I know Jana from the fabulous blog, Rooted in Style, had no idea that her weekly March comments (hints, pokes, threats, whispers, plus a few tweets) of “daily is best,” those three simple words, would actually infiltrate my stubborn writing mind and make such an impact here at my blogspace. She didn’t know what she was starting, neither did I really, but I’m glad she told me to get off my ass and get with a regular program. (I know, Jana, you didn’t say it quite like that, but you were thinkin it behind those smiles and winks, weren’t ya!)

In 30 days, I’ve had less then a handful of times I wanted to climb through the computer and strangle dear Jana, so that’s good. Right? Not a bad blend of misery and enjoyment. If all things could be rationed out to 4 or 5 days of struggle, and 25 days of meaningful accomplishment, life would feel pretty swanky.

I’d like to thank everyone that has passed through these pages in the last 30 days to offer your support, wisdom, guidance, point of view, cheering and even the occasional friendly hard time. I’d say there’s one hell of a well rounded group that graces my pages with their time and for that, I consider myself lucky and humbled.

This has become my daily habit, something I look forward to every morning right along with a fresh cup of coffee. Last week, when Provocation took a tumble into the abyss for 15 soul sucking hours and I was unable to write in the morning, I felt displaced. Lost. Panicked. Like a soul experiencing irrational withdrawals. I made bargains with the technical gods and promised daily homage. If I thought there was a personal chance of insanity and I had a potential newborn in the future, I probably would have pledged it’s little life as well. I was desperate to have my daily comfort and predictable back. That’s when I knew, I was screwed. Daily is Best………….

~I rocked it. So can You~

Now, a few of you mentioned over this last month, casually, in my comment section, “Hmm, maybe I should try a 30 day/30 entry challenge.” Don’t think I wasn’t paying attention and I remember exactly which ones of you muttered it. Yes You. One of the things I did to help encourage daily accountability was sign up for Nablopomo, a community that dedicates itself to daily writing for a month. And so you know, tomorrow starts a new month, so GET ON IT. Or, as the beautiful and soft hearted Jana would sing, Daily is best……………If you do it, please let me know. If you need inspiration, I can sic Jana on you (smile)

There’s only one thing left to say today. Look at that fat full calendar off to the left. That’s right, every single day highlighted. I wrote. I rock. I actually did it! I climbed Mount Blogger, stuck my Provocation Flag in the highest peak and currently don’t feel like walking back down. Daily is Best…….

Buckle up your seat belts folks, after getting another months worth of supervised driving practise from yours truly, ( I felt she needed it after this episode ) Shelby passed her written test yesterday and has become an official independent driver of the roads. A road warrior just like the rest of us.

“Now serving ……number 211….. at counter number 12″ was smoothly and seductively purred across the speaker as we sat down with the rest of the suffering souls. They must employ the use of a sex kittens electronic voice to keep people’s minds off the fact they are aging painfully in a hard chair. I glanced at the number I had scored. 230……..it would be a long day in hell. With nothing to do beyond compulsively looking at the sad little number in my hand, I watched people.

Not to break with the flow here, but good gawd in fashion heaven, is Neon honestly making it’s way back into the wardrobes of misguided woman everywhere? I saw no less then 4 different woman wearing neon. There could have been more, but I was blinded. It could be an Idaho thing,…for the sake of the nation, I do hope it’s contained to our borders. But, if you, who is reading this, owns a neon piece of clothing. I salute you, oh mighty brave and loud one. The world definitely sees you.

Shelby was able to break through my neon trance by requesting to see my drivers license. A license I admit, I was proud of. My picture was not the awful by normal awfulness usually equated with drivers photos. I looked rather good in it and had been complimented frequently with this phrase, “Wow, that’s a pretty good drivers license photo!” to which I would smile, take my license back and pay homage to my photogenic luck. But yesterday, my daughter rattled my claim to drivers license fame by saying, “OH look Mom, your license expires next month.” Ouch. I looked at the crowd, looked at my number, thought about doing the countdown again next month and decided if I could kill two birds with one stone I’d just renew myself at the same time.

After the sands of time had dropped through the hour glass of D.M.V sex kittens voice, our number was up. We cleared the way for Shelby and she was sent off to take the test. I sweet talked my way into a renewal without a second number. First up was my eye test.

“Read the third line” So says D.M.V. goddess. “X W H S Q, blah blah” I chimed in. But honestly, it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. Things were….umm…fuzzy? Then she switched something and chimed in again, read the third line………..Nothing. Not a damn letter. It could have been the lottery numbers for tonight’s drawing, a guaranteed win of millions and I wouldn’t have been able to make out a single number. I asked her, is this a joke? Should I see those? She told me it was testing my right eye.  Blind in one eye! I had no idea! I blamed the neon in the room, told her my eye simply hadn’t recovered yet. So I can’t say why, or if this is normal for right eye blindness, or she just had neon sympathy, but she passed me anyway. Well thank you Goddess D.M.V, you’re my new hero.

