Tag Archives: mind

Sommertime Vacay: Book List

Yay for summer vacations! I love sommer vacay  summer vacay. All of my parental responsibilities are on hold (for 2 months anyway), I can get away with eating ice cream for breakfast, and juicy bbq burgers never taste better than on a patio during warm, summer nights. In an effort to make the most out of my Sommertime Vacation, I plan on grabbing some great summer reads, curling up on the couch, and getting lost. The goal: (1) book per week for (8) weeks. Wish me luck!

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You cannot possibly get through life without a little O-wisdom. This summer, I invite O and her big brain full of isms into my space. Namaste.

 

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Classic author summertime reading nod goes to S. King. You can’t get through vacation or a dark, rainy night without showing some love to the King himself.

 

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When I saw Arianna Huffington on Super Soul Sunday, I sat up and listened. I have had Thrive on my book list for about a year now. No time like the present to get to reading!

 

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While a fan of her work, I am most interested in her actual story. It stirs something in my belly. This novel is set in my fave place–hopefully I can snag a few chapters under some palms this summer.

 

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When I read this in high school, I enjoyed it immensely. The Maury Show like drama but back when television was actually just a radio was exciting. A classic with some Maury drama? Yes please!

 

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Yes, he’s on my list twice. *blank stare* Listen…it’s Stephen King. What can I say? This is going to be a thrilling summer ride!

 

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This summer I am not only focusing on reading, but I am also focusing on writing too. I love to write and I love the connection between the gift of writing, the imagination, and every day reality. Perfect book written by the perfect author to give me some more perspective (and instruction) on writing and life.

 

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I have been chomping at the bit for years to read this book and this summer it will most likely be the first book I read. It is not often you find a book that stands the test of time and changes lives in the process. My nose is itching at just the thought of smelling those pages (yes…I am somewhat of a nerd…carry on).

 

BONUS BOOKS

I know I only said (8) books, but I could not leave these last two off of my list. These will most likely be my end of summer celebration books. Geeked!

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JK’s story inspires me every time I think of her name. She inspired me even more when she popped up on the scene as a male author. I like her thinking and her style. I couldn’t possibly let the Sommertime Vacation float away without a little JK Rolling inspiration.

 

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In case you hadn’t noticed, I am a sucker for new things and Oprah. This is the recent Oprah Book Club 2.0 selection and I figured what harm would it do to dive into a book from a new author sprinkled with a little O-love. Absolutely none 😉

~SM

Sommertime Vacation

Every year, usually about 2-3 weeks prior to my birthday, the Universe plops a big gigantic A-Ha on me and I am enlightened. Every. Single. Year. I have yet to get my A-Ha (mean face). Or, perhaps I have.

A couple of mornings ago, I was flipping through Facebook and felt completely over it. Sure, it is nice to see people’s updates and pictures and it is as equally as nice to share my own random thoughts and photos, but in all actuality….who gives a shit? I mean, realistically, how many people care I had Mommy’s mac & cheese or if you found a t-shirt 50% off? Who cares if you write a dissertation on your wife and how great she is or who really wants to see you and your phantom boyfriend holding hands at the movies. Quite honestly….do you care? I suppose the same could be said for BSM. I mean, who cares if I am struggling with running 3 miles or having a parent breakdown? Somehow, though, this seems different…it seems…helpful.

Anywho, I have the overwhelming need for balance. I feel the need to cut off everything that is a distraction and get back to the basics. And by basics I mean pen, pencil, notebook, board games, no clutter, GNO’s with just a great movie and the couch, books with actual bookmarks, the Bible and Beethoven. Oh…and Being Sadie May (of course).

It should be fun and exciting to actually take a summer break from all of the junk I allowed to slip in. Maybe I will actually be able to complete some things I have been desperately trying to get done. Maybe I can focus long enough to finish my novels. Or perhaps I can actually lose weight. I could possibly get back to centered. Maybe…just maybe…I can slide my way back to beautiful Me (smile). Sommertime Vacation just might be my best A-Ha yet. What fun this is going to be!

~SM

Happy Anniversary Sadie May!

Whelp…we made it. We made it through The Split, The Boy’s and The Girl’s antics. We made it through the confusion of Life and the possibility of New Love. We moved out of our old home and tipped our hats to good times. We had discussions about sweaty armpits and naked vaginas. We grew a little stronger as time passed. We learned that thinking too much is definitely not a good thing. It has been a fun, full ride. We made it.

A lot can happen in a year. It is safe to say not only did I manage to pack away a marriage, but I also opened myself up to love again. I managed to grow up a little and be okay with who I grew into. A lot can happen in 365 days.

