Category Archives: Life

My Return to the Beginning of the End of the Start


Hi everyone,

They say the first step to conquering a problem is admitting you have one.

I’m floundering.

There I said it.

I have spent the last couple of years going through the motions. I’m all of the things I said I wanted to be, but low-level and or barely. I’m kinda tired of being a “kinda” writer. I’m tired of being a “sorta” jewelry/accessory designer and creator. I’m tired of “kinda” dating, being “sorta” social…

This ish is getting old. No, it’s been old, I’m just owning up to it.

I thought posting videos on YouTube was the answer, but all it really did was illuminate the fact that I had NO IDEA where I wanted my life to go. I want the platform to mean something, to stand for something. I want to use my channel to ultimately help those who need it.

But damn if I can figure out how to get there.

So, I’m starting over. No “sorta” or “kinda,” just “.”.

However, I’m not sure where THE beginning is. If I take it ALLLL the way back, I caught the craft and writing bug practically at the same time. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 10, and I first discovered crafts were cool that same year as well.

I honed my writing and I know that my passions lie in personal essays and How-to/Help topics. Anything that helps someone is fair game. Craft wise, I lean toward crochet, chainmaille and Native American loom beadwork. I do other crafts as well, but these are the ones I always have supplies on hand for projects when the mood strikes.

As a weird aside, I include commentary on political and social issues a form of helping people. We’ll never get along without an open dialogue and free communication.

So, to summarize:

I’m a crafty writer who enjoys helping people via crafts and social commentary via YouTube.

A video of my making scarves with beaded uplifting quotes for everyone coming soon!

I kid…I kid.

Sorta.

I do want to figure out a way to combine all these interests. So, maybe I’ll record (a how-to?) me making a craft item that ties directly into a social issue I want to discuss, sell it and donate part of the proceeds to a charity.

Huh…

That just might work. What do you think? Let me know!

Anyway, this is my attempt to figure out my life and help others at the same time. Think it could work? Think it has a fighting chance? Again, let me know.

 

 

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Hi!


Yeah, I know…it’s been awhile. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve read posts there that I probably should have put here. I mean it was high-quality content, why not share it with the world instead of just my FB friends and followers?

Because I’m lazy. I mean, to post here, I have to open a browser window, type http://www.wordpress.com/wordsfromawriter and then wait for the page to load, log in click “Write” and finally *finally* I can share my thoughts. Then I have to choose the platform on which to share, create tags…blah blah blah. It’s just easier to post to Facebook.

Just one problem. As much as I love Love LOVE my FB fam, posting there is a lot like preaching to the choir. When you post something and either everyone’s going to agree with you or those who don’t just keep scrolling sans comment…it becomes an echo chamber.

Now, as much as I love it when people agree with me, it quickly becomes boring AF.

So.

I’m going to make a conscious effort to post on this blog more often. You know, I’ve started two other blogs since this one and they are even more woefully neglected. If blogs were children, they’d be in foster care. If blogs were goldfish, they’d be dead. If my blogs were a carton of milk, the contents would be curdled and my face would be on the carton.

Have I sufficiently beaten the concept into the ground? Cool.

But I digress.

As usual.

Anyway.

I’m going to commit to posting here once a week, most likely on Friday. It’ll probably be some sort of round up regarding how my week went and updates about my writing work, you know, since the blog IS called Words from a WRITER. That being said, I’m going to do that right now by answer some of your most pressing questions.

Hey Kim, where’s the dating book?

I’m working on it! I vacillate between “The world could really use this book, if for no other reason, so some know they aren’t the only ones going through this,” and “What’s the freakin’ point? Our society is doomed.” The stance goes the way of my messages from guys on dating sites. This week I’ve started an interesting experiment that was based on a post based on a Twitter thread. The results have been….interesting. The experiment is ongoing, so I’ll post more about it next week, but the waves just keep ebbing and flowing in the dating pool. For example, this “gem”: (WARNING: scroll through and read this part later because *NSFW*)

I bet his mother is so proud.

Anyway, I’m sifting though messages I’ve received and putting together the dos and don’ts now. As soon as I’m done with that, I can work on the other portions of the book, such as success stories, etc.

Okay great Kim…now what about the sequel to Words from the Rents? There was supposed to be a sequel. Where is the sequel???

