305 Fitness Reflection

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At the time I wrote this, pen to paper, sitting next to my daughter who is sitting on the potty, I don’t know yet if I am 305 certified. I’m feeling hopeful that i am, but that’s not what I want to focus on. I want to take a moment to reflect on the journey.

What better place to start, than the beginning?

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For Every Mom on the Go: Dr. Scholl’s

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As a mom, it’s no secret I’m always running around. Errands, doctor’s appointments, chasing Kiara outside, trying to get a workout in, and all life’s moments in between. That is why I’m so glad to have partnered up with Dr. Scholl’s® to try out their Stylish Step® insoles.

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What It Took To Realize- Chapter Three

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“What?” I cried.

“New York City! For the weekend! Aren’t you excited?” She began to bounce up and down.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve got a few jobs there this weekend, and there’s this big party tomorrow night…” She slowly trailed off.

I shook my head. “Tupaia,” I whined. “You know I don’t do parties. The last time I went, everyone laughed at me.” The thought of it pushed tears up through the back of my eyes. I couldn’t dance, and when I tried I hit someone in the face. Everyone stared at me, leering, laughing, and pointing. As if that wasn’t enough, they started making fun of the way I looked, the way I was dressed. My ribs began to suffocate my heart, which began to beat wildly trying to escape like a caged bird.

She jumped over my luggage and wrapped her arms around me. “I know, but it’ll be different this time. You don’t have to dance, and it’s a masquerade ball! Masks; no one will even know it’s you!”

Doubt gripped my throat. I continued to shake my head.

“I promise you, it won’t be like last time.” Her sapphire eyes pleaded with me. They were soft, childish, and naive; even though Tupaia was older than a few eras.

I nodded.

She squealed, jumping with me still wrapped in her arms.

This is going to be a disaster.

 

*

We arrived in New York City around noon the next day. As soon as we arrived in the “Big Apple” we dumped our luggage in our hotel suite. The suite was four rooms big and lavished in all shades pink. Light screens hung at the windows which presented us with a front-row view to time square. The streets were busy with buses and taxis. With people on foot or bikes. The buildings reached endlessly at the sky where music videos and ads played on them. The bedrooms were just as big and elegant as the rest of the suite. My bed was all round and covered in equally circular, silky blankets and pillows.

After ditching our luggage we fled to get ready for the ball. Tupaia wore a long elegant sapphire gown that complimented her soft defined curves and matched her eyes. Her wavy brown hair was wrapped up in a bun, and she wore a peacock feathered mask upon her face. She was stunning, as usual.

Tupaia had “her people” dress me in an emerald mermaid dress with a blue sequined mask that almost looked like scales, and my red hair flowed down my back. They all gasped, exclaiming, “She looks like Ariel!”

I grimaced. I was always jealous of Ariel; she had a father, loving sisters, and married her prince charming. She was beautiful and everyone loved her. She was everything I wished I could be.

Tupaia grabbed my hand, “You look like a model.”

I snorted.

*

As soon as we entered the facility where the party was being held, Tupaia went on her way to make a good impression with various modeling agencies and photographers. I went to the back of the club, where I sat alone for most of the night. The club was dark and gray. People were scattered everywhere dancing with strangers, mingling by the bar with blue lights and drinks in their hands. I was out of place.

I was surprised when the song, “Voodoo” blared through the speakers since I hadn’t heard it until a few days ago. But that was not the weirdest part of the night. No, the unusual thing was after the song had just ended, when a hand was held out in front of me. “Dance with me.” I looked up at a boy dressed all in black, with a black hat which covered his hair and a black mask covering most of his face, but his sunray eyes, curvy mouth, and soft chin.

I looked around for someone else that he could be talking to.

“Please.”

I looked up into his golden eyes, and for some reason I could not say no. I took his hand in mine and let him lead me out into the middle of the dance floor. “Resistance” by Muse began to pound through the speakers. He pulled me close against his soft chest. “Follow my lead,” he whispered into my ear. His voice was a little higher pitched than I imagined, but still comforting somehow. My heart threatened to break through my chest as he began to glide us across the dance floor. The lead singer’s voice sang into my ear “Is our secret safe tonight and are we out of sight?” The tempo began to pick up, as he twirled me around, and around. Everything became blurry, but his golden eyes that my gaze had become fixed on.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed into my mouth.

