Author: Meredith

Nestled in a hammock under the shade of tall oaks, sipping fresh lemonade, and dozing blissfully as the cool breeze rushes passed my skin — the weather today is absolutely beautiful. The sound of birds chirping happily in the trees, calling out to their mates in the spirit of a fresh spring season. Branches whistling in the wind. White cotton-ball clouds float fluffily through the bright blue sky.

The professor entering through the entrance brings me back to my current location. The monitors glare, the hard drive hums, and my short daydream of a lazy afternoon vanishes as quickly as it came on. I place my fingers on the keyboard and continue my work.

I’ve been toying with different styles in an attempt to find my “niche.” I’m so utterly frustrated by this “niche” nonsense. If you’d like niche material, view my website — that definitely qualifies. Granted, that niche has all but slowly dried up. When it comes to writing, I like freedom. The point of becoming a writer is to achieve a certain sense of freedom. I have a wide array of interests, and I don’t conform to one box or label. I’ve all but refused to conform since the second half of nineth grade. I don’t see the need to undo the progress I’ve made in life by conforming to the standards of “niche” writing. Sure, I’d love to have an audience that truly tests my “unlimited” bandwidth account, but I don’t see why I have to pick one topic and be stuck with it for the rest of my career.

I suppose I’m looking for the means to keeping readers interested. I currently check two blogs on a daily basis: Stroll Without Shoes by Brenda Della Casa, a site brimming with optimism, good cheer, wisdom, advice, and general entertainment; and Bacon Is My Enemy by Giyen Kim, a site documenting the life and weight loss of a Korean American woman living in Seattle, WA with her teenage daughter. I suppose Della Casa would fit the self-help niche, although that’s merely one way of looking at it. She takes a very psychological approach and really asks her readers to look inside themselves to be the best people they can be. She’s also a published author of Cinderella Was A Liar, a book that’s been printed in several countries and languages. Clearly, she exudes experience, elloquence, and excitement. On the other hand, Kim’s blog seems to cater to the weight loss niche. She puts herself out there for people to see on a regular basis, showcasing her accomplishments and recounting her set-backs. Of course, that’s the niche that CNN seemingly chose for her. Asides from her weight loss material, she delves into life as a Korean-American single mother living in Seattle. She shares her past, the things she does with her friends, and adventures she has raising her daughter. I’d call that a “slice-of-life” type of niche, which is something I identify with. At any rate, these two amazing woman have caught my attention — I read and I interact when I feel I have something worthwhile to share.

Personally? I’m going to keep doing what I consider myself good at — slice-of-life, creative non-fiction, and exploring my options.

A tranquil breeze blowing softly through my hair under the shade of the bus shelter, I sat waiting for the bus. The fresh new leaves glistened vibrantly in the bright sunlight while a pair of squirrels scurried after each other through the thickening brush. Cars whipped passed on the road, carrying their passengers to a plethora of locations. I run my fingers over the tiny screen, checking the time and choosing a song. A bus speeds past — I jump up! Was that my bus? Couldn’t be. The word “garage” appeared in bright lights on the ticker. I stare down the road, hoping to see my bus somewhere nearby. Nothing. I sit back down, dejected, to wait again. Honeybees float between clover blossoms, digging through the hidden nectar. For a brief moment, I want to reach out and pet the honeybee. Then I come to my senses and realize how terrifying this might be for both me and the bee — the bee, after all, dies after it stings someone. I spot the bus down the road, slowly gliding towards me. A group of men unload coolers and fishing gear over by the lake. The bus grows larger, moving swifter. I wait cautiously on the sidewalk, watching the cars zoom passed. Finally, the bus has arrived.

Last week, sweaters and jackets ruled the town. Crisp breezes blew through trees and tossed around leaves. This week, the sweat-inducing sun looms overhead while I come to realize that a three quarter sleeved shirt may not have been the wisest choice this morning. Every year it seems like we go through phases of cold snaps that become a few days of cold, a few days of hot, a few more days of cold, a few more days of hot, until finally you rage at how you can’t just enjoy opening the windows without one extreme dramatically altering the temperature of your home. The electric company must enjoy sitting, watching the meters tick faster, rubbing their hands together with the knowledge that soon they’ll own a higher percentage of your paycheck. People always talk about how wonderful it must be to live in Florida — the same people only come here on vacations to theme parks and beaches. The concept of sweltering, sticky heat between March and October doesn’t quite seem to register. All that registers in their minds are our warmer temperatures when they’re shoveling snow. Enjoy that lovely, glittery snow, my friends — it’ll keep you cool when that mercury starts to rise. In fact, I’m sitting here right now brooding about how I’d prefer not to be sweaty and disgusting, envious that other parts of the country enjoy a gradual season change.

