Imagine my shock when I realized that I haven't even looked at this blog (let alone written in it) for almost a year.
Gasp!!
Yeah, I know. All of you readers out in the blogosphere probably thought I had jumped ship on my "Live Like You Mean It" (LLYMI) project... but I haven't. I was preoccupied with the adventures of everyday living and stockpiling things of interest to share with you.
Since the age of 23, it has been my dream to start my very own book publishing company. Back in 2003 when this idea first hatched in the corners of my mind, I figured I had 7 years to fill in the details of plan execution. Afterall, I told myself, by my 30th birthday some magic switch of enlightenment was bound to turn on for me and I'd finally have a deep psychological understanding of myself, thereby dismanteling any fears or obstacles holding me back, thus transforming into an unstoppable woman able to master the world around her.
In other words, I thought I would finally act, feel AND think like a real grown-up.
During my 20s, I couldn't escape the eerie feeling that I was a kid playing "House." Although I spent the first decade of my adulthood doing responsible things like renting my first apartment, buying my first home, getting married, graduating from college, and buying a car or two, I still felt childlike in so many ways. Sitting in my home, I'd have moments where I found myself gazing around at my own living room, feeling like a little kid who had wandered into someone else's house. Even though I was the one who had made grown-up decisions like choosing furniture, having windows replaced and refinishing hardwood floors, I'd find myself having an out-of-body experience while pondering whether someone else had taken care of all of these important matters. Some day, I'd reassure myself, I'm going to be able to manage the life that I want, the life I've always dreamed of.
Well, the time has finally come.
I can't say that a magic switch miraculously flipped on for me on my 30th birthday, but turning 30 felt like a rebirth and an awakening for me. I was sad not to be able to say I was a 20-something anymore. Sad to realize that all of the people whom I had always thought of as "old" because they were "like, 30..." were now my peers. I was dumbfounded at the thought that the description "old enough to be someone's parent" now fit me. But along with these startling ephiphanies came new self awareness. The restlessness that had plagued me from age 28 to 30 heated to a rapid boil. I started feeling that, despite this terrible recession the economy is in and any other setbacks that could possibly crop up, there must be a way to become the person I've always felt I was meant to be. Because, of one thing I can be sure: if there wasn't some way to fulfill these dreams blossoming and bearing fruit in my mind, I wouldn't be thinking them up. The Creator doesn't give us the urge to do something unless there is a way to bring it to fruition.
So, I began thinking about how I've always wanted to start this publishing company by the time I turned 30. My mother always said that thirty is THE AGE OF UNDERSTANDING. Whenever she'd say this, I'd imagine a man's deep baritone voice dramatically bellowing the words, each syllable echoing as if bouncing off mountain peaks. I thought THE AGE OF UNDERSTANDING sounded like a title for a public television program much like "The Dawn of Civilization." Of course, back when my mother used to talk about THE AGE OF UNDERSTANDING, she was just turning 30 herself, and I was a child of 10. At that time, 30 sounded soooo OLD to me. But now that I've turned 30, I feel as if my 20s were kindergarden and my 30s are the start of a high-level grade school for adults. In this version of grade school, my challenge is to reduce complex concepts like entrepreneurship, profit margin, economic survival, self-sufficiency, creative freedom and living a life of fulfillment down to simple, do-able objectives.
I spent my 20s thinking that if I could just get my foot in the right door to get started working on my dreams, I'd be able to fulfill the goals I'm after. Finally, the harsh reality made itself known to me. Sometimes, some people won't want to help you get your foot in the door, let alone let you get anywhere near the door they've used. It is at that point that you have to make your OWN door!
It's a daunting but liberating thought.
Daunting because you ask yourself why you aren't able to use an easier way. You wonder why you haven't been invited into an already established port of entry. Why the people you've asked for help don't seem to be interested in seeing you succeed. Liberating, because you have the freedom to blaze a trail where none existed. Maybe you are destined to travel a brand-new path because what you are about to do is so unique that no one else has attempted it in quite the way that you are about to. Maybe you have to walk this unique path because you will lead others to brainstorm creative ideas and find the courage to blaze their own trails.
This brings me to my point. The trail I am blazing is called Great Story Press. We are a micro publisher of fiction and nonfiction in print as well as electronic formats. Our mission is to bring great stories to the world. Stories that spark the mind and entertain, inspire, uplift, and awaken the knowledge that all things are possible.
World, I give you...Great Story Press!
This is the journey, from inception to manifestation, of a new idea. My mind has conceived of this idea; my prayers, creative energy, faith, willpower and persistence cocoon this idea in the womb of my potential; and I will ask the Creator to give me the strength to labor through and birth it. Pray with me and come with me as I record in written detail every step of the process in launching Great Story Press.
Love,
Stay Inspired
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Thursday, October 15, 2009
No Matter Where You Start In Life...You Can End Up Somewhere Wonderful
Yesterday I wrote a letter to Maria from Sesame Street.
It might surprise you to know that her real name is Sonia Manzano. She's now in her fifties and is two-snaps in a circle fabulous!
Why do I think she’s so hot?
What's so special about a lady who's spent the last 30 years conversing with Muppets, teaching kids to count in Spanish, and Spanish vocabulary words like agua and amigo?
For starters, she’s been taking care of her business since her days growing up in the South Bronx when she attended the High School for the Performing Arts in Manhattan—you know, the school from the movie Fame.
Sonia’s swag-sheet has got more inches than well…Big Bird.