I lost my breath. As the words, “Love is our resistance. They’ll keep us apart and they won’t to stop breaking us down. Hold me, our lips must always be sealed,” poured from the speakers our lips began to draw close to each other, like negative and positive attraction between magnets. When our lips were practically grazing, he drew away to lift me above him, and spin me in the air. He slowly brought me down as the song drew to an end and another song began. Our eyes were locked into one another’s, and for that moment, the world had faded away.

I heard the light sound of someone clapping, and I was pulled out of the spell I was under. I looked around to see that people had gathered and began to clap. They smiled and pointed, whispering to their friends. I fell back through memories, and all of a sudden I was at my last party, where everyone was laughing at me. I had to get away.

I pushed past the mystery boy’s shoulder, a wave of his vanilla scent followed after me along with his cry, “Wait!”

I sprinted through the doors and into the brisk NYC’s February air. The sidewalks were lined with slush, and the roads were busy with taxis, but I didn’t care as I ran across the streets, through the slush, while cars honked at me. I could hear his voice distantly crying, “Where are you going?”

I didn’t, I couldn’t stop until I was in my hotel suite. I flung myself onto the king’s size bed and cried myself to sleep.

*

In the morning, I woke to Tupaia sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking my hair. “I heard about what happened last night,” she said. “Everyone thought you and that boy were fantastic!”

I buried my face into the silky pillow.

“So why’d you run out?”

A tear burned its way through my right eye. “They were all lookin’ at me…”

“They thought you were amazing, Morgan!” She exclaimed.

I tore my face from the pillow, and looked up at her. Her hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, and in her silver silk pajamas, she looked like a goddess. “There was somethin’ about him,” I told her, “that made me forget everyone was there.”

She smiled, and her eyes grew distant. “I’ve felt like that before.” I wondered when. Tupaia hardly ever talked about what her life was like before she took me in. “It must be love,” she said at last.

I fell into the pillow. Love? With a guy I don’t know? I didn’t even know his name, how could I love him? And what about Leroy? I stared at Tupaia contemplating how it would be possible to love someone you only met once. “I’ll probably never see him again,” I sighed.

Tupaia laid down next to me, and held me in her arms like she use to do when I was young. “You never know. Things have a funny way of working themselves out.”

*

I bummed around the suite watching re-runs of H2O, my favorite TV show, while Tupaia went to her modeling jobs. I watched, for about the millionth time as three girls, unlikely to become so close, had no choice after they are transformed into mermaids with powers over water. I fantasized that I was one of those girls, instead of who I was. I didn’t even have powers.

I imagined how great it would be if my life were like the TV show. Being surrounded by friends who knew and accepted my secret, being able to lean on them when things were tough… Would I ever gain friends like that? I wondered. Doubtful.

That afternoon I drove the thirteen and a half hour drive back to Folly alone. Tupaia had scored more modeling jobs in the city from the ball Saturday night, so I decided to go home on my own to get ready for school the next day. The white lines on the thru-way melted away. All I could see was the mystery boy’s golden eyes. The whole way home, I smelled vanilla. I’ll never see him again.

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A New Way To Keep My Sanity

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I hadn’t read a book in so long I forgot why I love reading them (and just as importantly, writing them!). It’s about losing yourself in another world, a different time, someone else’s inside, messed-up life. It’s about leaping into the rabbit hole.

My reading cycle slowly began to sputter back to life over the Christmas Holiday when I picked up David Levithan’s Every Day. The book called to me from the display of a second floor Barnes & Noble. It was a gravitational pull that lead me to “What Teens Are Reading”. There was something about this paperback. The pale yellow cover or the lettering. All I knew is I had to have it. Like a sponge; I soaked half of this book up in a comfy oversized arm chair in the lounge part of the Pittsford Barnes & Noble. The mere idea of this character- someone who woke up in a new body everyday, was interesting, but it was the objective thoughts on racism, genderism, and love that had me so intrigued. The was a subtle message that was so well placed, so well said, I finished the book in awe. It was a moment where you step back, begin a slow-clap, and tip your hat saying, “Well done.”

