Nasty Routines (A Way to Minimize Stress)

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This is one for the masses Monkeys.

It's half way coming from my need to write this down to solidify my resolve, halfway just me pleading to you before it's too late. But I can see your minuscule mind is confused, so I'll back things up. Once again kiddies, it's story time.

I came home with a very weary heart on Sunday afternoon. I had spent the weekend at my friends and while it was fun it was spent mostly cleaning and with entirely too many people (introverted people problems). To add the cherry on top I had nursery duty that morning and was abandoned by the person who was supposed to be helping. It was a special service up in church, so not only did I desperately want to be up there but it was twice as long and there were a lot of visiting babies. Visiting baby=crying baby. And I had to brave that on my own. (At one point four different children were crying at once and I had to either hold them or rock them all at the same time. Don't ask me how I did it because I can't remember for the life of me.) Luckily the music pastor's wife and daughter took pity and helped me out, but it was still overly stressful. And too add another cherry, I found out afterwards that a friend of mine who I desperately wanted to see (for reasons I feel I should not disclose on the internet) was there and I totally missed her.

Like I said, weary heart. 

So I came home and was able to relax for all of two seconds before I jumped into business that I had to catch up on over the weekend, including writing enough blogs to last me for months to come should I ever be too busy. At some point I got a head-splitting migraine and crazed the soothing powers of mint tea. I went to the tea cabinet, all of the mugs were dirty. I grabbed a mug and went to the sink to wash it quickly, but all the rags were gone, presumably up in the laundry room. Not only that but at the bottom of my sink my drain was clogged and moldy water had pooling on the bottom. Much to my dismay I went upstairs to see if maybe a quick nap would help only to realize that my bedroom was a disastrous mess. I go to the bathroom, thinking a shower could clear my mind but it was clogged by my sister's impossibly thick hair. When I come back downstairs the smell of warm food wafted to my nose. What luck, I thought. Surely a meal could lift my spirits. But, again, I found myself disappointed again, because rather then a home cooked meal I was greeted with a greasy whopping baconator. (I swear, sometimes I feel myself getting fatter.)

I recognize that most of this is out of my control. As much as I help to keep the house clean, living with an 11 year old and a 15 year old, it's a pipe dream. But I did also dig my own grave to some extent. So, without further ado, I present some routines to help keep the little things little.

Never underestimate the power of a home cooked meal. 
Junk food is an illusion. Home cooked meals are where the true taste lies. Sometimes, and I'm not even kidding, you can taste the love.

Dedicate a day every other week or so just for cleaning. 
Clean your room, clean your kitchen, and above all, clean your bathroom. To me, nothing feels more relaxing then a clean bathroom. Bathrooms, in my opinion, are very nearly sacred. It's the one place were you are allowed private, quiet moments of meditation. And don't forget to do your laundry and dishes. Nasty little Monkeys like that have a tendency of piling up when we're not looking.

Even the details count. 
It sounds silly, I know, but make your bed in the morning. Keep your books in alphabetical order by author. Make sure everything has it's proper place. If it's useless, chuck it. Free space in your room equals free space in your mind.

If you live with others, try your best not to bring your anger home with you. 
Anger is an infectious emotion, it spreads like wild fire. When you come home with a chip on your shoulder, the next person will sense it and become angry by result. And so on and so forth until the entire house is yelling at each other for no reason at all. But come home with a smile on your face and it'll be returned, and even if it's fake, with the reactions you get from your fellow housemates it will become genuine before you know it.

It seems like a pain in the butt, but it goes a long way. So please, pretty please, take care of yourself.

(And for those of you with pets, I am currently developing ways to potty train them and will get back to you.)

College And Stuff...

OH DEAR GOODNESS IS SHE STILL ALIVE?!

Yes, Monkies, I yet live. After numerous dealings with pyschics and shady back-alley necromancers, I've returned. (With all my soul...I hope.) And coming from the grave I present to you, college! (Da-da-da DAAAAAAAAAAAA) 

As I mentioned a bit in my previous post, come fall I will be attending Columbia College Chicago, and thusly I thought I might sprinkle you with a couple of thoughts with ending my high school career and looking ahead to college.

First off, and I really can never say this enough, senior year is the most useless invention man kind has ever created. I mean this, sincerely. See, all throughout high school, heck, all throughout school itself, no matter how much I dreaded it I could never ignore the fact that school was at least somewhat useful. However senior year does not follow the pattern. By now we've learned what needs to be learned, done what needs to be done, and are over all ready to start our lives. And while some might not share my enthusiasm  I am eager to get on with my career, namely writing. Over the past year, basically when I started writing queries, I've felt a little restless with my writing. I can't just sit still and do nothing anymore, I need to be creating a story or reading a book or trying to find agents. And too me, school is a huge waste of time. I'm sitting in class hearing the same old things out of different mouths, all the while thinking about all the work I could be doing were I not wasting my time with these classes. I thought, at the very least, that the writing classes would be marginally helpful. Dead wrong, I'm still finishing those assignments with ease. Even worse, in school I cannot write how I want too, how I know is good. No, I'm stuck to the confines of a rubric. I've looked for a point to it, I truly have, yet it alludes me.

So if any two things can be inferred about the previous paragraph, you could either take away that I really don't like high school right now, or that I could really use a piece of tangerine in a tuba with a cat dangling off of the swing singing the camp fire song. Simplicity dictates that we go with the former (and yet my heart is with the later).

My feelings toward college are a bit more befuddled. I'm caught between wanting it so badly I could eat a cow and being so nervous about it that I could eat a cow. From what I gather from my college going friends it's ten times better then high school, but that's what they said about high school from middle school sooooooooooo.....................
I feel it's a great privilege to be accepted to Columbia, and a great opportunity to further my writing and meet other people with the same goals and dreams as me.

So, yeah, there are my thoughts. Maybe one of these days I'll write something useful. Until then I think I'll just stick to eating cows.

Greetings and Goodbye Yet Again (Kinda)

Hey, remember when I promised today would be a real posting? Yeah, I lied.

Earlier this week I found out that I was accepted to Columbia College Chicago, so I am all a flutter with scholarship money for that, and even with out that it is finals week in good ol' MSHS and I'm pratically rewriting Scrapper for the Christian Writer's Guild Writing For The Soul Conference, so there ya go!

I will still be posting things when I find a pocket of time, but I'm warning you Monkeys now it will not be as consistant as it has in the past. Apologies.


Happy Writings!

2013

Tis late, and yet....

HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU MONKEYS! 

I LOVE YA NERDS!!

And I so promise I'll write a real blog next time....Until then, peace out homie!