Showing posts with label Pride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pride. Show all posts

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Living the Dream

My first day of a big girl job apparel 
It's 7am and my alarm is going off. For the last several months, it'd be typical for me to roll out of bed around 9am or even as late as 11am. No longer. I get away with snoozing two to three times. Then. I HAVE to get up.

My hair is sticking up in all directions. The make-up I couldn't wash off my face last night attaches itself just under my sleep filled eyes. I snap my fingers twice to avoid talking for another few minutes, and Baxter and Kyla meet me at the door to go outside.

I shower, eat breakfast, debate on putting on make-up again, dress, pet the dogs, make sure I have everything: voice recorder, notebooks, pens, pictures of Baxter to put on my desk, wallet, keys, cell phone, etc, kiss the dogs goodbye, and then I'm out the door. Most mornings, I make one stop: the coffee shop, where I'll spend $2-$4 on either coffee or an iced caramel macciato. Usually by noon, I start shaking and forgetting how to make the letter "D".

My first day, I worked over ten hours. My second day was somewhere around 9. By day three, I passed out at 5pm and woke up at around 7:30pm. It's been a challenging and exhausting week, but it's been amazing to see this:

Two of these FRONT PAGE stories
are mine!
If your theory of Living the Dream is getting paid to write, I feel like I've made it. I work 40 hours a week. I get assigned articles, and get to cover ones I think are interesting. I get paid to write. Not to stock shelves, cash people out, get yelled at for ID people who look under age.

I feel like I'm on top of the world right now.

Just you know, a little tired.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

High School Graduation


Can you tell how awkward I was?

Six years ago (oh man, I can't believe it's been six years already! I'm old!!), I sat in a very different seat. I wore a bright yellow gown, a hideous cap that made my large face look even bigger, and an orange ribbon for my best friend Kellie. Though I was nervous and excited, there was a hint of sadness...my best friend wouldn't be able to make it.

I sat through several graduations before my own. Usually they were my sisters', and sadly, they usually had a moment of silence, because the kids at Shepherd High School couldn't seem to make it out alive. Laura's graduation was especially gut wrenching as they showed four pictures behind the podium, and asked for a moment of silence for the graduates who weren't in attendance. Kellie, my best friend's picture was up there. Kara, Laura's best friend was up there. Two other graduates, guys I was less familiar with, were up there. In the silence, there was a collective cry through the auditorium because these were fresh wounds.

These were the types of graduations I was used to, the gut wrenching ones that played a slide show of happier times with Kenny Chesney singing, "Young," or Vitamin C, "Friends Forever (Graduation)". They got me, every time.

This winter, I had the honor of coaching what I'd dubbed my all star team. We met on Sundays for four weeks. There was a brilliant girl who was the valedictorian of her high school, and also established a dive team, pretty much single-handedly. There were other people, cheerleaders who placed in competitions, racers...etc. Overall, I was always impressed to hear about their accomplishments each week. On the last Sunday, the group asked if they could friend me on Facebook, and I said yes. One of them took me up on the offer. Her name was Emily.
My all star team and me (in red)

Since the winter, we've been chatting pretty regularly and keeping each other updated on our lives. She's an aspiring veterinarian, and overall awesome human being who started her own foundation. IN HIGH SCHOOL. She talked about her graduation speech, and knowing that I'm a writer asked if I could look it over and offer suggestions. Okay, so you guys thing querying is nerve wracking? This about leveled me. I didn't want to say something wrong, or impose too much because this was her address! Like, this was huge! So I offered what I could, making smart-ass remarks here and there, and in the end, she thanked me, and let me run through it one more time.

It was around then, that I asked if I could attend her graduation. I felt like an invasive species, moving in where I didn't belong, but dangit, I taught her over the winter, and we're friends. I wanted to be there for her because #1, the people at her school sucked (bullies) and #2, I remember how awesome it felt when not only my family showed up at my graduation, but my friends.

Her, walking in with Cherio, a service dog in training :)
She eagerly gave me the date, and I scheduled the day off from work. I drove the hour and ten minutes to her high school (a place I'd never been before) and parked my car with Baxter in the backseat. I walked in, following the mass of parents and siblings, not knowing anyone, or if I was even walking the right way, and found her mother in the through way of the building. I had a lip ring, two eyebrow rings, and an anxiety attack waiting to hit at any moment. But, I pretended to be outgoing (something I've been working on since I uprooted me and Bax and moved to Maine). I sat between Emily's sister and father, and in front of her mother and grandfather. We told stories, I offered memories of teaching her on the mountain, and some of the conversations we've had, and started the slow practice of relaxing.

When the band started playing Pomp and Circumstance, the people in attendance rose and greeted the graduates. Truth be told, I'm only used to seeing Emily in a helmet, goggles, and a pink jacket. I was terrified that I wouldn't recognize her. I sort of told her family this, and then laughed saying, "I'm really just looking for the fluffy hair," because that's what I remembered from the day I didn't have lunch money and she "tipped" me five bucks so I could eat. (Thanks again, Em).

I ended up sitting through the graduation with the chair digging into my back, listening to her speech (which rocked, by the way!) and cheering louder than I had on the mountains. It was also kind of cool because since I've redirected my life to focus more fully on writing, I hadn't attended a graduation since college, so this adventure doubled as research (as My Sister's Memories, and Character Defects have a graduation piece, and After Elizabeth may, too).

I am so proud of her!
After the ceremony, her family invited me over, fed me, and offered me beverages, which I accepted readily. When I left, I sort of anxiously looked down her driveway (it was long, I have a habit of hitting things with my car), and said "I should be able to back out of this." Two seconds later, I looked up, and Emily and her sister were waving their arms. Sure enough, I looked in my rear view mirror and was about to back into a tree. "Want me to back your car out?" she offered, and I stepped out of the way. It turns out, not only can she get stellar grades, but she can also drive pretty well, too :)

Long story short, Emily is one of many of my friends graduating this year. So here's to you; Eli, Annika, Emily, D.J., Matty, and anyone else who makes up the class of 2012 (even if some of you graduated college, not high school :) ). You're all amazing and thanks for being an awesome part of my life :)

(If I missed anyone, lemme know, and I'll add you to the list, too :) )


Friday, April 15, 2011

Baby Wins

I don't think people give themselves enough credit for the things they do. In example...if you've written a novel, YOU'VE WRITTEN A FREAKING NOVEL. If you've written something, and someone says they like it, they probably do. Take the compliment. Give yourself some credit.

I'm saying this because I found out yesterday, that Suzie Townsend picked a winner for Invincible Summer, and the 100 word story contest. And I was that winner. I haven't won any other competitions (yet). Still, I was unGodly excited to read, "and the winner is...Lynn(e)". It's five easy, simple words. But it's my name. More importantly, it's my writing.

I drove to my sister's work (because my cell phone had stopped working), and ran into her office to tell her. I was excited, and I should be. When I tell people, I keep saying, "It's not that big of a deal." But it's still my writing. And I should be proud of it, even if it's a small competition. It's a baby step in the grand path I'm trying to travel. Things like this are what I'm waiting for.

Moral of this blog: Be proud of the little steps you make along the way.
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