. . .

“One reason we struggle with insecurity: we’re comparing our behind the scenes to everyone else’s highlight reel.”
- Steven Furtick

I found this on my incredible friend Geales's blog (who I'll see next week at Institute!!!), and I cannot think of a more perfect quote for me right now.

One of the last things we did today (after a Diversity and Inclusiveness discussion, Professionalism talk, and a panel with community parents) was listen to a panel of second-year corps members talk about their experiences from last year and the things they did well/will do better next year. It was incredibly inspiring and very helpful, as they gave a lot of specific strategies that they used to overcome anxieties, establish professional caring relationships with their students, and embed themselves in their communities.

And yet, while the panel was one of the best panels we've had all week, I kept fighting back a twinge of doubt. Sure, she was able to do this, but she has a more forceful personality. Sure, he was able to do that because he's a guy and that'd never work with a female teacher. Sure, they were successful because of X, Y, or Z, and those aren't qualities that I don't know if I have.

It was an hour of mixed emotions. But then I remembered the quote above, which I'd read on her blog last night. And I remembered that behind these corps members' successes and confidence now, there were months of struggle and leaps in personal growth (and we all know personal growth is one of the hardest things sometimes).

So on top of my flexibility mantra, I'm going to have to add that quote. It's so inspiring and calming. And hopefully someday, I'll be in their shoes and my past years of teaching will have a highlight reel of incredible student gains and accomplishments that people can look at when preparing for their own classrooms.

Until then, in the words of another 2nd-year corps member, you can't share a testimonial until you've been tested.

Bring on the test. Me and my kids will be ready.

The One in Which I Prepare to Leave College

I was flipping through a travel magazine yesterday morning while on the elliptical, and I saw this quote:

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.  ~Rabindranath Tagore

I almost cried.

I also was listening to Garth Brooks at the time, and the song "Unanswered Prayers" came on. And I almost cried.

A prompt song change followed.

Besides not being able to breathe (cuz I'm rather out of shape), the only reason I didn't cry in both instances was because I was in public. And once I start crying, I turn into an all-out heaving, sobbing snot-fest. I decided to save the other poor patrons of the treadmill from my blubbering. Besides, snot doesn't mix well with sweat.

So I saved it until I got home.

Then I replayed "Unanswered Prayers" and had a good long cry.

My third in two days.

I'm going crazy.

Or rather, I'm getting ready to graduate. And I'm trying to process that fact. Because it is a fact now. A looming, impending doom fact that will soon take me away from all I have loved so dearly in the last four years.

Oh, I know I'll be able to rebuild a home and community again. I will meet good people again. I'll grow to love them. And contrary to how it may seem lately, I am still very excited about moving to Alabama and teaching and working to change things.

And yet... there will never be anything like this experience again. No one will ever be able to replace the amazing women I have gotten to know here. I love them all, and it will hurt so much to leave them.

While talking on the phone with my mom the other day, she said that at least it actually does hurt to leave. That means you are leaving behind something good.

And it's true. I have decided that the amount of pain I am experiencing right now is directly proportional to how amazing my time in college has been. I guess I can be happy I hurt this much, because it means that I squeezed every ounce of fun, growth, and challenge out of these four years.

So I think of that butterfly quote above, and my interpretation of it (Live life to the fullest? Suck every ounce of awesomeness out of any experience you ever have?), and I am sorta heartened. Kinda.

Because while it didn't last long enough, it was perfect in every way. I can definitely say that I lived it up.

Just Watched History

I can't believe I just watched -- streaming LIVE -- Obama's address to the nation. Crazy.

History in the making.

Graduation Announcements

Announcements came in the mail yesterday.

IMMA FIXIN TO GRADUATE!!!

It is so bizarre to me that I have finally reached this point in my life. I am about to graduate. From college. The last "mandatory" schooling I'll ever have to do. I'm about to join the world of grown-ups -- the land of salaries, filing big kid taxes, saving receipts, and paying for expensive things (like cars, apartments, & insurance).

What?! When did this happen?

I don't know why I can't get over it. This isn't the first milestone I've crossed and it definitely wont be the last. And yet, this particular one -- this college graduation business -- feels like it carries more weight than anything else.

Because after this, the choices I make actually matter. I mean, sure, they mattered before. But they mattered more in a "what I choose not to do so I don't f*ck up my life" kind of way. I mean, I chose to not mess things up by doing drugs or all those other things your mama tells you not to do.  But besides not getting preggo or addicted to crystal meth, the choices I've made haven't really had particularly permanent repercussions.

