The void that murdered my MUSE and the my passion

Isn't it amazing how there are things in life that can suck away at your creative juices without you even paying attention?
And the sad part is that you have control of these Muse killing vampires.

But the problem is that you focus on everything else and turn a blind eye to this draining thing/things.

Did you know that my life revolved around creativity, music and art when I was younger? I was in every choir I could get my hands on. I sang five days a week--multiple times a day and some weekends and I loved it. At one point I planned to work my way through college until I made it off Broadway. I couldn't imagine a time that I didn't sing. Hell! When I wasn't singing for a group I was singing in the shower, on the walk to and from school and while cleaning.

I also danced 5 days a week for show choir and during the performances. And sometime for the spring musical. I also played piano most days, as my grandmother (a retired piano teacher and full time organist) came out of retirement to teach me.

I was also in art class and had a notebook for sketching and doodling.

And when I wasn't doing these thing (and school work) I was reading everyday throughout the day and most days I wrote short stories for fun.

Fast forward and I not only stopped singing in choirs etc. But I stopped singing Karaoke (which is something I did at least once a month for about a decade give or take.) And I did a vaudville style show for a while that had dancing, but it became too much of a hassle. I was also in a writing group with friends for a few years, and MAN the stories and story ideas I had were great then. And they all tapered off.

In fact, I was quite surprised to realize, about a years and a half ago, that I'd stopped reading for fun.
I was able to get back to reading every day, which is like meditation for me, but the other stuff is still gone.

For someone who used to sing and dance all the time, I don't sing anymore. Not even in the shower.Not while cleaning. Not at karaoke. No listening to music, except at work. Nothing. I don't dance anymore, except last year a couple times I danced at a kids dance to get my daughter out on the floor. Never for the pure joy of it. I never draw. The last time was a couple years ago with the kids while we were making silly doodles. and before that over four years ago in my notes at college. And I haven't written much. Each time I try to write a story or pick up where I left off, there is no drive. No passion. I can't see or feel my characters. I did a couple 30 min. word sprints and pushed through them just to prove  I could but it left me feel flat. And tired.

Now, there have been many thing that have happened over the years: Kids, kids injuries and sickness, taking care of my MIL with Dementia for 2 years as her primary care giver,  college, more college, still college (APA sucks the creativity out of all my writing), financial stress, loss of pets, loss of family, loss of karaoke, loss of writing group,my mom having a stroke, having to move, having to move my family in 5 days, my husband traveling all the time and being gone for over a month while I moved us and settled us into a new home,  my husband dying and coming back, but then struggling with recovery both physically and mentally (and me, too) A crazy amount of doctor appointments in the last4 months(I think my hubby has like 8 or 9 dr. with regular appointments) A change at my old job-then getting a new job, and 2 kids at 2 schools that need dropped off and picked up all while having 1 van. (and other things I'm sure I didn't think to add.
Now these are all valid distractions, but the main problem here is me.

 I got so focused on everything else and everybody else, that I ignored me. And now, I feel this void.
I got back in the habit of always reading a little bit and that helps, but I reach for my MUSE and there is no answer. There's a hole there. It's dark and depressing and pretty deep after all these years.
I don't think it's writer's block.
I think my MUSE is dead. It's like everytime I try to do something joyful and creative I'm just moving my dead zombie MUSE around like a puppet master putting on a good show.

I tried singing in the shower but didn't feel like it. I got a few lines to a sad song out and then just trailed off and started mentally organizing a list of all the things I had to do that day. I tried to draw the other day and just made round scribbles and pushed it to the side to work on my grown-up lesson plan paper that was due tonight. I went on my phone to play piano tiles because it makes my heart glad to hear songs that I used to play and I can remember the feel of the piano keys under my fingers as I made beautiful music flow, but then I got distracted by my google calendar, upcoming appointments, and messages I needed to respond to.

I thought I might get my writing juices going by blogging a little every other day or so. And I spent a good ten minutes staring at this blank page trying desperately to remember any of the blog ideas I used to store away for when "I had time" and came up blank.
I thought: What's wrong with me? Why can't I think of anything interesting, relevant or funny? Where's the passion? Where's the joy? Where's my MUSE?
Do I keep moving my MUSE's cadaver around-imitating life. Do I bury him and just give in to the void? Do I go to the MUSE humane society and see if there is a little muse there, that's lost like me and needs a good home? I really don't know.