….it’s coming too. You see, I used up a HUGE chunk of Skip and Mary Belle’s witticisms writing the first book. They’re older…crankier…and on to me so now if I laugh at something they say, I get a stern look and “Oh sure, this is going in your next book, isn’t it?” So, I have to be covert in my collecting methods. Also, I’m thinking of incorporating more personal essays into the next one. So there will still be plenty of Skip and Mary but a. not necessarily in conversation form and b. more me. Diva coming along for the ride (grudgingly) and the grandkid is at the age where she’ll make a debut as well. All in good time, my friends. All in good time.

There is so much more I could share, but this is already a novel (with pictures!) so I’ll save them for another post. Until then (most likely next Friday but could be sooner we’ll see), thanks for sticking around and reading along. Enjoy your weekend! 🙂

 

 

 

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Hi There!


I know, it’s been a while, I’m sorry. If I had to describe the last six months of my life, I’d have to say it looked something like this:

tangled ball of yarn2

Between health issues, work issues and an overall displeasure with my life’s path, I knew changes had to be made. But look at all that tangle and mess! Where does one begin?

Well, I started with the obvious. I started taking some meds and I started changing up my diet. I’m still getting around to exercising more, but since the meds seem to be working, I’m dealing with less pain so now I can seriously look at the exercise options.

I also made some professional decisions. I went back to a regular, 9-5 day job like normal folks.

Yeah, stop laughing. It was worth a shot. It didn’t last long but I did learn some valuable lessons. No, I’m not sharing them here, and I’ll explain why in a moment.

There’s something I’ve always known about myself that I tend to ignore for a myriad of reasons. I don’t “do” normal. I don’t think normal, I don’t react to things the way normal people do, my brain has some different wiring. And I’m okay with that, until I start to believe when people say I shouldn’t be okay with it. When people (who for the most part only want me to be happy) tell me that if I just “play along,” or “play the game,” or “think of it as a role and I’m going for the Academy Award,” I’m tempted to buy into it because quite frankly, being me is exhausting. So, I try it. Then I quickly remember why I stopped playing along in the first place.

Because you see, as exhausted as I am being me, at least I don’t feel defeated. As tired as my own brain makes me, at least at the end of the day I can look in the mirror and stare down my own reflection. And as weary as being me can make me, at the end of the day, I’m proud that I am who I am and when I get up the next day, I’m ready to do it all again.

If that’s not enough for some people, if the real me isn’t good enough, I really don’t give a damn.

Okay, got a bit off topic, but apparently I needed to say that, so there you go. 🙂 Now to the real reason for this post: I’m switching this blog to writing only. That’s kinda what it was supposed to be from the beginning but me being me, (see I get in my own way!) I kinda let it become a catch-all. Well not anymore. This blog is about writing. My books, articles, rants about clients, all that will be here. My personal thoughts have a new home: Unapologetically Mocha. Follow me over there for my thoughts, feeling and rants about the world.

This is just my attempt to unravel the tangles and make my life more doable. If I had to wager, I’d guess my life currently looks like this:

not so tangled balls of yarn

Progress! 🙂

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Kim’s Excellent Auditing Adventure (aka The time the crazy rode shotgun)


Okay, so today this happened:

The day started normally enough. I got up, got some coffee and waited for Diva to get ready for work. I dropped her off and proceeded to start my work day. Many of you know that along with my freelance writing and jewelry design gigs I’m also a mystery shopper. Well I’m also a quality auditor for gas stations, and today I had a route I needed to complete. Seven stations in one town.

I get to the first station and I’m doing the spiel. Let the station know I’m there. Give them my letter of authorization (LoA…remember this, it will be important later), then I take pictures and complete the inspection. I’m walking back to my car and a woman approaches me.

Woman: pretty gutsy casing the joint during the day.

Me: Yeah, I’m not planning a robbery, I’m doing a site inspection.

Woman: Oh, of course (wink wink nudge nudge)

Me: Yeah…okay bye.

I get in my car and drive to the next location, all of two blocks away. Do my thing again, alert the station, hand over the LoA, take the photos, do the inspection (from now on, I’m referring to this as ‘Do my thing.’ As I’m walking to my car, guess who approaches me again? Yep. Lady from station #1.

Woman: What the hell kinda heist are you planning?

Me: No heist. Site inspections.

Woman: Good. Glad you’ve got your story down. Makes it way more believable if the cops find out.

Me: Yeah…sure. Bye.

As I got in my car, I thought, “Great, crazy lady is following me thinking I’m going on a crime spree. My luck she’ll say she wants in on it.” I start the car and headed for station #3, which is five or six blocks down the street.

