NaBloPoMo Day 26: Liar, Liar

Yesterday, I posted a blog with 5 truths and 1 lie. As promised, here are the facts vs. fiction.

(It was surprisingly difficult to come up with the lie. I’d like to think it’s because I’m a bad liar but most likely, I’m just sleep deficit.)

1. I once swam with dolphins.

IMAG2973
This is true. When I was a senior in high school, I was enrolled in a program that allowed us to pick a year-long study project. I picked “Cetacean Learning and Behavioral Patterns,” which sounds pretty grandiose coming from a 17-year old, especially one with little proclivity towards the sciences. My teacher, Mrs. Collins, was awesome and arranged for me to visit a theme park and work with the dolphin trainers for a few days. It was the highlight of my entire teenage experience and was for many years, a very unique story, until all the Florida and Caribbean resorts added a “Swim with the Dolphins” feature and people ceased to be so impressed.

2. I was born and grew up in Mobile, Alabama where I attended an all-girls high school.

Here, as Rarasaur says, “therein, lies the lie.” I actually was born in Birmingham, Alabama; although I did grow up in Mobile and I did attend the Julius T. Wright College Preparatory School for Young Ladies, which failed in almost every way to make me a lady, young or otherwise.

As I’m reading this, I realize that this was the absolute lamest of lies. Really? Oooh, I lied about the actual city in Alabama where I was born. It’s Alabama, does it matter? Mata Hari, you appear safe from me. My pathetic excuse is that I’m having a rough week at work and my brain was refusing to function creatively.

3. I interviewed Joe Satriani for an on-line magazine.

Again, truth. Years ago, I was briefly the content editor for an on-line magazine called HipCity.net, which sounds pretty grandiose, especially for a publication with a subscriber base of about 17 people. Our music reporter was scheduled to interview Joe, but she ate a bad sandwich and was tossing cookies so severely she had to cancel. They sent me instead, which totally ticked her off, as she felt I was musically “illiterate.” She also didn’t like my hair (but that was a separate issue.) I had to do some last-minute scrambling to research pertinent questions (I was pretty musically illiterate at the time – however, my hair was quite stylish.) Joe was incredibly kind and patient and we ended up having a wonderful chat about how much we both loved Star Trek.

4. I am seriously allergic to Jumping Jack Cheese Doritos.

Truth! Linda guessed it! The first time I ever ate them was at a Christmas party while I was in college. I woke up the next morning with my eyes swollen shut and my whole body covered in angry red hives. It was also the first time I’d ever even seen an allergic reaction, much less had one. I remember calling my mom, sobbing hysterically, because I had no idea what was wrong with me and I thought I was dying. The dermatologist misdiagnosed it as a reaction to a new perfume, so about a month later; while on a road trip to D.C. I ate another bag of JJC Doritos (Damn them! They are tasty evil!) and promptly welted up all over again. They were never able to figure out which magical ingredient was the culprit, since unofficial tests revealed I’m fine with Sour Cream Ranch Doritos and even Cheetos. I tend to avoid crispy snack foods as a rule now, not to tempt fate.

5. mtvI was an intern for MTV during college.

‘Tis true. I was the University of Georgia college campus representative for MTV my junior year. It was a pretty cool experience – I worked with their marketing department to produce events on campus, like a dance-off and a Remote Control audition, and got to fly up to New York and hang with Kurt Loder and Colin Quinn. They actually offered me a job, but I still had some classes to finish up to graduate and the starting salary was too dismal to really be tempting.

6. The first concert I ever went to was Cher.

I’ll give props to Priceless Joy. I was with my parents. I was so itty-bitty so I have no memory of the experience and it was so long ago, Cher actually may have still been Mrs. Bono.

So there’s my truths and lies. Thank you for playing along! I’d look forward to reading your stories.

NaBloPoMo Day 25: Truth, Lies and the Blogosphere

doritos-jumpinjack-bagToday’s inspiration came from a fun post by Jen at Sips of Jen and Tonic (by way of Rarasaur). Basically, you share 5 truths and 1 lie and ask your readers to tell the difference.