Kay, a good running buddy of mine, suggested (well…pushed is more like it) I write in this arena. I am so glad she did. She said it would do me some good to get it all out. I can’t say she was wrong. I am pretty sure you don’t always want to hear about what goes on in my life. There are real life tragedies happening out there everyday. Reading about random things like what to wear on a first date or wearing The Boy’s deodorant is not exactly life changing. But just knowing that you stuck around to take a peek anyway means the world.

So, cheers to us because we made it! Here’s to another 365. Who knows what will happen next 😉

Yours Truly,

Sadie May

Everything I Learned…I Learned From Fast Cars & Toretto

I remember sitting in the theater, packed and hot–teeming with anticipation, waiting for the first glimpses of tricked out foreign cars and mysterious macho actors. From the first scene to the last, I sat on the edge of my seat wishing I, too, could rip through city streets and zip under 18 wheelers. That night, I learned about the Rush.

The Rush is a feeling you get when your body is crackling with electricity. The smile on your face is pure joy. The palms of your hands are sweaty with anticipation. The beat of your heart is beyond normal. The Rush reminds you that you are alive. Every idea, every dream, every ‘what if’ spins around until they blur and you realize you are capable of everything.

I remember sitting in the theater, all of us feeling the sting of the loss of Letty, feeling so heavy in the seat. From the moment she died until the end, nothing quite felt the same. None of it felt….good…except Toretto’s love. That night, I learned about Love & Loss.

We all know Love & Loss–no further explanation needed. That was the night I actually questioned Love…what it was and what it really felt like…if I actually had it. I knew Loss, or at least some version of what I envisioned Loss to be, but I did not know Loss as it was connected to Love.

I remember standing in the isle, shortly after the credits finished rolling. The theater crowd was thinning but when we heard voices, we all froze. Something more was happening. Life was changing. Letty was alive and everything as we knew it was about to be turned upside down. We all stood, frozen, mouths agape at the thought of what was to come. That night I learned of what Possibility felt like.

I buzzed about the Possibilities of Letty for the rest of the afternoon. Possibility is endless. I started to see the Possibility in everything. What if, What would happen if, Where could, How should, Why…. With Possibility, Life becomes much more exciting and unpredictable. The end never seems so fixed when Possibility is involved.

It all sounds kinda nerdy, I guess, but when sitting in the theater watching silver screen friends (who happen to be real life friends) say good-bye to one of their own it didn’t feel nerdy at all. It felt incomplete. It was sad. I was sad. Everything I had learned over the last decade, I had learned through fast cars, corny one liners and bad ass drivers….and here it was….finished yet not on their/our terms.

I walked out of the theater neither interested in staying past the credit roll or bothering to see if there would be a ‘what’s next’. I took the experience, a decade and some change long, and packed it away. I packed away the Love & Loss, the Possibility, the Unfinished, and the Rush and put them on a mental shelf to be revisited later when in need. I smiled to myself thinking of something Toretto said (by which I currently live), “I live life a quarter mile at a time…” That’s all we have really.

~SM

More Doing…Less Thinking

It has been discussed before that I am a thinker. Unfortunate at times. My mind is constantly buzzing with questions and assumptions and judgements and randomness driving me batty after a while. The noise does not really stop unless I am listening to music or watching a movie–something to numb it. Something to drown out the constant drumming of thinking, thoughting, thinking….

This morning on the way to work my head was buzzing with thoughts from relationship crap to God to moving back home to getting a new job to losing weight. My head was swirling with noise and the only thing I could possibly think to do was to put on the headphones and turn up the music. After it all settled down, the only thought suffocating all of the others was do more and think less. Do. More. Say. More. Live. More. Think Less.

How often do we actually do? How often do we open our hearts and actually love? How often do we smile at a complete stranger or hold open a door or let someone in (both driving and emotionally I suppose)? How many times in the day do you think about doing something but talk yourself–or think yourself–out of it? How often do we just….do?

The Boy came to me yesterday evening and told me to pick him up late from school this week because he would be trying out for the track team. This morning when I wished him luck, he looked at me with all sincerity and said “I don’t need it. I’m gonna make it anyway. I’m already the fastest one out there.” And with that he closed the door and walked into the building. He is a doer. He believes. He sets his goal. And he does. He. Does. He doesn’t mull it over 900 times. He doesn’t craft a plan (a), (b), and (c). He sees, he believes, and he does.

