"Warrior"

Ever had a story in your head that won't leave you alone? I've been thinking about this one for a couple weeks now, so I decided to leap back into the writing pool with this short piece. That is all. Enjoy.

He looked up at the sound of her laughing, and watched as she vigorously rubbed their puppy’s neck and ears, thanking the pup in a ridiculous voice for his slobbery kisses.

She looked so happy, and…at peace. Their earlier conversation flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help replaying her words in his head. Quite frankly, it bothered him how cavalier she was about what had happened to her; that she could just bring it up in casual conversation like it was any other event. But it had taken her five years to reach this point; surely he couldn’t begrudge her wanting to acknowledge it now and then.

It wasn’t as though it didn’t faze her at all anymore; they slept in the same bed each night, and he was all too familiar with the nightmares that still came out of the dark to terrorize her unconscious. But he understood the desire to transform something horrible into just another everyday fact. Like hitting puberty and discovering hair in places it had never been before; something that happened to you without your permission. You can’t change it, so you do your best to adapt, to accept it as part of yourself and learn to live with it.

His breath caught at the thought of just how hard it must have been for her to accept what had been done to her, to learn to live with that as a fact of her life. He’d come into her life just over a year after, and while he wouldn’t have called her broken, there had been a shadow behind her eyes; a tremor hidden her voice over the phone. She’d concealed it well, even from him, but one scarred soul always recognized another.
He’d always known it would take someone with a stubborn streak and a patient heart to reach him again. He found all that and more in her. Her fire melted his resolve, and her touch soothed his temper. He’d given her someone to lean on and taught her to confront her demons; she’d given him sincerity and taught him peace. In the end, the two of them had helped heal each other.

As he looked at her now, smiling brightly, her eyes clear and voice strong, he felt a sudden swell of pride. His woman was a warrior.

Voluntarily Unemployed

This month alone, I have left two jobs. Good jobs. Stable jobs. Jobs that just...weren't right for me. For the first time in 14 years, I am voluntarily unemployed.

I won't lie...it's a little scary.

The closest I've ever been to this situation was in late December of '09 when I was told I would be laid-off from my job at Earl May for several months. I tried to find another job during that time; something temporary since I knew Earl May would rehire me in March (which they did). So, I spent most of January and February indulging in some me-time. That, however, was different. I knew I had a job waiting for me; I knew I would only be unemployed for a specific amount of time, and I didn't have half as many financial responsibilities to budget for at that time.

Now here I am; 27 years old with bills and loans and payments to make...and a world of opportunities at my feet. For the first time ever, I am in a position to find the job I want, to think about my options before jumping into another career. As I said before, it is scary, but it's also rather invigorating. I feel surprisingly at ease and filled with a new-found sense of excitement at my current situation.

Yes, I could have stayed on at my newest job longer and given it a better shot, but I know me. I know that, when I get something in my head, it is almost impossible to change my own mind (I imagine there are several people who can back me up on that point). I know that, if I have already decided it isn't the right fit for me, I'm not going to give it my all, and that wouldn't be fair to the clients or coworkers. The news of my abrupt departure wasn't as well-received as I had hoped, but I suppose I can't really blame them for that; it's never easy or fun to hear that someone you just put through two weeks of training has suddenly changed their mind and is leaving you out of the blue.

I am not going to go into details about precisely why I decided to leave, but before the speculation can escalate, let me just say that no; it was not because I felt overwhelmed or that I had gotten in over my head (as I feared may be the case). The job simply didn't turn out to be what I thought it would be, and I knew I wouldn't be happy doing it for very long. So, I decided it would be best to leave sooner rather than later, before I had established rapport with clients and taken on a full caseload. Maybe I was wrong, but the decision felt--and still feels--right.

So, once again, here I am. Employers of the Kearney-area, be aware; this fox is officially on the hunt.

In a Most Delightful Way

I love origins stories. And I've loved Disney since before I can remember. So it's only natural that I would find a reason to see the latest combination of the two. I have to say, however, in all honesty, I really didn't expect it to...inspire such a reaction from me.

Walking out of the theater this evening after watching Saving Mr. Banks, I felt...light, and warm, and inspired. You remember that feeling when you were a kid; when you would tilt your head back, stretch out your arms, close your eyes, and take a deep breath in? It felt like, if you stayed that way long enough, you would float right up into the clouds and drift along in a heavenly blissful state. It was kind of like that, for lack of a better explanation (and had it not been so bloody cold outside, I may have been tempted to do exactly what I just described).

