It’s been a good day so far. I woke up after dreaming that I was at an art camp. I think I dreamed this because I read this last night before I went to bed. Anyhoe, I was at this art camp, and I needed supplies, and then I stumbled across a supply room that didn’t have anything I needed. So I think I gave up on art and went to the cafeteria. And I guess it was parents’ weekend at art camp or something because everybody’s families were there. And the brother of the guy in front of me was way cute and flirting with me. And as I was flirting back, my mom walked up and got in line with me. And then the cute guy asked me if I wanted to go eat candy in his truck with him, and I said, “Yes, yes I do, only I’m not so sure about the truck. But I’ll sit on a bench with you or something.”

Then I woke up and thought, I love it when cute guys find me desirable. Good dream.

Then I tried to scan some documents that prove my relationship to George Washington (yes THE George Washington) and my descent from a 12th century British king, but alas, I couldn’t get Whitney’s scanner to work, so I just read through the documents for a while, and that’s how I found out I’m related to G.W. and Ynir King of Gwentland.

Then I tweeted about it.

Then I wrote an article about two-letter Scrabble words that will probably not help me beat Whitney or my mom or the Beattys (or anyone else for that matter) at Scrabble. It’s the spatial aspect I find challenging, not the words. I can make some words. I just don’t know where to put them. You have to be good at words AND Tetris to dominate in Scrabble, and I am unfortunately only gifted in the former.

But the article is done.

So then I made some Punjab Choley and couscous for lunch and watched 30 Rock for a little while, which was, of course, wonderful. It was the one where Liz follows Floyd into the AA meeting where he spills his guts about his trust issues, and then she tells him all her weird stuff to make it up to him.

And she has some WEIRD stuff.

And while I was watching 30 Rock, a Census2010 worker came to the door to ask me some questions about the occupants of this house on April 1, which I answered not knowing that L-Josh had already mailed in their Census2010 form. So I don’t know why he had to come over here and interrupt my 30 Rock/catch me still in my jabambas at 2:30 in the p.m., but I’ve decided that if anyone catches me not yet dressed that late in the day again, I’m just going to open the door saying, “I’m a freelancer. I work from home. I have actually earned money today.”

Or I could just shower and get dressed in the morning.

Then I took a shower, and while I was in there, I had a revelation about the plot of my Neil Diamond musical, I Am…I Said. I can’t tell you about it yet because it’s still not fully formed, but I CAN say that things have been enormously simplified, and the main character and I now have a lot more in common, which is going to make it much easier to write.

And also, I’m clean.

Well good golly, I had completely forgotten about my formspring page until I was notified earlier today that someone had asked me a question. And let me just tell you, it’s a doozy. We have to get through several more, however, before that one can have its turn. So let’s start where we left off, shall we?

We all know the moon is not made of green cheese, but what if it was made of spare ribs? Would you eat it then? Heck, I know I would – I’d have seconds and then wash it down with a nice, cool Budweiser.

Well, Harry Caray, it appears as though you’ve forgotten at least one thing about me, and that is that I don’t eat spare ribs. I wouldn’t eat green cheese either, and as I’m sure you are well aware, I don’t like beer. If you were not aware of that, now you are. I also don’t like coffee.

Now let me ask you a question. Would you rather be the top scientist in your field or have mad cow disease?

The next “question” isn’t really question at all. In fact, I’m not sure it’s even a complete thought. It just says:

your first

I’ll be honest. I’m not really sure what you’re going for here, and I really don’t remember a lot of my firsts, but I’ll make a list and hope it meets with your approval. Let’s go with alphabetical, yeah?

My first…

• apartment – Junior year of college in an apartment complex called Pirate’s Cove. Becky, Faith and Nicole were my roommates. Ask me how I damaged the coffee table.
• boyfriend – Brandon Inscore. We dated for about a year in high school, and we absolutely were NOT making out at the bottom of the stairs after the prom in ’97 when my mom snarled at us.
  
