Five minute Friday was... 4 days ago. I think it's time for me to come up with a new title, maybe?
What's another "f" word that could come after "five minute"? No, not THAT one. Anyway...
This (or last) week's word is "friend."
When I was younger, I wanted more friends. More specifically, I was worried about being popular. Of course, now I know that being popular really has nothing to do with having friends. Not good ones, anyway. That's more about quantity than quality.
Being a shy child, making lots of friends did not come easily to me. It was hard for me to reach out to others and make new friendships or cultivate casual ones that I already had in school. I always wondered what was wrong with me that I didn't have a whole big bunch of friends like I thought I was supposed to.
As I got older, I became less concerned with how many friends I had and contemplated more often just how important the ones I had were. But even then, it proved difficult each time I changed jobs or moved. My good "old" friends were always there, but making new ones still eluded me.
Now that we've been living here for several years, I have found myself with more friends - good ones - than probably ever before. Turns out whoever said that "once you stop looking for it, it will come" kinda knew what they were talking about. I've made a few good friends, and I look forward to getting to know the more casual acquaintances I have even better. I'm just happy that I stopped worrying about making friends and began enjoying the ones I had (some without even realizing they had turned into friendships).
I always knew I was a catch.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Five minute Friday - April 18
Oops, I missed last week. :)
Today's word is: glue.
I'll admit it, I am a picky person. By that I don't mean picky in the figurative sense (although sure, I can be that too) but in the literal sense. I like picking things. Even as a kid, I was always that person who liked peeling off sunburned skin. Now, as a mother, I'm like one of those mother gorillas who go all over her children picking bugs off of them (except the main difference here is I don't eat what I remove from them). But I do pick at them all the time - their faces, fixing their hair, clipping their nails all the time, making sure every little thing is relatively neat and in place and nothing is hanging off. Pick, pick, pick.
I remember once as a child in elementary school, walking out of school. I couldn't have been any more than 7 or so years old. And I have a terrible memory, generally speaking, so when I have a memory as a younger child, one would have to assume it's something fairly important or pivotal. Well, for some reason, I remember seeing another student walking out of the school peeling glue off of her hands. I don't know if she was in art class (well, I hope so, I guess) or what the situation was, but she had glue ALLLL over her hands and she was so dutifully picking it off. I remember being so envious! Every so often, after that time, I would purposely put a little glue on my hands just so I could peel it off.
I'm not sure why this is, but I suppose glue doesn't just hold together, but it can also come apart if you try hard enough. I'd like to keep that literal and not figurative.
Today's word is: glue.
I'll admit it, I am a picky person. By that I don't mean picky in the figurative sense (although sure, I can be that too) but in the literal sense. I like picking things. Even as a kid, I was always that person who liked peeling off sunburned skin. Now, as a mother, I'm like one of those mother gorillas who go all over her children picking bugs off of them (except the main difference here is I don't eat what I remove from them). But I do pick at them all the time - their faces, fixing their hair, clipping their nails all the time, making sure every little thing is relatively neat and in place and nothing is hanging off. Pick, pick, pick.
I remember once as a child in elementary school, walking out of school. I couldn't have been any more than 7 or so years old. And I have a terrible memory, generally speaking, so when I have a memory as a younger child, one would have to assume it's something fairly important or pivotal. Well, for some reason, I remember seeing another student walking out of the school peeling glue off of her hands. I don't know if she was in art class (well, I hope so, I guess) or what the situation was, but she had glue ALLLL over her hands and she was so dutifully picking it off. I remember being so envious! Every so often, after that time, I would purposely put a little glue on my hands just so I could peel it off.
I'm not sure why this is, but I suppose glue doesn't just hold together, but it can also come apart if you try hard enough. I'd like to keep that literal and not figurative.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Five minute Friday - April 4
This week's prompt from http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/ is "writer."
And I'm only supposed to take 5 minutes?
Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a writer. This of course does not include the "I want to be a nurse" proclamation as a young child, the veterinarian thing (until I found out that vets also put animals to sleep), and the ballerina thing that was too off-again on-again to be a true dancer.
When I was about 12 years old, I was writing a book. The book, strangely enough, was about a 12-year-old girl who liked doing the exact same things as I did. She probably looked the same, too - I can't remember. I got up to about 15 chapters, all about 1 1/2 pages or so in length, until I decided it was horrible and threw the whole thing away.
Oh, how I wish I hadn't done that! First of all, what a kick it would be to go back to that now and see it. But also... hey, what if what was the ONE? The seed for my great novel that somehow has gone unwritten all of these years?
But yes, I did become a writer. I was a newspaper writer, covering town council meetings and BOE snoozefests. Oh, and that one time I contributed to the piece about a mall shooting that ended up winning a NJPA award. I wrote for a soap opera magazine, which wasn't quite as fun as it sounds. I wrote for medical journals, which pretty much wasn't fun at all. :)
I am a writer, and a published one, but the book still eludes me. When will that great idea come to me? Or did I trash it at 12 years old? I sure hope not.
And I'm only supposed to take 5 minutes?
Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a writer. This of course does not include the "I want to be a nurse" proclamation as a young child, the veterinarian thing (until I found out that vets also put animals to sleep), and the ballerina thing that was too off-again on-again to be a true dancer.
When I was about 12 years old, I was writing a book. The book, strangely enough, was about a 12-year-old girl who liked doing the exact same things as I did. She probably looked the same, too - I can't remember. I got up to about 15 chapters, all about 1 1/2 pages or so in length, until I decided it was horrible and threw the whole thing away.
Oh, how I wish I hadn't done that! First of all, what a kick it would be to go back to that now and see it. But also... hey, what if what was the ONE? The seed for my great novel that somehow has gone unwritten all of these years?
But yes, I did become a writer. I was a newspaper writer, covering town council meetings and BOE snoozefests. Oh, and that one time I contributed to the piece about a mall shooting that ended up winning a NJPA award. I wrote for a soap opera magazine, which wasn't quite as fun as it sounds. I wrote for medical journals, which pretty much wasn't fun at all. :)
I am a writer, and a published one, but the book still eludes me. When will that great idea come to me? Or did I trash it at 12 years old? I sure hope not.
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