Writing

Please Welcome Guest Blogger Angela Fristoe!

| rachelhamm

I decided that it was probably time to get this blog back on track, seeing as it started out as a blog about writing and has somewhere along the way veered into a blog about randomness.  So, I’ve asked a few of the writer friends I made two years ago on The Next Big Writer to whip up some guest blog posts for you to enjoy.  They are all embarking on the process of having their books published, either through self-publishing, or through a traditional publishing house and I applaud them for that!  They believe in themselves and their writing and they are putting it out there for the world to see and enjoy and that is not only impressive, it’s courageous.  My first guest blogger is Angela, who I knew for the longest time as “penang” or “Ang” in the TNBW forums and whom I’m happy to say is a talented writer and a great friend.  I asked her to talk a little about why she first “picked up a pen” to write and to give you a little information on her latest book, Songbird.  Here’s what she had to say:

Writing was never my number one passion. In fact, writing didn’t even come onto my top ten list until about six years ago. I’d always dreamed of being an artist, a flight attendant, or the next Diane Fossey or Jane Goodall. I ended up teaching. Then I read the Twilight series. Okay, so not the best example of amazing YA literature, but it did make me think I could do that. Until then I didn’t even know that Young Adult was a genre.

When I first started writing, I had no idea how to approach it, and honestly I still don’t. Every writer I talk to approaches it differently. For me this means sitting down at the computer and typing as it comes to me. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t. My first novel is still under the revision process thanks to my unplanned approach.

Songbird is actually the second novel I wrote and most of it was done within a month during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Finishing Songbird, along with revising and editing, took a bit longer, but this story just flowed for me much better than my other novel. There was never a point where I sat down and didn’t feel the story come to me.

There are parts of Songbird that are so close to my heart. Some of the experiences, good and bad, that Dani goes through were inspired by things that either I’ve experienced, or people I know have lived through. At times it was hard to write because all I could see and feel were the real reactions and emotions.

Songbird is a story of death, loss, love, friendship and moving forward. Seventeen-year-old Dani is haunted by memories of her abusive parents and her murdered brother. Those memories constantly influence her choices and when her love for her best friend Reece is rejected, she struggles to find a way to put the past behind her for good. A struggle mad harder when a former foster brother reappears and brings back even more of the past.

Songbird is now available in paperback and all eBook formats at Amazon.com, B&N, and Smashwords.

You can learn more about Angela and her writing at her blog: Turning the Pages.

Just One of the Boys

| rachelhamm

So, this past weekend I went to Greensboro to hang out with my friend Jay and play Texas Hold’em with him and some of his friends.  I assumed, for reasons unknown to me, that there would be other girls playing, too.  Well, you know what happens when one assumes things…  There were no other girls.  Just me and ten guys split up at two different tables to kick things off.  I started off pretty well, splitting the first pot with Jay, and things just kept getting better from there.  We started playing around 8ish with most of the players buying in for $5.00.  By 9:00, my stack of chips looked like this:

This was probably a gain of a few bucks, but I didn’t have a total count at that point.  I just knew that my fortress of chips, as Jay so lovingly referred to it, was larger than anyone else’s at that point in the game.  And there was only one point throughout the night where I thought it was possible my chip lead had been taken away.  That’s right, my friends, Rachel Hamm the lone girl in a sea of testosterone kicked some serious ass at poker.

It’s funny.  When you are just “one of the guys” not only do you realize how different men and women are, but you also realize how utterly UN-intimidating most normal guys are.  I had a blast teasing them and bantering about how I was going to take all their money.  At first it was just out of fun, but then it became strategy; I was so cocky I threw them off their game.  At least, I like to think it worked out that way.

So, moral of the story is, when you aren’t trying to date said boys, they become a lot more fun to hang out with!

My final chip fortress (I walked away with $17.50):

 

Oh, and as a shout out to Jay, who told me that this blog is beautifully written (thanks for the friendly lie and self-esteem boost, friend)- here’s a link to his brand new blog Mad Season.