As I walked over to the next station to get my picture, I studied the old license in my hand. The tilt of my chin, the width of my smile. The way my hair was tucked. I was determined to recreate picture perfection. However, when I laid eyes to the woman heading the station I was leery. The only way to describe the vibe coming off her non-smiling face was pure disgruntled D.M.V employee. I tried to smile, say hello, warm up the temperature for this all important photo op, but I’m afraid she’d already heard it all. Michelangelo couldn’t have chipped a smile out of her face.

I handed over my old drivers license and refrained from mentioning to her that she was holding a license that should be bronzed for all eternity. She told me, back up! Face the camera! Which I did, and right as I was shifting my chin, encouraging a soft half smile I heard these ominous words, “Ok, go wait over there!”

What? She took it? I wasn’t ready! Despite myself, I took life into my own hands and said, “I wasn’t ready, can I look at it it? Maybe do it over? Pleaseeee??”

“Deal…. With….. It” was her retort. Deal with it. I wanted to ask her if Santa didn’t visit her for Christmas this year. Or if she also took great pleasure in twisting little kids ears. I wanted to snarl back and curse her with neon hair and black teeth. I wanted to throw a two year old fit, but I sucked it in and waited for the proof of my drivers license demise. She is the reason people get the hives before they walk into the D.M.V. She, who is evil and heartless.

There are two things in my world. My imagination, which can go wildly overboard and factual reality. The result. My picture. The sentence I must now carry in my wallet lived up to both my imagination and factual truth. It’s hideous. The only thing I am missing is some numbers under my chin and a criminal record. This picture is a stunned mug shot. Michael Jacksons mug shot looks better then mine. As for Shelby, by the time she got done with all of her requirements, She who is evil went on a break, and Shelby got a sweet, beautiful, compassionate woman who waited for Shelby to get ready, she paused to look at the picture, told Shelby, “Oh sweetie, it’s wonderful.” Luck. Pure and Simple.

So Shelby and I walked out of that horrendous place. Shelby, smiling and flashing her new prize winning license. Me, half blind and downgraded from photo grace to became the mug shot queen, looking pissed and frothy. And how was your day?

I’m not sure how old I was when I first refused color on my person. The age when I looked my colorful Mother in the eye and said, “Nope, so sorry. No can do on the pink, or the blue, or the purple or the yellow or anything else that hints at colorful warmth and personality.”

My closet choices are extremely simple. 85% of my clothes are either black, or they are white. I’ve allowed a few pieces of gray, brown and dark earth toned greens to sneak in, but those usually sit in my closet ignored. Anyone that watched my picture video (that’s now been moved to my About Rebecca page) may have noticed it appears I’m wearing the same clothes, over and over……but I’m not. They are simply of the same non-color choice. Black or white.

I know there are some that would assume my absence of color is a way to blend into the background. That wearing black or white is a visual withdrawal from the eye’s of mainstream. I disagree. When I walk into a room I will be seen, I will make my presence known and I do not hide in the corner. I don’t need a bold color to let the world know I’ve arrived or if I’m going to be involved. Interpretation of that statement will be either arrogance or self confidence….a judgement I can not control.

The truth is, my mind is already overactive and vivid enough without adding to the cause. A red flower screams for my attention, a yellow leaf on the ground has my eye’s pinned to it’s allure. An overtly blue sky captivates me.  Right now the streets are lined with the most delicious pinks and reds from the budding trees. I could trip over myself from admiration. But it goes farther then the obvious visual delights around us. In the strange lands which I shall deem, “Rebeccas mind”, I see colors beyond the scope of explanation. Emotions are colorful. Music flows around me in color. Words are color. Energy off an excited person is a color. And no, I can’t explain this, it is what it is….Those colors are a constant, breathing in and out of my mind. It’s damn distracting.  

That is why, on me, color is an unnecessary influence. I’m too sensitive to it. The few efforts I’ve made over the years to incorporate a color to my person leaves me agitated, itching and heavily weighed down. I can’t stand it.  In my little world, that which is closest to me must be kept monochromatic, simple or I can’t think straight. Clothes, writing materials, personal space.

However, I also understand my lack of color and accessory enhanced personality props, puts a bold circle around me. This circle line can be described as unfriendly, cold, unapproachable and stand offish. I believe thats a temporary impression and once someone gets to know me they know I’m not like that. But, as the old cliche implies, you only get one chance to make a first impression………

Which is why, to some degree, I’m going back to the drawing board in regards to this blog. I had an independent, non-biased review done of this blog space  and the verdict wasn’t one I can live with. (this was a good thing, information I needed to hear and if you want a review done of your blog, email me and I’ll send you the right direction) I’m not sure how much warm and cozy I can bring into this space, but I’m going to try and find a happy medium. A stark and unfriendly impression has never been what I wanted to convey.

Of course, those who already know me, must  realize if you come here and find the kiss of blog death sign, error= 404, I was pushing buttons and touched one too many friendly colors. (smile) Or, if you show up here and found yourself trying to read this sideways, that just means I’m knee deep in my template trying to make things better!! So basically, I’m under-construction and things may look strange for bit~

Connection

This weekend I had the privilege of meeting someone that technically came from the “Internet”. When I think of a meeting that stemmed from computer origins, it’s like someone found the magical potion to mysteriously crawl from their screen and poof, they are real, alive, in full color and in 3-D outline.