• car – A light blue Toyota Corolla named Gloria the Disco Queen. Yes, that was her whole name.
• date – With Brandon. I’m pretty sure we went to Wendy’s and a high school basketball game. Tres romantique!
• email address – besufern@aol.com. Don’t try it. It no longer exists.
• friend – I don’t know. Probably someone at church? There’s a great picture somewhere of me and 3 other kids in our 3-year-old Sunday school class. I went to 2 of their weddings in the past few years, and I go to all of the other one’s concerts when I can.
• gynecologist visit – Don’t worry, guys, I won’t gross you out. I’ll just say that when she asked me what sort of contraception I was using, I told her abstinence. She asked me how long I thought that would last, and I said, “Until I get married.” She laughed at me and said, “Yeah we’ll see about that.”
• hair color experience – I started out with the temporary stuff, back when they still made level 1 color that would wash out in a week. I’ve dyed it so many times now, I don’t remember the first one. But it was probably red, and Jeani was probably involved.
• iPod – I bought it in NYC, in the SoHo Apple Store, just before I ran off to Europe for the first time, in 2004. I just bought my second one last summer.
• job – If babysitting counts, then that’s what it was. But if we’re talking about work for which I was paid and then later received a W-2, then that would be Caswell.
• knitting project – My grandmother taught me to knit when I was a kid. I have no idea how to start or finish a knitting project, but I can actually work those needles. In fact, in middle school, I played Beth in a drama class production of Little Women. In one scene, I sat by the fire, knitting. People were amazed by how real it looked. But alas, I don’t think I’ve ever actually finished a knitting project.
• lemonade stand – I think it was with Rebecca Booi. Her house was in a great spot, right at an intersection.
  
• musical – When I was in maybe 4th grade, my sisters and I got the soundtrack of The Phantom of the Opera on double cassette tape. We LOVED it, and the next year, we all went to New York for Thanksgiving and saw it on Broadway. So to all of you who have been (and will be) subjected to my random musical outbursts, you can thank my parents for getting me hooked early.
• NYC apartment – It was graduate housing, which meant a shared studio with a Taiwanese Canadian named Lily Lu. It was in an unbelievably amazing location that made taxi drivers jealous, but I’m still paying for it.
• origami – It might not have been my first, but I made literally hundreds of paper cranes in high school. What? I was the president of the Japanese club.
• pet – I had a fish in high school named Chip. He was more than just decoration to me.
• quadratic equation mnemonic device – It was to the tune of Frère Jacques and went like this: Minus b, minus b / plus or minus root, plus or minus root / b squared minus 4 ac, b squared minus 4 ac / over 2 a, over 2 a. BAM. Still got it. I have no idea what you use the quadratic equation for any more, but that’s how it goes. Music, check. Math, not so much.
• rifle – No, I’ve never owned a rifle, but I sho nuff did learn to shoot one at Camp Cheerio when I was 10 years old. That was perhaps the unsung verse of the Cheerio Girl song (get me to sing it for you some time).
• second language – I have a really vague memory of taking French classes when I was very young. Did I just make that up? Specifically, I remember a “cultural lesson” wherein we were expected to eat escargot, and I almost vomited.
• trip outside of the U.S. and its territories – Honduras, 2002
• UFO sighting – I’ve never actually seen one, but one Christmas at my grandparents’ house, we could have sworn Santa was on the roof with aliens, burping.
• vote – I know several people who will be very upset with me for this, but I had never voted until the most recent presidential election. I plan on voting from now on, though.
• wedding – Not MY first wedding, of course, but the first one I attended. And I have no idea. Someone in the family? An aunt and uncle, perhaps?
• xylophone? – It is very late, and these letters are getting harder. I remember having one of those rolling xylophones as a kid with the mallet underneath that see-sawed as you pulled it, striking the same two bars over and over again. I learned to play “Do-Re-Mi” on that thing.
• YouTube video – Has not yet been made, I told you. Sheesh. Give it a rest already.
• Zumba class – Also has sadly not yet happened. But it will. Oh…it will.

Well that was fun! And exhausting. I’m going to bed. Join me again tomorrow for more blogging fun!

In trying to come up with an answer to today’s question, one thing sticks out more clearly than anything else, and it is exactly the thing my amomymous commenter mentioned in the comments on the previous post. But let’s start with the question:

What is one of the most unforgettable moments in your life and why?