She’s a 15-time Emmy award winning writer for Sesame Street (who knew?), a celebrated author of children’s books, a stage and movie actress, a public speaker, writer of a pro-Obama blog for Catalina magazine, and entrepreneur of a Latin-inspired home décor company. She’s also shopping around her newly written memoir.
Now how is it that I’ve gotten on the Sonia Manzano cheerleading squad, you ask?
Well, while flipping channels during a recent quiet evening at home, I stumbled across an episode of Sesame Street.
And there she was: thick, black, glossy hair now shoulder length, much shorter than the mane she’d rocked during the 80s. There are laugh lines creasing her eyes and lips where there once were none, but she still has the same ole warm, familiar smile and shining brown eyes. As I said in the letter I wrote her, seeing her again on my TV screen was like being “instantly transported back to my childhood.”
It also got me wondering, Damn, how long has this woman been on this show? Is her name really Maria? Is that guy Luis really her husband? Is the young woman who portrays their now-grown-up daughter, Gabriela, really their child? Can you tell me how to get…how to get to Sesame Street, so I can get some answers?
Of course Sesame Street isn’t a real place the way I hoped it was when I was a kid, so unless I find a way onto the set of the show, I don't suppose I'll get to ply Sonia with my list of questions. But thank goodness for Google ‘cuz it was there that I found some answers. I typed “Maria from Sesame Street” into the search engine and she popped right up on my computer screen.
Raised in a Spanish-speaking home in the Bronx, Sonia struggled with English and writing during her years at the High School for the Performing Arts. Most of her classmates were from affluent families, traveled the globe and moved in high-culture circles. She, with her Puerto Rican immigrant parentage and working-class background, did not share that lifestyle. “The other students conjugated French verbs at the dinner table and visited Europe during the summer. I struggled the whole time,” she says.
Before high school, Sonia received an elementary education that had been modest at best and she found it difficult to contend with her classmates who were far better prepared scholastically. She described her high school years saying, “I went from being an ace student to being a total failure.”
But she had teachers who encouraged her and urged her to apply to universities that would admit her based on a performance audition and was eventually accepted to Carnegie Mellon University. Amazingly, while still in college, she acted in the Broadway production "Godspell" and was also cast to play Maria on Sesame Street.
Her role on Sesame Street connected her to a feeling of purpose in her life, and this led to Sonia's career in writing. She began writing scripts for the show that highlighted Latino culture, and found that she wasn't just teaching kids words and numbers in Spanish, but becoming an ambassador for cultural acceptance. Before long, her Sesame Street role--which she had originally planned to be temporary--stretched into 30 years, and a ripe opportunity to teach, write, act and serve as a role model to countless little girls, while lighting up the lives of people around the world.
Imagine that...a woman who, at the outset of her life, had difficulty writing basic American English is now a 15-time Emmy award winning writer of a successful children's television show and an author.
Now that's inspirational!
It might surprise you to know that her real name is Sonia Manzano. She's now in her fifties and is two-snaps in a circle fabulous!
Why do I think she’s so hot?
What's so special about a lady who's spent the last 30 years conversing with Muppets, teaching kids to count in Spanish, and Spanish vocabulary words like agua and amigo?
For starters, she’s been taking care of her business since her days growing up in the South Bronx when she attended the High School for the Performing Arts in Manhattan—you know, the school from the movie Fame.
Sonia’s swag-sheet has got more inches than well…Big Bird.
She’s a 15-time Emmy award winning writer for Sesame Street (who knew?), a celebrated author of children’s books, a stage and movie actress, a public speaker, writer of a pro-Obama blog for Catalina magazine, and entrepreneur of a Latin-inspired home décor company. She’s also shopping around her newly written memoir.
Now how is it that I’ve gotten on the Sonia Manzano cheerleading squad, you ask?
Well, while flipping channels during a recent quiet evening at home, I stumbled across an episode of Sesame Street.
And there she was: thick, black, glossy hair now shoulder length, much shorter than the mane she’d rocked during the 80s. There are laugh lines creasing her eyes and lips where there once were none, but she still has the same ole warm, familiar smile and shining brown eyes. As I said in the letter I wrote her, seeing her again on my TV screen was like being “instantly transported back to my childhood.”
It also got me wondering, Damn, how long has this woman been on this show? Is her name really Maria? Is that guy Luis really her husband? Is the young woman who portrays their now-grown-up daughter, Gabriela, really their child? Can you tell me how to get…how to get to Sesame Street, so I can get some answers?
Of course Sesame Street isn’t a real place the way I hoped it was when I was a kid, so unless I find a way onto the set of the show, I don't suppose I'll get to ply Sonia with my list of questions. But thank goodness for Google ‘cuz it was there that I found some answers. I typed “Maria from Sesame Street” into the search engine and she popped right up on my computer screen.
Raised in a Spanish-speaking home in the Bronx, Sonia struggled with English and writing during her years at the High School for the Performing Arts. Most of her classmates were from affluent families, traveled the globe and moved in high-culture circles. She, with her Puerto Rican immigrant parentage and working-class background, did not share that lifestyle. “The other students conjugated French verbs at the dinner table and visited Europe during the summer. I struggled the whole time,” she says.
Before high school, Sonia received an elementary education that had been modest at best and she found it difficult to contend with her classmates who were far better prepared scholastically. She described her high school years saying, “I went from being an ace student to being a total failure.”
But she had teachers who encouraged her and urged her to apply to universities that would admit her based on a performance audition and was eventually accepted to Carnegie Mellon University. Amazingly, while still in college, she acted in the Broadway production "Godspell" and was also cast to play Maria on Sesame Street.