To each his own, right?

Staring blankly out the window, I wonder what I should say. Where does one go from here? As I gaze sullenly out the window, I realize I’d much rather be napping in a hammock this afternoon. All of my energy seems to have waned indefinitely, and I feel heavy and weak. The clear blue sky looks so warm and comforting. The trees sway in a lovely breeze, the leaves flapping as the wind brushes against them. People begin to disperse – that daily grind coming to an end for them. Yet here I am, agonizing over my lack of inspiration. It must be the absence of caffeine. Oh how I miss the sweet morning nectar that injects life into my soul – liquid motivation. I glaze over, contemplating how I’m ever going to manage the next adventure life has presented to me. I sip the room temperature water and brush the hair out of my eyes. A small voice insides nags, “SHOW, don’t tell!” I cringe. How can you not see what I’m trying to convey to you?! I cry out indignantly. Perhaps if I were Hemingway, I would immediately grasp the concept of showing versus telling. My mind drifts again, picking apart the many faults I own. Isn’t it wonderful when the mind plays this game? That negative self-talk that consistently arises at the worse possible moments – we really need to muster the motivation to do whatever it is we’re doing, and that wretched little voice comes along to remind us of our flaws. Just who does it think it is to tell me I’m not good enough?

I adjust myself in my chair, remembering I’ve agreed to lock the other building this evening. My reminder hasn’t popped up in a while. I check to see if I perhaps dismissed the alarm – indeed I did. I click snooze again, knowing I still have ample time left in my day. The blue sky looks quite inviting again. If only unbridled energy fell from the sky, then I would harness it for my personal gain. Of course, this is the real world we live in. Perhaps a lovely dinner will recharge my empty reserves.

I have become dissatisfied with the appearance of my blog. The purple background seemed quite appealing at the time, but it longer seems suitable for my professional blog. I’m unsure as to what I’d like my layout to look like just yet, though. Should I go the path of choosing a premade theme again? Should I take iniative to create my own? If I create my own, what should I do? Should I use an image? Should it be simple? Designing usually takes quite a bit of effort on my part simply because I consider all the finer details, no matter how simple or trivial they may be. I really probably agonize over this much more than I should.

Writing prompts can be helpful and confining at the same time. On a daily basis, I might not necessarily have a clear writing subject, so I search for a writing prompt. Of course, most writing prompts I find seem to be of a personal nature — not quite what I’d choose to publish in my professional blog. Herein lies my dilemma. I click the button to regenerate the prompts until I find something suitable. When I find something suitable, half the time I don’t really have any good ideas to follow up with a good string of words. Rather than choosing a prompt to stumble through, I click again only to find the same chain of privacy invading prompts — sometimes an already generated prompt, even! I suppose this should serve as a sign to use more creativity, shouldn’t it? Writers are expected to be creative, regardless of whether or not they are “creative writers.” Perhaps tomorrow I’ll think of an excellent topic.

Blue. Green. Brown. Hazel. Blood-shot. Bright. Glassy. Many words describe the appearance of one’s eyes. In some cultures, we look into each other’s eyes to instill fear, intimidation, feelings of love, trust, attention, etc. We count the number of times a politician blinks to see who’s the more honest of the two debating issues of healthcare, military, and taxes. We use eye color to identify ourselves. We use the eyes to identify underlying diseases. Some even call eyes “the window to the soul.” Eyes can vary in shades, flecked with several colors unique to each individual. Eyes show the world when we are tired, sad, happy, angry, drunk, on drugs, healthy, or just plain existing. People flirt by winking at a prospective mate. We take in our surroundings with our eyes. We find pleasant sights and horrific sights. We survey danger in order to flee or protect. The eyes are an incredible pair of organs.

…but that doesn’t mean people can’t check out the site at least. A hotel here in town is hosting a wedding cake competition to raise money for the St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

http://www.letseatcakefundraiser.com/

Obviously, it’s for a great cause. I’m thinking about shelling out the $25 for a ticket to go see some lovely cakes and enjoy samples. We shall see! ;D