Until now. Now I'm graduating and choosing the direction of my life. And what I do now matters. I feel like where I go after college sets me on a specific path and will dictate all of my future opportunities. Such a scary thought.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING WITH MY LIFE!

*gnash teeth and pull hair*

And sure, I realize I have lots of time and nothing is permanent and yada-yada. But if one more adult chuckles and says, "I still don't know what I'm doing with my life," I swear... heads are gonna roll. Not cool, smart-allecky adults. Not cool.

Thoughts on Family

I just finished reading the novel Caucasia for one of my classes, and the biggest thing that struck me was how it dealt with family. And while I wont go into much detail, I'll just say that it never ceases to simultaneously amaze and petrify me how much power parents have to inspire, shape, and completely f*ck up their kids.

It's absolutely terrifying, really.

Anyway, I wont get into that. But since family has been on my mind quite a bit lately, here are a few quotes... some pretty good ones, I'd say.


"The family.  We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together."  ~Erma Bombeck


"Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.  Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."  ~Paul Pearshall


"If the family were a fruit, it would be an orange, a circle of sections, held together but separable - each segment distinct."  ~Letty Cottin Pogrebin

The View on My Walk

"Exercise gives you endorphins.
Endorphins make you happy.
Happy people just don't shoot their husbands."
-Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde

I have finally, after almost three years of college, created a work-out routine that fits in comfortably with my class schedule. Even now, I only go two times a week. But hey, it's better than nothing.

Despite the cold weather, and maybe because of all those endorphins, I love my walk home after the gym. It's still early, so there aren't very many people out, and the air is still crisp and fresh.

And most days, to shorten my walk, I get to meander through the football stadium.

*taken with phone

Without thousands of fans to put the place in perspective, it actually looks quite small.

Weird to think I'll never see a game there as a student again.

Slam Poetry in OKC

Last night after the first day of memoir writing was over, all the students in the seminar went out for dinner at Coaches, a pub-ish on Main Street. We have each $100 in Sooner Sense (1 pt = $1) to spend for the duration of the seminar (more than we really need, but no complaints), and Coaches is one of the businesses in town that honors those points. Excellent. $5.99 burgers all around, courtesy of OU.

After dinner, a few went to Orange Leaf to spend a few more of those points/dollars on soft serve ice cream. I rode back to the hotel with a few others. About halfway back, Jordan (the driver) mentioned that he was heading into OKC for a poetry slam after he dropped us off.

I almost got whiplash, my head swiveled so quickly.

Solvitur Ambulando

I'm a worrier. I'm a planner and a worrier to the n'th degree. If there were awards for people who spent the most time thinking and planning for their future, I'd be solidly in the running.

Not that I think it's all a bad thing. I guess I could use less of the worrying, but the planning really has gotten me quite far and has served me well. I don't know if I could have accepted so many of the opportunities presented to me during undergrad if I hadn't planned and worked hard to get me to the place where I had the necessary freedom and skills to accept.

However, while in Chicago I met a new friend who gave me a huge gift. And that gift was the phrase "solvitur ambulando."

"It is solved by walking."

"Problems are solved and/or made clear only by moving forward in practical action."

Nothing in life is reached by planning alone. There's a danger of dreaming and ideating and planning so much that you never put down the pen and start doing. And you'll only get there by doing. Action. Movement. Progress.

So if I don't know where I'm going from here, perhaps the best thing to do is just start walking. Look at the things I am passionate about -- writing, painting, photography, film -- and follow those paths. Tell stories. Share paintings. Be creative.

If I am adamantly following my passions and strengthening my skills in those areas, then the opportunities will follow from there. That I believe wholeheartedly.

It's just that letting go of my iron-fisted control over my future plans will be difficult. It will take a strength and determination that I'm not sure I have.

But I guess, as in all things, solvitur ambulando.

Time to start walking.

Losing My Zen

The fastest way to lose all this great inner peace stored up over the break is to start thinking ahead toward the coming semester. Then the illusion of "Oh, I'll have so much free time to be creative because I'm only taking twelve hours" comes crashing down, revealing the behemoth of extra-curricular activities and responsibilities to which I've already committed (and conveniently tend to push into the back recesses of my mind).

Grrreeeeaaaaattt.

I can feel my zen deflating like one of those helium balloons left out in the cold too long.