Her role on Sesame Street connected her to a feeling of purpose in her life, and this led to Sonia's career in writing. She began writing scripts for the show that highlighted Latino culture, and found that she wasn't just teaching kids words and numbers in Spanish, but becoming an ambassador for cultural acceptance. Before long, her Sesame Street role--which she had originally planned to be temporary--stretched into 30 years, and a ripe opportunity to teach, write, act and serve as a role model to countless little girls, while lighting up the lives of people around the world.
Imagine that...a woman who, at the outset of her life, had difficulty writing basic American English is now a 15-time Emmy award winning writer of a successful children's television show and an author.
Now that's inspirational!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Disappointments are Inevitable, Misery is a Choice
I just watched one of my favorite most inspirational speakers: Joel Osteen. He's the charismatic, Colgate smile wearing, glossy-haired televangelist known to ignite his uber congregation with sermons centering on positivity and the Creator's planned goodness for us all.
Yes, at first glance he might appear to be a slick snake-oil salesman with a Cheshire cat grin. Initially you might be suspicious and think he's just another fast-talking preacher peddling hope to the desperate masses in exchange for their hard-earned dollars. You might be waiting for the "shakedown" when he asks for viewers to send a dollar amount in exchange for his prayers on their behalf.
But eventually, you'll be pleasantly surprised that the man stays very focused on delivering his message and spreading the power of positivity. He emphatically stresses that the Creator has a plan for each of our lives. That we need only have the faith to follow it.
He always sprinkles jokes in his sermons. Mary Poppins always said a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and Osteen wisely blends his biblical based message with the perfect pinch of laughs.
I often catch two different sermons from him on Sunday evenings. One comes on at 8pm, the other 12 midnight. I just finished watching one in which he discussed disappointment, something I've been struggling with these past few days.
Thankfully, it's been a wonderful weekend. A weekend that rendered my disappointment a distant memory as I indulged in a great conversation with a young guy who, with his brother, started an online magazine for which they'd like me to be copyeditor; laughed with my spouse and enjoyed our time spent at our 71-year-old uncle's surprise birthday party; watched a movie with my sister, and read some interesting books.
It's been a relaxing and soothing weekend that was just what the doctor ordered. I know my last post was pretty angry. I considered deleting it, but am trying to learn to accept the full emotional spectrum and to give each shade it's respect and outlet.
But Osteen said tonight that, "Disappointments are inevitable, misery is a choice." He went on to caution that we not let "the sun set on our anger."
It's okay to feel disappointment that things haven't gone the way you wanted. But you owe yourself the wonderful release of letting your disappointment out at the end of the day. Don't hold it in, don't harp on it, don't let it marinate. Just like a computer, shut your disappointment down at day's end, allow yourself the mental, physical, and psychological rest and then reboot in the morning. But for goodness' sake, don't tug the disappointment around day after day like a sack.
So I have faith that in this thing called life, good things await me. Through all the sharp turns, the unexpected occurrences, and yes, the disappointments, I will keep the faith and believe. I believe that the Creator is making a way for my big dreams to come true. After all, like seeds in soil, he planted these dreams in my heart, tucked them safe in my soul so that they'd germinate. I give it all to Him and surrender to Him to show me the way. To guide me. To lead me. I thank Him for His mercy. For the love he has filled my life with. For my loving spouse, my mother, father, sisters and friends. For the peace he gives me. For this life and this adventure he has blessed me to have.
Yes, at first glance he might appear to be a slick snake-oil salesman with a Cheshire cat grin. Initially you might be suspicious and think he's just another fast-talking preacher peddling hope to the desperate masses in exchange for their hard-earned dollars. You might be waiting for the "shakedown" when he asks for viewers to send a dollar amount in exchange for his prayers on their behalf.
But eventually, you'll be pleasantly surprised that the man stays very focused on delivering his message and spreading the power of positivity. He emphatically stresses that the Creator has a plan for each of our lives. That we need only have the faith to follow it.
He always sprinkles jokes in his sermons. Mary Poppins always said a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and Osteen wisely blends his biblical based message with the perfect pinch of laughs.
I often catch two different sermons from him on Sunday evenings. One comes on at 8pm, the other 12 midnight. I just finished watching one in which he discussed disappointment, something I've been struggling with these past few days.
Thankfully, it's been a wonderful weekend. A weekend that rendered my disappointment a distant memory as I indulged in a great conversation with a young guy who, with his brother, started an online magazine for which they'd like me to be copyeditor; laughed with my spouse and enjoyed our time spent at our 71-year-old uncle's surprise birthday party; watched a movie with my sister, and read some interesting books.
It's been a relaxing and soothing weekend that was just what the doctor ordered. I know my last post was pretty angry. I considered deleting it, but am trying to learn to accept the full emotional spectrum and to give each shade it's respect and outlet.
But Osteen said tonight that, "Disappointments are inevitable, misery is a choice." He went on to caution that we not let "the sun set on our anger."
It's okay to feel disappointment that things haven't gone the way you wanted. But you owe yourself the wonderful release of letting your disappointment out at the end of the day. Don't hold it in, don't harp on it, don't let it marinate. Just like a computer, shut your disappointment down at day's end, allow yourself the mental, physical, and psychological rest and then reboot in the morning. But for goodness' sake, don't tug the disappointment around day after day like a sack.
