On Passion...

PASSION CAN'T BE BOUGHT, GIVEN, ACHIEVED,OR FAKED. BUT PASSION CAN BE FOUND.
I quit my job to follow my passion - professional storytelling a career path that offered no money, no ladder to climb, and no books telling me how to do it. But I was lucky because I had something more important than talent. I had passion something that can't be bought. But it can be FOUND. In every single one of us there burns that blue flame of passion. It's just buried deeper in some - underneath life's obligations, fear, insecurities, and negative forces. So how do we get to that inner flame?

FIND THOSE THINGS THAT MAKE YOUR HEART SING
Get away from the noise. Sit down and think. What brings you joy? What do you love to do more than anything? In what can you lose all sense of time and surrounding? Is it shopping? Is painting children? Is it food? Is it reading about Greek mythology? Don't think about what this would mean or what it should be. This is about you. And know that it probably won't be one thing. Passions are often a culmination of many desires.

DON'T LOOK AT THE WORLD AND ITS BOXES
So often I hear someone state their passion and immediately discard the thought because they see it in only one box. You make a mistake if you cut your dream off at the pass. I would dare to say that ANY passion can be turned into a lucrative career if you are willing to see outside the box that the world has created. I once knew a guy who really wanted to juggle. That's right - balls up in the air. That was his passion. But he kept hesitating because there's no money in juggling. What would his parents think? And he didn't like kids. He felt it was a lost cause and many would probably have agreed with him. But he didn't stop. He had passion. Now he has put together a program for corporations on how to deal with the many balls we juggle on a daily basis. He gets paid very well. He loves what he does. And guess how he spends the majority of his time at work? Juggling.

IT'S NOT ABOUT TALENT
Too many people ignore their flame because they think they're not good enough. Chances are strong that you are, and if you aren't, then you'll deal with it like a grownup and find another way to do what you love. It just takes some creative thinking. I've seen example after example of people who excelled at their business - not because they were the most talented - but because they were the most passionate.

SEE IT
Don't just say it. See your dream unfolding. There is tremendous power in visualizing.

SAY IT OUT LOUD
There's something about saying it out loud that makes it real, even if there's nobody to hear it.

DEVELOP A SUPPORT NETWORK
Tell people you trust. It makes you accountable. Keep in mind that there are many people who, knowingly or not, will try to sabotage your dream. Many people are secretly afraid or even jealous of your courage. They want it so desperately themselves and are so afraid to find it, that they make themselves feel better by diminishing yours. That's why it's so important to find that network of people who will support your dream, and hang on to them for dear life. They will get you through those many moments when the negative forces overwhelm.

EMBRACE THE REJECTION
Use what is constructive and learn to let the rest roll off of your back. Learn to get back up. True success doesn't lie in those moments when you finally reach the finish line. Success is in every one of those moments when you have the courage to get back up.

TAKE A BREATH AND JUMP
Just close your eyes, have faith in the unseen, and jump. You may not have anything to lose. You may have everything to lose. But you will never regret the jump.

How to lose a friend in ten days or less...

How to lose a friend in ten days or less…

We have enough articles and cute little coffee table books that sing the praises of friendship. But what about that friend we are dying to get rid of? You know the one - don’t deny it – the one who at the very mention of her name your eye starts to twitch. The very sight of her car pulling into your driveway actually has you considering faking your own death. The one who bugs you so bad you can’t stand her children just by association. Help is on the way. I have come up with some surefire ways to get rid of unwanted friends.

Ask her if she’s gained weight. Look closely at her hips and her rear end as if you are trying to solve a mysterious math equation. Tell her it’s okay, that we all let ourselves go when we get to that age. And would she consider botox?

Ask her to host a scrapbook party at her house – every time you see her. Then tell her exactly how you want it done and offer to clean her house for her, with a look that says you remember the last time you were there and your kid tripped on one of her dust bunnies. The key here is to look at her like she’s a dog with three legs.

Call her every day and leave really long messages on her answering machine that always start with, “Oops, the machine just caught me off, let me finish up. I’ll be really quick.” Then leave a new phone number at the very end of the message and say it real fast and mumble it so she can’t get it and has to listen to the entire message again.

Pop up in her bushes on Thursday morning when she comes out to get the paper. Tell her you were just hanging out.