I think it’s interesting that all of the most unforgettable moments in my life are unforgettable because of the other people involved. Sometimes they were good friends, sometimes they were old friends, sometimes they were unlikely spontaneous friends, but they are always in the forefront of those memories.

For example, one summer at Caswell, when we were maybe 15 or 16, Emily Furr Hogan, Julie Gilstrap and I stayed in a room completely separate from the rest of our youth group, and I don’t remember anything else about that week except for the fact that we were constantly singing “Welcome to The Best Stuff in the World Today Cafe” (by the great Kyle Matthews) with two different lyrics in one place because we didn’t know which was right. And we met these guys from Ahoskie/Aulander who were staying in the room next to us, and we hung out with them all week, and one of them sat in a tree outside our room, and it was creepy. And Rhetta wouldn’t let us hold the room key because she thought we’d lose it, and then she accidentally locked us all out of the room. I’m willing to bet that Emily and Julie don’t remember much else from that week either, but they remember those things.

And then there’s the time HP-M and I went to Paris, and those creepy Parisians in the restaurant wouldn’t leave us alone. And one of them whispered in my ear, all sleazy and French-like, “You are so pleasing to me.” Then he followed me into the bathroom. Ew.

I will never forget the unbelievably thunderous applause that erupted in that camp in Puerto Rico when Spunky and the Plate Tectonics took the final bow at the end of our epic lip-sync routine.

And I will never forget the moment I realized I had threatened to fight a group of random girls outside the ‘Bou, and that they were not my beloved hoes.

There are unpleasant moments I’ll never forget either – like finding out that the boy I liked was interested in one of my best friends (this happened on several occasions), or the day ECU’s School of Music faculty told me I could no longer pursue a degree in their program (apparently I’m not a good singer), or my great-grandmother’s funeral. But the redeeming thing about all those moments was the people surrounding me and supporting me through them. And it was because I dropped all my music classes that semester that I got to take Biology with my friend Becky, which MORE than made up for the disappointment and hurt pride I felt because of the music thing.

But I digress. You just asked for ONE of the most memorable moments, and here’s the one that keeps coming to mind:

That day in Italy – the best day of my life as I called it – something happened that day among four complete strangers. Two days earlier, none of us knew the others existed, and then that day, we somehow became family. It was fast and brief, and I will probably never see any of them again, but in those moments, it was real. I remember sitting on the beach, talking to Chris, one of the Canadians I had just met, and we just couldn’t believe that we’d only known each other for a few hours. There was nothing romantic about it. It was just like he was my brother, like we’d grown up together. And later that night, when some Italians started smoking pot, he asked them to move so the smoke wouldn’t blow on me.

Then there was Jacque, the girl who was there with her dad (who had disappeared for a while with a woman we referred to as Joan Ph.D). Jacque was the only Christian I met on that trip, and it was an immediate bonding point for us. She was my sister, and I hope she took my advice and got some Shane Barnard music when she got home.

And finally, there was Raja. He lived in New Jersey, so we tried to get together a few times when I got back to New York, but it never worked out. I remember, though, laughing my butt off, singing Monster Ballads with him. I hadn’t had friends who would do that with me in a while at that point, and it was somehow a good reminder that I wasn’t alone – that somebody got it.

The four of us slept out under the stars that night, listening to the Mediterranean crash on the rocks below, giggling like little kids, and snuggling up (spooning) to keep warm under the flimsy sheet covering us all. At one point, we all flipped over to lie on our other side so the people on the ends (me and Chris) could warm the side of us that had been exposed.

People are often confused and/or appalled when I tell them I did this. They think it was inappropriate or even scandalous, but like I said, it wasn’t romantic or sexual in any way. It was unlikely community, but it was community at its best – selfless and non-judgmental and lots of fun. And that’s why I’ll never forget it.

What are your most unforgettable moments?

Today’s formspring question isn’t so much a question as it is a request, and a rather vague one at that, but here goes:

More on Jews, Please. Thank Jew.

Friends, I’m not really sure how to respond to this, but I suppose I have several options.

