I am seeking several intelligent individuals who enjoy reading, and have no problems sharing their opinions with others. Especially with the person that wrote the reading material.
In my last post, I mentioned a writing project that I was working on. I am looking for some help in creating deadlines and accountability to keep me motivated and moving along.
This is NOT The Story, which can be found in installments starting with that link at the beginning of the sentence. You should probably know that that story is amazingly wonderful, and quite hilarious. I could be biased because it's the story of how Andrew and I met and fell in love. But that's not what I need your help with. (Don't worry, though, that is also continuing in the works. I actually have some more of that to put up on the blog. Probably this week. So you may want to review the old installments as a refresher!)
No. This is another story. A unique and interesting thing. And I want people who are willing to read it, and be prepared to tell me what they like about it, and what doesn't really work.
Writing is something that I enjoy, and that helps me to stay sane and myself (are those two states of being even compatible?) even when times are difficult. I haven't been doing enough of it lately because I haven't really been motivated. I want to, but there's nothing to really make me do it. I hypothesize that having people depending on me to deliver a manuscript portion on a certain day will help me to get my act together.
If you live near me, you will be compensated by a) being able to read my incredible writings, b) possibly some baked goods, and c) my deep and sincere gratitude. If you don't live near me, you'll definitely get perks a and c, and I'll see what I can do about perk b.
If you are interested, leave a comment below, or get hold of me in any of the other ways that you normally do that. If you aren't interested, but know someone that loves editing (like me), and might enjoy this kind of thing, then let them know about it.
If you are possibly interested, but want a sampling first, then let me know, and I'll give you a sampling for a taste-testing.
Cheers! And thank you for your consideration,
Mine Own Self
PS. But for real, people, let me know. I really want some help!
We live in an apartment complex. That means that sometimes management sends around people for maintenance checks, appearance upkeep checks, and the suchlike. On occasion they send out notices to say that the maintenance people will be coming into your apartment, and they give you a two-week period of when that will happen.
I don't always handle these situations very well. Especially after an experience I had when we first moved here, and a guy came over while Andrew was gone, and he was here for several hours, and I was uncomfortable and couldn't really get him to leave. I didn't open my blinds or make a noise (seriously, I didn't even play any music) for weeks after that because I was afraid that he or someone like that would come back. I was a bit like the Grinch when he was sliding about, slithering on the floor to get places.
And I don't know if you know this, but some pregnant women have incredibly active, horrid, graphic, and horrifying nightmares. Suffice it to say that with my already overactive imagination, I've had enough nightmares of a certain nature to be afraid of anyone being in my apartment ever.
A while ago, there was an apartment wide pretty-fication going on, and that included people coming over and switching out the window blinds. Now this was a very good thing seeing as one of my blinds had fallen off and broken, and I was using a scroungy looking towel in its place. Very attractive. But I'd lately had a string of nasty nightmares regarding ruffians of the worst sort breaking in and becoming violent.
Andrew was at work, and I was feeling jittery, so I called Mama up for our not-regularly-spaced-out-but-frequently-occurring chat. I was lounging on my bed, gabbing away with Mama, telling her about the dreams in all of their horrifying and disgusting detail, when I heard something faint and eerie. I stopped talking. It was the sound of a deadbolt sliding. Someone was trying to get into my home while I was telling Mama about my nightmares about people trying to get into my home! I have two deadbolts, one of which can only be operated from inside, so the intruder couldn't come in. But someone was trying to get into my house. And I was absolutely terrified.
"I think someone's trying to break in," I whispered to my mother. I peeked my head around the bedroom door frame, and the deadbolt actually was moved. It wasn't my imagination. I could hear someone pushing against the door to open it.
But of course, that quickly became this.
And I backed into my room, closed and locked the door, and looked around, trying to figure out what to do. I decided that if someone actually made it in, my best option was to run screaming through the bedroom window.
Never mind the fact that I live on the ground floor. That, along with most other facts, is irrelevant in my zoom out scenes of dramatic intensity.
My heart was beating so frantically that I almost couldn't hear my mother on the phone. I was seconds away from bursting through the window panes when I heard:
THUMP! THUMP! "MAINTENANCE!"
Maintenance? MAINTENANCE? I completely collapsed on the bed. Why hadn't they STARTED with that approach, instead of just trying to let themselves in? Andrew: Though, with the way that Tashya and her mother talk, and all the way in the back room, who KNOWS how long they were there knocking first! My heart started slowing from its pittering hysteria to beats so hard that they actually hurt my chest.
The knock and bellow came again. I didn't move. After nearly killing me with fright, they deserved to be inconvenienced by having to come back again later.
Mama spoke soothingly to me between spurts of spouts against that kind of behavior. And when Mama had to end the phone call, I just stayed on my bed, quivering under/in/around/on top of/through/tangled in my fuzzy pink blanket.