But...
 I think I will listen to some music. I think, I'll write some blogs about stupid crap--whatever crosses my mind. I think I'll take advantage of not having any classes until January and actually do NANOWRIMO this November, even if I just spread the stench of my corpse-muse guts all over the paper. I may do some dance fitness videos--just because I love to dance. And I may ask Santa Clause to get me a keyboard (it may not be a full sized piano, but it can sound like one)

I think I might just keep practicing the things that used to light up my soul until they become habits. Then we'll see how my MUSE is doing. It may be a little brand new weak little baby MUSE, but it'll have room to grow.

Night Owl author with an Earlybird life

You know, no matter what time of day I try to write, I feel the most creative at night.

Over the years, I've tried to adapt to a more fluent writing schedule. i.e. Writing during the morning and daytime--even going as far as setting an alarm to wake up earlier to write before the day speeds ahead.

And no matter what I do, it never works. About the only time my head feels clear and open and my fingers feel like tapping along my keyboard for any project, be it novel writing or blogging, is at night, when the kiddos slumber and my house is dark and quiet. That is when my Muse wakes up.

This would be awesome if I was independently wealthy or my writing career was such that I could live off of it, but at this particular juncture, I have to work at my day job. Technically, it isn't as early as when I was a substitute teacher and had to wake up at 5:30am but usually after getting my kiddos to school in the morning, I have to leave for work by 9:30 and don't get home until at least 6pm or later on the weekends. Then usually I have dinner and family time and I catch up on TV shows with my hubby. We finally get the girls to bed sometime after 10 ish and then hubby and I chat and spend time together until about 11pm. I've thought about it and the family time with the girls and the "us" time with hubby have to stay.

Now it's between 11 and midnight and my Muse is poking my and insisting that I write. Sometimes I give in to him and sometimes the day has worn me down and I just need some sleep. Sadly, I know that if I give in to slumber, I will wash, rinse, repeat the next day and will probably not feel like writing until the next night. If I have a day off the next day, I give in to my Muse and run on a long manic, fevered adventure that leaves me glowing at the wonder of the written word. Unfortunately, they are few and far between.

I feel bad when a week whizzes by and I haven't given my Muse the time of day. I'm neglecting him and I can tell when it is too long and he is moody. He fights me when I try to start up again. I struggle with the words and imagery. It feels dry and almost painful. He sulks and broods and gives me the cold shoulder and I spend much of my time soothing him and cajoling him to come play with me again. I promise that I won't forget him for as long and gradually we have our grand adventures again.

Until I get busy working 40+ hours standing on my feet and then go ride bikes with the kiddos or take them to the water park or spend time with hubby. Then another week or 2 flies by before I poke my Muse and he is once again angry and hurt that I have not been there on the adventures.

He is not gone during those long periods. He does try to get a hold of me. When I'm in the shower, he'll show me a critical scene to one of my WIPs that I do not have time to write down and usually forget. In my car I can see the next scene in a story unfold before I pull into the parking lot at work and then push it to the side as I jump into my life. And most especially while I sleep next to my husband in the still hours of the early morning, he whispers to me, teasing me and taunting me about the epic climax or the cute meet that I won't remember in the light of the morning. I'll remember these moments (mostly) the next time I finally reach out to my Muse and I'm pretty sure he remembers them, too. And that is why he is so upset with me because he was trying to bridge the gap. He put more effort into our relationship.
I, on the other hand always put him last and he knows it. One day, maybe he'll leave for good. I certainly hope not as that day would make my life bleaker.

But for now, my early day time schedule does not allow for my nighttime inspiration. But maybe I can compromise. Maybe instead of shooting into a three hour crazed marathon of creative writing, I can give just a little bit of my time to my Muse. Maybe a half hour will suffice to keep our connection strong and keep my Muse happy.
I can't quit my day job and I won't quit my family, but maybe it's time to let my Muse come visit more and maybe it would be good for me to go on a few more grand adventures.