1. I could start an ongoing Jew segment, giving you the history, culture and traditions of the Jewish people. Honestly, though, I think that would be a little weird and not at all in keeping with the serious themes of online dating, disturbing dreams, food, and haircare products you’ve come to expect here. Sure, there’s the occasional bizarre writing activity, but I think I’ll save all my educational writing for Your Dictionary. I am actually supposed to write an article this month on the origins of Judaism, so keep an eye out for that.
2. I could replace “Jew” with “you” in a sneaky reversal of the song-enhancing practice I learned from Collice and Grady, and tell you more about myself. But who wants to hear that? Oh wait. Apparently y’all do. You keep coming back here to read this stuff and asking me questions to answer (some of which are going to get REAL personal this week). So I guess in a way, I answer this request every time I post something new. Jew’re welcome.
3. I could give you some awesome song lyrics with “Jews” in place of all the “yous,” but you have to promise not to think me racist or antisemitic in any way. I’m not talking about actual people. It’s just a word that sounds like another word. And makes every song hilarious (and sometimes horribly offensive). My apologies in advance to every Jewish reader I have. If I could do the same thing to followers of other religions, believe me, I would. I actually do it sometimes with “Mormon,” putting it in place of “moment.” That’s pretty funny too. “Where was the Mormon we needed the most?” “I’m hanging by a Mormon here with Jews.” – A DOUBLE!!

So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you some lyrics just like Bill and Ted gave the princesses before they got taken away by those royal ugly dudes. Let’s see…

• “Jews don’t own me. Don’t say I can’t go with other boys, and don’t tell me what to do, and don’t tell me what to say, and please, when I go out with Jews, don’t put me on display. I don’t tell Jews what to say, and I don’t tell Jews what to do. Just let me be myself. That’s all I ask of Jews.”
• “Jews, my darling Jews, mmmm…bittersweet memories – that is all I’m taking with me. So goodbye. Please don’t cry. We both know I’m not what Jews, Jews need. And I will always love Jews. I will always love Jews.”
• “Jews must not know ’bout me, Jews must not know ’bout me. I can get another Jew in a minute. Matter fact, he’ll be here in a minute, baby. Jews must not know ’bout me, Jews must not know ’bout me. I can have another Jew by tomorrow, so don’t Jews ever for a second get to thinkin’ Jews irreplaceable.”
• “Jews got a piece of me, and honestly, my life would suck without Jews.”
• “If she would’ve been faithful, if she could have been true, then I would’ve been cheated. I would never know real love. I would’ve missed out on Jews.”
• “Jews can’t escape my private eyes. They’re watching Jews.”
• “Wherever Jews go, whatever Jews do, I will be right here waiting for Jews.”
• “Tell me how am I supposed to live without Jews now that I’ve been lovin’ Jews so long? How am I supposed to live without Jews? And how am I supposed to carry on when all that I’ve been living for is gone?”
• “I’m not gonna write Jews a love song ’cause Jews asked for it, ’cause Jews need one. You see, I’m not gonna write Jews a love song ’cause Jews tell me it’s make or breakin’ this.”
• “For all those times Jews stood by me, for all the truths that Jews made me see, for all the joy Jews brought to my life, for all the wrongs that Jews made right, for every dream Jews made come true, for all the love I found in Jews, I’ll be forever thankful, baby….Jews were my strength when I was weak, Jews were my voice when I couldn’t speak, Jews were my eyes when I couldn’t see, Jews saw the best there was in me, lifted me up when I couldn’t reach, Jews gave me faith ’cause Jews believed. I’m everything I am because Jews loved me. Jews gave me wings and made me fly, Jews touched my hand, I could touch the sky. I lost my faith, Jews gave it back to me. Jews said no star was out of reach. Jews stood by me, and I stood tall. I had their love, I had it all. I’m grateful for each day Jews gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true: I was blessed because I was loved by Jews. Oh, Jews were always there for me, the tender wind that carried me, light in the dark, shining their love into my life. Jews’ve been my inspiration. Through the lies, Jews were the truth. MY WORLD IS A BETTER PLACE BECAAAHAAAUSE OF JEWWWWEWWWWWS!”

Are Jew satisfied?