Exorcising Some Demons

| rachelhamm

I wrote the following about three months ago, trying to make sense of an insensible situation.  I typed it up, saved it on my computer, and knew that someday I’d be able to post it- that some day I wouldn’t care if the guy I wrote about read it because I’d either be over him or ready to be over him.  The funny thing about relationships and non-relationships is that no matter how badly you say you want to move on, most of the time you really don’t want to or you really aren’t ready to let go of the possibility.  I’m ready to move on.  I’m ready to let go.  I still believe he’s a good guy and I still believe that in another time and another place we would have been really good for each other.  But he’s not interested in me and he’s made that very clear.  So I’m purging myself of him.  I’m exorcising these demons and saying “I’m done,” once and for all.

            We met at a bar.  That should have been the first sign that things weren’t going to work out.  Your close friend and my close friend said we’d be perfect for each other.  The problem with that was your close friend barely knew me and mine barely knew you- how could they know if we were suited for each other or not?  That was the second sign.

            I wasn’t interested, then, in that moment.  I was embarrassed and shy and in no mood to humor our mutual friends.  I honestly wasn’t attracted to you at all.  The third sign.

            Two paths that never should have crossed.  That’s what you and I are.  Because really, what was the point?

            You made the first contact.  Said we should be friends, then asked me to dinner.  I said yes, still not interested, but thinking, why the hell not?  I’ve got nothing better to do.

            I put a little thought into my outfit, but not a lot, because I didn’t think the date would go anywhere.  Fourth sign.  And then a whole new problem: it was the best first date I’d ever been on.  Granted, I hadn’t gone on very many dates at all let alone first dates, but we just seemed to click. We talked for a couple of hours, shared dessert, closed out the restaurant, and decided to go have a drink.  I decided I really liked you.

            You weren’t cocky or buffoonish like most men I’d encountered, and God, you made me laugh.  Not only did you make me laugh, but you genuinely appeared to think I was funny, too.  Funny- not crazy.  An important distinction.

            I had to work the next day, or you did, I can’t exactly remember, but otherwise I would have had a second drink.  I paid for our drinks, maybe that was a mistake.  Maybe it took away some of your masculine power or some crap like that. But I did it and I left convinced you’d had as great a time as I did.

            But you didn’t, did you?  Because you never called, or texted, or emailed.  And foolish me, instead of taking that as the fifth sign, I contacted you.  I should have let things be.

            I won’t go on to detail our second date, except for maybe how it ended.  I was waiting, wanting you to kiss me- and you knew it, but you chickened out.  Sixth sign.  You texted me right after I left and said it had nothing to do with me and that you hadn’t missed my signals, you just were really bad at this.  It was so adorable.  I was completely smitten.  I curse that text.  Why did you have to be so cute?  Why couldn’t you have let things be?

            Do you realize that you hugged me first?  Put your arm around me first?  Without my prompting.  Why?  I’ll always remember that third date- the butterflies in my stomach as we walked my friends to their car and I wondered if you were going to make the move you’d been too scared to the last time.  We were both nervous, neither of us knew what to do, but I decided I wasn’t going anywhere until you kissed me.  So I stood up and closed my eyes and told you to do your thing.  And it was wonderful.  Absolutely wonderful.

            My friend was happy for me, you have a boyfriend! she said, but even though I was happy, I kept my head.  I knew better than to get too excited again.  That’s what pushed you away the first time, right?  I wonder if things would have ended differently if you hadn’t left a couple days later to visit your family for Thanksgiving.  We had a great few days of texting and a phone call, but would it have made a difference if you had seen me again sooner?  Maybe it would have just sped up the inevitable.

            Flash forward- fourth date.  There’s no way I would have predicted it would be our last.  You acted affectionate, you held my hand and kissed me in public.  How could I have known a week later you were going to play the it’s not you, it’s me routine?  Did I miss a sign?  I must have.  I guess I wasn’t looking for them.  I guess I thought we were on the same page.

            But we weren’t.

            And now, months later, I still cannot figure it out.  I know you shouldn’t even be a blip on my radar, but I can’t help thinking about you and wondering if you’ll change your mind today and call me.  It’s crazy, I know.  Uber crazy.