Send her spam emails at least three times a day, with videos and pictures attached, with messages telling her to light a candle and pass this on to twenty-five other people in the next twenty-four hours. Accuse her of being the devil’s spawn if she doesn’t answer. Attaching a virus always helps.

Tell her you want to sit down and talk about where she stands spiritually. This one is particularly effective as it will not only get rid of her, chances are good it will get rid of everyone she knows too.

Loan her money or keep her children as a trade-off deal. You’ll never see her again.

Fake your own death. This can be tricky to pull off, but it’s a permanent solution.

Show her your childbirth video and pause on the placenta while you go answer the phone.

And last, but not least, give her a second chance. Take the love-your-neighbor thing seriously. It’s easy to love the lovable. But it says even more about your character if you’re able to love the unlovable. And, for the record, there’s nothing wrong with loving her from far away.


PS If you’re reading this, you are the good kind of friend - just ignore my picture in the obituary section.

Another Crazy Mommy Moment

It was my first night out as a new mommy – as in no kids. My husband was taking me out to dinner to celebrate our first six months of successful parenting – or maybe the fact that the cable was out and he knew he couldn't watch the game. I didn't care. I was going out. Nothing was going to ruin this night for me.

I let Junior watch six hours of cartoons while I got ready. I took a bubble bath. I shaved. I bought a cute little black dress that no longer fell into the "little" category, but I didn't care. I even purchased a sexy little thong which rubbed a blister before I was even through applying my mascara. But I left it on. Nothing was going to ruin this night!

I even decided to tackle the overwhelming task of doing something to my breastfed boobs that now hung to my knees and had been attracting National Geographic reporters from all over the country. I bought these cool pasty things you stick in your bra that looked something like a raw chicken breast, but did in fact make my chest look perky and take attention off my rear end which had grown to the point that it now occupied another zip code and was at the moment making some pretty interesting bottom music due to the late afternoon snack of raw broccoli combined with the thong. It was as if I had invented a new rubber band instrument. I'm thinking of getting a patent.

I put on my highest heels. Took them off. Put them back on, and reminded myself that beauty is pain and waited for my husband to pick me up. I was so happy. I kissed Junior, kissed the babysitter, and ran out the door to meet my husband. Okay, walked fast. The heels were really high.

He didn't notice my heels. He didn't notice the dress. He didn't notice that I was now limping because I had a blister in between my butt cheeks that was starting to get infected. He was too busy trying to find a parking spot up front at Burger Bart's Buffet where all the food is displayed around the perimeter of the restaurant and who needs a waiter when you can get up and get it yourself?

I'm standing there trying to decide between macaroni and cheese or assisted suicide, crammed in between my husband who is scouting out the nearest TV and a sweet older gentleman who seemed to be staring a little too intently at my cleavage. Looking back, I understand why. Because the miraculous perky pseudo-breast I had tucked inside my dress was coming dislodged. Of course, I didn't know this, which is probably why it generated such a rapt audience at the salad bar. Especially when I sneezed and the breast popped out of my dress and landed in the cottage cheese.

I was mortified. Do I quickly pick it up and stuff it back in? Do I put it on my plate beside the cherry tomatoes? Do I leave it there and act like I had no idea I had lost a booby on the salad bar? Sometimes fate has a way of working things out. This wasn't one of those times.

I felt another sneeze coming on – apparently allergic to the new body splash I bought for this special occasion – and the magnitude of the sneeze caused something to snap. The thong. Apparently it simply couldn't hold up under the pressure. Personally, I don't blame it.

I'm not really sure if there's a scientific explanation for it, or if fate just couldn't pass this opportunity up, but the thong snapped, broke, and went flying through the air whereupon it slapped the kind old gentleman across the face and sort of hung there like a birthday party streamer. And that was the last sight I saw as I went running from the restaurant. Okay, walking fast - those heels were really high. My husband never noticed a thing.

I've never been back to Bart's Burger Buffet where they had to have the salad bar and the old man fumigated. The high heels are collecting dust in the top of my closet and I haven't worn a thong since because my rear end still has nightmares of the whole sordid experience. I have an anniversary coming up. Hubby wants to take me out to dinner. I'm thinking I'll go look for something sexy.

The Bridal Shower Story by Kelly Swanson

Well, here goes. This is a test run where I'm copying video into my blog.

I hope it works. Enjoy the story!


http://easylink.playstream.com/kellyswanson/Bridal_Shower.wvx