I’m at that point in the evening where I either need to eat something or go to bed, so I’m blogging to take my mind off of those two options in the hopes that I’ll get sleepy enough to go to sleep instead of just lying there hungry. This is the problem with eating lunch at 2:00 and then not getting home until 9:00. I was out right through dinnertime, and now it’s too late to eat, and the only thing I really want to eat, I don’t have, so I’d have to go back out to get it, and ugh. It’s just not worth it.

But for those of you who’ve inquired, the chili was delicious. I ended up adding a LOT more spices – more cumin, more cayenne, more black pepper, some white pepper, and probably a tablespoon or two of salt. And it took FOREVER to cook and thicken (I definitely didn’t need to add that extra water along with the veggies), but once it got there, oh man. It was so worth it. I will definitely be making it again.

And now I’ve just spent half of a blog post that was supposed to distract me from my hunger talking about food. Good night.

I promise I’m not going to update you on my PunkBerry withdrawal every day. Today was just a particularly good example of why I’m glad I gave up the crack.

I used to wake up every morning, roll over in bed, grab PunkBerry, and catch up on the Twitter 3rd shift. This was a good way for me to take a moment before starting the day to just lie there and let my brain turn on.

This morning, I woke up, rolled over, reached for PunkBerry, realized she wasn’t there, and flopped my hand down. Right on top of The Book of Common Prayer, which I picked up a couple of weeks ago at Montford Books – a used book store up the street. I got it after reading the chapter in O Me of Little Faith where he talks a lot about prayer. (O Me of Little Faith is out and available for purchase now, by the way. Go get it.)

So I picked up the book and had a little morning prayer time instead of a little morning Twitter time. No offense, Twitter, but this is a healthy change.

It’s Q&A time once again! Today’s question comes from formspring, and it’s a good one:

What’s your advice for someone who wants to start a blog but is too scared of not saying anything meaningful/too intimidated by technology/ too lazy to actually do it?

Well, this is really three questions, isn’t it? Oh what the hey, I’ll answer them all.

If you’re scared of not saying anything meaningful, I’d just like to invite you to read the past six years of Onward Hoe!, and then tell me why you think that blogging requires depth, insight and/or meaning to be worthwhile. I mean, if that’s the kind of blog you want to have, then obviously you’ll need to start digging deep into your heart/psyche for some powerful stuff. But I write about food and the gas it causes me to have, traveling and seeing water-skiing squirrels (ok I know I STILL haven’t done that), crazy dreams I have, and ridiculous things I find on the internet. Here and there, you might find something poignant or thought-provoking, but by and large, this really is not that sort of blog. And yours doesn’t have to be that sort of blog either. There are all kinds. Here are some examples:

• Humor Blogs – I hope you’re on one right now. I never really intended it to be put into a category, but I am told it’s funny, so there you go. A few other notable humor blogs are Cake Wrecks, Jennsylvania and Stuff White People Like.
• Parenting Blogs, which were originally called Mommy Blogs, but then daddies started writing them too, and it wasn’t PC or something to call daddies “Mommy Bloggers,” so we had to change it.
• Hobby Blogs – Do I really need to explain this?
• Political Blogs – These are the kinds of blogs I don’t visit.
• Pop Culture Blogs
• Celebrity Gossip Blogs
• Personal Gossip Blogs
• Travel Blogs
• Sports Blogs
• Religious Blogs
• Photography Blogs
• Blogs about blogging
• Marketing Blogs

Oh my gosh there are a million different kinds of blogs that don’t require you to have anything meaningful to say ever! Isn’t that freeing?? And here’s another little tid-bit to free you from this fear: There are well over 100 MILLION WEBSITES on the internet, so if your blog isn’t “meaningful,” it’s likely that no one will ever notice.

Too intimidated by technology, you say? Y’all. Blogging is SUPER-easy. If you can send an email, you can post a blog. I know I use WordPress software now, but honestly, if I were just starting out again, I would use Blogger.com. That’s where I started, and it walks you through every step of setting the thing up, so you literally don’t have to know anything about web design or html code or anything. You don’t have to download anything, you don’t have to install anything, you just have to do the writing. Amazingly simple. And if you need help, you can email me.