            I want to understand what purpose was served in meeting you and liking you.  I haven’t learned anything other than that I am in fact undateable man repellant, but I pretty much knew that before and the proof only makes me feel worse about myself.

            What was the point?  Our paths will never cross again, so why did they ever intertwine in the first place?  I’m sure it really makes no difference to you, but I’d be better off if we’d never met.  Not because you hurt me or broke my heart or anything, because I’d be lying if I said you had, but because I wouldn’t have these memories to try and deal with, to try and understand.  They don’t make sense with how abruptly they ended and I’d rather not have to deal with them.  I’d rather have remained alone without the hope of something more than be alone with the loss of that hope.

Goodbye 26, Hello 27.

| rachelhamm

I have officially been 27 years old for two days now.  Weird.  Super weird.  Getting older the last couple of years continues to stress me out.  Stop-I know what you’re thinking- “27!  You’re still so young!”  Yes, yes, so I’ve heard.  It still stresses me out.

When I was 24, I began writing a book knowing that my 25th birthday was approaching and I hadn’t accomplished anything real in my life.  I finished the first draft of the book before my birthday, and I DID feel accomplished.  I started editing.  I listened to review after review and made change after change.  I took away, I added.  I created this beautiful little story that I love dearly and will always cherish.

And then I got scared.  I stopped editing.  I stopped believing that my pretty little book was worth anything and I stopped attempting to get it published.  Then I turned 26 and I stopped writing almost altogether.  I had ideas, but seemed incapable of making anything out of them.

I joked a lot in the few weeks leading up to my 27th birthday that it was going to be 26 Part 2, because I still felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything.  Turning yet another year older and feeling like my life was out of my control and pathetic, I wanted to hide my head in the sand.  I couldn’t stand the thought of admitting that I was 27 years old and still living with my parents, still stuck in a dead end job, still blocked from writing, still alone.  But I’ve never been someone who has presented myself as anything other than who I am, so I figure I just need to get over all that shit and focus on being happy, no matter where I am in life, no matter how unsuccessful I feel or appear to the world.

I made a new friend this past Friday night, while I was out singing karaoke to celebrate the blessed event.  She asked how old I was turning and I gave her the joke answer: 26 part 2.  She said something to me that I hope I can learn to believe in.  She said that I should be excited to be who I am right now- that this year of my life is going to be amazing and I should be proud of everything I’ve accomplished in my 27 years.  She also said that I write like a hummingbird and then gave her guy friend my phone number!  We were both a little tipsy- but the sentiment holds!

So anyways.  I’m going to try and embrace year number 2-7.  If you see me complaining, you have my permission to smack me.

Not my new friend, but my oldest friend- Ashley and I at dinner before heading to karaoke.

So, here’s whats been going on

| rachelhamm

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted.  Besides being a little jaded because I have a major case of writer’s block, I’ve also had absolutely no time to write.  Which probably contributes to the writer’s block.  Because, really, if I had time to sit down and write every day and I actually DID sit down and write every day, I’m pretty sure the block would chip itself a way.  But I digress.  Sorry.  It’s been a long time since I’ve posted- I know.

I haven’t had time to write due to several factors.  One- I work all day at a job where I have absolutely no personal time.  It sucks the life out of me.  It’s not a bad job, I just find nothing in it that really makes me happy.  Two- I work all weekend at a job I actually really enjoy but barely get paid for.  It sucks the life out of me only because I feel like I’m volunteering most of the time.  And I can’t afford to volunteer at a job that requires so much time.  Three- I’ve been trying to do a better job of having a social life.  I went on two dates, two nights in a row, with two different guys!  Crazy!  I don’t see either of these guys really going anywhere, but hey- going on with two guys in one month is something I’ve NEVER done before.  So pretty awesome.  I’ve also been making time to hang out with different and new friends.  One of my assistants with Bliss by Sam went to a Plain White T’s concert with me!  We had a blast:

Yes, that is me dancing like a fool while the Plain White T's play on the stage that was only about 3 yards away from us!!!