I didn't go out for lunch. I didn't get up for the afternoon. For hours, I hid, not willing to make sounds lest those people (who were portrayed in my imagination as the baddies from nightmares) come back and demand entrance to my home. Andrew had a real lump of joy to work with when he got home that evening. Good thing he's so wonderful.
But that was a few months ago. This time was different. I received a notice of entry for a routine maintenance check they do once a year. It was scheduled for one day, not a two week time period. I planned an outing to the library to avoid any scary encounters, find a book or two, and work on one of my writing projects (which, according to my sisters, is a very desirable read- I want to read it, too, and I'm mad that someone else hasn't written it so that I could just READ it already!). After a nice morning tidy, I was trying to decide between having a post-lunch nap, doing the dishes, and going to the library when I heard a voice outside my open window. He sounded older. I heard him say, "I've got to go now, honey. I have a lot of work to do. I love you." I thought he was adorable, and continued on trying to decide what to do.
It turns out that the adorable conversation maker was going to make my decision for me. There was a gentle knock on the door, which I opened to find a cheerfully smiling older man. He was standing there calmly, and politely asked if he could come in and do some maintenance.
I was so pleasantly surprised that I actually let him in. I did dishes while he did maintenance. He saw my open scriptures on the table, and gave me an approving smile. He asked if I went to church, and we talked about where we worshiped. I apologized for the baskets and boxes in his way- we're trying to make room for our baby. He gave hearty congratulations, and told me about his family.
So I, Natashya, did something brave today, and I didn't even almost die as a result. Rather, I met a kind maintenance man who loves his wife, and whose cheerful smile made me smile in return. I liked today much better than that time I didn't answer the door and was almost murdered in my bed by someone not even in my apartment. Which, you have to admit, would actually be pretty impressive.
I have a friend who's pretty brilliant. I look up to her in a lot of ways. Her name is Tanney, and she has a blog called Our Fairy Tale that she maintains much better than I maintain this here blog of mine. There are two blogs that I actually read, hers and my friend Michele's, because I love them and I miss them.
And you know what? For a while, I tried to be like other bloggers. I tried to do the different link-ups and different daily designations of topics, like Tasty Tuesdays and what not. I tried to fit in with the blogging world. And then I got bored and stopped. I'm not that kind of blogger. I'm the kind of person who just likes to sit down and write a note to my friends and family, or to myself, add some dumb pictures I created on the fly, and then call it good. And that works for me.
BUT my friend Tanney has a link-up that I actually think is a good idea. It makes sense. She calls it the Weekly Focus. You know what I think? I think that a lot of people make yearly goals, and then forget to make plans to attain those ideals. I think that people neglect the fact that it is the everyday and weekly adjustments that make the most considerable difference in the outcomes of our actions. Having a weekly focus is a great way to gear your attentions on a specific area in which you aim to gain greater control and achievement.
So I shall participate in this link-up. I doubt that anyone will really read this post, since it has none of my nonsensical pictorials or hair brained witticisms, but that is absolutely fine. I have thoughts and ponderings on this subject, and as a true student of my subject, I'm going to write about them.
If you hadn't noticed from some previous posts, pregnancy and I do not always get along like good chums. Sometimes we don't even get along as well as the snot-nosed geek and the snot-everything-elsed bully on the school playground. One of the biggest problems is hormones, mood swings, that part of you that rises up and fights with the other part of you for no other purpose than to make you confused and irately irrational. This just makes me more upset, since I'm not the kind of girl who was granted monthly practice with these evils during my formative years. Nope. Hormone-induced idiocy to this extent is new, horrid, and blatantly stupid.
I made a goal that I would stop being ridiculous about my hormone swings. Actually, I called Mama in a fit of tears and begged her to tell me what to do. She suggested that I learn to differentiate between myself and the hormones, because getting upset at myself when there was not always a lot I could do was just pointless and aggravating to the situation. As usual, Mama was right. And that's when I made the goal to stop being ridiculous about how I reacted to hormonal swings.
But that's a tall order, isn't it?
So what was I supposed to do? Just stop it? That wouldn't work. That wouldn't work at all. If that were an option, I think more pregnant women before me would have opted for that one. You can't really effectively work for a goal if there isn't a way to have applicable, practical, and viable steps of achievement along the road to the ultimate finish. Rather than declaring brashly that I am no longer going to be ridiculous about the most ridiculous part of pregnancy, I must rather detail blatantly the steps that I will take when I come into a situation that would test this goal of mine.
For example, please consider the following:
1. I become overly emotional regarding the selection of a dinner item. I am disheartened that no dinner selection is made, that Andrew isn't more specific in what he wants to eat, that I am now very hungry, that I have no reason to be so emotionally upset over this decision process and I am anyway, and that all of this is pathetically lacking in any kind of result, especially results that would lead to us eating dinner any time soon.