If you’re too lazy, well that’s your own fault. I don’t know that there’s a lot I can do to help you there as I’m pretty lazy myself, but here’s my thought: If you want to do something – like REALLY want to do it – you do it. We can all agree that sloth is my deadly sin of choice, and that I have a slight fear of commitment, but I’ve been blogging regularly for six years. SIX YEARS! The trick for me has been to not think too much about my commitment to the blog, but just to write what I think is funny or interesting. And I see a lot of funny/interesting things.

If you ever have moments in your life when you think, “Oh my gosh I have to tell somebody about this,” then you can blog. Like the other day, I was getting into my car to go to work. I had just eaten dinner, and I really wanted something sweet. I wondered if I had any candy in my car, and then I opened the door and saw half a bag of lemon drops in the console. And y’all, OUT LOUD, alone in my car, in a voice like Mae West saying, “Why don’t you come up and see me sometime,” I said, with regard to lemon drops, “Ring-a-ding-ding.” And immediately, I needed to tell someone about it.

Now, that is a story best told in person so you can actually hear me say it, but that’s what I’m talking about – moments when you think, “Who can I tell about what has just happened?” I have a lot of those moments, so I am rarely hard-up for material, and that is what provides me with the motivation to make it happen (nearly) every day.

If that doesn’t help you, then once again, remind yourself that if you start a blog and then don’t keep up with it, probably not many people will notice or care. At least that takes the pressure off.

So no matter what the reason you haven’t started a blog, I just want you to know that if I can do it, you can do it. If you really want to, that is.

Ahem. Do I look any older today? Any wiser, perhaps? You may notice that I have a new banner up at the top there, which is all thanks to my awesome sister, who is much better at that sort of thing than I am. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

This is my ONE THOUSANDTH BLOG POST. I wish I knew how many words that was, but I have no idea. To be sure, it’s enough to fill multiple books, which is very encouraging. I know that I am capable of writing a book. It’s just going to be a matter of time and diligence. And that leads us directly into today’s actual post. I’m not really going to list 1000 ways I’m better because of blogging. You can read back through the past six years to see my journey if you want to. I’m just going to hit five highlights that I think encompass them all.

I’m More Confident in My Writing Ability

I started blogging in 2004 after meeting some girls in NYC who had blogs and couldn’t believe I didn’t have one. I think we’d met just once or twice before they both recognized that I would either love it or be good at it (I’m not sure which – maybe both). And for the first little while there, I really didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t set out to make this website what it is. It just evolved. In the first few months, I blogged about two things: Christianity and community league hockey. And while the hockey was a lot of fun for me, I’m not sure anybody else got it. But my more spiritual writing was what got people’s attention. Those were the posts people read and said, “You know, you’re a really good writer.” I didn’t really believe them (still have trouble with it, actually), but taking the risk of putting my words out into the world began to build a confidence I hadn’t known with anything before.

If you read any books or blogs or articles on writing, one of the things you’ll have read over and over again is that in order to be a better writer, you have to write. Just write and write and write. Every day. And it’s funny – I never really considered what I do here writing. Not “real” writing anyway. Not writing that matters, but it does. It matters to me, to my craft, and hopefully to at least a few people here and there. And I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at it over the years, but even if I haven’t, even if I’ve stayed at the same level or even regressed, it doesn’t really matter because I love it more every day, and the more I fall in love with writing, the more confident I am in my ability to do it. And maybe that’s what improving is.

I’m a Better Problem Solver

I know things about HTML that no Psychology major or ESL teacher should know. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve screwed up this website to the point where I thought I’d lost everything and would have to start all over. And then, miraculously, I fix it. Sometimes this requires the assistance of several people who are clearly much smarter than me, but I think that’s part of problem-solving – humility and the support of people who still love you even though you suck at something.

So first of all, to everyone who has helped me solve a technical issue, I’d like to return the favor. If you ever need anything edited, or if you have a website you want me to advertise, or if you’d like some vegan cupcakes or cookies, you just let me know.