I have always, always loved Mary Poppins, and watching the story of how it came to be brought back all kinds of fond musings; memories I hadn't thought about in years. I suddenly remembered the first time I ever saw the film...

I was about 4 or 5, maybe even 3, we were visiting Grammy and Granddad in Thedford when Grammy put in a movie for us younger grandchildren to watch before bedtime. I was fascinated from the beginning! Drawings you can step into? Dancing penguins?? Merry-go-round horses that came to life??? It was all so purely fantastic!

After that, I distinctly remember asking my mom if we could watch "the movie with the horses and the dancing penguins" again and again. That Christmas, Grammy & Granddad sent us home with a special gift; our very own copy of Mary Poppins. I would twirl around the living room, singing aloud with every song... "Chim-chiminey, chim-chiminey, chim-chim cha-ree..." "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go dooown, medicine go down..." "Step in time, step in time, step in time, step in time, never need a reason, never need a rhyme, step in time, we step in time..."

And of course there was the matter of being able to fly simply by holding onto an umbrella. I really have no idea how many times I jumped off the top of our swing-set, eyes squeezed shut, clutching my "magic" umbrella, just sure that this time, I would open my eyes to find myself sailing above the trees and looking down on the roof of our house. I'm fairly certain we three children ruined several perfectly good umbrellas in this process, especially when the idea occurred to us that all we needed some wind to give us a boost! Luckily, our parents were patient, and our mom was very good at sewing patches onto our clothes.

Driving home tonight, I felt that little-kid-magic again. The full moon lighting up the land, the patchy clouds moving over the night sky, even a car turning down an old dirt road...it was like I stepped through one of Burt's chalk drawings into my own fantasy world. It was like I grabbed ahold of the magic umbrella and was gently sailing over the land, with all the passersby below completely unaware.

Watching Mary Poppins with Grammy is one of my favorite childhood memories, and someday, I hope I get to watch my own children jump off the swing-set with an umbrella in their hands, and I hope I get to cuddle up with my grandchildren and watch their eyes go wide with wonder when they jump through the chalk drawing and the horses leap from the merry-go-round.

So, even though I know no one with any ties to either Walt Disney or P.L. Travers will ever read my little blog entry, I just wanted to express a sincere thank you to both of them for effecting my childhood "in a most delightful waaaaay!"

Six years can feel like a lifetime

Six years ago today, something heartbreaking and life-changing happened to me (how do I remember the exact date? I harbor a few rain-man tendencies...). While I was back home having Thanksgiving with my family, my fiance at the time was celebrating his 21st birthday in Kearney (where he & I were living together) by sleeping with a stripper from Cozad. In our bed.

Bet you weren't expecting that.

So why am I airing out this particularly dirty piece of personal laundry on the internet (and probably making at least one person incredibly uncomfortable in the process)? Because, even though it was the most painful experience of my life thus far--there are not enough adjectives to describe that kind of deep-seated pain--it was quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me.

It forced me to find myself for the first time, ever. Instead of being defined by a small-town high school, and then a long-distance boyfriend, suddenly I could only be defined by me, and I had to figure out what that meant on my own. With the never-ending guidance & support of my incredible family (whom I was finally able to have a solid relationship with again!) and more than my fair share of kindred souls along the way, of course. It also led me to some of the deepest connections I've ever had, friends and more than friends.

All in all, I would have to say that this night, six years ago, is really what made me who I am (trite, but true). After about eight months of self-pity, the quiet, insecure, mousey-Shelly who begged him not to leave her & who gained 20 lbs in less than two weeks after this revelation suddenly was forced to open her eyes, and realized that she did deserve more, and that there was a whole big world out there full of wondrous experiences and intriguing people, and in the end, more than enough to keep her happy outside of that relationship.

It really does seem like another lifetime. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real, or feel like it was actually me that it happened to.

It may have taken six years, but I am finally in a place where I can look back on that night without any residual hate or malcontent. I wish him well, and I almost feel like I should thank him. For giving us both a way out of a situation that neither of us were really prepared for, and that most likely would have ended much, much worse farther down the line; for not listening to me when I insisted that we stay together no matter what; for being strong enough to walk away (the first time) when I wasn't; and for being respectful enough to bow completely the second time, after I had finally found my independence. Maybe someday I will.

Single Bar-Scene Shelly vs...well...Me

I won't lie; sometimes I really miss my single bar-scene days. I sometimes miss the tidal wave of confidence that would wash over me when the guy I'd been catching eyes with all night from across the bar would come over and introduce himself, or when I would strut across the room right up to the guy I'd been batting my eyes at and flashing coy little smiles and offer to buy him a drink.