It's funny, because I do this absolutely every single semester (you'd think I'd know better by now). I start by simplifying my upcoming responsibilities in my mind so they feel manageable. And once I've drawn myself a comforting black and white picture, I look at that and only that -- until a couple weeks before the semester starts. Then, when it comes time to write goals and make plans, all the nuances of all the little things that I'm also committeed to flood in. And I freak out. Stress out. Freeze.

This freezing business is dangerous. For example, I'm starting to get important emails again. Important emails that I really should have replied to today (or yesterday). I should not leave them for tomorrow (or Monday). But the sub-zero-ness of stress has taken me over, and I can't respond.

Or wont.

It's a slippery slope.

My refusal to rejoin the world of the working is just the first step, I imagine. I'll probably progress with alarming swiftness to more dangerous things like running traffic lights, not voting, and stealing purses from old ladies.

Save me from myself!!!

Anyway, instead of doing my work, I continue to blog and read memoirs and take naps. I live in denial that I only have a week and a half until classes begin. Of course, once they do, I'll be kicking myself that I didn't start on all these projects earlier.

Which I really should. Really really really should.

Maybe I should take up yoga. Get some of that zen back. Except instead of chanting "Om," I can slip in a couple extra syllables and say something like "Don't streeeessssssssssss" and "Dooooooo yoooooooouur wooooooooooorrrrrkkkk."

The last one has a nice calming drone to it.

My Airport Friend

This little fellow seranaded me (beautifully) for a good ten minutes while I sat munching on my delicious, fresh (a rarity!) chicken salad sandwich in the Denver Airport yesterday. When he started, I kept looking around for the source of the tweeting, thinking that maybe the delirium of late-night painting and packing was finally getting to me. But then I looked straight up.

And when I finally found him, I couldn't stop staring. He was a pretty little thing, with snowy feathers and a voice for the stage. No one else around seemed to notice (or care) that he was there. They just kept eating and talking on their bluetooths and checking their watches incessantly so they wouldn't miss their flights. No one paid any attention to the little bird trilling his heart out in the high rafters above their heads.

It was tragic.

I mean, it's obvious that he was able to find a way in, but I doubt he'll be able to find a way out again. So there he sat, trapped inside a huge airport terminal, warbling to harried travelers and irritated fast food workers. No one looked up. Even his tiny last gift to the world was being completely ignored.

A bird dying in an airport-- a modern marvel of metal and concrete where wingless mammals have learned to defy gravity-- strikes me as incredibly ironic.

Notes on Flying

I would imagine that the United States seems like a much smaller place if you're a flight attendant. If you're traveling cross-country three times in a day, it has to lose some of its allure. And magic. Which is a shame.

I've flown my fair share of times (to and from school, etc), and I still love flying. It never gets old, even when I'm half-dead from a lack of sleep and the slow-to-dissipate stress from packing (because I think I'm literally incapable of starting my packing endeavors any earlier than midnight before a 6 a.m. flight. It's inevitable).

But regardless, I'm still in love with flying. I still love the exhilaration of take-off, the thrill of seeing a familiar face in a terminal of strangers, and the inner leaping of my heart when I find that my suitcase fits neatly under the 50 lb weight limit.

I used to want to be a flight attendant like nobody's business. I wanted that cute blue suit, wanted to chat with attractive pilots, and fly all over the country. I still wouldn't mind that, I guess. Especially the flirting with pilots part.

But the way I see it, flying wouldn't be the same if I did it everyday.

Old hat = no more fun.

So I'm sticking to my day job (or will, once I get one). And I'll continue to love flying, and I'll still get enjoyment from being a speedy security check-through-er, and I'll love finding that one restaurant in the Denver airport with fresh, not soggy sandwiches. Ka-ching!

Another Resolution

I was looking through my post about resolutions just now, trying to see if I forgot anything (I did. Add: Call family and friends more frequently), and I noticed that I wrote "my resolutions for the new year (and in part, the new decade)."

Umm... I'm pretty sure going into 2011 doesn't count as the new decade, Virginia. I think that one started about a year ago.

Are you allowed blonde moments when you're a brunette/redhead?

(I guess I also can't decide on my hair color. I'd like to claim that it's just "one of those days," but the hair thing is an ongoing source of confusion. I'm having severe identity issues because of it.)

Readjusting Expectations

Coming back to my hometown always takes an adjustment. The city (does it really count as a city?) never seems to change -- same streets, mostly the same businesses, mostly the same people-- and yet it all feels different.

There's now nothing to do.

I have no idea how I managed to stay entertained in high school.