Since that book I had been hungry for something more. Some other book to blow my mind.

While I have a few in progress, I really hadn’t found the one that would kick-start my book frenzy. Until, of course, Splinter.

Again, I’m at Barnes & Nobles, wandering through the Teen section when it catches my eye. The glowing green vines that frame the cover, blond hair shaping her small face as her big blue eye makes contact with mine.

I’ve seen this cover before.

I pick up the book and as I suspect, I had seen it on Nathalia Sullen’s website when I was checking her out as a potential cover designer for What It Took To Realize & Voodoo. This was one of the covers that made me send that initial email.

I buy it. The second one too.

And finally, I have found the book I’ve been looking for. The one to ignite that little flame in the back of my brain that flickers as it chants: Must read. Must read.

Then it all clicks. Reading. The solution to my pressing anxiety and headaches of frustration and unhappiness that cloak me at work. Read.

Now, when I tell you I have books spread out everywhere, I do mean everywhere. From Real Mermaids Don’t Wear Toe Rings in the bathroom (you know… for bathroom-ly things…), to A Blue So Dark in the livingroom, Splintered at the bedside, and Coyote Blue by the hilarious Christopher Moore propped open next to my computer at work for some sly entertainment.

Maybe books are consuming my life… Or maybe they’re just the thing I need right now to keep my sanity through my own rollercoaster.

Living The Dream

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Here I am again. I think this is even the same parking space I used yesterday… No, I was over one space. Staring into the tree’ skinny and twisted spine. The thin dark green leaves popping out at me. But it all feels like a dream. And I wish, instead of seeing through the thicket to the field of brown dead grass, there was a lush forest. Somewhere I could wonder. Fine a suitable bolder to sit on and eat my lunch. Feel the wind, hear the rustle of leaves, just to be at peace.

Instead I eat lunch in my car. I can’t bare to go back inside. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. I suppose I am being foolish when I should be thankful. I practically begged for this job afterall. But I’m not happy here. This isn’t what I want. I should be grateful for all the useful skills I am learning that I can translate right into marketing for my book. But… God… I am just so miserable! How does anyone do it? How does he do it? Work somewhere you’re just so unhappy? I should be used to it I suppose; or maybe my tolerance has warn thin.

“You’ll never be happy with your job.”

Is this true? Is there really nothing out there that I could like? Am I doomed to become a zombie answering telephones, “Thank you for calling… How can I help you?” Wandering through life with a gray overcast and slaving away at a job I hate all day to slave away working towards (what feels like) a hopeless dream by night?

It’s like… No matter what I do, or where I go, I am out of place. I look around at work and everyone seems to genuinely enjoy what they do. Even when they’re stressed you can just tell they are happy. I want that. I’ve only come close. The only thing that makes me happy is writing. But writing doesn’t pay the bills.

I should be happy. I work at a publishing company- a truly great company! It’s like I’m living the dream… I just don’t know whose dream it is…

Hummmm

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Just got home. 10 minutes earlier than a normal day, 10 minutes later than a good day.

God, Mondays suck.

I pick up the phone from the cup holder, preparing to text Kyle and let him know I’m home, but I am distracted by an article I was dying to read. Something about how writers kill off their characters. I thought about it, every book I have outlined, rough chapters scribbled on paper, all in my desk in the bedroom; in every story I kill someone. Then I’m thinking about Disney movies and how Mom pointed out that someone dies in every one (usually a parent).

Taylor Swift’s “All You Had To Do Was Stay” is still pumping through the Sable’s speakers. I open the door so I don’t look like one of those people who just listen to music in their car, the bass thumping away.

