Written by Design

Right now, I am probably amongst millions of high school seniors and fourth-year undergrads, on the home stretch toward graduation and suffering from senioritis .  I don't know if I technically count as a senior in my third year of grad school, but I am suffering from all of the same symptoms. I recently realized that I have been in school part or full time non-stop for seven years.  First, I was going part time finishing my undergraduate degree.  Then I doubled to full time to finish it out quickly.  A few short months later, I was back in school for my graduate program and have hardly had a break, my weekends often being filled with studies, my brain filled with research studies on team dynamics, financial calculations, theories on business stratgies and deadlines. I find it harder and harder to push forward.  Fatigue is setting in, frustration, and quite simply, a lack of desire.  I am pooped out.  I can't wait to be done. But a little flutter of ambition kindles

I love how eclectic the people in my life are.  All of my siblings and friends are experts and aficionados of different things, and through them, I am exposed to so many new and wonderful ideas and experiences that I may never have stumbled upon on my own. One of my best friends, a friend from high school, has gotten me into quite a few things and the most recent is a new brand of leggings!  She sent me two pairs for Christmas and since then I have purchased six new pairs for myself!  She had been swearing by them for a long time and they looked comfortable and like high quality, and now I am hooked!  She has also done thoughtful things for me as gifts that I have loved so much that I stole the idea and did them for others! This is the same friend who inspired me to publish my books of poetry! The list of things that I currently love that my husband almost had to sort of push me into (because I am stubborn) include but are not limited to: Forrest Gump, Brooks & Dunn, King of

You always hear people talk about how we are getting less competent.  Most people can think of a grandparent or parent with an "in my day" story, referencing the hardship they had to overcome with significantly more competence than this generation ever could. I also think of that when I study history, and you read about someone very accomplished; multi-lingual, well-read, innovative, community leader and public speaker.  I remember studying about Elizabeth I, and how at a young age she was an accomplished dancer and musician while also being considered a scholar, and then I'd think to myself, "What was I doing at 14?"  And that was a bit disheartening! But all of these things have been comparative, comparing one generation to another, one time to another, and excuses can be made and factors weigh in the balance.  But recently, I've observed several things that just make you worry about the decline of this current culture! My husband plays Family Feud o

Someone made a comment to me recently that was a little bit prejudiced against pretty people - male or female.  There was an implication that pretty people don't "get it," that they aren't that smart (or don't have to be), that they are a little self-involved. I challenged that thinking with a story about a girl I became friends with in my very first semester of college back in 2001.  This girl was striking upon first impression.  She was half-Portuguese, half-Irish, and had amazingly thick, long black hair, porcelain white skin, and bright green eyes.  She was small and fit, fashionable, and just altogether beautiful to look at - probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen face to face. But that was only the first impression.  Getting to know her, she was very bright and intelligent, a hard worker and committed to both her job and her school work.  More than that, she was kind.  She never missed an opportunity to encourage someone.  She never spoke an

My husband and I recently went to see Gary Allan again, my third time and his fifth.  It was also our second time actually going out of state to do so.  I have been a fan of Gary Allan since before my 14th birthday. Now, more than twenty years into his career, Allan is 50, and better than ever. I suppose I've always gone for that blue eyed, dark haired, stern mouthed type. I loved it at 14 and grew up and married it! Vocally, he was amazing. He played a new set list and included older and more obscure songs like "Guys Like Me" And "A Showman's Life."  I was sure there was a tear in his eye during "Life Ain't Always Beautiful" as I'm sure he remembered his late wife, who took her own life almost 14 years ago.  And he played some of my all-time favorites such as "Like It's a Bad Thing" and "Smoke Rings in the Dark." I love people watching at concerts. Allan's blend of country and rock draws a diverse c

I have recently encountered a funny scenario where someone I know insisted that they had a new enemy and that they would be praying for her.  Only, I cannot understand how this person would view the other as an enemy when they'd had only a minor miscommunication.  Even still, while I chuckled at this particular situation, the premise is true. In a former job, I had a person there who despised me and went out of her way not only to make my day very uncomfortable but to an extent tried to sabotage my career.  While on the one hand, I felt very irritated by this, on the other hand, I felt sorry for her.  How sad to see anyone so consumed with hate. I found myself praying more and more for this person.  Not that she would leave me alone and go away, but that she would not be so unhappy and hateful.  What affected me during the day when I had to encounter her was no doubt an affliction to her all the time and for all kinds of reasons.  I still pray for her. It's been repeated

Despite being the oldest child in my family, I was never the brave one.  I always felt like this was maybe an anomaly but in years since then when I worked as a nanny or babysitter I have often found eldest children less brave than the younger.  This was true of me and my sister. As a little girl, I prayed hard for a sister. I was a worrier even as a toddler.  I had a Mickey Mouse clock in my bedroom and my parents say I used to cry when his hands moved because I thought he was going to get me.  I prayed for a sister, for a best friend, because this life was just too scary to face by myself. Thankfully, my parents obliged! But I grew up to be sort of a conundrum between composed and scared.  I don't love it when I have to go into the attic, I don't love it when I have to kill the spiders or go dispose of some dead creature I find in the yard, but I do it.  I don't love to fly but I'll hold my breath and do it.  One time when I lived in a rough neighborhood and