Also, the house I grew up in has since been sold, so when I'm here I stay in a new place with different smells and sounds. I know it doesn't seem like much, and I guess I'd have hoped that by the time I was getting ready to graduate I wouldn't need that traditional "home" feeling anymore. But I still do. And it's not there anymore. A bit sad, in a way.

But I'm not saying that I completely dislike the challenges of a new place. They can be fun. For example, as I've stated before, setting up a new kitchen is really a blast.

And I love organizing other people's stuff. I get this strange satisfaction from looking at a mess and transforming it into a comfortable, livable space. Clutter stresses me out.

So, being the great guy that he is, my dad has pretty much given me free reign of setting up and organizing his apartment. Currently sitting on his kitchen counter is a running list of all the things he needs to get his bachelor pad in good shape for after I leave.

I think that if all my other career ideas don't pan out, I'll just become a professional organizer and have people hire me to organize their lives.

I'm reluctant to admit I can think of only a handful of careers that sound like more fun. Writing, producing, and wedding planning are some of them. I think I'm officially adding professional organizer to my list of potential life paths. The more the merrier, right?

Back on the topic of adjustments . . . The other thing about coming back to Billings is that people move or change, or both (which is good). Very few people have stayed the same, even if it sometimes feels like this town is in a constant state of stagnation.

So the list of people I make a point of seeing every break keeps getting smaller and smaller, until I'm at the point where I only see three or four people (though those three or four are very special to me). I spend the rest of my time at coffee shops, writing and thinking of home. Oklahoma is home. Temporarily, at least.

Then I'll move and make a new home.

Sorry I keep talking about this. It's been on my mind a lot lately. I've termed it "the plague of the petrified soon-to-be college graduate." Catchy, right?

I'm looking into trademark options as we speak.

Writer Reality Check

I love this blog by Kristen Lamb. So great. It's all about things to expect when you become a writer, including not having anyone take you seriously. It also talked about how important it is to take the word "aspiring" out of your vocabulary (Don't try. Just do.), and that it's okay to spend all your time watching movies and reading books, because it's called research. Brilliant. And inspirational.

However, at the beginning of the blog, she says she is talking to those people who just decide one day to become writers. And my first thought when reading was... Does one really just become a writer? Is that realistic? As if one day you wake up and say, "By Jove, I think I'll write a NY Times best-seller today!"

I don't think it works like that. Sure, you may suddenly feel the heavens align when you don't have the urge to kill anyone after writing that one-page poem in your fifth grade unit on Edgar Allen Poe. You may realize you don't have a complete aversion to creative writing like your friends do. Papers aren't the devil.

But I definitely didn't have that eureka moment when I realized that I wanted to be a writer. I think I just kinda became one. I started blogging in high school for the local paper, and it was a fun way to express myself. And then I kept it up in college because it was a good way to keep my parents in the loop.

Perhaps, though, there is a moment when you think, "What if I did this forever? What if this was my career?"

Now that is a moment. A clearly defined moment. For me, it came as I was sitting in the library last semester, writing a blog about growing up in the country, and I realized that I enjoyed blogging more than anything else I was doing all that semester. I enjoyed it even more than my film classes. And I had a pretty consistent following on my blog, so somebody had to enjoy what I was saying. Maybe that is translatable into longer fiction pieces?

I still don't know if what I have to say is interesting or even if my particular "voice" (or whatever) is transferable to fiction. And I haven't even finished a novel yet (though I'm still trying!). So I can't necessarily just up and quit everything, graduate with a B.A. and move to Greenwich Village to become a self-involved, beatnik writer who meanders through Central Park without shoes, writing poetry for free to the tourists passing through. As much as I'd like to.

I guess I need to get a big-girl job, whatever that will be. And writing will be on the side.

For now.

Penmanship Issues

I hate writing the letter I. The lower case version is okay, I guess (though really boring)--- but that capital I? Atrocious.

How do you make that look pretty?! It's all straight lines and angles. No room for a swoop. And the cursive I just think looks foolish.

 VS

In My Inspiration Box

When I made my day planner in August (or my Daily Action Plan, as I like to call it-- sounds best with a snobby British accent), I included a small box, tucked away between my boxes for Applications and Two Minute Tasks, called Inspiration.

I thought, "Oh hey! I'll include this little box and fill it will awesome sayings and drawings. It'll be great!"

But the sad thing is, I'm usually too busy to write anything in that box. I mean, the actual writing part doesn't ever get done. I read lots of quotes online whenever I need inspiration, but none of them make it into my actual action plan. Which is a shame. I think that little box gets pretty lonely.

