Random Answers to Life's Most Meaningful Questions

I have been tagged with a meme.  Don't worry, it isn't life threatening.  Although, I might bore you to death.
 Shelly from Writing With Shelly, has tagged me with some questions.  If you haven't been to Shelly's blog, you've been missing out.  She's talented and funny, with a lot of useful information for writers.

Alright, just when you thought this blog couldn't be more random . . . here are my answers to the meme quiz:




Show us the cutest, most adorable picture of your favorite animal:

I'm a sucker for an animal that can pick things up with its nose.


You have five seconds to survive the zombie apocalypse. Choose one friend who would save your butt and then tell us why you chose them.

Jack Bauer. I know that's cheating because he's not my friend, he's a fictional character, and Zombies aren't terrorists, but I'm pretty sure the torture method would be the same. Besides, Jack Bauer would have the problem solved in 24 hrs.


Share a quote with us:

"One cannot consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."

Helen Keller


Using exactly twenty seven words, tell your life story:

Born and raised in Utah, love to paint and write, went to college, married my best friend, moved to Idaho, had some kids, now live in California.


All dead rock legends live again. You’re standing in a fifty mile long line for:

Yeah . . . I really hate long lines. Fifty miles? I would probably start a zombie apocalypse just for being forced to wait in a fifty mile long line. I do love The Beatles, though.


Describe yourself using six words that start with the third letter of your middle name. Go!:

Sadly, I have no middle name. I guess I'll have to use my maiden name.

lovable, lucky, lunatic, late, lively, loyal,


What do you think of when you hear the word wombat?

Half woman/ half bat, gets really cranky once a month, and eats chocolate to survive. Oh, and those cute furry marsupials.

Why Write?

First, a shout out to David Powers King. A truly awesome person! He posted some awards for me on his blog. If you haven't checked him out, do it. He is working on some pretty amazing stuff.  Now on to my post . . .

  Why write?  The question has plagued me for years.  It bothered me in elementary school when my friends wanted to play and I was too busy writing my mystery novel The ABC Murders (I was a big fan of Agatha Christie and apparently plagiarism).
   It reared its ugly head again, in the sixth grade, when my parents brought my dark poetry into question (clearly I had issues). 
  It even cropped up in high school when my friends wanted me to use my elective for an aerobics class and I stubbornly opted for creative writing.
    It taunted me in college when faced with the dilemma of picking a more practical degree like English Education, or following my heart and diving
into the literary side of things.
   I practically skipped to the registrar office, filling my schedule with delightfully unrealistic courses like: Young Adult Literature, Fiction Writing, Children's Literature, Literary Analysis, English Literature, American Literature, and Multicultural Literature.  To name a few.
  So here I sit, years later, my impractical degree stuffed in a closet somewhere, with an unfinished novel, a mountain of frustration, and a pile of housework giving me a come hither look. 
  Even after all these years, the question is the same.  I know the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over again, expecting different results, but I think my answer lies in the complicated love life of Sheryl Crow.
  Just like she kept going back to her cheating lover, I return to the heartless world of writing.  It is after all, My Favorite Mistake.

What about you?  Why write?

The Rhythm of Writing

  Growing up, I had many things I loved to do: painting, building castles in my sandbox, running through the sprinklers, or playing with the dog, but what I loved most, was the swing on the apricot tree.

  I loved feeling the whoosh of air across my face, imagining what it would it be like to soar over the fence and into the sky.

 Sometimes, I would twist around in a circle and let go, watching the world rush by in an unrecognizable blur, but the thing that drew me in, and kept me coming back, was the rhythm.

  I loved the unwavering rise and fall of the swing. Something about it was so peaceful, so beautiful, that I would spend hours lost in the world around me.

  To me, writing is like that.  If done well, there is a rhythm to it, a steady back and forth, that draws you into another world. The story, the characters, everything lives and breathes by the rhythm, the rise and fall, that moves them along. The exciting parts where you discover something new, and the slow parts, reassuring you that things will be okay.

     Just like the swing, that is what draws me in, and keeps me coming back for more . . .

Liebster: the award you never knew you always wanted

Okay, how cool is this blogging thing?  Yesterday, my new blogging buddy, Abby gave me the Liebster Blog award. Never heard of it?  Me neither.  Am I still completely stoked?  Absolutely!  If you haven't checked out Abby's blog: Something to Write About, do it.  It is an amazing blog with lots of great info for writers, plus she just seems like an all around cool person.

Now onto my acceptance speech . . . I would like to thank the academy, my awesome followers, all 12 of them, Abby for taking a chance on an unknown blog, my husband for being totally hot, and my kids for allowing me 15 minutes to write this.



