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The Ultimate Blog Challenge

It’s February 1st, and you know what that means … it’s time to begin my quest and rediscover my voice in the Ultimate Blog Challenge. (UBC for short.) Those of you who have read my blog for a while now know that I attempt this challenge quarterly. But, really… what is this challenge? Let me break it down for you.

Ultimate

There are two definitions for this word. It can be used as an adjective, like the ultimate – or final – goal. It can also be a noun – like this blog challenge is the ultimate – or the best of its kind. For me, both of these definitions are true. My ultimate goal is to post a blog 31 times throughout the month. Ideally, I will wake up each day and prioritize writing over everything else. As you may guess, life will get in the way at times, but I will do what it takes to reach the end successfully.

It’s also the “ultimate” because it is one of the best writing challenges I’ve participated in. This is thanks to our fearless leader, Paul, and all of the bloggers who write posts and offer praise and comments. Any writer will tell you that they need a community to lift them up and support them. When I write and post, the ultimate compliment is when someone comments with their own stories and thoughts. And I encourage you, dear reader, to do so.

Blog

This blog is important to me. It’s an extension of who I am as a writer and a person. I keep saying that someday I will string these blogs together into a book of essays. Creative nonfiction and essays are big sellers right now. We all want to connect, and I believe that these types of posts and books create community. I just need a little more confidence and a big push to turn this dream into a reality.

Writing also helps me think. Some people like to run great distances to clear their heads. Others like to take long showers and sort out their problems. I write.

Challenge 

While I’ve been writing for years, the process does not come naturally to me. It can take me half an hour to write a post, or it can take days. Sometimes, I wake up and think I have nothing to say. Years ago, my writing coach taught me when that happens, I should put pen to paper anyway and start writing – “I don’t know what to write.” over and over again. And guess what, it works every time! Eventually, a topic will come to me out of nowhere. Like magic.

Speaking of magic, there was an article in the latest issue of Poets and Writers called “The Button Chair.” In it, the author writes about a workshop she attended with this title. She wondered what this magical chair was and did it have superpowers that enticed the right words to come out on paper. Spoiler alert – it wasn’t that at all. There is no such thing as a button chair. There is only “butt in chair.” Meaning, sit down and do the work. Don’t be distracted by laundry, dishes, and errands. Put your butt in your chair and start writing.

This is exactly why I need UBC in my life. It is where the magic happens. UBC gives me a place and a purpose to discipline myself. I’m held accountable by my fellow writers and readers. And in time, I establish a regular writing habit.

So, I’m ready. I have everything I could ever need – my favorite pens, pristine notebooks, a good laptop, my button chair, and you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Dumb Questions

I firmly believe there is no such thing as a dumb question. If you don’t know the answer to something, ask. And if people laugh at you or roll their eyes in annoyance, they were the wrong person to ask. It is never the question that should be in question.

I remember visiting Scott’s grandmother in the hospital years ago. I can’t remember what she was in there for, but I know it wasn’t good. We were in the waiting room for a long time and then invited back to see her. I stood up and went to follow everyone but looked down at the cold, dimly-lit hallway and hesitated. My soon-to-be father-in-law gave me a curious look. I had a question that I wasn’t sure how to ask. And then, I just asked it.

“What will I see when I go in there?” I asked him. Having visited my own grandparents in the hospital many times, I never asked the question beforehand. I would just follow people into the room, hope for the best, and expect the worst. But, it had been a while since I was in this particular situation. I had seen some things in the past that made me uncomfortable. So, I asked. My father-in-law smiled and reassured me that she looked like herself and was attached to only a few machines, but it was nothing scary. And then, as we walked down the hallway toward her room, he gave me a little squeeze to reassure me it was all good.

I breathed a sigh of relief for two reasons. First, I honored my instincts and asked the question so I knew what to expect. Second, to his credit, my father-in-law didn’t laugh at my question. He showed me kindness and alleviated my concerns.

This is a memory that comes to mind often when I have questions I’m afraid to ask. Like, every day, I have another social media question for the younger (and much more knowledgable) staff members. Can I post a picture to Instagram from my laptop? And can I add a link to the comments of the post so people can go directly to the website? The answers are – no and no. I have to upload the images from my phone and sign up for something called Linktree. That’s it. No eye-rolls. No laughing. Instead, I got the answers I needed to do my job.

As I approach my 50th year, I have questions. There are some I don’t ask, but not because I’m afraid of what people will think of me. Thankfully, I learned to give up those concerns in my 40’s. It’s because I wonder what will happen after I ask them or worse if I don’t ask them at all. And yes, I’m purposely vague on what those questions are because that’s not what’s important. For now, just like in that dimly-lit hallway, I am summoning up the courage to ask, and I remind myself that there are no dumb questions. I can only hope I am met with smiles, hugs, kindness, and answers.

Collecting My Thoughts

As I sat on my sofa and watched the sunrise this morning, I took a sip of my coffee. Most of the time, I start my day like this and think about all the work I have to do, the errands I need to run, and what I need to get accomplished in the next 12 hours or so. But, this morning, I had a completely different train of thought. I sat there and wondered – what exactly are we all in for this week as a nation?

My first thought was, please God, let’s not have a repeat of last week’s events. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever think I would witness an attack on our legislative branch (or any branch for that matter). Growing up, I remember being taught that the legislature is the most important branch of government. From creating our laws and protecting our rights to declaring war, our senators and representatives represent our ideals for democracy. And the Capitol building is where they work every day for all of us. It is their home away from home. It’s a melting pot of people who speak on behalf of its citizens. At least, I like to think they do, but don’t worry, I am not that naive.

For me, the Capitol building has always been a place of reverence and compromise, certainly not violence, hate, and intolerance. I have so many photos of myself in front of that majestic building with my parents and sister on school trips and family vacations. I’ve visited D.C. more often than any other city in the country – except for Philadelphia (of course). I’ve gone there to visit with my sister, who lived in the District for many years or attend meetings with colleagues. The last time I was there was about a year ago to see a special showing of High Fidelity followed by a conversation with the one and only John Cusack. I took the train to D.C. and remembered walking out of Union Station, and the first thing I saw was the Capitol welcoming me to one of my favorite cities. It has always been a sight to behold and a symbol of all that is good and decent in our country. I have so many good memories there.

It’s hard to wrap my head around what happened on those steps and in those gilded hallways just a few short days ago. In a word, it was frightening. Just like you, I watched our representatives being evacuated from the House chamber that I’ve toured a few times when they weren’t in session. I recognized many of those faces from Meet the Press and Face the Nation and saw them running for their lives. They became much more human to me in those moments than their somewhat celebrity status on TV. I felt for their families, who were helplessly watching this all unfold live on television along with the rest of the country. I can’t imagine the sheer panic these men and women (and their staff and everyone else who works in the building) went through in those harrowing moments and then subsequent hours of waiting and wondering when they can go back to work and how long it would before they could hug their loved ones.

I wish I didn’t know that the horrible people who attacked our democracy existed in this country. I always knew they could be found if I really looked – but I never looked. And then, they were there. People who have an inherent loathing for all minorities and wear their hate across their chests with pride and in plain sight. It is terrifying that such a mob could descend upon our leaders and threaten them with more than just words.

And now, there are talks of impeachment and removal and the 25th amendment and resignations, all of which, by the way, I am totally on board with. Throw the book at them, I say.

God only knows what comes next, which is what I was thinking about as I drank my coffee in my peaceful home at the crack of dawn. I hope and pray that whatever happens doesn’t top last week’s events. And I think I’ll leave it at that.

 

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