Except today. Today I flipped the page to Monday, and lo and behold! Something was sitting there in my tiny inspiration box, just waiting to inspire someone.

On the Road Again

While the break has been relaxing and it has been wonderful to see my relatives again, I'm ready to go home. I'm turning into quite the little homebody, I think.

When I was a freshman, Montana was my home and Oklahoma-- the dorms, OU, Norman-- was just a temporary place to live, meet people, and keep my stuff. But the opposite is true now. Living with some of the best friends I've ever had, it's the only place I don't feel restless, really belong, and have my own bed.

The scary part is that I only get to keep this for a year. It's almost too sad to think about. Because while I am really excited about all the adventures to come after graduation, it's unnerving to see my comfortable little world be replaced with unsettling newness. I'm going to miss this.

My Thankful List

Disclaimer: This post is uncharacteristically sappy. Reading not recommended after a hearty meal of turkey leftovers. The sentimental/tryptophan combo could be lethal.


The other day, I was cleaning up a pile of papers, and I found one of the many running lists I'd made while on shift at work last year. It was a list counting my blessings (perfect timing, with Thanksgiving right around the corner). For those of you who weren't around for that part of my life, I used to be a cocktail waitress at a bar. It was the worst (though best paying) job I've ever had.

When people ask me why I quit, my standard response is that the job sucked my soul. I kinda think it's funny to say it that way, but I guess it's too dramatic for most people because I usually just get a blank stare from them. Anyway, while that reason is obviously an exaggeration, it wasn't too far off at times.

The job constantly dragged me down. I was working in an environment where, in order to make money, I had to pander to/smile at/flirt with people who looked at me like I was less than them (just because I was a waitress). I wasn't used to people treating me that way, and sometimes it was downright humiliating. To this day, I'm amazed I stuck it out for so long. If it hadn't been for my strengthening friendship with good ol' Lincoln, Jackson, and Franklin, I'd have quit the day after football season ended.

One day when the job was particularly bad, I flipped over one of the waitressing notepads in my apron and on the back I started a running list of all the things in my life that I was grateful for. The list started small, but by the end of the night, I had over a hundred tiny bulleted points. What started as a 'Hail Mary' ended up being critical to maintaing my sanity that night. Just taking the time to acknowledge my blessings did wonders to my "poor me" attitude and grumpy spirit. Because truly, I have a lot to be thankful for.

The landscape of my life has changed considerably since the time when I wrote that note a year ago. Aside from still being a college student and having the same core group of wonderful friends, so much of what is around me has shifted. I have a niece. My family looks different. I am hunting for post-college opportunities and preparing for living in the real world. I have been single for the longest stretch I can remember since I started dating way back in high school, and I'm loving it. I don't have to work at a bar anymore, and instead I get to reclaim my Friday nights for friends and my Saturday mornings for painting. I'm looking at pursuing other careers besides film (though loving films will always ben ingrained in me -- and if someone asked me to produce their film, I wouldn't say no).

So that is the first thing on my Thankful List this year. I am thankful that my life is in a good place right now.


In no particular order, I am grateful for:

1. My neice Isabella and the fact that, while I may be light years away from being ready to have my own kids, someone else is not. And that particular someone (my gorgeous sister) was kind enough to grace the world with something as precious as that little bubble of light.

2. The opportunity to live in a nice house (within walking distance to campus) with my closest friends -- whom I have gotten to know so much better and have appreciated so much more over the course of this semester.

3. The chance to stretch myself by working on a business team that's creating a software company. While this isn't a project that I would normally have pursued otherwise, I've really enjoyed learning what it means to belong to a start-up company. Also, I have a fun team, which one should always have if one can help it.

4. The existence of Saturday mornings, which I can fill with painting and not feel guitly about it. And I'm grateful that my roommates actually let me put my paintings up on the wall. That's cool too.

5. Having a clear enough schedule this November to try my hand at writing a novel (and having people who support my creative whims -- where would I be without you?).

6. The growing readership on my blog and the fact that I'm not just writing for my immediate family anymore (though I'll always love you).

7. And last but not least, I'm grateful for the opportunity to write and share my Thankful List (which is considerably more fun than a New Years Resolutions list -- much more positive and far less critical).

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

Teaching for America, by Thomas Friedman

Thomas Friedman has to be one of my favorite writers of all time. His opinion articles for the New York Times are always insightful and dead-on.

And this article is no different.

In it, he talks about how everyone agrees that there is something wrong with our education system. But he offers at least one potential solution, which has been proposed by the Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan.