You know, you’d think that I would have learned by now that speaking things aloud to the universe is inviting the universe to act. Apparently I haven’t learned that lesson because, sure enough, after I did my thing…

Woman: Look, if I can anticipate your next move, the cops will. You need a partner, I volunteer me!

Me: Thanks for the offer, but I work alone.

Woman: That’s never a good idea. There should always be two in a heist.

Me: Sorry. Loner.

Station #4:

Woman: I’m an excellent driver.

Me: Me too, plus my insurance won’t cover you.

Station #5:

Woman: I have an excellent eye for detail.

Me: Without looking, how many lights are on under the canopy?

Woman: Uh…

Me: buuzzz! Too late, we’re in jail and it’s your fault. Thanks for playing.

I get to station #6…no sign of her. Did she give up? Did I lose her? Did she find something more amusing to do? After the nanosecond I took to ponder all that, I finished the gig and jumped in the car in the hopes that I could get the last site done..just in case she decided I was interesting again.

I get to the last station. There she is. With the station attendant.

Me: Seriously?

Woman: Told you I knew what you were doing.

Me: Lady you don’t know what you’re  doing, let alone what I’m doing.

Woman: Well you won’t be casing this joint!

Me:  (To the attendant)  I’m here to do your site inspection.

Attendant: Do you have a LoA?

Me: Yep. (hand over the letter)

Woman: That doesn’t mean anything. Any witless moron could make one of those.

Me: And yet here you stand without one.

And with that, I finished the inspection and left.

Now I’m at home thinking about all the ways that could have went wrong. But you know what? It didn’t and therefore it lands in the “must blog this because this only happens to me” box.

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Apparently…


I need to declare my worthlessness to the universe more often. I had one of my most productive days in a very long time today. It’s as if the universe looked down on me and said, “Well, you know that the first step is admitting you have a problem.”

Well, as great as it was to get stuff done, I’m so far behind from such a long dry spell, I’m still not out of the woods. So, Universe, if you could see fit to keep things rolling tomorrow that’d be great. I had forgotten what it was like to actually get stuff done. It was awesome. I want to feel that again.

Don’t really have much to say otherwise. I’m living a pretty boring life right now. But that’s what happens when you’ve been sick. It throws everything off. But this is the week leading up to my Birthday week, so I’m determined to get as much done this week as possible so I can enjoy my birthday week. I’m getting excited for that. It’ll be fun! I’ll fill y’all in on the possible activities tomorrow.

Okay, I’m off to do a bit more work before calling it a night. Namaste all!

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29 Days of Me! :-)


It’s the first of February, 2016. This means three things:

  1. It’s Black History Month
  2. There are 29 days in the month thanks to the Leap year
  3. It’s My Birthday Month!

Numbers one and two are important, but I’m making this all about me! My birthday is literally smack dab in the middle of the month (it’s the 14th), so I’ve decided I’m going to have fun with the run up to it and the downward slide after it. I mean why not? I’ve been on the planet for almost 47 years, that’s something worth celebrating!

However, this isn’t going to be a month of drinking, debauchery and/or mayhem (though some of that may occur, heh!); I’ve got serious plans for the month on both the professional and personal levels. I could spell them out here, but that wouldn’t be much fun, but I will share two with you now…

Blog What I’m Thinking When I Think It – 2016

I get the question, “Kim why don’t you blog more?” quite often. I really don’t find myself that interesting and therefore don’t always think people would care about what I was thinking, but apparently some do (?).  So, to make what could be a long, drawn out explanation short, I’m going to blog about whatever pops into my head. I have the blogging app installed on my phone and tablet, so I’ll almost always have the tool I need in reach. I promise I will keep it to actual thoughts about actual issues (you really don’t need to read me ponder what to fix for dinner). My quicker, quirkier thoughts might make it onto Twitter, just to keep things interesting. This could mean several blog posts each day, or several blogs posts and tweets a day, but I pledge to blog at least once a day.

The book signing and the new book will happen this month

I am having my book signing this month. I am also going to finish the first draft of the second book this month. I’m sure that will be a topic of conversation here as well as on the WordsFromtheRents blog.

I have other things planned, and other things have been planned for me, so I think I’m in for a really fun month. So, let’s get it started, shall we? Have some cake!