The wind whips through the open door and I hear it. The humming. A chill runs deep up my spine. I’m almost afraid to look, but I do. It’s a girl, a pretty ordinary looking girl. She is wearing a gray and black zipped jacket, with the hood down. Her brown hair is back with a thick, obnoxiously bright orange hair band. But it’s too thick to be a hair band, more like a sweatband. And I watch her for a moment. She just keeps walking, head down, humming. Her hum still makes me shake. For a second, I’m convinced it’s not even her. The ominous sound is all around me like a tornado.

I get inside and lock the door without looking back.

Dreamer Talks Books Book Review

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I’m so excited to receive my first book review for What It Took To Realize/ Voodoo. It’s been a marvelous journey that all began 2+ years ago in the library of my high school where the idea was born. And where the entire first draft was written… before I scrapped it and started it all over.

Inspired by Alexz Johnson’s song “Voodoo”, The Morgan and Emmaline’s story both came to life. I am so thankful for all the support I have gotten from my friends, family, and co-workers. I hope everyone else can enjoy this story just as much!

Thank you Jacquelyn for such a great review!

Please check it out on her blog: Dreamer Talks Books!

Summer, summer what to this year?

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Summer, summer

Here I come

Light you up with a torch

Summer, summer

Here you are

Swinging on my back porch.

Summer, summer

Don’t you leave

I can’t take the chilly breeze.

Summer, summer

Stay forever

We don’t need that cool December.

 

Anyways now that I got that out of the way ;]. What am I going to be up to? Not much ;\ but I am working on a few songs I wrote the summer before my sophomore year of HS. I plan to re-write them and play them on my guitar…? What? Yes. Maybe. It’s been awhile so we’ll see. Other than that I have been nominated for another blog award! More about that coming soon ;] promise! And that’s all for now folks, see ya on the bloggin’ streets.

Inspiring Blog Award

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Rules to this award:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award.

2. Tell 7 things about yourself that will not have come up in your blog entries.

3. Pass it on to 7 blogs you find inspiring and explain why.

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Thank you to ‘Nessa (Bluesander) for nominating me for this award! It means so much and frankly I’m not sure what to say. In truth I think you are the one spoiling me 😉 Your posts are equally relatable and inspirational to me which makes this award all the more special. I am just overwhelmed with pure joy, so thank you so much!!!

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My seven things:

1.) I really like fashion. I love dressing up and down in quirky things, so much so that my art teacher told me to go into design.

2.) I collect monster high dolls. I planned on giving them to my future child but I think they’ll just stay in the box where they’ll be safe.

3.) I hate cheese. As well as many other things, I’m very picky.

4.) I collect asian doll necklaces from Forever 21 and just about anything else that looks asian.

5.) When I was a kid I used my birthday wish to wish I could become a lion (lion king was my favorite movie)

6.) I love the taste of pepto bismol (don’t worry I don’t take it unless I need it)

7.) my favorite anime/graphic novel/light novels are chibi vampire.

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My seven nominees:

Elyas ( Kweschn!) because not only is he a good friend of mine, but his poems are divine and I love that he writes about other things going on as well.

Mark Stevensson (Mark Stevensson’s Poetry) because his writing never ceases to amaze me. He writes poems about all sorts and it just seems that his words are magic. With every poem he takes my breath away.

David (Thoughts From The Outdoors) because his poems are not only great but when I read them I can see them from his point of view, and sometimes I feel like it was something I could have seen/felt.

R.L. King (75 Kaleidoscopes) because she really has talent. I also love her choose-your-own-endings for her poems, I suggest you check it out ;]

Ermisenda and Eliabeth are coauthors of Ermiliablog where they do all sorts of amazing things! They do book reviews and my favorite activities such as picture it and listen & write. They are always encouraging others and are very supportive. Ermisenda even has a book out called Blind Sight I insist you check it out!

The Tale Of My Heart, he has been there from the very beginning of my blog consistently supporting me. His posts are inspirational, funny, and moving. I want to thank him for being by my side from the start and ask him to keep up with his great posts!

If Only‘s sometimes dark emotion-filled poems unhinge something inside me and I admire the way they say what they feel.