We need to raise the importance and prestige of teachers in the United States, in order to recruit the best and brightest for the position.

Duncan’s view is that challenging teachers to rise to new levels — by using student achievement data in calculating salaries, by increasing competition through innovation and charters — is not anti-teacher. It’s taking the profession much more seriously and elevating it to where it should be.

Even here at OU, it feels like people look down on those in the School of Education. It (wrongly) has the reputation of being an easy major, for those just looking to get an MRS degree.

What is wrong with this picture?!

Educating our youth should not be seen as an easy job. Not everyone can teach. It takes skill, patience, and endurance. Don't ever let anyone tell you that teaching is anything but difficult. This summer I worked with people who came back every night from teaching, exhausted and scared that they weren't making enough of a difference in their kids' education. Teaching challenges even the smartest people, and our society should reward it as such.

I can't wait for the day when public schools only accept those from the top one-third of a graduating class. Or for when people stop believing things like, "Well, teachers get the summer off, so we shouldn't really pay them much." Or even just for the day when I don't get doubtful expressions when I tell people that I want to teach. By wanting to become a teacher, I will not be settling. I will be making a difference.

Things I Learned From Pioneer Woman

Today was a good day. It was a good day for many reasons, but mostly today was good because I got to hear Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond, speak. For those of you who are new to my blog, I'll let you know now that I may have a sorta huge girl crush on this woman. She is an amazing writer, photographer and cook, and all I want to do right now is copy her blogging empire and make it my own. I admire her so much. And now that I've met her, I'll tell you that my opinion of her hasn't changed in the slightest. She's just as funny and quirky in real life as she is online.

You know, sometimes I'll go listen to speakers and while their speech topics make me think they'll be super inspiring, they just fall short. Happens all the time, it seems. And I definitely left plenty of space for Pioneer Woman to fall short in my mind, since I'd put her up so high. But she didn't disappoint. I loved every moment of her talk. I learned so much and I left feeling so inspired.

Below are the things, practical and abstract, that I learned from Ree today:

1. I need a new hosting site, so that the platform and designs I use better reflect who I am as a writer. Did you know that Pioneer Woman also started out on Blogger? Yup! But then she decided that the templates available were too limiting and she couldn't get the look she wanted, so she branched out. And the more I've thought about it, the more I think she's right. I'm getting really tired of my current template, and it's time for a change. I'm going to start looking around for other hosting sites and a different look.

2. I need to get my own domain name. Pioneer Woman, like me, started out using Blogger as her hosting site. And she, like me, had that .blogspot.com ending, which is lengthy and looks uncool. So she put up the dough and got a domain name and server space. I think that's my next step. Hosting doesn't cost more than $4 a month, so why not?

The only problem so far on that one is that I don't have a really good name for my blog yet. To be honest, I've started to hate the name VirginiaFilms. Well, hate is too strong a word. But that title tells you nothing about me, except that my name is Virginia. I don't even talk about films very often, so that's a misnomer there. I just wish I was better at titles. I need help. Any suggestions?

3. Not only is Ree Drummond writing a book -- putting her Black Heels to Tractor Wheels story to paper -- but Columbia Pictures has optioned the screenplay. Seriously can't wait.

4. Photographs make a blog so much better. People are highly visual nowadays, and they need pictures.

5. When she started blogging, it was only to keep her mom (who lived in another state) up-to-date on her growing family, etc. But she found she actually really enjoyed writing, and it developed from there.

6. When Q & A time came, I asked her how she was able to be so honest about her personal life -- her romance, her parents, etc-- when she knew that the people she was talking about would be reading her posts. And her answer was perfect. She said that she made sure that she never said anything to hurt someone intentionally. She was never critical or mean. The only person she makes fun of on her blog is herself. She said that she could sense when her stories, like that of her parent's divorce, had moved out of her realm and into being their story to tell (and she'd left it that way).

Then she gave me some of the best writing advice I've ever received. She told me that you can't start out with a box, labeling and defining everything you will and will not write about. Blogs shouldn't work that way. Start with writing about what you love. Be honest. And if you feel you are overstepping a boundary, you probably are. Then just retrace and start again.

7. Before starting her blog, Ree Drummond didn't know anything about photography. Anything. She is a self-taught photographer, and I think that's amazing. And very heartening. If she can learn, then so can I. At least, that's what she kept saying. Throughout the entire talk, she kept stressing that she was just a normal person who took something she loved and stuck with it. 

I left the talk full of ideas and feeling empowered. First step = get a new name. Any ideas?