So I have faith that in this thing called life, good things await me. Through all the sharp turns, the unexpected occurrences, and yes, the disappointments, I will keep the faith and believe. I believe that the Creator is making a way for my big dreams to come true. After all, like seeds in soil, he planted these dreams in my heart, tucked them safe in my soul so that they'd germinate. I give it all to Him and surrender to Him to show me the way. To guide me. To lead me. I thank Him for His mercy. For the love he has filled my life with. For my loving spouse, my mother, father, sisters and friends. For the peace he gives me. For this life and this adventure he has blessed me to have.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Ugggh!
The urge to feel down on myself is so tempting sometimes.
Once again, I'm working as an administrative assistant in a field I have absolutely no interest in. I am so sick of stapling, copying, collating, booking conference rooms and performing every conceivable type of monkey work that I am beside myself. Sometimes I feel like I can't stand it another second.
What the hell am I doing? I keep asking myself.
Don't get me wrong. I've got a B.A. in Journalism with a minor in business. Did the right thing. Went to college and earned a pricey degree. Now what?
Now that I've been tossed from the secure cocoon of my university and flung out into the Darwinian cut throatness of the real world...NOW WHAT????
Where the hell are all the jobs? Where the hell are all the great salaries we were all promised so long as we were good little students and went to college?
Yes, there are times when I've felt hoodwinked, bamboozled and like a damn fool for jumping through so many hoops to finally get my coveted degree. But words are a creative force, and a life of regret is not what I want to build for myself.
I'd rather live a life of hope, fulfillment and meaning.
I'd rather reach out and light up someone else's life so that the lightbulb can switch on for my own.
Sometimes I feel so tired of feeling like I'm stumbling around in the dark. So tired of feeling like if I'd have known then what I know now, I'd have done it differently. Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly trying to catch up. Feeling like where I am now is where I ought to have been three years ago. Feeling like I'm never where I should be, when I should be there.
Once again, I'm working as an administrative assistant in a field I have absolutely no interest in. I am so sick of stapling, copying, collating, booking conference rooms and performing every conceivable type of monkey work that I am beside myself. Sometimes I feel like I can't stand it another second.
What the hell am I doing? I keep asking myself.
Don't get me wrong. I've got a B.A. in Journalism with a minor in business. Did the right thing. Went to college and earned a pricey degree. Now what?
Now that I've been tossed from the secure cocoon of my university and flung out into the Darwinian cut throatness of the real world...NOW WHAT????
Where the hell are all the jobs? Where the hell are all the great salaries we were all promised so long as we were good little students and went to college?
Yes, there are times when I've felt hoodwinked, bamboozled and like a damn fool for jumping through so many hoops to finally get my coveted degree. But words are a creative force, and a life of regret is not what I want to build for myself.
I'd rather live a life of hope, fulfillment and meaning.
I'd rather reach out and light up someone else's life so that the lightbulb can switch on for my own.
Sometimes I feel so tired of feeling like I'm stumbling around in the dark. So tired of feeling like if I'd have known then what I know now, I'd have done it differently. Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly trying to catch up. Feeling like where I am now is where I ought to have been three years ago. Feeling like I'm never where I should be, when I should be there.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
A Gem From Essence Magazine
In Fall of 1993, when I was 13 years old, my mother decided to start homeschooling me and my 11 year-old sister.
For me, that was hard news to accept.
That year was supposed to be the year I was finally going to be an 8th grader at Lewis H. Farrell Elementary School. Being an 8th grader meant status and being at the top of the grade school food chain. It meant the chance to wear a cap and gown at the end of the school year, and accompanying a date to the 8th grade dance that was thrown in the school gym each year. And in the minds of 13 year-olds, this dance carried all the significance of a senior prom; and we kids refused to be convinced otherwise.
But most of all, it meant the last year for making memories before I would go from being a big 8th grade fish in a little grade school pond, to being a little 9th grade fish in a big high school pond.
During my five year stint at that school, I had ached to one day be an 8th grader. In 3rd grade, I survived being a new kid in school and eventually made friends and a few bff's. I weathered a 4th grade teacher who hated my guts. I overcame the shock of starting 5th grade, and finding that everyone but me seemed to have grown D-cup sized boobs during the two-month summer recess. And in the 6th and 7th grades, respectively, I got over the agony of having monstrous crushes on two boys who didn't know I existed.
So when it was time to walk the red carpet leading to the 8th Grade, I was ready to join the grade school glitteratti, and ready for my paparazzi close up.
Never happened.
Instead, September of '93 found me sitting at the living room table across from my sister as our mother lectured us on the topic of affirmations. An affirmation, she told us, is a personal statement containing action plans, which a person writes to accomplish specific goals. With chalk in hand, she wrote the poem "The Wage" (quoted on my blog's mainpage) onto a portable black board.
"Analyze this poem, line for line," she told us.
That day, I learned one of the most vital lessons of my life: Life Is What You Make It.
Always has been, always will be. It's one of the amazing gifts the Creator has given to humankind; the ability to have free will, and to think and reason. This gift enables all humans to shape their own lives as desired.
We have been given the ability to command our own price in life. We dictate how we wish to be treated by others, how high we climb on the ladder of our dreams, and the level of happiness we enjoy. In short, each individual is responsible for his/her happiness and fulfillment. You don't have to stay in a situation that makes you feel bad, unless YOU choose to. Similarly, YOU have the right to enjoy living the life of your dreams!
This was an amazing first lesson for my 13 year-old brain, and even in the midst of my disappointment about my 8th grade plans being rinsed down the drain, "The Wage" and the incredible message it contained left an impact on me that endures today.