So here are my five facts (and one fib!)

1. I once swam with dolphins.
2. I was born and grew up in Mobile, Alabama where I attended an all-girls high school.
3. I interviewed Joe Satriani for an on-line magazine.
4. I am seriously allergic to Jumping Jack Cheese Doritos.
5. I was an intern for MTV during college.
6. The first concert I ever went to was Cher.

Fun memories for me – I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you can tell the one fable from the other facts! I’ll be back tomorrow with all the deets. Thank you for reading and playing along!

NaBloPoMo Day 22: Pick Your Power

Today’s WordPress Daily Prompt: You get to choose one superpower. Pick one of these, and explain your choice:
•the ability to speak and understand any language
•the ability to travel through time
•the ability to make any two people agree with each other

I pick the ability to travel through time.

Last week, fellow blogger Priceless Joy sent a lovely letter back through time to her 8-year old self and challenged the rest of us to do the same.

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  • Had I the power, I think I would choose to go back in time and visit my 4-year old self, this sweet little girl you see here.

    She’s still unscarred from her parent’s divorce and all the meanness life throws at you as you grow up. She fully believes that everyone around her loves her because she’s lovable. I wish I could get to her before she ever lost that.

    I would tell her to be strong and stay strong. That everything’s going to be alright.

    I would let her know that she will grow into her feet.

    I would tell her not to worry so much about trying to please everyone. Bless her heart, she tied herself in knots trying to be everything for everyone for so many years. I would hug her and let her know that it’s most important that she’s happy with herself.

    I would let her know that one day she will meet the love of her life. That it’s going to take a really, really long time, and it’s going to be very lonely for a lot of that time, but not to give up because she will, finally, find her prince.

    I would advise her to spend every moment she could with her grandmother. Not to get angry or impatient when her Granny brushed her bangs out of her eyes, “so she could see her pretty face.” To ask more questions and listen to all the stories and to learn how to make fried summer squash and pot roast the same way her Granny did. To know how irreplacable her grandmother’s unquestioning love and support was and to value every single second she was with her.

    I would encourage her to dream huge. To go after her dreams with all her heart and let nothing or no one stop her. And that’s it’s okay to make mistakes – mistakes are how you learn. The important thing is to never quit.

    And I would hope that she liked me, this person she turned out to be.

    But maybe through this visit, she’d turn out a little better,
    and get there a little easier,
    and never for one single second, lose the belief that she deserves to be loved.

  • NaBloPoMo Day 18: There’s no place like Om…

    Image courtesy of Amber Monson and Sky Gym

    Image courtesy of Amber Monson and Sky Gym

    It all started with yoga…

    Which sounds much more meaningful than, “It all started with Facebook,” although it did, in fact, begin one morning about a month ago when I read Ashley Hesseltine’s blog Witty + Pretty in my Facebook feed.

    “It” (to clarify what started) would be my current spate of writing and blogging.

    “It” might also serve to justify the question: “Why Kim, in seven singular hells, did you commit to posting daily in your blog (National Blog Posting Month Challenge) as well as writing 1600 words towards your novel (National Novel Writing Month Challenge) every day in the month of November?

    November,
    in particular, is a month notorious at my restaurant for the sheer onslaught of crazed Christmas party-bookers and city-wide conventions, yielding a great deal of stress, long hours and working weekends.

    Why, Kim, why?

    Well, jeez, because the headline grabbing my attention that morning said: “So you hate your job, now what?”

    While I certainly don’t hate my job (at least, not every day), I seem to remember that particular morning I was less than enchanted. And to be honest, while my job does have pretty good moments, occasional dollops of fabulous food, great  co-workers and decent pay; being a restaurant sales manager is not what a younger me imagined doing when I grew up (jockey!/veterinarian!/dolphin trainer!/princess!)

