Teacups Shouldn't Make You Cry

Time is moving quickly and I am now in a new writing workshop for school...nonfiction to be exact.
I have never dabbled in nonfiction writing.
I guess I figured it would be too difficult. I was right. It is difficult.
After reading short nonfiction works in the book The Best Creative Nonfiction Vol. 1 I have learned there really isn't a right or a wrong way to write it.
It doesn't need to be long, can focus on only one event, and doesn't have to be negative.
Reading Telling True Stories has taught me that when writing memoirs, we tend to focus on the negative and try not to make it good. I have always done this. I think that is why I never liked writing nonfiction. I mean, who doesn't have a ton of bad stories about growing up.
But, after reading so many great short nonfiction stories, I realized that spinning it into a positive creates a great story.
I tried this theory for my first writing assignment - a short story nonfiction piece that took a low point in my childhood, that honestly has haunted me since it has happened - and spun it into a positive.
I have been practicing this form of writing now since I started this piece and I am finding so many great things to write about! I can't wait to type them up and see what it leads to!

*I am not sharing bad parts of my childhood in search of sympathy. Everyone has bad things happen to them and ultimately I chose how I wanted to be as a person as I grew up and my past is in the past - where it belongs. However, writing about it has taught me that it helps free some lingering bad feelings I have about the situation. I'm telling my own story, just as anyone should be able to.

Teacups Shouldn't Make You Cry

The Opposite of Maybe

I finished reading The Opposite of Maybe in two sittings. I would have done it in one, but it was late and my eyelids wouldn't stay open any longer. Even though when I went to sleep my brain wouldn't shut off and kept rehashing everything I had just read about Rosie and her eccentric, non-exciting life - so I couldn't wait to find the free time to finish the story. Maddie Dawson writes in a way that I feel like I know the characters. Although, they are considerably older than I am, I can identify with their lifestyle, friends, jobs, relationships, family dynamics, and surprises along the way of life. I was able to picture myself as Rosie in many of the situations and there were times I was excited along with her and I couldn't turn the pages quick enough and yes, there were times I would find myself teary-eyed. 

Overall the story contains real-life problems, the thoughts we all think but do not necessarily share, and best of all it shares the complexity of relationships and how a person going down one path in their life suddenly finds it leaving a void and we are left searching. Sometimes we don't know what we are searching for and the main character in this book doesn't know what she wants until she has tried every avenue. Rosie battles her own feelings and emotions, trying to do the right thing. In the end all that matters is what makes her happy. 

The Opposite of Maybe is written well with characters are well-developed and has a well described setting. Everything about the book I really enjoyed. I gave it 4.5 stars because it left me hanging! I know that sometimes this is for the best, but I just wanted to know what happened at the very end. I am a sucker for a good romance story and this doesn't disappoint. It is tasteful, fun, and not like a book I have read before. I would recommend this to anyone looking for a quick, fun read that makes them think about themselves also. 

I received this book from the Blogging for Books program in exchange for this review.

Time to Share!

This week is the last week of my fiction workshop with Southern New Hampshire University.
I have learned so much from this class. Having to work on one short story for the past seven weeks has really been beneficial to me. I loved to read the stories the other students in my group had written and critiquing them.
I totally hate reading critiques on my work, but this workshop forced me to read them. I had to because if I wanted to pass the class I had to acknowledge their thoughts and see how to incorporate it into my story.
Guess what? I wasn't scared to read any critiques by the end of the session and I was actually looking forward to it! Which was something that I didn't expect to happen, at all.
The requirement of the short story was that it had to be loosely based off of some life event true to the author.
I am not going to lie - I had no clue what I wanted to write about. I could write about so many different things!
I just sat down one evening with my laptop while my daughter was watching Jessie and just started typing. I ended up writing about Australia.
I went there for three weeks when I was sixteen.
For me, the trip couldn't have come at a better time since my Dad and Grandma had both just passed away.
Going there, with no family or friends (I went with People to People, so I got to know the students in my delegation, of course) really helped me find myself. I mean, who knows who they are when they are sixteen and just lost two important family members? Ummm...no one?
But, for me it was a time to reflect, let go, and just be a teenager and truly enjoy life! And I completely did!
So I took that experience of feeling whole for the first time, just from experiencing life some place new and poured it into this short story.
I don't know my grade yet, hopefully it'll be posted in the next few days. I'll update when it is!
But I decided to upload both my rough draft and my final draft to just show (and remind myself) how much work changes and evolves with great critique, some editing, and lots of thought.

Missing Pieces
Rough Draft
Final Draft

To Speak or Not to Speak?

