Archive | September, 2013

Your risky is showing

27 Sep

I consider Wednesday’s post an epic fail. Not just because it was received with mostly silence, but also because I wrote some dramatic blog posts on Wednesday and what I posted was the only thing I could salvage from the wreckage.

I was all woe is me. And all my posts read feel bad for meeeee. Horrible.

Through this epic failure, which in all honesty is giving too much credit to the failure, I realized intimately that writing is risky.

Every tweet, every post, every word is an expression of ourselves and we have no idea how people are going to respond.

We don’t know if someone will take our words out of context (this is the one that scares me the most). Or if we’ll go viral for the one rant that managed to slip through when we’ve been nice and pleasant for 256 days straight.

Even in our books we never know what’s coming out subliminally. We’re revealing the depths of our hearts with words and we have no idea if people will cringe.

This is the long way of saying I think you’re brave. You’re brave for writing. You’re brave for stepping outside the safe box of anonymity and into the scary endless space that is public domain.

I don’t think I’m brave. I’m just scared. Scared I’ll say the wrong thing. Scared something I don’t like very much about myself will spill blood over the pages of my blog.

I’m a wimp.

You’re brave. You’re risky. You’re a rebel (you’re welcome… highest compliment!). You dare to reveal yourself to the world and you take no prisoners with your candor.

I’m in awe of you. I want to be like you. Instead I’m a scared rabbit hiding under my desk. Peeking out only when I need food, drinks, or the occasional conversation (or carrots).

It’s comfortable down here under the desk. I get to live with delusions of grandeur and delusions of safety. I have a nice fleece blanket, fuzzy socks, and my dog. My husband occasionally visits me and I have my computer to pay bills.

Fuzzy socks, romance novels, Kinley Baker, Romance author, fleece blanket, under desk, hiding, risky, bravery

I forgot to mention the pink fleece pants and romance novels, but I assure you they’re there.

I’m good.

Even when I tell myself I’m good, I know… I’m just scared. Not brave.

The internet is full of brave people of all ages and backgrounds speaking messages that need to be spoken. Sometimes they get lost in the noise. But it’s still important. And I want you to know, at least one person thinks you’re brave.

So thank you for sharing your story with the rest of us. You made me view the world differently. I’m a fan of different.

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Life is like the worst game of hide-and-seek ever

25 Sep

I am the hider. Reality is the seeker. And reality is a total jerk about winning.

Dog, Puppy, Cute, Hide and seek, puppy hiding

Sorry, Joker. We can still see you…

Awkward dating scenario for real

23 Sep

I picture my return to blogging like a super awkward after first date phone call. It goes a little like this.

Dater 1: I think I’ll call Dater 2 back. I had a nice time. *picks up phone.* *dials the carefully stored away phone number*

ring…ring…

Dater 2: “Hello?”

Dater 1: “Hey, it’s Dater 1.”

Long stretch of silence.

Dater 2: “Oh. Hi.”

Dater 1: They don’t sound happy to hear from me. Maybe they don’t like me. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to a movie on Friday.”

Awkward long stretch of silence.

Dater 2: “Why?”

Dater 1: I have to answer why? “I had a nice time?” That sounded like a question, didn’t it.

Dater 2: *exasperated noise of disgust*

Dater 1: “Didn’t you have a nice time?” Maybe I’m delusional.

Dater 2: “Of course I did!”

Dater 1: “Then what’s the problem?” Maybe Dater 2 is crazy.

Dater 2: “That was two months ago!”

Awkward silence.

Dater 1: “Oh.”

Dater 2: “Oh? All you have to say is ‘oh’?”

Dater 1: “I didn’t realize.”

Dater 2: “You didn’t realize two months went by?”

Dater 1: “No.”

Dater 2: “What were you doing?!”

Dater 1: “I don’t know.”

Dater 2: “#*#&&@^!^!*($((#)#(@*!&”

Dater 1: “Um.”

 

There’s really no coming back from that, Dater 1.

 

Dater 1: *hangs up slowly*…*backs away even more slowly*…*wonders if anyone will ever go to the movies with Dater 1 again*

Heart, pink, anniversary, puzzle, love, marriage

I think I cracked my own heart.

Basically, I’m Dater 1. I’m sorry? Oh, I apologized for being away. I totally wrote a blog post wondering if that was necessary once. I feel it’s necessary today.

This is like when my husband asked me if my sink was rattling. I listened for a moment, then said yes. Upon further consideration I told him it had been rattling for a long time. Like perhaps months.

He asked why I didn’t tell him, my Mr. Fix It husband.

Um. It never occurred to me?

Life is like my broken sink. I get caught up in work, books, publishing, family and life. I turn around and it’s been too long.

This is a flaw in my character. One I will work on.

(Disclaimer: This does not apply to deadlines. I’m obsessive about meeting deadlines and obligations. Also anything related to publishing. If I delay there is a reason behind it. This blog post applies to, well, everything else.)

I wasn’t sure how to come back and share my flaw. I’m embarrassed by it. Then I remembered the time I called that one person who told me I hadn’t seen them in two months.

Remarkably, I can’t seem to remember their name…

Anyway, I’m back.

And Dater 2 never called back. I wonder what I did wrong.