Blogging 101: Introduce Yourself

I know that I have been blogging for a while, but I feel like I’ve lost some focus on what my blog is and where I want to go with it. I wanted to join Blogging 101 a few months back, but, as usual, I missed the deadline.

Well not this time around! And January seems like the time for resolutions and following through, so I decided to enroll! Our first assignment is to introduce ourselves (yes, I’m a little late, but I signed up yesterday the 5th, and the first assignment was posted on the 4th – oops):

I do have an “about me” section, but it’s fairly generic. I’ve been writing since I was a youngster in grade school. I always kept them private, though. I never wanted anyone to see my writing – mostly in fear of rejection. I remember one time when I was in 6th grade, we had to write a Halloween story for class. I turned mine in and I got an A on it. I was so proud. The next day, my teacher asked the students who would like to volunteer to read their stories. The popular outgoing students all raised their hands and wanted to show off their stories. I did not. I didn’t like to be put in the spotlight. After about five students read their stories, no one else volunteered to read, so my teacher called on me to read mine. I was terrified! I stumbled on my words. My OWN words. A few students laughed at me. My own classmates thought laughing at me would be appropriate. So, I stopped reading, sat back down at my desk and I didn’t finish my story. That kept me from wanting to share my writing for a very long time. It seems silly now – to let other people’s reactions dictate MY actions. I shouldn’t have let it bother me so much, but I did. After all, I was only in 6th grade.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, so I turned to writing stories – mostly based on people that I knew. Writing about what you know is easier, especially to a grade schooler. It wasn’t until high-school that I shared a few poems that I read, but only with a few friends. And DEFINITELY not online. I did start an online journal once. Anyone remember Livejournal?? The majority of my entries were set to private, but I would post things like “I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and watched a movie today.” Nothing of substance at all.

I started this blog in 2011, but never really wrote anything in it for a while. I would post quotes or inspiration sayings very rarely for the first year. It wasn’t until I discovered heartache and wine that I published my first poem, “Back to September” and, admittedly, I was not sober. I received such positive feedback about my writing style and letting my emotions public, that I got the courage to write a few more poems. All of them about boys (go figure, right?) and all because of heartaches.

I could never quote commit to blogging, though. I started many posts, but I never published them. “Do people actually read this stuff?” was (and still is) a thought that crosses my mind. I think most of it is out of fear: fear of rejection, fear of sounding stupid, or fear of being too public about my life.

My hope with doing these Blogging 101 courses is to find some focus for my blog, but also to connect with other writers/bloggers. I am a Metra commuter (just over an hour each way to work) so I very much so enjoy reading blogs and building online support groups. Hopefully this will help me learn to let it go.

//cue Elsa//

Until next time.
xoxo
Megs

Blogging 101: Introduce Yourself link.

A Day In The Life

I don’t think it’s a secret that I commute to work every day. I wrote about it a few times on my blog, but Twitter is where I spit out random thoughts during my rides home. I use ” #MetraTravels” in my tweets if you want to follow it!!! The people are fairly interesting – especially if I’m taking a late train home. Anyway, I’ve had many people ask me what my day is like since I do travel to get to work. So, naturally, I decided to write a post about it. 🙂

(Prior to Nov 6th, 2014)

5:15am: The dreaded alarm. I try (key word “try”) to wake up Josh. He isn’t a morning person. Many people aren’t. I’m definitely not judging him! Okay fine, maybe I am a little!

5:20am: Josh is sleeping again. He needs a lot of coaxing to get out of bed. Usually after five minutes, I can convince him to get moving and into the shower.

5:45am: I refuse to get my butt out of bed until Josh is out of the shower. Why? Well, he forgets I need to use the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Trust me, babe, no boogie man is up this early in the morning… He finally gets out around this time, and then I get out of bed and begrudgingly find work clothes.

6:00am: Josh and I hop into the car and head to Great Lakes.