    As an adult, I’ve always envisioned doing something more…fulfilling. Something more me. Writing novels and blogs, owning a restaurant, hosting a television show, creating a magazine – I don’t know, I get excited about food, drink and entertaining, music, style, fashion, art and stories. I have always wanted to combine them some way, to have a job that felt like living instead of working.

    image courtesy of saradivello.com

    image courtesy of saradivello.com

    The Witty + Pretty post, guest-blogged by author Sara DiVello, described her escape from a house-of-horrors corporate career into a new occupation as a yoga instructor. In the transition between the two jobs, she found her true passion: writing.

    She was having a signing that Friday night at Decatur Yoga and Pilates for her book, “Where in the Om Am I?” Pretty tempting to attend and buy the book – they were offering complimentary wine and snacks.

    Far more challenging, however; she offered a Saturday afternoon yoga workshop “for anyone wondering about their life direction, career, relationship, or any other nagging questions about where they are and what they want in life. Participants may have a specific question they’re working with or a more general feeling of being unfulfilled.”

    And that was me: a general feeling of being unfulfilled. 

    As I do attempt yoga (albeit sporadically), I crossed my fingers and signed up for the workshop.

    The class was amazing.

    Sara was welcoming, empathetic and attentive to each of us. She started by having us journal our thoughts and questions, then led us through a yoga practice that she designed to focus our purpose to “live our passion” out into the universe. She said clear-cut direction might not come right away, but if you put your intention out there, the answers would come.

    I left the class (after a really lovely chat with Sara afterwards) feeling confident that the universe had at least heard my request. I didn’t feel so alone anymore in my efforts to upgrade my life – I was buoyed by the kindness, support and encouragement from Sara and the other class members.

    I didn’t have a really clear picture of my passion, but I felt something was…forming.   Coming into existence. You know how after a shower,  the bathroom mirror’s all fogged up from steam but as you stand in front, your reflection slowly comes into view as the condensation dries?  That’s how I feel right now – things are misty, but slowly solidifying.

    I do know that I want to write. To create.

    And until I get flashing lights and directional signs from the universe, I’ll keep on finding ways to keep writing and creating until something clicks and it all comes into place. Hence the blogging and writing challenges, devising a better and more defined website for my blog, building exposure with social media, branching out into style and entertainment, maybe shooting some cooking videos for You Tube.

    Moving forward until I find my passion.

    Or perhaps, simply realizing the passion already inside me.

    A place where I’m at home.

    (P.S. Get Sara’s book, “Where the Om am I?” It’s funny, charming and incredibly inspirational.)

    NaBloPoMo Day 14: Mirror, Mirror

    IMAG2917The current Weekly Writing Challenge on WordPress, Traces, asks that you take a look around you and identify the three objects that most represent you and why.

    How do they reflect your personality, and who you are?

    Right now, I’m curled up in bed, cushioned by cats, writing on my laptop and chain-watching Dr. Who episodes.

    Three pretty important things – I’m thinking I’ve got this covered.

    One, the fur kids – Keegan and Brodie.

    Two, my battered but beloved MacBook and three – the Doctor. Yep, all three symbols of varied aspects of me.

    Were I to take it a little more seriously, though; what three things can I see that really represent me?

    Well, first, I guess there’s the books. Lots and lots of books.

    Booktopia

    Booktopia

    I’ve always found books to be a great comfort, not just by transmitting the magic of words, transporting me worlds and times away; but an actually feeling of comfort and safety that envelopes me when surrounded by their physical shells. Most of the several hundred books I still have (after a painful space compromise with the Kindle) are old friends.

    Standing in my living room, scanning the bookcases, I see my buddy the Hobbit and his dwarf companions, my gal pals Rachel and Ivy, Elizabeth and the Bennet sisters, the Narnia kids and that charming detective, Spenser. I’m never without the joy of their company.

    They also remind me of my dream, to be a writer, to add my stories to their collective.

    Some Pig, Garibaldi, my 8-month-a-versary present.

    Some Pig, Garibaldi, my 8-month-a-versary present.