I drove off with I Lived blaring in my ears, inspired by The Boy’s doing and decided to do more and think less. Life is so short…why waste it by being locked in your own head. Of course that does not mean jumping in with both feet every time an idea comes along, but so what if you do. At least you are doing…

~SM

Being Temporary

Everything for me is temporary. The fairytales–the Cinderella stories–stop being a way of life after a while. It is generally when something changes…a death, the end of a marriage, the loss of a child, the detour of a career….the rearranging of a life due to cataclysmic events causes one to look at life through the looking glass of temporary. Most everything is only meant for a specific time, thus creating space for tables to turn and growth to appear. It never really occurred to me, until recently, how much of life is temporary. It was……….freeing.

We are all held captive by the prospect of forever. When we are young, we think we will be young forever. When we are heart broken, we think it will last forever. When the storm comes, it feels like forever. Yet, when we reach that infamous forever marker, there’s the appearance of another path or another birthday or another growth spurt….and our faces get long. We never expected there not to be a forever. Realistically speaking, nothing….not one single solitary thing lasts always. God’s love aside, everything we encounter, from birth to death, is but a passing encounter.

I stood in the bathroom mirror washing my face and I noticed lines. Albeit they are probably undetectable to most, but to me they were glaring. I began pulling and repositioning my skin just to see what a small nip or tuck would do and I stopped as suddenly as I started. This, I thought, fades. It is only temporary.

At that moment, I realized the choice presented: I could tap into every 35-year-old-didn’t-quite-take-care-of-herself-to-the-best-of-her-ability flaw or I could be okay with the knowledge that nothing is permanent. I chose the latter.

I finished my routine, nodded in satisfaction, and shut off the light. I said my prayers and crawled into bed not thinking of my age or the state of a 36, 40 or 50 year old Sommer. I drifted off to sleep resting in the peace of the temporary. When you know that you know nothing lasts forever, peace abounds and you are able to drop the load of the expectations, rules and material things being dragged kicking and screaming into the future and just….be. What difference will I make? What risks will I take? What love can I give? Who can I hold or help? Where can I see? Those are the questions I drifted to sleep to….that’s the kind of temporary I want to be.

~SM

Accepting The Unaccepted

Never in my life have I felt accepted. Throughout school I always felt like an outsider. During my marriage I always felt like The He was looking for something else. Even among my friends, today, I do not feel completely comfortable with being exactly who I am. No, they have never asked me to be anything different and to be quite honest (outside of a few relationships/circumstances) no one has actually come right out and said there was something wrong with me. The feeling is there, none-the-less.

Very recently I figured out the only way to get over the feeling of exclusion was to accept the unaccepted: Me. Sure, I have said it before, but I never fully felt it until now. I do not expect to feel secure in self 24/7 (i.e. Forever Never The Dancer), but I do expect to feel comfortable in my own skin.

Perhaps it comes from getting older, or perhaps it comes from the people I surround myself with, or better yet–perhaps it comes from understanding that God loves me just as I am. He understands every flaw and shines His light on every nook and cranny. Yet…He loves me anyway. He cares for me anyway. He blesses me anyway. He gives me great responsibility anyway.

Looking at myself through His eyes helps me to be okay with who I am. It can be messy and it can be a struggle but it is worth it. Living life never accepting yourself is a waste. Thank God I am no longer feeling wasteful. Thank God I am able to accept the unaccepted.

~SM

Goal Oriented

At some point, a person has to get serious about their life. We are given a numbered amount of days, and, if I do say so myself, I am desperately in a race against time not to waste whatever is left.

Late last night I lay on the couch, lights dim, television dark, and music low. In the excitement of getting The Me back, I had strayed away from the stolen quiet moments. Hushing the excited chatter of the New Shiny Twin, a thought passed that had more depth than what I was going to wear the next day: What was I working toward? Even Shiny Twin had to sit still and mull it over, too.

I have always been a list-plan-a-b-c person. Now, that doesn’t mean I always followed said lists and plans, but I spent the time at least writing them out. Calendars, schedules, budgets….you name it I probably have a notebook for it. Recently, I made a conscious effort to stop the planning and just live moment to moment. It has been nice…it has aided in The Transformation actually but it’s time to get back to planning for something.

I lay on the couch in the semi-quiet, realizing I had no goals to work toward. I had focus items (i.e. get kids into a good school next year, get kids through school this year, manage to not Why-Did-I-Get-Married-Jill-Scott-dinner-table The Ex…you know…important stuff) but not goals for myself. Young Gun called me out with a weight loss challenge, Brooklyn charged me with the whole 26.2 thing, I threw down the triathlon gauntlet on my own dumb self, but don’t I need more?