Speaking of affirmations and commanding one's own price in life, I was thrilled when I flipped open the January 2008 issue of Essence Magazine and found Editor-In-Chief Angela Burt-Murray's Between Us -- A Letter From The Editor feature. As part of her editorial this month, Burt-Murray included a fill-in-the-blank form titled "My Getting The Life I Deserve Pledge." I think it's fantastic, and if you haven't seen it for yourself, I'd like to share it with you and encourage you to fill this pledge out for yourself...as I intend to!
Check it out:
For me, that was hard news to accept.
That year was supposed to be the year I was finally going to be an 8th grader at Lewis H. Farrell Elementary School. Being an 8th grader meant status and being at the top of the grade school food chain. It meant the chance to wear a cap and gown at the end of the school year, and accompanying a date to the 8th grade dance that was thrown in the school gym each year. And in the minds of 13 year-olds, this dance carried all the significance of a senior prom; and we kids refused to be convinced otherwise.
But most of all, it meant the last year for making memories before I would go from being a big 8th grade fish in a little grade school pond, to being a little 9th grade fish in a big high school pond.
During my five year stint at that school, I had ached to one day be an 8th grader. In 3rd grade, I survived being a new kid in school and eventually made friends and a few bff's. I weathered a 4th grade teacher who hated my guts. I overcame the shock of starting 5th grade, and finding that everyone but me seemed to have grown D-cup sized boobs during the two-month summer recess. And in the 6th and 7th grades, respectively, I got over the agony of having monstrous crushes on two boys who didn't know I existed.
So when it was time to walk the red carpet leading to the 8th Grade, I was ready to join the grade school glitteratti, and ready for my paparazzi close up.
Never happened.
Instead, September of '93 found me sitting at the living room table across from my sister as our mother lectured us on the topic of affirmations. An affirmation, she told us, is a personal statement containing action plans, which a person writes to accomplish specific goals. With chalk in hand, she wrote the poem "The Wage" (quoted on my blog's mainpage) onto a portable black board.
"Analyze this poem, line for line," she told us.
That day, I learned one of the most vital lessons of my life: Life Is What You Make It.
Always has been, always will be. It's one of the amazing gifts the Creator has given to humankind; the ability to have free will, and to think and reason. This gift enables all humans to shape their own lives as desired.
We have been given the ability to command our own price in life. We dictate how we wish to be treated by others, how high we climb on the ladder of our dreams, and the level of happiness we enjoy. In short, each individual is responsible for his/her happiness and fulfillment. You don't have to stay in a situation that makes you feel bad, unless YOU choose to. Similarly, YOU have the right to enjoy living the life of your dreams!
This was an amazing first lesson for my 13 year-old brain, and even in the midst of my disappointment about my 8th grade plans being rinsed down the drain, "The Wage" and the incredible message it contained left an impact on me that endures today.
Speaking of affirmations and commanding one's own price in life, I was thrilled when I flipped open the January 2008 issue of Essence Magazine and found Editor-In-Chief Angela Burt-Murray's Between Us -- A Letter From The Editor feature. As part of her editorial this month, Burt-Murray included a fill-in-the-blank form titled "My Getting The Life I Deserve Pledge." I think it's fantastic, and if you haven't seen it for yourself, I'd like to share it with you and encourage you to fill this pledge out for yourself...as I intend to!
Check it out:
MY GETTING THE LIFE I DESERVE PLEDGE
This is the year to be the woman (or man) I've always wanted to be. This year I will put _______________ first.
(Your Name)
Starting _____________, I will focus on taking the steps to achieve my goals. Ever since ____________ I've known
(date)
that I want to______________.
Today I will create a plan to realize my dreams.
This is my year to achieve four goals:
1._______________________________________________________________________________________
2._______________________________________________________________________________________
3._______________________________________________________________________________________
4._______________________________________________________________________________________
Negative factors, real or imagined, will no longer be obstacles to my success.
To get over________________, I will stop _______________________________.
(obstacle #1)
To get over________________, I will pray that _______________________________.
(obstacle #2)
(obstacle #2)
To get over________________, I will plan to _______________________________.
(obstacle #3)
(obstacle #3)
I know that I will be successful because it is my dream to _____________________________.
To stay on track, I will have my friend ______________________________________ check on my progress every
(friend's name)
week/month/quarter (choose one) and hold me accountable.
This is my personal 2008 pledge to myself so that I can realize my dreams and live the wonderful life I fully deserve!
_______________________________
(your signature)
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Aspire To Be Great In 2008!
I first heard "Be Great in 2008" on the radio, and it resonated deeply with me.
This is a brand new year, and a fresh opportunity to make our dreams come true. It's a chance to shed our fears and insecurities, to stop second-guessing ourselves and finally take that leap into living our dreams!
In the spirit of Being Great in 2008, I wish to share my list of New Year's Resolutions with you. In the past, I've never been one to make resolutions at the start of a new year because I've always looked at goal-setting as an ongoing part of life, not just an activity that should be considered on January 1.
But I decided at the end of 2007, that I'd like to track my progress in accomplishing a few specific goals, starting from day one of this new year. I am confident that I will have fulfilled all of my resolutions by the end of this year.
So, without further delay, here are the goals I am aspiring for in my plan to be GR-R-R-EAT in 2008!
Much Love, Peace and Blessings, everybody... and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
This is a brand new year, and a fresh opportunity to make our dreams come true. It's a chance to shed our fears and insecurities, to stop second-guessing ourselves and finally take that leap into living our dreams!