    Second? Hmmm.

    Maybe second would be Garibaldi, the flying pig. He was a “month-i-versary” gift from my then boyfriend (now husband) David. I had never been one for serious relationships, figuring I’d get hitched “when pigs fly.” I was charmed and delighted with the surprise gift of Garibaldi, and the thoughtfulness and thinking behind the gift (a nod to Beyonce, metal chicken hero of one of my favorite blogs). It was an insight into the man who is my husband and the relationship, just then blossoming, that became our marriage.

    The city, as art.

    The city, as art.

    Number three? I’d probably look outside for that. I bought my loft, quite simply, because of the view. I have a front row seat to sunrises and moon-rises, sunsets and windswept clouds; the vast glory of sky reflected against the metallic backdrop of the city. Nature + technology equals an odd but beautiful canvas, providing living art for my daily life.

    So three things – not necessarily defining me, but certainly reflecting me. I could look and easily find others – after all, isn’t home the true mirror of who you are?

    NaBloPoMo Day 13: Inside the Actor’s Studio

    NaBloPoMo_November_small_0Trying to come up with a new topic for today’s blog, I ran across this WordPress Daily prompt and thought it was pretty interesting.

    On the interview show Inside the Actors’ Studio, host James Lipton asks each of his guests the same ten questions.

    What are your responses?

    What is your favorite word?
    – Heliotrope
    What is your least favorite word?
    – Mucous
    What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
    – Making a connection with someone. When there is an instant bond and chemistry.
    What turns you off?
    – Overly judgmental reactions.
    What is your favorite curse word?
    – Rampant Douchebaggery.
    What sound or noise do you love?
    – I love the sound of rain. Trains. Fiddles.
    What sound or noise do you hate?
    – Any kind of alarm sound. It makes me panic.
    What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
    – Television host. Author.
    What profession would you not like to do?
    – Accountant.
    If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
    – I’m proud of you for living and loving with all of your heart, and moving through your fears.

    NaBloPoMo Day 11: The Scariest Thing in the World

    fail

    Failure.

    Or at least it is for me. Fear of failure paralyzes me – stops me dead in my tracks and derails my success. It always has.

    It’s not that I’m afraid to write.

    I’m afraid of failing as a writer.

    I’m scared of not having pertinent ideas, or never appealing to an audience. Of being laughed at, misunderstood. Not being cool enough or funny enough; being too old or too young. Too jaded or too naive.

    I’m terrified I may have no story to tell.

    I’m frightened of being rejected by total strangers as insignificant or trivial. People who have never met me pass ghostly judgment in my head before my words ever hit the screen.

    I am so afraid that if I take my dream of being a writer, bubble-wrapped and carefully bundled in my heart and open it up, I will drop and break it. I will fail it and I will fail me.

    And then there won’t be any dream left to cherish.

    I have a quotation printed out and taped to the keyboard of my laptop. When I find myself backed into a corner by the failure monster, petrified to share my thoughts and words, I take to heart something said by someone who gained her first fame without being heard, silent film actress Mary Pickford.

    “You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing that we call ‘failure’ is not the falling down, but the staying down.”

    And I determine one more time, not to stay down.

    NaBloPoMo Day 10: Dirt Redux; Redux

    I was hanging with some girlfriends for brunch on Sunday and they asked about the whole “writing” thing I’ve been up to lately. I think they might have been contemplating an intervention if they determined I’d been populating a belfry through my recent blog-a-thon. 

    Yes, I am posting every day, I just never promised it would all be good.  I also never promised it would all be writing. 

    Anyhow, the girls and I discussed the difficulty of daily writing and inspiration and time constraints and one of these “angels,” and (yes, I’m not afraid of that word because she totally saved me at the moment) one of the ANGELS said, “OOOhhhhhh, will you re-post that thing you wrote about Home Depot – that was funny!”

    Yes, I can re-post something I wrote a while back. I seem to have nothing else to say today and everyone must be tired of the pictures by now.

