Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Flip Flopped

On September 8th, I met this beautiful spirit named Jade Newman. First her earrings and necklace blew me away and secondly she spoke so eloquently that I knew she was a truly remarkable woman. She teaches yoga and it shows through her calmness. She had some great questions about the writing process and the dreaded editing process, that "has taken her more than a year to do because she always finds something wrong." She came up to me at the end of the presentation and we spoke about what she should do next. Instantly I knew I needed her to be a guest on my blog. Please welcome Jade Newman and her funny take on her journey into The Land of Flip Flops.
I am one of them.
You know, the mom roaming around Target weekday mornings in yoga pants and flip-flops; well after the workout is over. You see, I teach yoga. My yoga pants and toe liberating shoes are part of my work costume but even I realize that I’m trampling all over the sacred relationship between woman and shoe. I once took great pride in giving my 5’3 inch body a 4-inch boost in height. I wore black dressy stilettos traveling on the metro and turned my nose up at the sensible women in dress suits with sneakers. I used to drop it like it was hot to Biggie and Jay Z in the club wearing sexy leopard print pumps. Blisters were temporary, but the compliments I’d get about my shoe game were forever. Admitting the new, not so stylish, shoe attitude I’ve adopted is embarrassing but I have decided to be proactive and do something to get my feet back in the game.
            Most shoe lovers I talk to cannot imagine such a shameful decline into the shoe abyss. I had to give a lot of thought to how this happened to me. How could a woman go from owning a pair of shoes to go with every outfit to a woman who bounces between pairs of black, tan and magenta colored flip flops?
It’s as painful for me to write as it is for you to read.
I could blame my lazy shoe choice on the knee surgery I had back in 2010, but after I recovered, stylish platform shoes lined my closet. I can’t blame it on being a mom. I rocked heels at my baby shower eight months in. It all started when I realized that my feet are tools that need to be protected. I forced myself to believe my feet are just things I need to keep me mobile. I foolishly chose to ignore the beauty in my feet and focus solely on their function. That day is dead and I know now that I can do both.
            The first step to revamping my shoe style was to start appreciating the fly shoe swag of others. Not for biting purposes but for the inspiration and assurance that it is okay to flaunt your feet. I observed the confidence women with sassy shoes exuded as they strut down the street. They walk with their shoulders back and chests held high. Their posture is valiant and pronounced. It’s as if they’ve practiced yoga for years. Then I frequented every shoe store in a 20 mile radius. Wild Pair became an addiction. The ladies at DSW in Fair Lakes know my name. I researched the right shoe for my comfort level and struck up that love affair once again. I practice yoga at least 7 hours a week, but nothing makes me stand taller than a pair of sexy shoes. I flip flopped but this time it’s for the best.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


I met George, Jerry, Moore on Saturday and first was struck at how tall he was. OK, I shouldn’t have been thinking that but I mean, it has to be at least 6’6 and standing beside him made me feel like a midget, even in my 5 inch heels. But I digress. I asked him to post to my blog and he agreed. I think it was the heels. So I hand over this weeks blog to Jerry,  I mean George. Please leave him some suggestions; I’m sure he will appreciate it.
I met B. Swangin at a recent writers’ conference where she made an engaging, high-energy presentation on marketing.  Afterward, I gave her my card, so I could receive updates on her activities.  Needless to say, I was impressed by her and her presentation.
She noticed that my card included my blog address.  At that point, I reluctantly admitted that I had difficulty creating content.  She provided a couple pieces of advice, including guest posting.  I filed them away to ponder later.
Then, the next night, she offered the opportunity to guest post on her blog.  "Later" arrived much sooner than I expected, but I’m blocked writing content for my own blog, so how can I write for someone else's--a *REAL* author with a true following?
That's where fear raised its head.  What if I can’t think of anything?  What if it stinks?  I hate declining opportunities, but I had nothing.
Oh, crap. 
I wasn't ready to surrender just yet.  I asked myself what was stopping me, not only doing the guest post, but from posting to my own blog.  I'd been hovering around it for a time, and now it was clear.  Fear was blocking me. 
It’s the same fear you feel as an 18-wheeler is heading for you or when you’re walking in the woods and see a bear up ahead.  For city dwellers, substitute politician for bear and streets for woods--it’s the same thing, really.  :) 
Having fear isn’t a problem.  My reaction to it is what matters.  After all, when our ancestors saw a bear, they were afraid, which made them run--fast.  Eventually, they figured out that the bear was tasty too.  Because of that, humanity survived long enough to build cities. 
(As an aside, my wife pointed out that you could substitute possum for bear in the above paragraph to hilarious results.  Try not to laugh...)
What does this mean to me, an aspiring Sci-Fi writer or to other writers even?  Is it time to run or time for bear jerky?  I saw a graphic recently that had the words “Your comfort zone” written inside of a box.  Outside, the words “Where the magic happens” were written.
The reason I had difficulty creating content was that I didn't want to reveal much about my interests.  The catch here is that that's where my blog content resides. 
So, it’s time to set free my inner-geek (no, not THAT way).  Perhaps, I'll post about comic books.  There's some complex and compelling story telling happening in this format.  Hollywood is making movies based on comic books for a reason.  Perhaps I'll post about a new laptop/tablet combo that I have my eye on. 
Perhaps, I'll even relate how I read a short story about a starlet getting a Goth makeover (including using the words "pushup bra" and "being on display") to a writers' group composed entirely of middle-aged and older women.  It felt like the top of my ears were on fire I blushed so much.
I now return you to B. Swangin.
George G. (Jerry) Moore