  So what is this prestigious award and how can you win it too? Liebster means "friend" in German and the award is given as a way to spotlight blogs with less than two hundred people.  The rules are as follows:

1. Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Post the award on your blog.
4. Bask in the love from the most supportive people on the Internet—other writers.
5. And best of all – have fun and spread the karma!

Now it is my turn to show some love.  My picks for Liebster are  . . . (drum roll please)

1. Obscure and Askew--- two words, hilarious and talented. What more can I say?
2.Get Busy Writing--- great information for writers, seriously talented.
3. Lacie Myers--- Blueberries for Sal was a great post about children's books.
4. The Startled Spyglass--- love her post on the lusciousness of little things. She is also featured on Writing With Shelly. Good stuff!
5.Ahhh, Desultory Ramblings --- he hasn't posted in a while, but when he does, it's funny.

Show some love to these blogs, if you haven't  already!

 Meanwhile, I will try not to let this new found fame go straight to my head.

Bigfoot

                                                                                                                                                                    
    If there was one common rule
 that I was taught by all of my English professors, it was to write about what you know.  So naturally, I'm going to write about Bigfoot.   
  Now, I know what you're thinking, I am about to ignore years of wisdom and experience, by recklessly addressing something I know nothing about, but you'd be wrong.  Bigfoot and I go way back.
  When I was little, Bigfoot made several visits to me: under my bed, in my closet, outside my window, while I was camping, and of course in my dreams.  You might say, he had a little bit of an obsession.
  His presence was a constant concern for me.  When I was outside, his gleaming yellow eyes were watching me from the bushes.  When I was inside, his long claws scratched across my bedroom window, and don't even get me started on Harry and the Hendersons (I'm still terrified of John Lithgow).
  His existence was a puzzle to me.  Why was he called Bigfoot? It wasn't like he only had one giant foot that he hobbled around on. He should be called Bigfeet, that would make sense. Why was he named after his most defining characteristic?  What if we did that with everyone?  Would people walk around with names like Bigears, Fatface, or Saggybottom?  What would my name be?  Bighead?  Bigmouth? . . It was enough to drive a kid crazy.
  There was no doubt in my mind that Bigfoot would eventually swallow me whole.  It didn't matter that no one believed me and no one could see him, he was real to me.
  As I got older, Bigfoot grew tired of me. He stopped showing up at my window and under my bed.  I thought he'd left for good, until I realized he'd changed his look.  He still operates with fear and I'm still afraid he'll swallow me whole, but this time he'll do it with insecurities.  You see, that's the funny thing about Bigfoot . .  . he's a lot more common than you think.
 
 

Forever in Blue Jeans

I seem to be lost in a Friday Fog. There's just something about the weekend that makes it impossible to focus. As I was sitting here not writing chapter 6 of my novel, I started thinking about music, and who should pop into my mind, but The Jazz Singer himself, Neil Diamond.

I am going to confess something, that I rarely admit in public. I am a Forever in Blue Jeans, Love on the Rocks, Sweet Caroline, Coming to America, Neil Diamond fan. There, I've said it. I suspect, I'm not the only closet Neil Diamond fan out there. I happen to live with one, who shall remain nameless (you know who you are). 


Those of you who know me, are probably crunching the numbers and realizing that this does not coincide with my age, after all, I'm not a baby boomer rocking out the mom jeans, but my devotion is just as strong, and it started at the age of seven.

 

 

It was the annual dance festival for my elementary school. Each grade had a set dance that they performed for the parents at the end of the year. I was in the coveted second grade. Coveted, because second graders danced with the giant parachute.

 

 

The song was none other than Coming to America. Previous to that day, I had been on the fence about Neil Diamond. My parents liked him, which made me naturally suspicious. My older siblings claimed he was stupid, but they also said the same thing about me. What was a girl to do?

 

 

As the teacher cued the music, the girl in front of me heard my humming and uttered the five most unforgivable words I had ever heard: "Neil Diamond is a stripper."

 

 

That was all it took. I defended Neil. No way could you sing about coming to America, while taking off your clothes. No way. Besides, Neil Diamond was Forever in Blue Jeans, he'd said so himself. The girl, completely shocked by my angry outburst, backed down and Neil's honor (deserved or not) stayed intact, but I would never be the same.

 

 

As I jogged around that parachute and pumped my tiny ineffectual fist into the air, shouting "Today!" I knew that Neil Diamond was cool.

Green Eggs and Hamming it

When it was first suggested to me that I start a blog, I had a Green Eggs and Ham response. There was no way, I was going to try it. Part of it was fear of having nothing to say, and part of it was fear of having something to say and no one to hear it. The "Sam I am" in my life persisted, promising me world domination and celebrity. I crumbled like a plot in a Steven Seagal movie.

Maybe the point of Green Eggs and Ham wasn't about trying new things. Maybe the point was that we shouldn't cave or conform to the "Sam I Am's" in our life. Maybe...but where would be the fun in that?