Where You're Going

My husband’s college acceptance letter came in the mail last Thursday. When I got home from work, he was standing at the door waiting on me, our three cats winding in and out of his legs, a huge grin on his face. The grin was infectious. For a moment, we just stood in the kitchen, grinning at each other like idiots. After exchanging our hellos, I asked him what in the world was up, and he just smiled and handed me the unopened letter. The words Jacksonville State University were printed as the return address, and I knew immediately that this was a good letter.

He confided to me later that he was a little nervous at first. In his experience, college acceptance packages came in thick envelopes crammed with information about the school: orientation, registration, and financial aid. The thin envelopes were always bad news. But not this time.

We opened the letter together, and the first thing our eyes landed on was the slogan “Where You’re Going” printed on a bumper sticker. I’ll never forget that moment. We both hollered our hoorays, grabbing onto each other in a clumsy, hopping hug. This was the beginning of our future, a first day of the rest of our lives. Thankfully, there are many days like that in life, days that ring out with success and promise and hope.

We still haven’t come down from our college acceptance high. Jeremy has big plans after completing his four-year degree, and while there have been roadblocks and detours along the way, he’s never given up on making it happen.

I’m a firm believer of making dreams come true. For the longest time, when I first graduated college, I had given up on my own dream of becoming a writer. It seemed so out of reach, as I sat at home and searched ad after ad for a freelance writing or editing gig. Most of the ads were far from home, and as a family girl with a good sense of my roots, I wasn’t quite willing to travel far away for a job. The jobs that were within in reach required experience that I just didn’t have. It seemed like to break out in the writing world I only needed a chance, but chances, it turned out, were hard to come by.

Just when I had all but given up on my dream, several years after my college graduation, an opportunity presented itself. The opportunity came in the form of a weekly local column, and to this day, it remains the best gift I have ever received. This column led to another first day of the rest of my life. When I saw my name in print for that first “official” time, I knew that at least part of my dream had finally come true. And from the column, so many more dreams were realized; so many more dreams took flight.

I now have my own blog. Not a huge accomplishment but one that I cherish. Chicken Noodle Gravy provides a chance to connect with my readers and an opportunity to write every day. Since I began this web journal over a year ago, I have seen my own writing improve and grow.

I’ve been published in the fabulous regional magazine West Georgia Living. I’ve actually had the opportunity to work on real freelance assignments, to research and build a story from next to nothing. The entire experience has been amazing.

Dreams are easy to give up on. The older we get, the easier it becomes. But giving up on a dream means we could miss out on so much. I might have missed out on meeting so many new people, on reconnecting with friends from my past, on finally earning a dollar for my words, and so much more. Jeremy might have missed out on that college acceptance letter, that key to our future which will undoubtedly open the door to many dreams to come. 

Source: positivelypresent.typepad.com via Katie on Pinterest

Where are you going? What dreams do you never give up on in your life? 


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Standing In My Own Way

Via

I made a breakthrough this morning. I won’t diminish this breakthrough by saying that it would probably not be that big of a deal to anyone else. It’s a big deal to me and that’s all that matters right now. I overcame an obstacle that was standing in the way of pursuing my dreams. I overcame myself.

I am my own obstacle, and I have been for quite some time.

When it comes to giving credit, I’m your girl. I was blessed with the ability to see good in almost everyone and everything. I love supporting others, watching them grow, helping them grow. You need a pat on the back? Give me a call. I’ll pat you on the back all day long and then tell you how awesome you are…because you are awesome, and you should know it.

But you know what? I’m kind of awesome, too. Only, I have a hard time convincing myself of that fact. In the last two years, I’ve made huge steps in making my dream of becoming a writer come true. I’ve been published. I’ve been paid. I’ve even become a contributing writer for a regional magazine. Some might even say that I am a writer now. 

And yet, despite these successes, I remain unimpressed.

Instead of looking at all the wonderful accomplishments I’ve made, I pick myself apart. I throw my flaws up to myself. I constantly say, so what? You’re still crazy. You’re still neurotic. You’re still afraid of a lot of things. When will I ever say: This is enough?

Today, I took one step closer to being able to say that.

I made two phone calls for two new magazine assignments I have.

I’ve only been writing features for this magazine a few months. My first assignment was back in October. Since then, I’ve managed to hide behind my computer. For each of my assignments so far, I did interviews through email and, if I do say so myself, I kicked ass.

Hiding behind a computer is easy. I can be everything that I want to be when I’m writing. I can be confident. I can be intelligent. I can take the time to get my wording JUST RIGHT. When you read a professional email from me, you’re going to think that I am a smart, confident, kick-ass woman. You’re going to imagine a woman in high heels with perfect hair and perfect makeup and perfect everything. She’s going to be the woman you want to hire, the woman you want on your side.