Getting really dressed up and doing shots at the bar with my girlfriends, then heading straight to the dance floor to dance and act as crazy as we wanted; looking out over the crowd and feeling like every person in the place was watching us, either wanting to be us or be with us.

That moment when you graze his hand, or brush up against each other, or catch and hold each others' eyes for the first time that night, and you forget how to breathe for a couple seconds.

The thrill of him asking for your number--or giving you his--after one or two more tingle-inducing touches.

That moment--that awe-inspiring moment--when you know you are about to kiss. Middle of the night, end of the night, it doesn't matter. You can see it coming from a mile away and it's all you can do not to bite your lip in anticipation. You lean into each other... your limbs go numb and your stomach hollows out and your heart is slamming against your chest and the entire world vanishes around you. All that exists are his lips, pressed urgently or gently or whatever the appropriate adjective may be against yours.

Being entirely unable to wipe the grin off your face for the next 24 hours at least, because you have that kiss--or kisses if you were really lucky!--on constant playback in your head.

Yeah, I sometimes miss those things...

Then, I stop and think about all the things I don't miss.

The cheesy pick-up lines involving my last name, for one. "Oh, you are a fox!" "Ooo, I'm gonna call you foxy!" Wow, never heard those before. I'm just glad I got away from the single bar-scene before that god-awful song came out. You probably don't want to hear what this fox says to that...

Needing to have a couple drinks at a party or on a date just to ensure I find the perfect balance between non-stop, rambling chatterbox and shy, tight-lipped wallflower.

Checking my phone every ten minutes--at least--to see if the guy who did ask for my number has sent me a text yet. Or if he's responded to my text yet. Or how long it's been since I did text him and analyzing just how "clingy" I might appear if I were to text him again... Yes, I was that girl. Pretty sure most of us were, are, or have been at some point. Right now, however, I'm sitting on the couch, in my sweats, on a Saturday night, and I'm not even 100% sure where my phone is! Kind of an awesome feeling :)

Worrying about coming on too strong. "Does he like me? Does he want to see me again? If I tell him that I like him, will that scare him away? Should I act like I don't like him?" Life is so much easier when you're with someone who consistently tells you how he feels about you every single day.

Feeling like I should or had be out mingling and trying to "meet someone" because I'm in my 20s and that's what single women in their 20s are supposed to do! Even if I'd rather just spend a night in alone, that's one night of potentially finding a mate or having wild, single-girl fun that I may never get back!

Taking off the makeup at the end of the night. UGGHHHH! Otherwise it's all over your pillowcase in the morning, not to mention smeared across your face, and somehow your neck... So you take the extra 5-10 minutes after stumbling in (whether from alcohol consumption or exhaustion, it was usually a stumble for me) to scrub away at your face in case you have to open the door or something before you've had a morning shower.

The hangovers/morning-afters. I've never been a morning person any way; throw all that in the mix... It's not a pretty picture.

So yeah, I do kinda miss those days sometimes. I'm really glad I got the chance to go out and be able to strut around and flirt and act like I was the hottest thing to walk in the door. I wouldn't trade or change any of it.

I'm also kind of glad it's over (or vastly slowed down, I should say). For tonight, anyway.

Dear boy

Dear boy,

Don't let her change you,
dear boy

The boy I knew would not have gone so easily
into the quiet
into the seclusion
into the submission

The boy I knew
Saw
Wanted
Took

No excuses
No apologies
No misconceptions

No bargaining
No pleading

Only pride,
dear boy,
only pride

Can you tell me why,
dear boy?
Tell me why
you always and only
want what is not to be had

Always wanting
always wandering
always searching

Are you the tin man,
dear boy?
Are you searching for a heart?

Or perhaps a fire
to thaw the icy wall around yours

I'll see you when you return,
dear boy,
if you do

Aren't we friends,
dear boy?
Are we friends?

Things
complicate things
and people
complicate things
and some things
are just passing


Dear boy,

Don't let her change you,
dear boy

for Torture

I think we long for torture

For the pain
and the passion
and the grief of it all

For the searing burn
and the piercing cold
that will strike you straight to your soul
so that once and for all
you will know beyond knowing
this world that we live in is Real
it is Here
in the darkest place of ourselves
that we find
that Thing that craves the pain
that pushes away
and makes us ache
for the loss of it all

it is Here
that we long for the torture


for only the torture


releases the soul







(The words were flowing. I am simply the vessel.)