My Grandpa always claimed that he was super bashful when he was a youngin'. You wouldn't know it if you had ever been in the same room as him though. He grew into a talker. A big talker. Maybe it is best to describe him as a storyteller.
He was one of those storytellers that would start to tell you a story, say something like, "I may have told you this before..." you would agree that you have heard it, and then he would keep on with the telling of the story as though it doesn't matter if you have heard it before or not.
He obviously had a huge impact on my life. My childhood, adolescence, and adulthood all included him as an important person.
So when he passed I would lie away at night thinking about all of the wonderful things I wanted to make sure everyone that was at his service knew just how important he was to me.
I did something I never thought I would, I spoke at his service.
I am definitely not a public speaker. I get the sweats. I feel like I talk too fast, etc. add this to being crushed emotionally and I figured it would be a recipe for a speech disaster.
But, the night before his service a speech just played out in my head. I had to get up and get it out on paper and I am so glad I did.
I did start out with an ugly cry when I began, and throughout it I am sure everyone heard me snort up my snot a couple times in the microphone. My voice wavered throughout it all. However, I pulled through.
I kept looking down from where I was at the front of the church to the casket with my love, my Grandpa's body safely inside. He wasn't in pain anymore. He looked good that day. I just kept envisioning him smiling at me like he did when I gave a speech at the Optimist Club he was a member of when I came back from Australia when I was sixteen. It was that look that pulled me through.

Remembering Grandpa

Hello.
I'm Emily, in case you didn't know.
I'm the granddaughter you might have heard about a time or two.
For the past 13 years, it's been me and him.
My dad, Randy, died when I was 15 followed six months later by my grandma, Janet.
Grandpa was my parent.
When grandpa and I went home after my grandma's passing we sat down together and realized it was just the two of us. He was left to raise me - a teen girl, 61 years younger than him.
We made a promise then to never let an argument come between us and we never let that happen.
It was tough at times, but he was just the type of man you couldn't say "no" to or argue with.
While living with him, he taught me so much about life, more than he'll ever know.
He taught me that life is beautiful.
Most people are good.
How to drive a stick shift.
That 7up floats are almost as good as root beer floats.
But most importantly he taught me that a family can be of any dynamic as long as the people truly care about and love each other.
He loved me unconditionally.
Grandpa was there for everything my dad couldn't be -
High school graduation, when I earned my first college degree, even when I got my first speeding ticket (which he wasn't too happy about)...but greatest of all, I was lucky enough to have him walk me down the aisle and give me away on my wedding day.
He then stayed all afternoon when I had my daughter, Sophia. He didn't go home until almost midnight by the time she finally arrived and he got to hold her. And, he was back to see us bright and early the next morning and didn't yawn once.
Grandpa was the person I called first when I was happy or sad, we ate dinner together at least once a week for the past ten years after I graduated high school and moved out.
If I wasn't feeling well, he'd show up with a 7up and crackers for me, even if my husband was home because grandpa just knew Channa wouldn't tend to me like he could.
He was right.
I could go on and on with stories about the way he has impacted my life.
I know I won't ever be as great of a person as he was. He touched so many lives and on his mission of helping others, and he succeeded with more of an impact than we will probably ever really know.
The past few months have been very hard for me.
I am very selfish and wanted him to live forever.
I would have had him live with us until the end of time just so I knew he was safe and happy.
I told him this and his reply were his happy tears and a simple, "I know you would, honey."
The last few days of his life I would sit by his bedside for hours and talk on and on about anything and everything.
I wouldn't come home until late because I know that he would have done the same thing for me.
My daughter has lost her great-grandpa, who got to share a bond these past five years that many people aren't lucky enough to have with their grandparents.
My husband gained a grandfather he never thought he would have had.
I had not only a grandpa, but also a father, a role model, and a friend.
Today marks the longest time in half of my life that I haven't heard his voice, got to hug him, or make him some cookies.
But I am at peace knowing he is with his wife and son again and I get to carry all of his stories, his morals and values, and his sense of being within me.
He and my daughter had a ritual before bed while he stayed with us and in response to the saying...now you get to sleep tight, grandpa. And I'm sure the bed bugs won't bite.
Thank you for your time.

High School Graduation

Today just got me thinking a lot about the value of education.
I attended one of my cousin's high school graduation ceremonies, which is always a wonderful event! Anytime someone graduates school is just a happy day. Graduating is a huge milestone in life. Whether it is high school or college, it matters.
However, what took over my mind all day since the ceremony is how hard receiving an education is for some people.
I say this because she graduated from the alternative high school, and there is nothing wrong with that whatsoever.
She was sick and fell behind. The option is amazing for to have to go there.
But, what struck me was during a speech by one of the students. She made it very loud and clear and that throughout her life she heard many times that she wouldn't graduate high school.
To me, that basically amounts to someone saying, "you suck, you won't amount to anything in life, you can't even finish high school!"
If you heard that, would you even want to finish high school?
I wouldn't.
When I went to school, the alternative school seemed to be mostly for the burnouts and pregnant girls. I also graduated ten years ago, (ugh...now I'm feeling old!) And I'm sure this is still the case today as those things are still happening - however this school seems to be to be a place where someone struggling and not having the drive to succeed can go and get it done with people who will work with them and help them.
People need help. We all need help sometimes. It sucks asking for it, it sucks identifying you need it, it just plain sucks.
But when your education is at stake, it is necessary to ask for it!
If you have people who don't support you, or want to see you succeed (there are those type of parents out there), then you need to seek out people who will be there for you.
Without an education what will become of a person today?
It doesn't matter where you graduate from, just as long as you do.
Don't listen to the people who want to bring you down. Everyone has an equal right to a great education...which the common core system I guess is now making the term "great education" for Americans kind of iffy...but you get the idea.
My plea to people is:
Do not tear a child, any child, especially your child down! Ask them to grow, think, strive towards something better. There is always a better and every kid deserves it. Encourage them to work hard and let them know that it isn't easy. Let them know it is okay to fail, as long they learn from it and try again. Failure isn't a bad thing, but it shouldn't be the last thing you do. Try and try again. Teach them that education is important and with that piece of paper they will feel a great self-satisfaction and that you will be so proud of them for all of their hard work and effort they put into EARNING it. Tell them that it is okay to not know what they want to be when they grow up, or they don't even have to know where they fit in now. Teen years and high school is hard enough with academics, and sometimes the social life needs to come second. They have their whole lives to be social. Support them, guide them, provide a safe, loving place for them. Ask them if they need help, they may not come to you for it. Read to them or with them. Read everyday. Knowledge comes from reading...anything! Just love them. Never tell them they are going to fail.