In the spirit of Being Great in 2008, I wish to share my list of New Year's Resolutions with you. In the past, I've never been one to make resolutions at the start of a new year because I've always looked at goal-setting as an ongoing part of life, not just an activity that should be considered on January 1.
But I decided at the end of 2007, that I'd like to track my progress in accomplishing a few specific goals, starting from day one of this new year. I am confident that I will have fulfilled all of my resolutions by the end of this year.
So, without further delay, here are the goals I am aspiring for in my plan to be GR-R-R-EAT in 2008!
Much Love, Peace and Blessings, everybody... and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
2008 New Year's Resolution
In 2008, I resolve to:
- Start each day with prayer, at least 15 minutes of meditation, and a reading of the Bible/Torah/Holy Scriptures.
- Read the newspaper each day.
- Exercise daily by either cardio, muscular, yoga or dance workouts.
- Eat fruits and vegetables each day and become better disciplined about preparing more meals at home.
- Complete no less than one manuscript this year.
- Discipline myself to write each day.
- Finish reading at least one book each week.
- Watch less television.
- Join a group for writers that expands my mind, and in which I feel comfortable and productive.
- Apply for at least 100 positions in the publishing industry.
- Read all the books I've purchased about the publishing industry.
- STOP brooding over things that are out of my control; and no longer keep grudges.
- Love more and give back to the world by helping someone else.
- Volunteer to help people in need
- Help out at shelters for women and children (Eliza Shirley House, Salvation Army, soup kitchens, food banks)
Friday, December 28, 2007
Miracles: How Many Have You Had?
While reading The Secret today, I came to a section in the book that discussed miracles and being thankful for them. Miracles.
They are the moments when something so amazing and unexplainable happens to you that you are in total awe. It's like walking down the street, finding a beautiful gift wrapped box and finding that the tag on the box says: To: You (fill in your name) From: The Creator. And when moments like these happen, it's like you look around to see if it's for real; you're rubbing your eyes in disbelief as you stare in shock at the gift. Then, you open it, and it was just what you needed at that exact moment in your life.
I've been thinking about the miracles that have happend in my own life.
In 2005, I had had it up to there with my boss's bullying ways.
After working five years as an office manager at his business, he chose to blame me when his front desk was left unstaffed after a new hire left work early on the same day he had excused me to take a personal day. Having obtained his permission to take a personal day at about six that morning, I proceeded with handling the emergency I had taken off of work for and pushed all else from my mind.
I returned to work the next day only to be berated by my boss as he yelled, "I was calling you on your cell phone yesterday. _____ left early yesterday at lunch time, and there was no one to cover the front desk. This can't happen again!"
A knot bunched in my stomach as I looked at his angry face and the fury blazing in his eyes.
"But you gave me permission to take yesterday off. You and I talked about it long before ____ did what she chose to do. What she did has nothing to do with me," I insisted.
"But you're the office manager!" he bellowed. "This is not supposed to happen! You two need to call each other when one of you needs to be out to take care of an emergency. You need to coordinate amongst yourselves so that my front desk is never left unstaffed!"
I couldn't believe my ears.
"But that doesn't make any sense. You already granted me permission to take the day off. There was no need for me to talk to her about my needing to take off for an emergency if I already received permission from you and you are the boss! And furthermore, I've worked for you for five years. This person has been here two months, and you're attacking me because she chose to leave early? If anything, you're issue should be with her."
He was berating me in front of the entire staff, and a few early morning customers, too.
For all the responsibility I was saddled with at that job (payroll, employee benefits, billing, collections, scheduling, tracking outstanding monies owed, writing narratives, training new employees, choosing x-rays and fighting insurance companies for every unpaid penny they owed the boss, working late nights and holidays) I had no privileges and no authority.
I started out earning $11 dollars an hour, and during my tenure, an exemplary job performance yielded me two $1.00 raises, which meant that after five years of working for this man, my compensation consisted of $13.00 an hour, skimpy HMO health benefits, a 30-minute lunch break during which I was expected to answer phones, handle payments, write receipts, and perform other work as needed, and one week of paid vacation. At Christmas I received a bonus check of $100.00.
The job offered no privileges and no incentives to stay.
"You're the office manager!" he exclaimed again as he continued to antagonize me.
"I have so much responsibility here, and no privileges," I responded.
"Your job is your privilege!" he snapped.
"I don't feel like we're seeing eye to eye anymore and I'd like to go ahead and give you my two week notice," I said quietly.
"TWO WEEK NOTICE?! I don't want no two week notice! You make a choice right now! Either you want to stay, OR THERE'S THE FRONT DOOR!!" he screamed, pointing towards the exit. "And you got a mortgage to pay?" he sneered sarcastically, "You make your choice right now!"
Caught offguard, with everyone's eyes staring and waiting to see how I would respond to his challenge, I silently walked to my desk and sat down.
He thought he'd won.
Now let me stop this story here.
I don't have to tell you that this boss was as wrong as two left shoes for the things he said to me and for his habit of antagonizing and berating his employees. I had accepted his mistreatment for far too long. And in that moment, a light switched on, and I decided that enough was enough.
I went in the bathroom. I cried. I talked to the Creator and asked him to show me what to do. I wanted to leave that very second and never work for that person again.
Instead, I calmed myself down and worked through the remainder of the day. I went home that evening, had dinner and slept.
The next day, I went to work and did the payroll.
Afterwards, I politely asked the boss if I could speak with him privately.
Then I politely told him that I had made my choice. I was leaving and I would not be coming back.