How I seem to make the wrong choices with my career

This is a post about some thoughts I've had lately on some of my previous decisions and some upcoming decisions.
I feel a bit lost on what I should do.

So far, I have successfully made critically wrong decisions when it came to my career choices and getting ahead.

Here are some examples of past errors before I share my newest conundrum.

When I first got out of high school, I was one of those kids that was a bit aimless. I mean, I had a plan to pursue a singing career and I planned on being smart about it by going to music colleges and making my way up the ladder until I became a background character in an off Broadway production. I knew I was decent at singing, dancing and acting, but I also knew I wasn't awesome. I have a good ear and I was adequate. That would probably be enough to get me there.
But, I hadn't applied for college before graduation and I hadn't taken my SAT s or tried to get a scholarship for the dozens of choirs and music things I was in. smh.

My mom, at that time, was opposed to the idea of me going off to college and told me that I would need a good job to pay for my dorm etc. And suggested Cosmetology school. Now, that was a laugh. I was the opposite of fashionable in high school. But I decided...Why not. May as well do it and have that as a backup.

Fast forward. I got my license and after a couple hitches, found myself at a busy, thriving salon in a busy mall and for quite a few years I did well monetarily and I realized that I was good at doing hair. But, I left after 7 years to raise my 2 babies. I worked at another salon and realized that each year I worked as a stylist, the less money I made and the harder it got on my legs and back.

Sooo, I went back to college like my hubby did. I was going to get a degree in English. Either in creative writing or as a teacher, but then I took intro into Psychology and I was hooked. I loved digging into how the brain works. And 4 years later I got a Bachelor's in Psychology--which in essence is useless on it's own. It's a stepping stone toward counseling, Psychology or even business. All it got me on it's own is the ability to become a substitute teacher.

So then I became a substitute teacher. I do like it for the most part. I don't like early mornings and some weeks no schools call for a substitute, which makes money tight. Plus, summer vacation time doesn't need substitutes, so we were broke then.

Then came working part time in the summer and into part of the school year at the original salon that is much slower than it used to be and is in a half dead mall with nearly no foot traffic. The owners of the mall are trying to resuscitate it, but it is slow going. And many people don't even know our salon is in this dark nearly empty wing.

One other thing to mention before the problem. I am getting my Master's degree in Instructional design (in ITEC in Educational Psychology) I won't go into how I chose this path, but I will say, that even though IDs can make good money, they don't in impoverished Ashtabula county and they usually have to intern somewhere for a while to get experience, if they want to be an independent contractor. Meaning, I still can't use my degree yet and if I do go intern somewhere, I would have to go to a bigger county or city to get hired. I plan to get my PHD in it, which will afford me more education, more time for a decision and maybe it will assist in getting hired when I'm done.

Now to the present day. With my educational hiatus in mind, I stayed at the salon in the dying mall after summer break. I planned to step back to part, part time just to stay in the system until the next summer break came around where I could up my hours.

Then things went crazy.
-First: We were bought by a new company that started making big changes, some seem good. Others--we'll have to see. And we are stuck somewhere between the old system and the new with a lot of things not working and our previous place pulling out support. Leaving us dangling in limbo for a functional system.
- Then my manager and friend who had been a manager for 6yrs. Decided that the stress was too much and she was finally done with the place. She left and is much happier. I am happy for her peace of mind.
-Next another good stylist, who had been there for a while, took over management, but from the start he planned to leave at the end of April. Sad, but not really a problem.
-Until, the rest of the girls begged me to take over as manager. I held off for a bit. Weighing the pros and cons and finally decided that I could do it. If nothing else, it would be better money (slightly).