I can project that woman from the comfort of my computer. I can be that woman, because with words, I am that woman.

But truth is…when you strip away the security blanket of a computer…when you strip away my ability to think through and perfectly construct what I’m going to say…I am not that woman.

Truth is…I’m just Katie. Self-conscious, nervous, people-pleasing Katie. I twist my hair when I talk. I bite my lip. I play with my rings. I fidget. My hair isn’t perfect, and neither are my clothes. I’ll turn red and splotchy. My voice might shake…just a little.

I don’t want you to know the truth. But I don’t know why.

Because the truth is who I am, and I should be proud of that.

Today, being able to hide behind my computer ended. Both of my contacts for my new assignments wanted to talk to me on the phone. Now, you may remember that I’m telephonophobic; therefore, for the days since I found out about my assignments, I've been freaking out. We're talking panic attack city in Katie-land.

But, today, after a long pep talk from my awesome dad, I let go of that fear.

I let go of controlling my image. I let go because this was important. This was my dream. It made letting go all that much harder, but it also meant that I had to do it. There was no choice in the matter. Fear was not going to dictate another decision in my life. Fear was not going to make the choice for me. Fear was not going to waste another of my moments.

So, I picked up the phone, made two important calls, and, y'all, I kicked ass. I was that woman with the perfect words and the perfect hair...and instead of heels, I was wearing sneakers. I was that woman, because I am that woman. I am her, and she is me. 

And I’ll continue being her, as long as I stop standing in my own way.

Be who you are. Be proud of who you are. Because it’s who you are that makes you so awesome. And I’ll just keep remembering that I’m awesome, too, and maybe one day soon, I’ll even believe it. 

Today, well...I made a breakthrough today, and because of it and because of the feeling I have right now, I'll remember it forever. And when I forget...or when I feel insecure and afraid, I'll come back here. I'll remember this day. I'll remember this feeling, this pride I have in myself at this moment. And I'll kick ass again. 

Do you ever stand in your own way? Do you let fear or insecurities make decisions for you? How have you kicked ass lately?

Goth Girl Gets Published

Reputations. They're pretty funny sometimes, especially when you're not really sure where they came from. Of course, I can't pretend I'm completely clueless about my own reputation for being a bit "gothic." I do have an inkling of an idea as to where my name Goth Girl originated (thanks, Brooke!). It all started over a discussion on Johnny Depp. You see, I'm a huge Johnny Depp fan. Always have been, always will be. I like him 'cause he's pretty, obviously, but more importantly, I like him for his style and attitude and for the fact that he's different. You may recall that I'm different...maybe even a little weird. So I'm drawn to people who don't fit into any particular mold.

Yummy.

My love for Johnny led to a natural assumption that I loved pirates, which obviously meant that I should love vampires, and so on and so forth. And so Goth Girl was born. Look, I do have a love for the darker things in life. I'll admit it. I'm kind of morbid that way. And, usually, so is my writing.

Which leads me to the true point of this post: I'm getting published. Again. Again, you ask? Katie, you mean to tell us that you've been published before? Well, yes and no. My story "A Shame About Mrs. James' New Colonial Blue Carpet" (long title, short story) appeared in the now defunct literary journal Southern Gothic. So, yes, for awhile, I was published, but now, since that journal no longer exists, I'm not. Because, you see, Southern Gothic was an online literary journal, so it's not like I have copies of the journal laying around at home. Nope, it's gone and so is my published story and by-line. (Here's proof that it actually existed, but if you'll notice the link to the actual journal now belongs to a psychic service (sad, sad): http://www.storysouth.com/comment/2007/01/southern_gothic_online_and_in.html

(Oh, and my short story "The Beauty of a Sno-Cone Stand" was published in a local magazine called West Georgia Living, which is also nothing to sneeze at, but I don't know if I can officially "count" that as it's for local talent, so anyway...)

Back to present, no use crying over formerly published and now no longer published stories. The thing I'm focusing on now is my current Literary Journal Journey, which has already paid off! A couple of weekends ago I submitted my short story "One Mississippi" to an online literary journal called Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal, and within a few days, I had a response--

Hi Katie,


I would love to publish your story "One Mississippi" in the next issue of Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal. Thanks so much for your interest in MLASJ and best wishes with your writing!


--This led to a lot of happy dancing and squealing and scaring of cats and then some celebratory Champagne drinking (one of you once told me to celebrate the small victories, so I did :)) . Now, as far as I can tell, literary journals are kind of a first step in way of getting published. The more my name appears in print, the more my work is published and consumed, the better chances I have of having a book published. Maybe. At least that's what I'm telling myself. So, keep your fingers crossed! Goth Girl is making her dreams come true one step at a time.