As the bully of a boss watched in disbelief, I calmly gathered my things, walked out the front door and into the thick heat of the June morning. I put one foot in front of the other and never looked back.
My mortgage, utility bills, and other cost of living expenses were breathing down my neck, but I heard the call to leave that job behind in favor of bigger and brighter things. So I silenced my fears and listened to that call.
The boss called me four days later, asking me to return to work. He tried to persuade me by saying that he would be willing to pay me for the week I had been out after my resignation, saying that we would just consider it my week of paid vacation. He also agreed to pay me a $.75 cent increase (but he agreed reluctantly, and only after making me promise not to tell any of my co-workers about the raise).
It was during this conversation that I realized that there was nothing to go back for. I had outgrown the job and had no desire to go back to work for him.
So once again, I told him that my answer was "no."
No, I would never work for him again.
"But when did the miracle happen?" you're probably wondering.
It happened days afterwards.
Worried about how I would be able to pay my mortgage and other bills, I talked to the Creator in my prayer time, asking for His help. Asking for him to save me and show me what to do.
I went to my mailbox days later, and absentmindedly removed the envelopes inside. I flipped through the envelopes, reading them one at a time. Junk mail, bill, bill, junk mail...until I flipped to one particular envelope.
It was from my mortgage company.
"Now, what kind of nonsense could this be?", I wondered, as I tore open the envelope. My mortgage wasn't due for another week or so and I had no idea why the company would be contacting me.
To my amazement, I opened the envelope to find a check for nearly $1,000 inside!
Specifically, the check was for something like $989.99, but close enough!
I was speechless. I was dumbstruck. I was overcome with tears of gratitude.
Turns out the check was a refund from my escrow...and it could not have come at a more appropriate time.
Can you say miracle?
I've had other miracles happen to me as well.
Once when I was praying, I was sitting and facing a bedroom window, and murmuring the words of my prayer as I gazed at the indigo night sky. I asked for a sign to answer my question. No sooner had the words left my mouth, when I saw a falling star streak through the dark sky. I was so startled by it, and it happened so fast, that I actually blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to be sure I had seen what my eyes thought they had seen. There were no fire works. Airplanes don't move that fast, then disappear, and it wasn't a bird.
I saw a falling star.
Another miracle is the fact that I even became a homeowner in the first place.
At the age of 22, I briefly dated a guy who owned his own home. Although our relationship fizzled, I felt inspired to become a homeowner myself after enjoying the time I spent at his place. At the time, I lived in a one-bedroom, shoe-box sized apartment that was prone to bone-chilling drafts in the winter and suffocating heat in the summer, but my mind was made up. I took a homebuying class at a local university, began saving my money, worked with several real estate agents before finally finding one I was compatible with, then finally bought my first home nine months later!
Once I had made up my mind to purchase a home, it happened...nine months later!
Another miracle, involves my father, who had been missing from my life since I was four. When, at 25, I became engaged to be married, I sadly told my mother one evening how much I would love to have my father give me away at my wedding. I had been using the internet to search for him, but my search had been fruitless. Not having seen my father for 21 years at that point, I didn't know whether he was dead or alive.
One night, my mother slid me a scrap of paper with a phone number penciled across it. She casually told me that it was his cell phone number. I eagerly dialed the number and felt my heart threatening to pound through my chest as I anxiously waited for the line to be answered.
A man's groggy voice suddenly spoke.
It was my father.
We were both in disbelief that we were talking to one another after so many years.
A month later, he came to visit my sister and I. He met my fiance; they became fast friends.
Seven months later, he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.
These are my miracles, and I'm so thankful that I've experienced them.
How many have you had?
They are the moments when something so amazing and unexplainable happens to you that you are in total awe. It's like walking down the street, finding a beautiful gift wrapped box and finding that the tag on the box says: To: You (fill in your name) From: The Creator. And when moments like these happen, it's like you look around to see if it's for real; you're rubbing your eyes in disbelief as you stare in shock at the gift. Then, you open it, and it was just what you needed at that exact moment in your life.
I've been thinking about the miracles that have happend in my own life.
In 2005, I had had it up to there with my boss's bullying ways.
After working five years as an office manager at his business, he chose to blame me when his front desk was left unstaffed after a new hire left work early on the same day he had excused me to take a personal day. Having obtained his permission to take a personal day at about six that morning, I proceeded with handling the emergency I had taken off of work for and pushed all else from my mind.
I returned to work the next day only to be berated by my boss as he yelled, "I was calling you on your cell phone yesterday. _____ left early yesterday at lunch time, and there was no one to cover the front desk. This can't happen again!"
A knot bunched in my stomach as I looked at his angry face and the fury blazing in his eyes.
"But you gave me permission to take yesterday off. You and I talked about it long before ____ did what she chose to do. What she did has nothing to do with me," I insisted.
"But you're the office manager!" he bellowed. "This is not supposed to happen! You two need to call each other when one of you needs to be out to take care of an emergency. You need to coordinate amongst yourselves so that my front desk is never left unstaffed!"
I couldn't believe my ears.
"But that doesn't make any sense. You already granted me permission to take the day off. There was no need for me to talk to her about my needing to take off for an emergency if I already received permission from you and you are the boss! And furthermore, I've worked for you for five years. This person has been here two months, and you're attacking me because she chose to leave early? If anything, you're issue should be with her."
He was berating me in front of the entire staff, and a few early morning customers, too.
For all the responsibility I was saddled with at that job (payroll, employee benefits, billing, collections, scheduling, tracking outstanding monies owed, writing narratives, training new employees, choosing x-rays and fighting insurance companies for every unpaid penny they owed the boss, working late nights and holidays) I had no privileges and no authority.