I also applied for a new job- if I somehow get this job, it would be great because it is salaried with benefits and slightly more stable hours.  Plus, I’d only need ONE job!  I know- that’s crazy, too!  I haven’t worked only one job since high school!  It’s a really good job, but apparently the selection and interview process take a really long time because applicants have to be approved by the corporate entity, etc.  I did have a couple of my event industry friends call or email to recommend me, so hopefully that will help because technically I don’t have any “experience.”  I do, but it’s a hotel job and I’ve never worked at a hotel.  Anyways.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.  I have no idea when or if I’ll hear about it, so also don’t ask me if I’ve heard anything- I’ll let you know when I do!

Okay, so that’s whats been going on.  I’ve been working, dating, and hanging out with some friends.  Hopefully in July I’ll have time to write.  Or maybe in August.  Stay tuned!

Putting Down the Pen?

| rachelhamm

I’ve wanted, for a while now, to be able to take a memory, something from my past, and write a deep, meaningful, reflective post about it.  Problem is, I can’t seem to come up with a memory that would allow me to write anything of significance.  I could talk about choices I made that, in retrospect, were probably wrong or I could talk about moments when I thought my heart was breaking, but again, in retrospect, it probably wasn’t, but I don’t think I’d get the reflective piece I was hoping for.  I should probably be thankful I’ve lived a fairly even-keeled life.  There have been no times of great tragedy, only disappointment and regret, but there have also been no times of tremendous joy, only fleeting happiness.  In the grand scheme of things, I should consider myself lucky.

I’ve been having a lot of trouble writing for a long time now- pretty much since I finished the second big edit of Twenty-Five.  Poetry, short stories, attempts at novels- nothing is working.  I have begun to wonder if I should put the pen down and forget about this whole writing thing.  Not that I want to, necessarily.

I’ve never been successful at anything I’ve attempted to do.  At least, I don’t feel like I have been.  Always good, never great.  Which makes me think I’m not choosing the right things.  Honestly, when I think about it, the only thing I ever really excelled at was school.  So, I’ve been thinking about going back to school.  I’ve wanted to get a graduate degree pretty much since I received my undergraduate one, but the timing has never been right or the money’s never been available.  I still don’t know if the timing is right and I know there isn’t money available, but if I keep waiting, I could be waiting forever, right?

I don’t know for sure yet what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, or even the next couple of years.  I wish I did.  I wish I knew if I had it in me to write another book.  I keep trying and failing.  And I hate failing.  I keep thinking one day I’ll have the time to devote to another story.  One day I’ll develop characters that really speak to me.  One day I’ll come up with a plot that is so freaking fantastic that it will basically write itself.  But how long can I wait for one day?

I feel lost and confused and really guilty that I haven’t had anything of quality to post on this blog in a very long time.

I Won A Writing Contest Once

| rachelhamm

when I was ten years old.  I was in the fifth grade and my AG teacher, Ms. Pyles, encouraged me to enter.  (AG stands for Academically Gifted.  Shortly after I left elementary school, they changed it to AIG, Academically and Intellectually Gifted.  I cannot attest to the truth or suitability of myself being labeled as AG, but I was tested in the third grade, and there you are.)  My best friend, Ashley, also entered and won.

I don’t have a lot of memories about the actual contest, I don’t know if other members of our AG class entered or if it was just Ashley and I and so we won by default, but I do remember Ms. Pyles inviting me to her house for tea so we could “edit” the story before it was bound into a little book.  My sister Theresa, such a great big sister, drew illustrations to go along with the story.

I’m very surprised I’ve never posted the story on this blog, because it really cracks me up, so I’m going to post it now!  I posted it on The Next Big Writer a long time ago and here are some of the remarks I got:

Well, Rachel, LOL! What a cute story for a ten year old to write. I can see how you won the contest, and I know you’re proud to look back at the little book and reminisce. While I was reading it I couldn’t help but think about that old song “Purple People Eater.”

Anyways, thanks for sharing this with us. It made me laugh!