I took over the 40+ hours (which my body does not like at all now that I'm in my late 30s) and began trying to be manager. I was shown some things, but I'm pretty sure there were missed items. And no matter what we did, I cannot access the main work email or group meet place that I need to use to get information and do my job efficiently
Then my supervisor came in  for about 4 hours and continuously treated my like a harebrained idiot that couldn't remember the simplest thing. (which really ticked me off. Treating me like I'm stupid is one of my biggest pet peeves.) She talked down to me. She talked past me to one of the younger girls and she talked about me behind my back to one of my girls (so unprofessional) She told the girl that she couldn't get anything done because I couldn't stop talking. Um NO. I was pissed off, which means I don't talk that much. The reason she didn't get anything done is because she kept forgetting shit, kept sending up to rearrange crap all over the store to her liking and she kept talking. My stylist was POd and agreed that it wasn't me.
She then finally sent me a consent to do a background check form and told me that I wasn't a manager or getting paid as a manager until it went through and she got me in the system. I had already been acting as a manager for nearly a week at this point. Three days later it went through, but my supervisor was on vacation for another week, so I know she didn't put me in. It's been three weeks and I am not getting paid as a manager, I can't access the system and I can't hire anybody, which I need to do because we are short staffed. I spoke with her today and she was condescending. AGAIN.

So my dilemma (sort of) is that a closer, busier salon where a friend works, desperately wants me. I won't be manager (which I am more than fine with), but I can get as many hours and get the same pay as I have been getting. I am probably going to quit the one place and go to this one. It seems less stressful, it isn't slowly decaying like the other and I don't have to EVER talk to that supervisor again.

I just worry, that with my track record, that I am making another bad choice. What if I should stay and try to bring the current salon back to life. What if I should give it my everything and just ignore that woman that treats me like shit? But, what if I should go to this nicer place and find some peace of mind while I navigate my education?

If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them.Either on here or on FB or Twitter.
Thanks in advance.

(P.s. I usually post a lot of photos and Gifs, but this post seemed like it should have less flash and more text. I hope you don;t mind. :) )

I got hurt. I've been called a hero. I mostly just feel stupid.

On Tuesday night I got hurt at work.

Picture from another salon, but same mirrors and stations to give you an idea of what they look like.

A very large oversized mirror (Maybe 4 ft by 3ft) trimmed in wood and weighing a shit ton (Not really. It is just super crazy heavy) fell off the wall, barely missing a kid's head and was coming toward me, the kid's mom and his brother sideways so the impact would have probably projected glass right at us.

Now I didn't really have time to think all of this. At least not consciously. I just knew that breaking glass with kiddos around would be very bad JuJu. And without thinking I lunged for the mirror and caught the top and side, which then yanked me forward with the weight and velocity of the fall. As I struggled to not drop it, it swung around and slammed into the side of my neck, jaw and collarbone.

I was stunned temporarily and somehow didn't drop the damn thing. The mom rushed over, helped me lower it and asked if I was OK. After my ears stopped ringing I felt the stinging/burning pain in my neck. And when I looked it was bright red and puffy. She was amazed at my reflexes. I was--still in shock. In fact I was cold and shaky for a bit. All I could keep thinking was: It hit my neck! My freakin' neck! That is not good at all. On the side of my neck is the Carotid Artery and the Jugular and what about my esophagus?! My head is still ringing and I have a headache. Do I have a concussion?

I grabbed something cool out of the fridge (A bottle of dressing because we don't have ice cubes in our tiny fridge) and called my manager. He seemed shocked and concerned and told me I could leave if I wanted. The mother's boyfriend, at that time, showed up with a gallon baggie of ice, which I gratefully pressed to my very painful, throbbing neck.
I told the mom I thought I was alright but I would see. I finished her 2nd and 3rd kid's haircuts, while monitoring myself. I was still shakey and cold. but I was coherent and speaking fine. My pupils were equal and responsive and I had no bruising behind my ear...So--probably no concussion. But, man, that neck wound looked and felt awful.

My manager came rushing in with a cold pack and began shutting down the store for me. I rang out the customers, told them I was so glad that it hadn't hit on of the kids, and walked down to the urgent care. They checked me, said I seemed fine, follow up with my doctor but keep an eye on it, because I could have damage the artery wall and it could aneurysm for up to 2 weeks....Wait. What?!

So, I drive home and spent a good portion of the night trying not to flip the hell out. I was scared. What if I went to sleep and it popped like a balloon and I died? How would I keep an eye on it? I'm not qualified. They said that it would swell but watch for too much swelling. How much is too much?
It was rough trying to pretend to be okay when inside I was rocking and babbling and panicking.

And you know the main thing I felt? Stupid.
Why did I try to catch a huge mirror? I'm not a superhero with super strength.