    Dirt, Redux
    (originally published June 6, 2012 which is 815.7 years ago in blog-years.)


    Last year around this time, I wrote the first post about my losing battle with SHDD, Seasonal Home Depot Disorder.

    For those of you unfamiliar, SHDD is a form of dementia typically striking around the end of March, when the combination of sunny days, balmy temperatures and sassy commercial jingles conspire to fill even the brown-thumbed loft dweller with visions of gardening grandeur. The naive Mr. Green Jeans-wanna-be, lured to the lair of the devil, a.k.a. Home Depot Garden Center, is sucked into a kaleidoscope of burgeoning flora promising to transform their winter-weary lives with Spring fecundity. SHDD is characterized by delirium, dissociation from reality, impaired judgment, and a dangerous lack of financial restraint. There is currently no known cure for SHDD, although there are some interesting therapies in development.

    This is what actually happens. It’s Saturday. You go to Home Depot with your fiance to buy a toilet flusher repair kit. In your excitement to preview the latest bathroom chandeliers, you run ahead, innocently cutting through the garden center on the way to the lighting aisle.

    An hour later, your frantic fiance finds you staring transfixed into a display of Heirloom Pepper plants, a trickle of drool running down your chin, mumbling your grandmother’s chowchow recipe in psychotic litany. Helpless to dissuade you in your maddened and disoriented state, he protestingly loads $200 worth of seedlings into the back of your SUV for a garden you have no land for.

    Nice, Home Depot Garden Center. Nice. Your time will come.

    This year, girded by wisdom gleaned by hauling $200 worth of dead plants off my balcony, I was able to ward off the Center’s siren song until almost June. Unable to stay off the junk, but unwilling to ride the horticultural horse alone, I finally cajoled my poor fiance into driving to the Home Depot in Smynings with me the other week to “pick up a tomato plant or two.”

    Two hours later we returned to David’s house with a pre-fabricated cedar garden box riser, 24-cubic feet of special Miracle Gro enhanced dirt (in contrast to normal dirt, which is free) two Heirloom tomato plants, three Heirloom pepper plants (chowchow time!) basil, thyme, oregano, curly parsley, tarragon, a strawberry plant and a watermelon seedling (couldn’t resist).

    Donning gloves and a hat, David quickly cleared a rough patch of land in the backyard, assembled the pre-fab riser, laboriously filled it with the special earth and then carefully placed the seedlings according to each’s light absorption preferences and bio-relative soil conductivity.

    Anxious to do my part, I poured a glass of wine and busied myself naming each of our new leafy “kids”: Emily and Cleveland, the tomato plants; Basil, the basil (be sure to use the snotty-sounding British “ah” instead of the hard “a”); Reggie, the Oregano; Tex, the Texas Tarragon; Curly, the Curly Parley, and of course, Charleston Grey III, the watermelon. And no, I didn’t name the pepper plants. That’s silly.

    Veggies finally all planted and watered, David and I sat back with the smug satisfaction native to the owners of vast estates and haciendas, purveying our tiny 4′ x 4′ farmstead with proprietary greed and dreaming of what will most likely be the world’s most expensive summer salad.

    I might be mental, I might be an addict, but at least I’m not alone.

    And Home Depot, you’re still the devil.

    NaBloPoMo Day 9: Weekly Photo Challenge – Habit

    NaBloPoMo_November_small_0I am definitely enjoying NaBloPoMo so far,  that is if enjoy is the best word. There’s certainly a thrill in the challenge.

    I  do like that I’ve made a commitment to writing.  Well at least to posting – I’ve managed to put something up every day. I still have a feeling of accomplishment  however fledgling; that I’ve created something, taken one step closer to my goal, created a routine of blogging.

    So far I’ve shown you a lot of images, but I haven’t shared a lot of words.  I’m hoping this will change – I do have things to say.  Right now, with the stress of work and the fear of failing, it’s all muddled into a giant puddle in my head, needing to be sorted and categorized and mastered.

