NoBloPoMo Day 28: I am Thankful for a Daily Prompt

Blogher’s prompt today asked you to tell about your very first blog post. I can do one better. I can show you.

This was published way, way back – April of 2010.

Back then I had little idea of all the wonderful changes ahead for me. I would buy my fabulous loft that October, meet my amazing husband in December, get married to him (twice!) the next January (and then again in December), leave my job of six years and totally change my career.

I wrote this very first blog the day after my birthday.

I had made the decision the night before that I was getting older without getting any closer to my dream of being a writer and I had to do something, anything to change that. I had been investigating free blogging websites, stumbled across WordPress and set up an account for “Kimicalreaction.”

That morning, I made my first post and my first start down the path of published writing.

April 17, 2010
It’s two days after my actual birthday, but it’s Saturday morning and thus still a vital part of the “Natal Month Festivities.”

I don’t have to work today–therefore, I should be lying on the couch or buried under a mound of pillows in my bed, nursing a hangover and planning the next phase of the celebration.

Instead, I was up at 9, scrubbing my stove top for no apparent reason other than it seriously needed it.

I can’t blame demonic possession, there has been no mezcal.

What has happened to me? Does growing up have to make you boring?




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?

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

image courtesy of

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 11: The Scariest Thing in the World



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.