And the other part of problem-solving is just not being afraid to fiddle around. Granted, that’s how I get myself in trouble, too, but it is how I learned to do 100% of the things I now know how to do with my page design, and it spills over into the rest of my life. When I started this thing in 2004, I was not the kind of person who ever would have dreamt of going vegan, writing a book, walking marathons or cutting up/refashioning her clothes. I did what I’d always done, ate what I’d always eaten, wore my clothes the way they were made, and didn’t often push myself into territory that was dramatically different or uncomfortable (sometimes, but not often).

But as I’ve learned to solve problems better, I’ve gotten more comfortable with experimentation and challenge because I’ve realized that (A) it is very hard to screw things up entirely, (B) I am very luck to have an amazing network of people who are always willing to help me out, and (C) that’s how I learn.

I’m No Longer Afraid of Commitment

If you are one of the, like, three people who’ve been reading this since it began, you’ve been with me through two phone companies, eight moves, thirteen roommates, *cough cough* boyfriends/quasiboyfriends, countless crushes you didn’t even know about, three churches (not counting any of the ones involved in Church Search 2010) and at least five jobs. And there have been times when I’ve been more committed to blogging than others. I hope you’ll have noticed that over the past year or two, I’ve become more consistent. This is a phenomenon that is slowly taking over more aspects of my life. I’m living in places for longer, I’ve been with the same phone company for several years now, I try to blog every day, but if I can’t, at least three times a week, and in general, I’m looking for places to be and people to be with for the long haul.

And I’m not scared of it. I am sometimes scared of not having these things ever, of always being this sort of nomad who blows in and out of people’s lives, is never truly known and then easily forgotten. But I know that’ll never happen. I’m too good with a telephone.

I Have a Voice

…which I use on the phone for hundreds of minutes each month. If you haven’t heard it, email me your digits, and I’ll call you. For real. But mostly I’m talking about two things:
1.    My writing voice.
2.    A platform.

I was at my new Thursday morning writing group yesterday, reading a chapter from my book-in-progress to two listeners. One of them has read/heard a lot of me, and the other was a woman I’d just met. And one of the things the new lady had to say was that she loved how my voice on paper was exactly like my speaking voice. I don’t always achieve this, but as my confidence grows, so does my authenticity. And perhaps even more exciting than having a voice is having people recognize it and like it.

I hate to tell y’all this, but only about 7% of what I do here is for you. Mostly what happens is I see something noteworthy in the world or inside myself, and I want to document it. I don’t put it to you for your approval, but for your participation. But when you do approve, well that feels really good. And the more people approve of what you have to say, the more they want to hear, and the greater the opportunity for you to speak on the topics that really matter to you. I don’t do much of that here (mostly it’s just general ridiculousness), but on the days when I do have something important to say, I’m glad y’all are here to listen, and if I’ve said something that resonated with you, feel free to pass it on.

I Know Who I Am (and So Can You)

I feel the most like myself when I am genuinely laughing – not laughing out of politeness or discomfort or as a way to fill a void, but really cracking up. In those moments, I’m not self-conscious, I’m not worried, I’m not dissatisfied. That’s me being myself fully and completely.

These have been good, good times, friends, and if you weren’t around for some of the earlier ones, I want to invite you to see the hilarity for yourself.

Ode to a Weather Man – My poetry really is one of my favorite things on here.
The Zimmerman Limmermacht dream – You know you’re crazy when this kind of thing goes on without you even thinking about it.
Hey, remember when I was a pole dancer? Good times.
The one in which I shake my head violently.
One of my all-time favorite poems, God is NOT a Temp.
The one where Whitney imitates a porn film.
Goodness gracious how many haikus did I write that day?
That’s Racin’!
The one where I talk to Jane Austen, who, sweet as she is, is really quite thick.
Roy Orbison + Clingfilm = Endless Entertainment
Why I’m becoming a Jehova’s Witness (It took me 3 tries just now to type ‘witness’ instead of ‘Whitney.”)

Here’s to another 1000 posts!! Onward Hoe!!