I can’t claim I was part of the planning and co-ordinating of this meeting. I can’t even claim to have known this person prior to our first handshake. Husband gets the credit for sifting @AprilBraswell out of the basket of twitter.

It went a bit like this, “Hey, wife, Friday night can we meet April from twitter?”

Me, eyebrows pinched, “Ahhh ok, do I know this April? Hell, do you even know her?”

Hubby, “Oh sure, we tweet, she’s an incredible relationship specialist.”

Me, eye’s wide, “Is there something I should know, is this an ambush? I swear I only whined a little bit about you tossing Provocation into the pit of fire!”

Hubby, chuckling, “No hun, I didn’t hire her, she’ll be in town for the weekend, for a class, and thought it would be fun to meet up for dinner. Promise.”

Once I was positive it wasn’t some sort of intervention, I agreed.

I’m so glad I did! We laughed, we talked, we ate, we went back to her hotel lobby and sat by the fireplace eating cookies and drinking coffee till late in the night. April was smart, humorous, always smiling and the time went by in a flash. I had a fantastic time and can’t wait to meet up with her again in the future. I made a new friend and that’s something I hadn’t put on the agenda for the weekend.

Beyond having a beautiful time, I learned something from April I admit previously wasn’t even on my radar. She explained why she enjoys meeting up with people from the Internet whenever she travels. Something I’ve never attempted to do. Not once in all my travels…….I realized I’ve been missing out on the potential to bridge the space between this computer screen and all the wonderful people I connect with via written words. I’ve been ignoring the basic principles of meeting someone face to face, shaking their hand…..boisterous laughter and in-depth conversations. I don’t even have a pat reason why I’ve neglected the possibility and opportunities all these years.

But I aim to change that. So, who wants to do coffee and which State do I need to put in my travel plans? (grin)

Honestly, I do think I’ve been missing the connection boat. In a way I think meeting people from the Internet carried an air of taboo around it, back in the days……..but has that changed? Has the dynamics evolved into something less spooky without my knowledge? To further satisfy my curiosity, how many of you that are still reading this have met someone from the ‘Internet’ ? How did it go? ….Or, if you haven’t at this point in time, would you be brave enough to test those choppy waters? Go out on a limb? Throw caution to the wind? Shake a real live hand……..

Inquiring mind (s) wants to know~~

True, I never shared personal relationship status, nor play by play highlights of my comings and goings during the last 5 years of blogging. I had/have my reasons for that, many of them. Regardless of my omissions,  for me writing in this dimension always felt like deep personal individual…… anyway.

I never felt like I was holding back key ingredients, or vital information that people would benefit knowing the details. From my perspective, everything was right there within the nouns,verbs and adjectives; sentences filled with personal thought. My moods and struggles, joys and happiness are spread out like a flow chart laced through entry after entry. Perhaps it came across as riddles and mysterious to the eye who wandered upon my pages. I can appreciate that, I designed it.

Tones and Stones that moved from the left to the right. This zone has always acted as my bridge between Lavender Black and fields of contentment. Over the years I have frequently walked between the two places in my mind. I’ve shared the color and texture of the rocks I overturned, but neglected to describe the weight and location. Intentional off center distraction. But this is changing, my direction has shifted…….

In light of my recent blog-blackout, I spent the last two days printing off the entries I hadn’t saved in paper form. (I’m experiencing paranoia) I had a two year catch up and a lofty ink cartridge bill at OfficeMax. The desire to print priceless comments from readers, along with the entry is a pricey one~but worth it~ 

I was disappointed in myself for letting great lapses in entries occur. I missed a lot of personal history in my neglect. Even so, the evolving evidence of me is still found within my words and for that I was intrigued. Change in it’s subtle evolution is difficult to recognise when our noses are in such close proximity to the reality. I can barely define the incline that got me to this point. I know at times it was steep and overwhelming, while other moments I strolled across even fields.  Such is life.

I pictured a year from now. The time when I will look back at what I’ve written for the year and I already know I will see a few defining moments about myself. I will see that in April of 2009 I personally opened the window into my life, with much less smoke screen. I won’t be upset with myself for neglecting my history and I realize today I’ll probably continue past April 30th with near (notice I don’t say positively) daily entries. Printing off my last two years of blogging has me mourning all the days I’ve now lost into unreliable memories.

I’ve always struggled with my motives and purpose for blogging. That fact has always aggitated me. I dislike (hate) not understanding why I do or don’t do certain things. Be it blogging or other life choices. Many people seem confident and purpose filled with their content and roles. I’ve always been the blogger orbiting erratically without a planet to revolve around. But, I think I’m finally circling in on personal purpose. I do need a bit of gravity, not so much that I’m grounded, but enough to keep me focused. I’m gravitating to my role. Maybe in a year from now I’ll be able to define it~