 Why was my automatic response to run toward a mirror that could have done much worse things to me? Why? Why? Why? If I hadn't done this asinine thing I wouldn't be hurting with whiplash, headache, muscle ache, and throbbing (potentially fatal) neck wound. Why did I have to be so stupid?

And you know the simple answer.

I couldn't have stood by and let it crash and hurt those kids. If I hadn't done it they could have been sliced up. I am so glad they were okay. And I know it could have been worse.

But as I got ultrasounds on my neck and Xrays on my clavicle. As I move gingerly because my muscles are stiff and painful and as I gingerly (and fearfully) took a shower and avoided getting hot water on my neck (because, dude, what if the artery wall gets loose or extra blood flows up through there and POP) And as I pop Motrin and muscle relaxers like candy, but still have a headache. And as my body temperature is still whacky for reasons unknown, I still walk/shuffle/stagger away feeling very foolish and kicking myself for putting myself into this predicament.

People have said I was a hero, but I don't feel that way at all. So, if you have called me a hero and I answered somewhat awkwardly, it's because I'm not feeling courageous or heroic. I feel old, bruised, battered and stupid. But thanks for saying it anyway.

A relaxing Easter

We survived another Easter and another April Fools day.

As usual, we did not celebrate April fools day. I don't have a thing against pranks, really but sometimes they can go askew or take a lot of effort only to fizzle. My oldest kiddo, *Crabbypatty, wanted to devise some truly devious plots, but when she heard us groan. She decided to wait until another time.

We did celebrate Easter, but not in the usual busy/crazy way. Because sickness has been settling over our household for the past few weeks we have been tired and in-between that there has been work also draining our life-energy.

We got up early to watch the children paw through their Easter baskets with glee and then we sent them out into the bitter frosty morn to hunt for special eggs that hubby had woke earlier to hide. We trudged through mud and muck in the still hazy sunlight for a bit before finally giving in to the chill.

The eggs held an assortment of goodies--from candy, to small prizes to some small petty cash. They were thrilled.
Instead of a ham (for multiple convoluted reasons) hubby roasted a turkey and a roast. When hubby commented on the abnormally huge neck, our youngest *Turkeybutt blithely commented, "Oh, so it's a male turkey."

We were caught completely by surprise and speechless for a few seconds until hubby started giggling. I yelled after her as she strolled away (unaware of how her comment affected us) "No. It's not a male. That's the neck!" Which made hubby laugh harder.
That was a major highlight of the day.

For our Easter treat. Me and hubby took a nap while the food cooked in the oven. Then we had a yummy sit-down, casual  meal and then spent the rest of the time mostly relaxing. (I did do some dishes and finish folding the laundry) We caught up on most of our shows

and I finished the rest of the writing advise book I had been reading.

Now we're getting ready to blast back into the real world. My oldest goes back to school tomorrow. My youngest has 2 mandatory chats before continuing her schooling. My hubby will most likely get called in to sub. And I have an appointment with a family member(that I haven't seen in months) and a +1 to do a couple haircolors.

Then life will keep scootching along and before I know it the weekend that me and hubby will be away, just the two of us, will be here. We only have 2 weeks and then we will be LARPing(Live Action Role Playing. Kinda like D&D but in real life--no table top), running through the woods and having a great time.

I am excited for it because it has been 9 years since we have gone out of town for more than a few hours without the kids. I'm also nervous, as I always am whenever I am away from my kids that long. Yes, I am a paranoid parent that sometimes helicopters if I don't check myself. But you would not believe how skilled my kids can be at hurting themselves  in the most unorthodox ways.
I mean, my oldest *Crabbypatty siced open her chin on a bed post. She had stitches. And a few years ago, my youngest, *Turkeybutt had an entire mozzarella stick stuck in her throat. I had to literally reach in and slowly pull it out because the Heimlich and whacking her back over my arm did not work.
So--you know. Paranoid. They are spending 2 nights at their best friend's houses.
Buuut, worrying won't stop things from happening. All it does is bring more stress and ruin the present, so, I will think positive, happy thoughts. Go have fun with hubby and come back exhausted most likely.

Have you ever LARPed?