6:46am: Since Josh works at the Naval base, he drops me off at the Great Lakes metra station. He could drop me off in Kenosha, but I’d rather spend the extra time with him in the morning. Besides, the train that he would drop me off at in Kenosha is the same one that arrives at this time, so I might as well enjoy sitting in a car for part of the way instead of on those uncomfortable metra seats!

8:02am: My train arrives downtown at Oglivie.

8:15am: Some mornings, I will go and work out at the gym across the street – FFC. The mornings I don’t go to the gym, I’ll sit in Starbuck and drink coffee and do some reading/writing. Or I’ll go bother the friends I have on a different floor.

9:30am: Start work

6:00pm: End of shift

6:30pm: I work only two blocks away from the train station, so I can leisurely walk on over to Oglivie to catch my train. I usually fall asleep before we even leave the station!

7:57pm: Arrive back in Kenosha. Josh is always waiting for me with a smile on his face. 🙂

8:30pm: Josh and I have been kinda bad at planning out dinners lately. So we have to visit Festival almost every day to buy something to make for dinner. Most of the employees know who we are… that’s how often we are there! Is it acceptable to be a regular at the grocery store??

10:00: After dinner, Josh and I will watch some TV and relax, except bed time rolls around very quickly!! Around this time, I try to convince Josh that I need to go to bed, but he convinces me to watch another episode of “Chicago Fire.”

Super thrilling, I know!! I told you my life wasn’t as exciting as you all thought! 🙂 I am very excited to announce, though, that my hours at work have finally shifted!! So – the quick version: I get downtown at 8:02, run over to Starbucks – it’s a must so don’t judge me – then I start work at 8:15, end at 4:45, RUN over to the train station, depart Oglivie at 5:03, and arrive home to my lovely boyfriend at 6:27pm.

Most people say that they couldn’t handle commuting every single day. I absolutely LOVE Chicago and I love working here. I get asked if I miss living here: No I don’t. I do NOT miss the high rent. Working down here is all I need to get my fill of Chicago. Sure, hanging out for happy hour and wandering downtown after work can be fun, but I couldn’t imagine my life any other way right now.

xoxo
megs

Uncertainty

 Weekly Writing Challenge: 1,000 Words | Uncertainty.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/inspiration-images-1000-words/#more-68234

In life, I am faced with choices. Some I later regret in life. Like dating that boy who Mom hated, but I did what I wanted anyway and ended up with a broken heart and an “I told you so.” Seriously, always listen to Mom. She knows best. I wish I knew this when I was younger. Some we look back on and laugh and wonder how we ever thought that was a good idea. But each decision I made taught me a lesson: a lesson of life, of love, of friendship…

The feeling of uncertainty overwhelms me often. I do not like uncertainty. But my curiosity usually gets the best of me. I see a tunnel, not knowing there it leads, but I’m going to wander down it anyway. More often than not, I regret it. Sort of. I regret not knowing better, yet, at the same time, I knew deep down that I needed to learn something. I don’t give my self-conscious enough credit. It teaches me lessons I didn’t know I needed to learn. I dated people who I know were bad for me. But I wanted to feel accepted. I wanted to belong. No one wants to be single. No one wants to be the one at the dance sitting at the table in the corner, hoping no one comments on the solidarity, because she didn’t have a date to the dance. Nope. Nope, definitely not talking from experience… nope. So, I’d walk down the darkened path, holding hands, but not too tight: tight enough to know I wasn’t alone, but loose enough to let go once I knew I deserved better. My Reason kicked in eventually.

I never wanted someone to define me.  It was easy to walk in the dark down a mysterious path with someone. I knew there would be an exit at the other end. I didn’t know when, and I didn’t know where, but I knew it would be there. I knew it would show up at some point, so I always looked for the exit.

Life has been an incredible unpredictable journey. Bruises and scars define my life, but they do not restrict my journey. And sometimes, life just might surprise you. And you might just fall in love and find someone to hold onto tightly without thinking about letting go.

Everyday is a journey. Embrace it.

It Ain’t Nothin But The Truth

To say “I don’t know where my inspiration comes from” would be a lie.

