LOST

There has got to be a place things run off to when you can't find them. I've decided.

The washer or dryer eats socks all the time at my house and I don't complain too much. It's expected now and again. Even angry washing, drying monsters have to eat, don't they?

But what about jewelry? That gold post from the back of a favorite diamond stud that isn't attached to the back like it should be. The dreaded dig through the jewelry box to find that your favorite "pair" of earrings has now been reduced to the dreadful status of "loner", aka "never to be worn again". Or what about the necklace that you could've sworn you put back on its proper hook, and after a thorough search of the bedroom and bathroom, can't locate?

I'm in such a situation today. And it's driving me mad.

About three years ago, I had a dream about a silver embossed, heart-shaped locket on a sturdy dog-tag-like chain. I was captivated by this locket immediately. I combed jewelry stores, antique fairs, mall chains, and couldn't find what I was looking for. I wasn't about to settle for just any locket. I wanted the quarter-size, antique looking, smooth feeling, locket from my dream.

And I was lucky enough to find it on a random trip to the mall (which don't happen often as I try to steer clear). An antique fair had set up booths in the center and as I walked by a counter I caught sight of "it". It was beautiful and exactly as I pictured in in my dreams. Better, even, because I could touch it and hold it in my hands. The word "kindred" comes to mind.

So I wake up this morning, decide the locket would go great with my outfit...but the locket is not hanging on its hook as it should be. The dog-chain-like necklace is there, but with no heart-shaped locket attached. I'm bummed.

I search the entire box. Twice. I check the bathrooms, the floor beneath my dresser and my bed, my car glove compartment, pockets and pouches in every single purse I own, my luggage, my coat pockets. And it's not there. It's not anywhere.

I want my locket back. I want to know where it vanished to. Is it lonely and cold, shivering in the early autumn air? Does it long to be looped from my neck again, safe and close to my heart?

Maybe it's with all the other lost things in some distant place having a margarita, celebrating clavicle freedom from its oppressors.

Change of profession

Everyone has heard the common saying that people change careers (on average) seven times in their life.

When I was younger I thought, no way. I want to be an English teacher. That's it. All rolled into a nice ball of wax. I'll graduate high school, graduate college, get my credential, and teach. Voila!

But now that I've reached a ripe old age of 29, I'm starting to rethink things.



It's highly possible for someone to enter college, take a couple courses in their initial career choice and think "no way, this isn't for me", and change paths. Then, what if they get into their career and receive the dreaded layoff notice. Seriously, this has become a major concern in our struggling economy. So they switch jobs, and we're already at three careers before thirty years of age!

My father in law retired after a gazillion years of working for the government. He receives a paycheck that pays his bills and is happy to stay home and not work for "the man" anymore. He's his own boss. But most days I think he finds himself bored. After the lawns mowed and the bills are paid, he tinkers with things and gets in trouble, as he would say, for anything and everything. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that he decided to get another job to keep him busy. Many people retire and return to work. Baby boomers won't go down easy workforce, so watch out.

In my case, I love to teach. I taught high school, middle school, and loved the bright light that would go off in some students eyes when they finally "got" Shakespeare. It was awesome.



But it's not enough. There's something creative stirring, and I'm willing to put time in to see where it goes. Would I love to teach again? Yes. Would I love to stay home, frequent coffee shops, and get paid handsomely to write everyday? Abso-freakin-lutely.

That'd make second career change, for those of you counting. *grin

Titanic dreams and unforeseen icebergs

I've been fascinated with the Titanic since I was a little girl. There was something about the disaster, and the inability to stop it from happening, that gripped me. Still does. It's like fate staring you in the face. And I can't help myself from staring back. Many people don't realize the pile of things that contributed to the Titanic's demise, and I'm not about to go over all of them yet.

But, I will tell you that fate works in our lives, whether we believe in the hype or not.

Had the lookout found their lost binoculars, they might have spotted the iceberg that pierced the ships hull in time to avoid the collision. Had the ship been built with a larger rudder, it may have been able to turn quicker, sharper.

Had the Titanic hit the iceberg head on, it would have stayed afloat. The first two watertight compartments would have flooded, leaving the ship wounded. But alive.

So this is how I'm facing my dreams. This is the reason for the blog. I may not be able to see everything lurking on the horizon that's going to stand in my way. I may not have all the tools to make the right choices, the right turns, to get where I need to be. Yet.

But I will have faith in my gut that writing is what I was born to do. I will learn what I need to do to get where I need to be. And I will face adversity head on, trudge into the night, and keep my fingers pounding the keyboard every day.

I will be a published author someday. Watch my Titanic dreams come true.