2. What do I do? I have a goal to be non-ridiculous about my hormones influencing my reactions and actions and feelings. But HOW do I make that an application right now, when it actually matters?
3. I have to recognize that the hormones aren't necessarily me, and that I should stop getting more upset at myself. If I'm trying to fight a battle against irrationality, my rational side getting beaten up by my rational side itself is not going to help anyone.
4. I should take a step back from the situation. Is there an underlying cause for this? Well, when I get hungry, I'm not known for my charm and easy-going nature. Could my hormones be aggrandizing this typical reaction of mine to megalithic proportions? It could be that having a quick snack could help me to be more realistic about what is happening.
5. I should do something about the actual problem. We need dinner? Well, shoot. Let's have something for dinner. Even if it's cereal as a placeholder till we can find a real supper, that's still something for now. Stopping looking for grand, miraculous ways out, and do something small and simple while you can.
6. Maybe tonight is a crisis because nothing was done to prepare for this moment earlier. I can avoid future repetitions of this problem by making sure that dinner articles are prepared earlier. Meat to be thawed can be stuck in the fridge to defrost, menus can be made so that there are no decisions to be made nightly, shopping can be done so that ingredients are available to use.
Do you see what I mean? There has to be a method in which to apply your goal to your actual real life. Your life isn't a hypothesis, so don't make goals like it is one. Make goals that are livable by having steps you can actually do on the way to becoming that goal.
And those are my ponderings on weekly focuses, which will help you to break down your bigger goal into manageable portions, and goal making. If nothing else, my head is clearer. That tends to happen when I write things down. I'm a writer. What can I say?
So, have any thoughts on the subject? Want to see what my friend Tanney has to say on it? You can read her blog post at that link right there. Happy thinkings!
Andrew happens to be one of my favorite people. In fact, I love him. I love him a lot. We make a pretty great couple, I think, and for a variety of reasons. I thought that I would take this opportunity to write about what makes us a working, functioning, happy, thrilled to be in love couple.
First of all, our couple song. It isn't your typical love song, but it's ours. And it makes me curl my toes with happiness every time I hear it. Andrew plays it for me on his trombone when I ask him to. Isn't that sweet?
Andrew feeds me. Sometimes literally by placing food in my mouth, and sometimes figuratively by bringing home the bacon. Actually, he always brings home the bacon. Andrew is a wonderful provider. We always have enough, and even though I tend to over worry when it comes to money, he is good at budgeting and being realistic.
Andrew works hard at his job, and I maintain the home. I love being a homemaker. I like cleaning and baking and organizing and making menus and folding laundry. When I can't, though, because I'm sick, Andrew is always there to step in and save the day. He is a champion Dish Doer, and every time I see a clean sink, I fall a little bit more in love with him.
We make each other smile. Not just nice, photogenic smiles. Real, big, sometimes slightly unattractive because they're too real smiles. And when I smile that second kind of smile, Andrew tells me I'm beautiful, that he loves my eyes when I smile like that because he can see the sparkle in them. And then I smile all the more because I feel beautiful and sparkling.
But we don't just stop at smiling, oh no. We laugh. When I first met Andrew, I thought he was a bit of a loon, but I knew that he was always good for a laugh. He is very quick on his feet, ready to banter with you, spinning words around as fast as I do, and he comes up with the most magnificent puns. Andrew tells me that I could do stand-up comedy, but anyone who has heard me try to tell a joke knows that this would not be the best idea. I think that I'll stick to writing!
Andrew doesn't just support me when I'm laughing, like that picture just above. He also catches me when I fall, even when I'm falling over because I'm being ridiculous instead of intelligent. Say, for example, that I was walking up a hill with him, only instead of walking I was skipping and singing some awesome opera, and I just happened to fall backwards in a stumbling chaotic fiasco into his arms. When Andrew is around, I never fall far before I am wrapped up in strong, warm, loving arms, and I feel safe and secure.
We also take the time to share sassy moments together. No relationship is complete when both parties are some completely timid and docile as to lack entertainment and fun. Balance must be achieved, and laughter must be shared.
Did you know that Andrew is a wonderful lead? He is. When we were still in the getting to know each other stage of our acquaintanceship, I found out that he knew how to swing and ballroom. I demanded that he dance with me, the word "demanded" meaning that I put on some music, grabbed his leg, and dragged him out to the hallway so we could have room to waltz. We still enjoy impromptu dancing.
He's a fantastic lead, and the perfect height for me. I would follow him anywhere. He leads me through the most difficult challenges that I face, often by helping me to keep my focus on Christ. The best part is that he lets me help him, too. When he needs help, he turns to me, and then I get the chance to take his hand, and then we make it through together.