 

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Random Thoughts on Race (No Hidden Meaning Here)


A few minutes ago an article came through my Facebook newsfeed. “Rachel Dolezal’s Unintended Gift to America.” The blurb under the title: “Troubled as she is, she has opened up a candid, long-delayed conversation about the meaning of racial identity.”

On the surface, this seems like a wonderful thing. Except for the fact that I have lost count of the number of titles and subtitles I’ve read that said practically this same thing. Whenever the latest race issue rears its ugly head, as the story starts to die and people are about to move on to the next shiny news story, someone trots out the “We’ve started a conversation,” or “We’ve begun a dialogue” mantra. And again, that’s well and good.

Question…

When are we going to FINISH the conversation? Cuz, I gotta tell ya, I’m tired of talking about the same things over and over.

Race is a man-made construct. It was created to divide people. And if we human beings aren’t good at anything else, we’re damn good at pointing out differences.  We don’t just separate our whites from our colors,  we separate our whites into different shades and our darks into different hues. I could go into reasons both biblical and historical to explain why this happened, but that’s not what this post is about.

Here’s what it’s about, and another question…

Why does it matter?

In 2015, this is what we are:

Race A blames Race B for what Race B did generations ago.

Race B doesn’t like Race A because Race B thinks it’s superior because of how some of Race A behaves.

Interestingly enough, Race A and Race B will come together in hatred of Race C, again because of how some of Race C behaves.

Pick a continent. Any continent. It applies.

But, here’s a concept; instead of hating an entire race of people because of the acts of a few, why not just hate the acts of a few? You don’t chuck the whole set of china because of one broken plate. You don’t dump the car because of one broken taillight and you don’t throw away the whole bag of cookies because some of them are broken. You fix what you can, discard what can’t be fixed and you enjoy what’s left. We can do that with dinnerware, autos and cookies but not with people?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting we all hold hands and sing kumbaya, but I am saying that we’re all human beings. We are all born the same, we all need the same things to survive. We all bleed red. We all have whites of our eyes and black pupils that can go from pin heads to nail heads. Some of us are dark, some of us are light, some of us are black and some of us are almost transparent, but our hearts beat the same, our brains form thoughts in the same manner and deep down we all know that hate based on a man-made construct is stupid.

Don’t believe me? Watch young children play. They could care less what color the other kids are. As long as there is room on the merry-go-round and space in the sandbox, kids will play together. Happily. Forever.

I know it’s going to take an invasion from Race #42 for the races on this planet to start acting like they have some sense. And I know that for the most part this blog post is preaching to the choir. But if we’re going to have the continuous loop of “race issue occurs/social media all atwitter/furor dying down/insert comment about dialogue here,” I at least want my blog post to stand as a reminder that we still have a conversation to finish.

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An Open Letter to Karen Fitzgibbons, Fourth Grade Teacher of the Year — from One of “The Blacks”


Dear Ms. Fitzgibbons…and others like you,

Well aren’t you a special snowflake. You’ve got your degree and you’re helping to mold young minds. Too bad your own mind is twisted, dark and full of unkind thoughts. I haven’t read what it is you teach fourth graders, but I can only assume (with a shudder) that it makes a lasting impression. Just as I’m sure your recent Facebook post made an impression on your bosses, your neighbors and the parents of your students.

I’m glad you apologized to “the appropriate people,” which I would guess is a short list consisting of the principal of your school, maybe a couple of coworkers who might be people of color (aka…the good blacks), and the school district that could turn your summer vacation into a permanent one.

Honestly, I do hope you lose your job, but not for the reasons you might think.

But before I delve into that, let’s look at the statement that got you into hot water to begin with. I pulled it from the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal.

“I’m going to just go ahead and say it … the blacks are the ones causing the problems and this ‘racial tension.’ I guess that’s what happens when you flunk out of school and have no education. I’m sure their parents are just as guilty for not knowing what their kids were doing; or knew it and didn’t care. I’m almost to the point of wanting them all segregated on one side of town so they can hurt each other and leave the innocent people alone. Maybe the 50s and 60s were really on to something. Now, let the bashing of my true and honest opinion begin….GO! #imnotracist #imsickofthemcausingtrouble #itwasatagedcommunity,”

Where to being. Where. To. Begin…

I’m just going to pull this apart sentence by sentence.

I’m going to just go ahead and say it … the blacks are the ones causing the problems and this ‘racial tension.’