I sat trying to sift through the shallow, insignificant life stuff and the important take-time-to-make-a goal-for-it stuff and realized the point of the goal is not about what I want to accomplish…it is about who I want to become. I have yet to drag out the notebook paper and calendar. I have yet to pour over numbers, budgets, and timelines. The goals I have in mind are stuck just outside the foggy barrier in my head, not wanting to reveal themselves just yet. And that is ok…I am not quite ready to handle them just yet anyway. About the only thought I can contend with is that there has to be more….I need to do more….I need to be more. This next phase of my life will be dedicated to that…I suppose that is goal number one: be better because, now, I know better.

~SM

Pretender Bender

A bender. It is commonly used to describe a person going completely off the cliff and doing something stupid like, I dunno, drinking themselves into oblivion. And even though most people use it to describe some diabolical action like drinking or drugging excessively, it is a loaded word that can be used in various situations. This particular situation can be such a time to use the word appropriately.

I was telling a couple of friends who know my fashion handicap that as of late I have been doing quite well with myself. I managed to squeeze out a couple of dollars for some key fall/winter pieces (damn near fainted at the register–not from sticker shock but from spending money on myself period), I am managing to wear them appropriately, and my eyebrows have finally been waxed. It actually feels good…easy…comfortable. Nothing I am doing to or draping on myself feels fake and phoney. It feels authentically like muah.

I think I sucked at that a lot. I fell into what others wanted or didn’t want. I ignored what they ignored and paid attention to what they paid attention to. I pretended….a lot. Being solo-dolo, the only one that matters is me (yes, I realize that should have been the concern all along–save the chastising please). I gotta be honest, too, wearing make up, getting (and keeping) the tresses done, and managing to be fashionably comfy is hard to do when you are bombarded with poopy diapers, spit ups, bottles and the like. None of that makes a woman feel oh-so-pretty. Tack on a few more years and you find yourself working, homeworking, shuttling, and crashing. None of that screams heels and lip gloss either.

But now I have learned the balance (and now that The Kids are basically self sufficient), it seems quite easy. I stopped pretending to be something I am not. I will probably never be under 250 lbs. I will probably always have back fat rolls and a beer belly midsection. I will probably always prefer ponytails over hair weaved all down my back. I will most likely always be head over heels in love with sweats and baseball hats. Fake eye lashes, fake hair, fake asses (even though belly fat to ass redistribution is on my ‘if I win the lottery’ list), complicated outfits and such are far from my radar. My pretender bender is over, thank God.

I pretended for a long time not to be exactly what I am.  I went on a bender of sorts for quite some time. I squeezed into odd shaped holes that I was never designed to fit. I am so glad it is over. So glad I decided to just be fashionably, awkwardly, selfishly me. The room can finally stop spinning and the guilt hangover can finally cease.

~SM

Today I AM: A Choosy Chooser

At some point in life, you recognize that you have choice. You have the choice to make change, accept non-change, kick some ass, be non-violent, be skinny, be fat, float in confidence or be a wallflower. You. Have. Choice. When that sinks in–well–it opens up the world. Don’t you think?

Very recently, I was given a choice. No one actually gave me the (a) or (b) but I decided to give it to myself. I decided to make a conscious decision on my own. Stay. Let Go. Float. I decided to let go and just be. I actually enjoy being alone quite a bit. No muss. No fuss. If plans fold, it is only because I couldn’t make it–which is rare considering it is kinda hard to stand yourself up.

Anyway, the choice came when I was faced with two things: What I wanted to happen and what I was willing to wait for. I am impatient. I am also a believer in getting what I want. Neither one of those will feed a closed mouth.  So it was choosy time. After I decided to keep it hustling, it dawned on me that I was a choosy chooser. For once…I chose (can’t say if it was wisely or not–most likely. Nothing is fair in love, right? Better to be cautious than an idiot) solely based on what would make me happy (not to say it has never been done, but I am retraining myself here).

The choosier we are, the better our decisions will be. Now being choosy does not mean mulling over a problem for eons (remember the Thinker post), but it does mean that you get to choose. You get to choose. You! Imagine that. Every thing that passes your doorstep, you get to be the choosy chooser of it. Wanna date someone? Choose to. Wanna buy a new dress? Choose it. Wanna explore and experience? Choose. Every day is a choice. You choose to go to work. You choose to be in a relationship. You choose to be a parent. You choose to be yourself or like everyone else. You get to choose.

Pick you. Choose you. Once you do, don’t spend the rest of your days on Earth wondering about your choices. Just be a choosy chooser and make it. Be prepared for the fallout, good or bad. Be okay with the end result. Don’t spend the energy of actually choosing you and picking you on tearing apart your decisions with negative thoughts. Choose you. Pick you. You will be damn glad you did.

~SM