    In the meantime, I have pictures. 

    That’s how the words start in my head, after all. I am truly grateful for the daily prompts and photo challenges giving me an opportunity to show you these images; the seeds of my words, the foundation of this new habit.

    Coincidentally, this week’s WordPress photo challenge (and this day’s writing “cop-out” since I spent the entire afternoon cleaning the loft and doing unskilled surgery on my vacuum cleaner):

    “Show us something that’s a HABIT. Capture a moment both constant and fleeting.”

    Many bloggers posting to this challenge have shown moments from the habit of their daily lives.  It’s a lovely window into their uniqueness, illustrating the individual behind the post.

    Here’s a snippet from some of my my “habits” – a snapshot of a typical midweek morning.  I hope you enjoy the look.

    The first request for breakfast.

    Upon waking, the first {semi-polite} request for breakfast.

    The next request for breakfast.

    The next request for breakfast, this one with a little more volume. And muscle.

    Coffee on the veranda as the sun comes up.

    Maybe time for coffee on the veranda as the sun comes up. More likely running maniacally around the loft looking for my I.D. badge or name tag.

    It's one of the prettiest angles of the city skyline but it's a lot of cars between me and my office.

    It’s one of the prettiest angles of the city skyline but there’s still a lot of cars sandwiched between me and my office.

    Winding my way to the heart of downtown.

    Winding my way to the heart of downtown.

    Ten or twenty minutes to wrassle an elevator to the top, but the view outside my office is pretty sweet.  Now, on to work!

    Ten or twenty minutes to wrassle an elevator to the top, but the view outside my office is pretty sweet. Now, on to work!

    NaBloPoMo Day 7: I get by with a little help from my friends (Meet my new buddy, Weekly Photo Challenge!)

    This first week of NaBloPoMo (and NaNoWriMo) has been an enormous challenge. Not only have I faced hardware/software issues, but work’s been frantic. freaky and frenzied, requiring long meetings away from the office and extra long days in.

    I’m planning on spending some time this weekend plotting out an editorial calendar for the blog and actually introducing myself to my novel (“Are you there, Novel? It’s Me, Kim”), but in the meantime, it’s all about getting through the commitment to blog every single day, especially today and tomorrow when work threatens to drown me.

    dialsky1Thank you, handy-dandy folks at WordPress! While looking for quick inspiration on the site, I ran across last week’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Horizon

    DSC01747Horizon. The space or line where the sky meets the earth. So many places where the sky meets the earth around the world, and millions of interactions between two elements.

    So I appear to be a week late and most likely $5-10 dollars short, but here’s my interpretation of Horizon.  I am so in love with sky and clouds and sunsets (and of course, I work on the 72nd floor of the 2nd tallest hotel in North America), that I have quite the inventory of pictures to share with you.

    Big brother (AKA, the Westin Peachtree Plaza) looming in the horizon.

    Big brother (AKA, the Westin Peachtree Plaza) looming in the horizon.

    Clouds roll in.

    Clouds roll in.

    the ATL, from 73 stories up.

    the ATL, from 73 stories up

    Big brother stalks from outside the Perimeter

    Big brother stalks from outside the Perimeter, still lovely hazy horizon.

    Buckhead skyline at Sunset

    Buckhead skyline at Sunset

    Miramar Beach, Florida

    Miramar Beach, Florida

    Rosemary Beach, Florida, after a storm

    Rosemary Beach, Florida, after a storm

    Rosemary Beach Sunset

    Rosemary Beach Sunset

    Effortless clouds and sky, Rosemary Beach. Florida

    Effortless clouds and sky, Rosemary Beach. Florida

    Miramar Beach, Florida with my lovely husband, David.

    Miramar Beach, Florida with my lovely husband, David.

    Rosemary Beach - the perfect mingling of sea and sky.

    Rosemary Beach – the perfect mingling of sea and sky.

    So thank you, Photo Challenge.  I have many memorable horizons to share.  Thank you for giving me more.