I started out earning $11 dollars an hour, and during my tenure, an exemplary job performance yielded me two $1.00 raises, which meant that after five years of working for this man, my compensation consisted of $13.00 an hour, skimpy HMO health benefits, a 30-minute lunch break during which I was expected to answer phones, handle payments, write receipts, and perform other work as needed, and one week of paid vacation. At Christmas I received a bonus check of $100.00.
The job offered no privileges and no incentives to stay.
"You're the office manager!" he exclaimed again as he continued to antagonize me.
"I have so much responsibility here, and no privileges," I responded.
"Your job is your privilege!" he snapped.
"I don't feel like we're seeing eye to eye anymore and I'd like to go ahead and give you my two week notice," I said quietly.
"TWO WEEK NOTICE?! I don't want no two week notice! You make a choice right now! Either you want to stay, OR THERE'S THE FRONT DOOR!!" he screamed, pointing towards the exit. "And you got a mortgage to pay?" he sneered sarcastically, "You make your choice right now!"
Caught offguard, with everyone's eyes staring and waiting to see how I would respond to his challenge, I silently walked to my desk and sat down.
He thought he'd won.
Now let me stop this story here.
I don't have to tell you that this boss was as wrong as two left shoes for the things he said to me and for his habit of antagonizing and berating his employees. I had accepted his mistreatment for far too long. And in that moment, a light switched on, and I decided that enough was enough.
I went in the bathroom. I cried. I talked to the Creator and asked him to show me what to do. I wanted to leave that very second and never work for that person again.
Instead, I calmed myself down and worked through the remainder of the day. I went home that evening, had dinner and slept.
The next day, I went to work and did the payroll.
Afterwards, I politely asked the boss if I could speak with him privately.
Then I politely told him that I had made my choice. I was leaving and I would not be coming back.
As the bully of a boss watched in disbelief, I calmly gathered my things, walked out the front door and into the thick heat of the June morning. I put one foot in front of the other and never looked back.
My mortgage, utility bills, and other cost of living expenses were breathing down my neck, but I heard the call to leave that job behind in favor of bigger and brighter things. So I silenced my fears and listened to that call.
The boss called me four days later, asking me to return to work. He tried to persuade me by saying that he would be willing to pay me for the week I had been out after my resignation, saying that we would just consider it my week of paid vacation. He also agreed to pay me a $.75 cent increase (but he agreed reluctantly, and only after making me promise not to tell any of my co-workers about the raise).
It was during this conversation that I realized that there was nothing to go back for. I had outgrown the job and had no desire to go back to work for him.
So once again, I told him that my answer was "no."
No, I would never work for him again.
"But when did the miracle happen?" you're probably wondering.
It happened days afterwards.
Worried about how I would be able to pay my mortgage and other bills, I talked to the Creator in my prayer time, asking for His help. Asking for him to save me and show me what to do.
I went to my mailbox days later, and absentmindedly removed the envelopes inside. I flipped through the envelopes, reading them one at a time. Junk mail, bill, bill, junk mail...until I flipped to one particular envelope.
It was from my mortgage company.
"Now, what kind of nonsense could this be?", I wondered, as I tore open the envelope. My mortgage wasn't due for another week or so and I had no idea why the company would be contacting me.
To my amazement, I opened the envelope to find a check for nearly $1,000 inside!
Specifically, the check was for something like $989.99, but close enough!
I was speechless. I was dumbstruck. I was overcome with tears of gratitude.
Turns out the check was a refund from my escrow...and it could not have come at a more appropriate time.
Can you say miracle?
I've had other miracles happen to me as well.
Once when I was praying, I was sitting and facing a bedroom window, and murmuring the words of my prayer as I gazed at the indigo night sky. I asked for a sign to answer my question. No sooner had the words left my mouth, when I saw a falling star streak through the dark sky. I was so startled by it, and it happened so fast, that I actually blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to be sure I had seen what my eyes thought they had seen. There were no fire works. Airplanes don't move that fast, then disappear, and it wasn't a bird.
I saw a falling star.
Another miracle is the fact that I even became a homeowner in the first place.
At the age of 22, I briefly dated a guy who owned his own home. Although our relationship fizzled, I felt inspired to become a homeowner myself after enjoying the time I spent at his place. At the time, I lived in a one-bedroom, shoe-box sized apartment that was prone to bone-chilling drafts in the winter and suffocating heat in the summer, but my mind was made up. I took a homebuying class at a local university, began saving my money, worked with several real estate agents before finally finding one I was compatible with, then finally bought my first home nine months later!
Once I had made up my mind to purchase a home, it happened...nine months later!
Another miracle, involves my father, who had been missing from my life since I was four. When, at 25, I became engaged to be married, I sadly told my mother one evening how much I would love to have my father give me away at my wedding. I had been using the internet to search for him, but my search had been fruitless. Not having seen my father for 21 years at that point, I didn't know whether he was dead or alive.
One night, my mother slid me a scrap of paper with a phone number penciled across it. She casually told me that it was his cell phone number. I eagerly dialed the number and felt my heart threatening to pound through my chest as I anxiously waited for the line to be answered.
A man's groggy voice suddenly spoke.
It was my father.
We were both in disbelief that we were talking to one another after so many years.
A month later, he came to visit my sister and I. He met my fiance; they became fast friends.
Seven months later, he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.
These are my miracles, and I'm so thankful that I've experienced them.
How many have you had?
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