Education is a priceless tool. I can't wait to finally be done with my college career, but when I am done I will be sad.
I am the one who told myself I will fail. I kept dropping out of college and changing my majors. It took me almost nine years to focus on a degree program to finish in. I will be done this year. All those times I told myself that I'm just going into debt for nothing, I realize now I was being so  hard on myself. I was being hard on myself because I didn't know what I wanted to be. I didn't know what I want to do with my life. And guess what? I still don't know 100%. But I have a pretty good idea.
If anyone had told me I wasn't going to graduate high school, I would have believed them. High school is tough and add teen drama, family problems, and work on top of that...it is easy to fall into the failure.

My hope is that every parent values education and wants it for their child. I cannot image not encouraging my daughter to pursue her dreams and take in all the schooling she can get when she is older.
Which brings me onto the topic of homeschooling....hmmm....

Grandma's Untitled Poem

My Grandma tended to stash little jokes and notes she had written down over the years randomly about her house.
While I was going through drawers of stashed away things, we started to find these.
There was one that stuck with me and I made sure I put it away for when the day would come and my Grandpa passed away.
Grandma wrote this little poem for another funeral - when her Aunt Alice passed away.
I read it at my Grandpa's service, because what could be better than speaking the words of your loving wife that you are reunited with?
Nothing.

Untitled Poem - JRR (Janet Richards)

Crystal tears and jeweled smiles

   When in a pathway greet,

Form a lovely rainbow bridge

   Where heart and soul may meet.

Allow a tear to trickle down

   To ease the sore hearts pain,

And from the soul, peace will arise

   Till your smiles will shine again.

My Grandparents...I believe on their honeymoon. 1951

I am Okay.

Today is the first day that I have woke up in the morning and I didn't feel full of dread.
Everyday I would dread so much and I focused on that rather than all the good that was happening throughout the day.
I would dread housework. Homework. The phone. The nursing home. My Grandpa's house. Pretending to be okay when I really wasn't.
I felt sleepy all day. Like my head was in a haze.
It truly was.
I still kind of feel sleepy and hazy...but I think that is just because I've been on full-force GO for so long.
Every time the phone would ring I would worry that it was the nursing home, or my aunt with bad news about my grandpa.
I hated the nursing home. Because it was just that. A nursing home. I felt sick to my stomach that my Grandpa had to be there. In his little room. Alone most of the day. With barely any of his belongings that he worked his entire life to have. Instead they filled an empty house that he occupied for the past 50 years. His food wasn't good like mine, like the food grandma had taught me to prepare. Most of all I hated the nursing home because they weren't able to give him what he needed most. Love.
My Grandpa needed to be with me. I needed to be with him. We tried it.
A month and a half. He lived with my husband, my five-year-old daughter, and me.
It was a great time. He always said he felt bad that he was here with us. Like he was intruding on our personal space and time.

I told him not to worry. For the short amount of time he was with us, in the entire span of life...the few months amounted to practically nothing. But that nothing meant the world to me. I could care for him. I was able to give back to him after all the times he had been there and cared for me.
When his care required more than I was able to provide it was set that he needed to be a nursing home...with the plans of going into an assisted living apartment.
Damn.
He wanted to be in that apartment so badly.
Instead, just as I predicted. Just as I knew. Because I know my Grandpa well...he didn't last long in the nursing home.
Now I don't dread the phone.
The call already came and went.
I cried. Hard. The ugly cry that makes your body shake, your cheeks sting, your eyes red for far too long.
Now it is over.
Now I can discover who I am without having to be a caregiver.
I get to be just a wife and a mom for the first time.
The feeling is kind of surreal and I'm actually a bit scared of it.
What if I mess up now? Now that I don't have to focus my extra energy on my Grandpa, will I use that energy to better myself and my family? I really hope I do.
Today I don't feel dread.
Today I feel okay. Not perfect. But not bad. Not good, but not tired.
I am okay.