If you'd like to read "A Shame About Mrs. James' New Colonial Blue Carpet," let me know. It's pretty dark, and up until recently, I've avoided showing bloggy land my dark side, but it's my blog, and it's who I am, so what the heck!

Confessions of a Gleek, or the Anatomy of an Obsession

To those who know me best, it's no secret that I have a tendency to obsess about the things I love. That's probably the understatement of the century. God love my parents and my husband for putting up with me and all of my obsessions. Especially my parents. They've lived with 28 years of me and my "loves," including but not limited to: horses, Johnny Depp, Alfred Hitchcock movies, Jimmy Stewart, Dave Matthews Band, musicals, writing, reading, William Faulkner, Jane Austen, Wuthering Heights, James Dean, Ireland, anything and everything Irish, cooking, gardening, cats, animals, owls, black birds, birds in general, The Beatles, Counting Crows, history, ghosts, zoos, scary movies, love stories, food, anything Southern...I should probably stop. Before I seem crazy crazier. I tend to be passionate over everything my heart loves, and I mean passionate. That's who I am, and what follows is a look inside my overly-passionate, obsessive heart.

I purposely left off one of my major obsessions from the list above because it may actually be the mother of all obsessions and is the subject of my post. This obsession came to life the moment I heard a rumor that the show might have been a twinkle in its creator's eye. Then I saw the preview for it and fell head over heels.

When the Glee pilot originally aired in May 2009, I thought I might die between its airing and the airing of episode 1 in September 2009. Thankfully, I didn't, but I'm pretty sure Jeremy was sick of hearing about Glee THEN.  Poor guy. Yep, I'm a total Gleek. Nope, I'm not a 12-year old tween with braces and glasses, singing Celine Dion's "All By Myself" at the top of my lungs in my purple, horse-decorated bedroom...but I once was. And my 12-year old self loves Glee. Loves it. Heck, I won't lie so does my 28-year old self.

But with all of my obsessions, there's usually some kind of reason or logic behind my reason for obsessing, and Glee is no different. Which brings me to: The Anatomy of an Obsession.

The Underdog, Anti-Hero, Dreamer Lady

Let's start with the Glee's heroine: Rachel Berry, a character most people love to hate, but one that I absolutely adore. She's not neat. She's not easy-to-love. She's sometimes obnoxious, has questionable judgment, and is pushy and opinionated. But she's just the kind of character I love the most: the anti-hero(ine). Look, people aren't simple. None of us fit into easy categories, and if we do, then we probably need to re-evaluate our depth and sense of self but that's another post for another day. Rachel reflects (an exaggerated version) of real life. She dreams and chases those dreams shamelessly, and the dreamer in me respects that tenacity. Plus, she's an underdog, and I am a complete sucker for an underdog, also another post for another day.

Unrequited Love

Ah, unrequited love. Could there be a single person on the planet who doesn't relate in some way to unrequited love? Then again, I'm sure there are some people who have never longed for someone they can't have, but Glee's probably not the type of show those people could relate to anyway. I'm getting off-track. The unrequited (mostly) love between the Glee's main characters, our favorite underdog Rachel and popular yet awkward football player guy Finn Hudson, is definitely a key component to my obsession. Love stories that begin with unrequited love and end with happily ever after thrill me! And while happily ever after is yet to be determined on Glee, the "getting there" with Finn and Rachel's story has me hanging on and enjoying every minute of the ride.

Random Outbursts of Song


Music makes the people come together. Madonna knows what she's singing about, for real. And music, although I don't have any talent for it myself, moves me. I sing songs at the top of my lungs. I analyze lyrics and composition and the way songs make me feel. And because of a deep love and appreciation for music, I've always adored musicals. The random outbursts of song fill my heart with joy. When I was a teenager, I used to wish life could be a musical. If I could only sing about my love and heartbreak, it would make it so much easier to handle! Or so I thought. But, really, what is Glee but a musical? A never-ending musical and that's even better!

The Message

To wrap up this unnecessarily long post (see? I told you I'm obsessive), I'd like to touch on the final and perhaps most important reason behind my obsession with Glee: the message. Glee tells the story of misfits and underdogs, and it teaches viewers about acceptance. The gist of the show? We're all different, but we're all worth loving, whether we're weird, gay, black, white, purple, gothic, self-conscious, curvy, OCD....or a tiny bit obsessive by nature. And to me, that's a message worth obsessing over.

Do you have an obsessive personality? If so, what's your obsession? 

Oh, and PS - Are you a Gleek? Glee lovers unite! :)

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