I don’t know really how to approach this, so I’ll just say it. I think we’re all pretty clear on the fact that I am awesome. My friend Dan always says I have the highest self-esteem of just about anyone he knows, and it’s true, but I’m about to let y’all in on a big secret: I used to be way awesomer. Not in every way, but I was a lot more fun. Some might have called it immaturity, but thinking about it now, I know that is only partially the case. Mostly, I was just comfortable being myself. I just was who I was, and I didn’t care what anyone thought who happened to be walking by as I was leaping across the mall on ECU’s campus or lying at the bottom of college hill laughing in the dark just for laughter’s sake. I simply did not care, and it was fun. I hugged my friends freely and whole-heartedly, I loved more deeply, I lived more passionately, and believe it or not, I was even more ridiculous.

I haven’t been that way in a while, and someone called me out on it today. Somewhere along the line, “growing up” for me turned into “becoming steadily more boring and guarded,” and I started to wonder why. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. Maybe it was little remarks here and there, or maybe it was a disappointment that never got dealt with that then got covered, layer by layer, with other disappointments. Most likely, it was a combination of a lot of things, but somehow I got the message that who I was wasn’t ok, and that I needed to be different.

And friends, that pisses me off. Who ever told me that who I was wasn’t a good person to be? Who told me it was wrong to be a little crazy, to run wild around campus doing silly things, to dance in public, to hug people I love, to be myself? Who made playing just for kids and told me to grow up and be serious? Who said my dreams were silly or stupid, and that I should get a real major, a real job, a real life? Who told me I couldn’t be who I was? Who killed the real me with their boring non-awesomeness?

At this point, some of you think I am being melodramatic. Clearly I am not talking to you. You can go watch this YouTube video.

But I know some of you feel the same way I do – that there’s something you wanted to be or do that you were told (in some way) was not ok, not because it was immoral or unethical or sinful, but just because it wasn’t practical, or maybe because it was silly, stupid, unrealistic or weird. I know you feel this way because I talk to you about your life, and everything’s going along just fine, but when I get you on one particular topic, you light up. But you don’t pursue it. You just wish.

So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to resolve to be ourselves no matter what that means because everyone will be a lot more awesome that way. If you’d like to participate in this with me and reclaim the real you, who IS ok even though someone told you you weren’t good enough somehow, then please rise, raise your right hand, and repeat after me:

I (state your name) do hereby resolve to live my life exactly as I am, honestly, unapologetically and passionately. I will not hold back who I am, for better or for worse. I will guard my heart against evil, but not against feeling or experience. Even pain will be accepted without regret if it comes from having lived fully. I will not do anything simply because it is the good and responsible thing my inner college advisor tells me I should do. Rather, I will love and live with reckless abandon, not wasting a moment of my life on boredom, regret, indecision or general non-awesomeness.

Feel free to add in any clauses you want that are specific to your life. Write it down somewhere, sign it, date it, tell someone and have them call you out on it if you start to slip back into the acceptable-for-all-audiences version of yourself who sucked. And then, just like Dolly Parton says, “You better get to livin’!”

I think it has been well established that I like to write. And on that note, a sidenote: I’m about to hit 1,000 blog posts, and I’m trying to think of something exciting to do for it. Any suggestions? End of sidenote.

So I’ve been writing freelance for the past couple of years for various websites and having a lot of fun with it. I’d like to do it more. I’d like to write as my main job (and teach a few days a week), but here’s the thing. As a freelancer, you have to actually finish work in order to get paid. If you sit at your computer for eight hours a day and don’t complete anything, that’s zero dollars for you. If you work as a normal employee (on salary, hourly wage or contract) of a company, you get paid just to show up, and they assume that you’re working the whole time. I mean, obviously if you never do any work, you’ll get fired, but I’m just sayin’ – I have long conversations with people online while they’re at work. During this time, they are getting paid while I am not because they’re at work (“working”), but I’m not getting anything done. A job job is, therefore, in just about every way provided you like your job, preferable. But I have yet to find a company that will pay me to write about the kinds of things I write about full time.

If you know of such a company – one that wants to pay someone to write for 35-40 hours a week on topics such as hair gel, crazy people, internet dating, personal victories over technological ineptitude, vegan food, weird dreams, musical theater and travel – let me know. But I can’t even imagine what that company would be, so I guess Onward Hoe! is it. Come on fancy ads! Baby needs a new pair of shoes! (Not really, but it sounded better than “Baby needs an oil change, some hair gel and toothpaste.”)