t respond to any of these compliments with a “Piss Off” or a “How dare you?!” would you? Okay, well if you would then maybe you should stop reading and check out my top posts on the right side bar.

Photo Credit: littlemisswordy.com

In the blogging world there are awards. I’m sure you’ve seen the One Lovely Blog Award or the Very Inspiring Blog Award, to name a couple. When I first started my blog, I was fearful the blogging world would be an extended gripe session for those whose friends banned them from Facebook, a larger canvas for those from Twitter who couldn’t describe their gripe in 160 characters or less, or those from Pinterest who just didn’t think one photo would do their gripe justice. Well, Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong, I mean Little Miss Wordy was so wrong!

In the short time I have been blogging, I have encountered some really kind, friendly, positive people who just happen to be extremely talented too. They are positive folks who go out of their way to welcome, motivate, and encourage each other. They share their thoughts, their knowledge, and even their tips for a more successful blog. That’s right! These folks are willing to share their followers and ultimately the spotlight. Not something we often see in our daily lives is it?

Which is why I was surprised when I saw a newbie blogger (even newbie-er) than myself, ask what such and such award meant because they were just awarded one. The response posted in the comments read, “it doesn’t mean anything at all…just like a chain letter.” Well, that’s encouraging (no really it isn’t)! The award may not be the Nobel Prize (no really it isn’t), but it is still a compliment.

It means someone did something every blogger/writer looks forward to no matter how long you’ve been blogging or what your ultimate goal is in doing so.

A) Someone actually read something you wrote.

B) If they are giving you an award, chances are they chose to follow your blog and have read multiple posts.

C) They like your writing so much they have taken the time to go through the award process just for you.

D) Did I mention they actually read what you wrote? Let’s not kid ourselves, if we didn’t want others to read our writing, then we would just keep a diary, with a key, and lock it and hide the diary under the floorboard in the closet, and guard the key with our lives. 

Let’s be honest here. When someone hits that “like” button on your post it makes you smile, unless you’ve had one too many Botox visits. When someone chooses to follow your blog, it makes you feel warm inside unless your Depends are leaking. And when someone decides something you wrote is worthy of being Freshly Pressed, I imagine you feel all the above and then some, unless you’re dead inside!  A compliment is a compliment!

So to those who have decided my blog is worthy of these awards, I say “Piss Off!” (no not really)!! I say THANK YOU from the bottom of my little writer’s heart for taking the time to read my thoughts, my stories, view my amateur photos, and encourage me to keep sharing! To the rest of the blogging world and readers out there, I say “like” my posts, leave your comments, share my writing, and follow me…there is no greater compliment!