A big fat lie. Everyone knows. No one tells.
Who wants to be that blogger searching for pity or praise? Am I being too humble? (Is that pretentious to even suggest???) Or am I just a big coward hiding being a computer screen?

My inspiration comes from life experiences. Should be obvious, right? But not always. Every single poem is about someone. Although, most likely, that person doesn’t know it. Or probably give two hoots about it. And that’s fine with me. I don’t blog for them anyway. I blog for me. I blog to write down my life experiences to maybe reflect upon them in my wiser years. And for whomever finds me interesting enough to know about my boring everyday life.

Also, I’m funny. Or so I’m told.

Many life experiences remain undocumented,  sadly. Many thoughts and opinions stay locked up in my head – on repeat until my brain fixates itself on something else. Usually cheesecake. Or baking. Or something that will undoubtedly make me fat.

This, my friends, is why I work out.

But yes, the truth. You’ve been waiting for it, and it ain’t nothin but the truth. But I’m afraid of vulnerability. I mean, who isn’t right? Seems like a silly unnecessary thing to state. Saying it makes it real. 

I might be only twenty-seven, but I’ve been through some major life experiences. None of which are publicly documented. And most of which many people have never experienced. And every time I try to write about something so personal –  so emotional – I clam up and stop. That delete button needs to disappear. How ironic?

My struggles and triumphs will become faded distant memories if never recorded. I’m never the one to make promises I cannot keep. So I’ll leave you with a real expectation:

I’ll probably be drunk on red wine when I decide to show my real self. Not that I’m fake now; I’m just vague. None of my posts have been fictional, although I wish some were. So here’s to using my blog as a blog.

Who knew that’s what these were for??

Back To September

Suffocating.
Barely breathing.

The lingering throbbing pains in my chest-
Your strong warm hands held tight against my neck,
But I like it.
At least you’re still touching me-
Still within an arm’s reach.
The thought of you vanishing forever
Is like a tapeworm feeding off my emotions,
my pain,
my suffering.
You sucked the life and compassion through my soul
The part that cared,
But now that’s gone—
Faded away into some unknown oblivion
of compassion sucking leeches.

My legs succumb to the numbness,
My knees buckle from the pressure.
Each agonizing step forward is one step further away from you
Away from your boyish grin
Contagious laugh
Spontaneous personality.

I stop and look back.

You’ve become the boy with a crooked smile
Annoying laugh
Reckless personality.

I took one last look at you–
My eyes swollen and red from the tears,
Fragments of mascara smeared down my cheeks–
And I turn back around and walk away.
Far away.
Never to look back at you
Or your face.
Not like I used to look at you.

A miniscule piece of softheartedness and love
escaped the tapeworm’s wrath.
Slowly, your hands surrender,
Freeing my bruised neck
The suffocation ceases
Barely.
It’s still hard to breathe.
Every time I see you,
I won’t forget
But I’m healing
And piecing myself together.

Frenzied Freshman, Grudging Graduates

I remember the long daunting days trudging to class with an array of books slowly slipping out of my arms, but still maintaining composure to not fall flat on my face in the midst of the confident seniors: people who somehow appeared to know exactly how to act, even though most undoubtedly masqueraded—flawlessly, I might add—throughout the halls. How I immensely wished to be them and to acquire their apparent profound understanding of college life. I ached for my college life to cease existing. I wanted to taste the victory of my graduation day just as those seniors could. I imagined walking across that stage. I could smell the old musty paper from inside the leather bound plaque. I imagined the relief to never need to attend college classes again.

I blinked.

As a college graduate, I envy those freshmen: these students anxiously want to graduate, just as I did six years ago. (Yes, six. Thank you indecisive mind for changing majors three times.) I observe first year students rolling their eyes and sighing while gossiping about the oh-so-horrendous attendance rule.  I want to sit these students down and advise them to just surrender themselves to knowledge and to everything college offers. I want to tell them to not let college fly by, but instead, let it progress slowly and let their minds become sponges.

I think what my 200+ word blog post boils down to three little words: I miss school.