*******

Ooohhh, I have three brothers, does this martian have any friends? Especially for my older brother, I would love to control him for just about ten minutes MWaaaaaahhhaaaaaaahaaaaaa. Very cool story. I wrote a novel when I was 9 called the mystery of the doorknob. My older brother found it a little bit ago and had to point out all my faults. 😦 . Very well done, a neat little story.

*******

LOL Rachel! THere’s still not a frickin nit in this blasted thing! And you were TEN! Oh man, you read my stuff when i was ten and you’d realize how incredibly talented you really were and still are! You’re right, your voice hasnt changed all that much, just you’ve gotten even better at storytelling.

I’d hate to be your little brother! LOL! 🙂

*******

Rach, when you said ten, I couldn’t resist. That’s the age my students are! I love your story! It has a clear beginning, middle, and end, which is the hardest thing to get them to do. Most of the stories end with one sentence, like: And then they went home and everything was okay. 😦

I see some typical ten year old stuff, like what is it with ‘whispering excitedly’?? lol Everyone in a story by a ten year old girl whispers excitedly.

Darn good story, dear!

Does that make you want to read it??? Okay, here you go, my contest-winning short story: “The Summer Aliens Ate My Brother’s Brain”

 

*********************************************

Dedication: This book is dedicated to Theresa Hamm for illustrating my book and being a great big sister.

Hey!  My name is Rachel.  I have a brother named Danny and a sister named Amanda.  We live with Mom and Dad in Burlington, North Carolina.  My story begins on a windy July afternoon…

“Hey Danny!  Wanna play some football?  You can be the Buffalo Bills.  Please!!”  I shouted to Danny, who was in Amanda’s and my bedroom looking for something.

He came down slowly, looking smug.  “I’ll play if you let me read your journal.”

“No way!  I’ll get Manda to play with me.”  I went outside where the wind blew my hair back.

“Amanda! Where are you?” I shouted in the wind.

“I’m right here!” she yelled, jumping out of our treehouse.

“Wanna play some foo…”

“Dinnertime!” interrupted my mother.  We ran inside and ate dinner.  Then we went to bed.

* * * *

In the morning, I slipped quietly out of bed and tiptoed downstairs to Danny’s room.  The door creaked when I opened it, and I crept softly to his bed.  I slid my hand under the covers and tickled his feet.  He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling.  He didn’t laugh or say anything.  I figured he was putting on an act.  Then I saw it!  A small green and purple polka-dotted, well, thing, climbing out of Danny’s ear.

He was shaped like a human.  He had arms and legs and hands and feet.  He was just as tall as my pinkie finger.  His ears were huge, as big as his face.  He looked a lot like Ross Perot.  He stared at me blankly.

“What are you?!” I asked.

“Huh-oh, Me?! I’m a Martian!  I now own your brother’s brain,” he said gleefully.

“You mean you invaded his brain?!  I can’t believe this.  Are you sure?” I asked in one breath.

“Yes, quite sure.”

I was speechless.  I didn’t know what to do.  Suddenly I grabbed the creature. “Fix my brother now or I’ll fix you!” I was angry.  With Danny’s brain being invaded, I couldn’t tease him any more.

“Rachel, are you in there?” Amanda asked slipping into the room.

I turned around. “Look at this!” I cried thrusting the Martian in front of her.

“Cool! What is it?” Amanda exlaimed.

“A Martian!  He invaded Danny’s brain!”

“Wow!  Let’s keep him.  It’s so cool that he actually invaded Danny’s brain,” Amanda whispered excitedly.

“You know, now that I think about it, it is cool.  Let’s keep him a secret,” I said, suddenly realizing this could be exciting.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” asked the Martian.  I’m not a toy, you know.  I don’t like this!”

“Don’t worry.  Everything will be fine, just fine.  You keep controlling his brain, and we’ll keep you safe!”

“OK,” the Martian answered warily.

We all went upstairs and got dressed.  I put the Martian in my jumper pocket.  Then we went downstairs to eat breakfast.

“Mornin’ girls!  Go wake up Danny for me, will ya?” sang my mother.

“Sure thing, Mom,” I replied.  Amanda and I dashed to Danny’s room.  We went in and I got the Martian out of my pocket.