I love words. I love to read them, play with them, write them, ingest and digest them, and have a great time with them. Andrew also loves to read, and that makes him intelligent. He has a wide range of interests, and he makes it a point to learn about them through reading. Not only does this make for stellar conversations on a plethora of subjects ranging from history to culture to politics to class literature to scientific advancements to self-improvement to the gospel, it also makes for extraordinary word games. Like Scrabble and Boggle.
This is one of our more mild games, but one of which I had a photo I could share with you. But words like lave, hap, quantum, sine, taw, and tosh have made it into our games. Along with Old English words that we get into debates over. I think they should still be allowed. I read them enough.
We have inside jokes and special memories, like a wonderful series of books that became a crucial part of our relationship. We still quote it and laugh together.
Andrew is science and math and engineering where I am literature and art and fresh pineapple. I don't actually think that fresh pineapple is a course of study, but I wanted to keep the parallelism going, and I was short one scholastic or professional area. I love it when Andrew will give me lectures. He pulls out his trusty white board, and he explains to me the projects in which he is involved. He tells me about computer communication protocols using words like "sending a cute packet to your grandma" instead of UDP and FPGA. He is a natural teacher. He is also a natural learner, and listens to me as I wax philosophic about film adaptations of my favorite books, why students should not be forced to read The Catcher in the Rye, or why studying literature and history is so important.
Not only do we appreciate each other's strong suits in areas of expertise, we also share a great love of music. While I focus mainly on voice and piano, and he plays the trombone expertly, we manage to bring our tastes of music together for great enjoyment on all parts. When we are not playing together, he teaches me about new genres that I haven't much experience with, like classic jazz. And then I go back to listening to my Frank Sinatra and tell him to keep his jazz. And then we listen to Classical or Romantic or something else together. He lets me show him lots of musicals that I grew up with, like Pirates of Penzance and other required shows.
We do the important things in life together, even if that means taking way too many courses in a semester so that we can graduate together. We make decisions together, we eat dinner together, we go to church together, and we wake up every morning together.
We do our best to help each other accomplish important goals, like saving the Princess Zelda. I couldn't get out of the first stage without falling off houses and cliffs, and I so desperately wanted to save the princess! So Andrew played the game for me while I watched it like a movie, eating popcorn, offering useless advice, and memorizing all the songs for the Ocarina of Time.
We find areas of common interest that aren't purely academic or mental. We find things to entertain us, like bike rides and movies to obsess over. We like to watch the Avengers movies together, even though I spend a portion of each movie hiding my head in his shoulder because I don't like the scary or violent parts. He patiently screens those sections for me, and narrates what is going on so that I don't miss too much of the story line.
I would now like to take a break from trying to put me into some of these sections, and continue talking only about how great Andrew is. I would like to point out that if someone can look handsome in a band uniform, they are obviously very good looking.
Andrew is incredibly talented when it comes to music. One summer he put together a quartet of trombone players, arranged a bunch of music, and went off strolling in parades and such to his own music! And he even looks dapper in his fine outfit.
He buys me flowers, music, tablecloths, pearls and diamonds, kitchen gadgetry, books, exercise gear, fingernail polish, and anything else that he thinks will make me happy. He sends me out to visit family when I need them, even though he misses me terribly while I'm gone. He supports me bringing siblings out here, for my benefit or theirs, for a month at a time. He sees when I'm having a down day, and tells me to call my mother, sisters, or friends Tanney and Michele, because he knows they make me happy.
He takes me places so I can dress up. He loves it when I dress up, and he tells me that I'm beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful whether I've done my hair and makeup or not. He makes me want to smile that smile that makes my eyes sparkle, just because it makes him happy to see it.
I started this post by trying to describe how Andrew and I are a good match, and how we help to lift each other up. I ended up writing about how great Andrew is. Since the day we were married two years, six months, and two days ago, we have had a lots of ups and a lot of downs. Many of those downs were related to my health. Andrew never gave up, and he kept me going through it all.
I may be a lover of words, but I'm absolute garbage at writing poetry. But I can say this: Andrew is a wonderful man. He is a wonderful husband. In April, he is going to be a wonderful father. I do what I can to lift him, strengthen him, help him, encourage him, and fill him out every day. Our marriage is not one sided. I don't need to be extra concerned with making sure that I get taken care of, because he's busy doing that. I get to make sure that he is taken care of. We focus on each other, and on the Lord. That is why our marriage works. That is why our relationship is better, not shaken, after our hardships. And I love Andrew. I love him more every day. He makes me happy, and I do everything that I can to make him happy, too.
Happy Valentine's Day, Andrew Mine Prince.
Loves, hugs, and kisses, The Happiest Woman In the World