Becoming motivated to write again

I have been trying different methods to kick start my lazy self into writing again: Networking, building my social media platform, blogging, and reading multiple books on writing. Thankfully, they seem to be helping. I always enjoy seeing that these authors are just regular folks like you and me. That makes it easier somehow.

Now, I know that the best way to get writing is to start writing and just--you know. Write.

Buuut, it's been a while since I did some hard core writing. I was doing pretty good last fall, and then nothing. Fizzle. Poof.

Kinda depressing, actually.

The last time I was writing with some frequency was a couple summers ago. I was pretty regular but again, I let life distract me,

You know what I miss? Back when I was in a writing group, I felt so inspired. I would get a writing prompt and have a couple weeks to make into something new and amazing. I would start late, after my kids were asleep, and take advantage of the quiet. And BAM! I would get swept up in the writing. My fingers could not go fast enough.

I felt alive.
It was thrilling and almost manic.
And when it was done, it was a little sloppy, but it was beautiful and unique and came so easy.

Then, things shifted.
One member moved on and didn't glance back. He couldn't get away fast enough and I haven't heard from him for years.

Another became insanely successful in her writing career and also insanely busy--so, writing group--Ain't nobody got time for that.

The other is my husband and he and I are about the same, actually I think he's written a bit more tan me lately, but again it's sporadic.

The last few times I've sat down to write, it's after a looong day at my day job--or the other one--or working on my grad work. I just feel blah!

Why not write in the morning, Heather?
 Good question...
I am not a morning person. At. All.
I have woke up early in order write. Or get on the treadmill. Or do yoga.
You know what happens then? I sit, drinking coffee staring blearily at the tv or my computer and get 0 things done. I am a zombie capable of the most minute actions and thoughts. I can barely function and therefore cannot get the oomph to write thoughtful interesting scenes.

But, I am getting the pre-training done. As stated above, I am searching for inspiration. I am cultivating my social presence, I am updating my sites and making them more reader friendly and I am blogging again.

No Blogging is not writing my novel, but it is a baby step to get the juices flowing. The latest book on writing I am reading gave the advice to start small if you've been off the writing horse for a while and begin blogging or journaling or even writing a grocery list...you know. Something. And after you've written these things for a  bit, eventually it'll grease the motor and you can get your novel writing groove back.
So, here I am. Baby stepping the hell outta this blog. And I plan to blog about something everyday for the next couple weeks. Then...
Who knows?
I think I'll finish some of my books that have cooked way to long on the back burner.

Review of "The Firstborn Prince" by Virginia Nelson

5/5 Stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Loved it so hard!

 

Yet another great addition to the Prince series.

First of all I love name Foster Boyd. It rolls off the tongue nicely. I also like the dog's name, Buffy. I had a dog when I was younger named Buffy. I will admit that Foster and his dog Buffy might have had a stronger relationship than I did with our family dog. It is super endearing. Even when he's pretending to be unemotional and avoids attachment, you know that's BS because of the way he loves his dog and is kind to her. Foster Boyd is one of my favorite hero types. He seems to be cool and businesslike. Someone that takes care of everyone while seeming to need nothing in return, but when you take the time to dig deeper, there's a sweet and loving man who needs a soft touch and some love. And in return he knocks your socks off.

Natalie Stolen is a powerful, kickbutt lady who knows her job well but get screwed over by forces outside of her control (I can so identify with that), but even though she is in control and doesn't easily give into love and all the other squishy stuff, she sometimes can make a mess of things, like when she tries the home-made charcoal  mask. Thankfully,her bestie, Harper, is always there to offer her advice or at least a shoulder to cry on.

When Natalie begins working for Foster, to help with his brother's image, they end up hitting it off. They try to keep things light and easy by simply having sex to scratch that annoying itch that's distracting them, but sometimes fate has other ideas.

When Natalie had an issue with a bedroom related problem, I thought that might be the misunderstanding/ the conflict and I was pleasantly surprised to see them work through that together as a couple which really cemented their relationship and moved it forward. They eventually had a hitch as all good romances do, but it wasn't from miscommunication in the bedroom. Go team.
This is a great story about two very un-perfect people, who fit together perfectly.