So “the blacks” are the actual problem. Not intolerant non blacks, or overworked hyped up police officers or other teens who most likely took a private invitation to a party and made it public. It’s just “the blacks.” Good to know.

I guess that’s what happens when you flunk out of school and have no education.

Wait…so only “the blacks” flunk out of school and have no education? So, all “the whites” have degrees and are making $100,000 a year? Huh…I’m sitting in Tim Hortons right now and every worker here is white. Who knew you made $100k at Timmys?

I’m sure their parents are just as guilty for not knowing what their kids were doing; or knew it and didn’t care.

Just as guilty for the problems, the ‘racial tension,’ the flunk out rate, or the lack of education? And who should I blame for your inability to string together a coherent thought? Please tell me you teach fourth grade gym.*

I’m almost to the point of wanting them all segregated on one side of town so they can hurt each other and leave the innocent people alone.

Almost? What’s your tipping point? Seriously, I’m curious. Which side of town do you want to give them? Are you going to move if it’s decided they get your side of town?

Maybe the 50s and 60s were really on to something.

Again, please tell me you teach gym. It was during the 50s and 60s that schools were desegregated. So you want to go back and do it again?

Now, let the bashing of my true and honest opinion begin….GO!

Well, since you asked so nicely…

#imnotracist #imsickofthemcausingtrouble #itwasatagedcommunity,”

Um…#yesyouare #imsickofpeoplelikeyou #learntospellgated

You then go on to tell us that your rant wasn’t aimed at any particular group of people.

So, “the blacks,” “them,” and “they” refer to….?

You know, I could forgive you your rant and chalk it up to frustration. I could forgive you your rant because as you said at the beginning of your post, you’re angry. I could forgive you your rant for any number of reasons, if it weren’t for one thing:

You deleted it.

You didn’t even have the guts to stand by your words. You’re not just ignorant or racist or bigoted for writing that post, you’re a hypocrite and a coward for taking it down. As much as I don ‘t want racist, bigoted and ignorant teachers educating the next generation, I don’t need people who don’t have the fortitude to stand by what they believe teaching them either. So please, do us all a favor, put down the red ink pen (still hoping it’s a whistle), hand in your grade book and find another profession.

*This is in no way slamming gym teachers. My point is that since she misspelled a hashtag, has a hard time forming a coherent thought and doesn’t seem to know U.S. History, the idea of her teaching English, reading or the Social Sciences scares me.

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Channeling My Inner Peter Gibbons


For a while now I’ve not been happy with my career trajectory.

And by “awhile,” I mean several years. Heading into a decade actually.

Now technically, I am a writer. I write words. I get paid. I write more words…

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The problem: I don’t like the words I’m writing.

The other problem: I don’t like what I’m getting paid for the words I write.

The third problem: I don’t like the crap I have to deal with while writing the words I write.

Not liking what I write + Not liking the pay for what I write + Dealing with crap while I write =

A PETER GIBBONS MOMENT

I hope that most of you get the reference to the guy who was the hero of all cubicle dwellers in the early ’00. But for those of you who are not familiar with the guy or the movie in which he appeared, check this out:

This is the attitude that greeted me this morning. It’s not the first time, but this go around it was accompanied with a declarative statement:

I’m done.

I’m done working for peanuts.

I’m done writing about stuff I don’t give a crap about.

I’m done with being too tired to work on writing I WANT to do because I have to work on so much of the crap to make ends meet.

I’m done dealing with clients who do not appreciate what I do for them.

I’m done feeling guilty for crocheting, chainmailling or just watching a tv show and not working at the same time.

I don’t like working for peanuts, for people who don’t appreciate what I do for them anyway so I’m just not going to do it anymore.

I’m. Done.

So here is my plan:

By the end of next month, I will have my book completed (“From the Minds of my Family” is the tentative title. I also like “Words with Skip and Mary,” but that might be limiting.) and a solid first draft for my online dating book. No idea what I’m going to call it.

I have two clients that I will continue to work with because I actually enjoy working with them. I will seek new clients, but I’m going to be picky.

I’m going to go back to my first love, which is feature writing.

And finally, I’m going to crochet and chainmaille more, hang out with my granddaughter and watch tv….without feeling guilty about any of it.

Life is about to get more interesting because I’m finally going to, you know, LIVE IT!

🙂

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46(?)/46/46- Day #7: This post…


Simply acknowledges that the day existed. If I could erase it from my memory I would. Tomorrow is bound to be better, so I’m going to focus on that. Till tomorrow…

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