“Tell Danny to get out of bed, get dressed, and eat breakfast!” I told the Martian.  He climbed in Danny’s ear and went to work.  Danny got out of bed, dressed, and went to the table.

“All right!” Amanda shrieked.  We ran out and had breakfast.

After breakfast, I had to do the dishes.  I didn’t feel like it, so I told the Martian to tell Danny, “Clear the dishes off the table, rinse them in the sink, and put them in the washer.”

“Right.” said the Martian.  He climbed in Danny’s ear and told him, “Clear the dishes off the table, rinse them in the sink, and put them in the washer.”

Danny went in to the kitchen and got to work.  I went upstairs where Amanda was waiting.  She had set up Monopoly, and we started playing.  Then, all of a sudden, I heard the washing machine running.  I flew down the stairs and raced to the kitchen.  Danny had put the dishes in the washing machine.


“Oh, no!  What did you do?!  Oh no!  This is my fault!  I gave the wrong directions!” I exclaimed.  I turned off the washer and looked in.

“Even worse!  The dishes are broken.  What now?!” I asked myself.  I took out the pieces, and tried to put them together.

“Oh, what’s the use?”  I threw down my hands and put the pieces in the garbage.  I was just about to slip out the back door so I could go and buy new dishes, when my mom came in.

“Where are you goin’?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just out for fresh air,” I replied.  I went out and ran across the lawn.  I walked timidly to the store to buy some new dishes.  I got them, and I was out of the store.  I ran as fast as I could home.  I ran inside and put the dishes away.

I decided that this Martian thing wasn’t going to work.  Sure, it was fun for a little while, but not any more.  I talked to Amanda about this, and she agreed. So I got the

Martian out of my pocket and said, “You need to stop controlling Danny, please.  This isn’t going to work.  Will you please go back to Mars, so that we won’t get in any trouble any more?”

“Yes, I’ll go home.  Besides, I was planning on it anyway,” he replied.

“Oh, good!  Thanks so much!” Amanda shrieked.  We said goodbye to him as we watched his spaceship float in the sky.

Everything at our house turned back to normal, and no one ever heard from the Martian again.


Why I’m Awesome, if you hadn’t already figured it out

| rachelhamm

I’ve been in depression-mode for a while, I’m very sorry that I haven’t been posting any quality writing on the blog.  Especially since the site-view spikes I get after I post something very short make me feel guilty that I’ve not provided anything decent for anyone to read in a very long time.

The truth is, sometimes creativity takes work.  It’s very difficult (for me) to come up with interesting topics to write about for this blog, especially when I have to create interesting topics to write about for two other blogs now due to work.  Personal writing has taken a toll.  A very heavy toll.  And that makes me very sad.

But.  The other day, thinking about what I could possibly talk about that I haven’t already covered, I decided to give my readers a bit more of myself.  I’m already a pretty open book, I’m very honest about who I am and what’s going on with me, but I’m usually only inspired to share the crappy stuff.  The stuff that keeps me up at night and won’t allow me to move on until I’ve purged it here.  Today, I’m not going to do that.  I’m going to talk about my other side.  The side that is pure awesome.

That’s right.  I said pure awesome.  Intrigued?

1. I’m awesome because I have a lot of passion for very little things.  Like Softlips chapstick- it’s the only kind I’ll use.  And Sunkist soda- the best foods and beverages are orange, afterall.  And pens- if you haven’t figured out my love of pens yet, what are you still doing here?  I love writing with a pen for a couple of hours and then pulling it apart to see how much ink I have left in it.  Stupid, yes, I’m aware.  But I don’t really care if it’s stupid.  I like it.

2. I’m awesome because I’m independent.  I’m not always good at being independent, but I try really hard to be.  I work three jobs to pay my bills and I know how to change a flat tire on my own and while a man in my life would be nice, I certainly don’t need one.  My friends like me single and fully awesome.

3. I’m awesome because I have a great memory for nonsense.  I remember silly little stories like the time my friend Ashley made me walk into a tree while playing Ghost in the Graveyard as children- we both laugh whenever I bring that up.  I can recall random facts that I read somewhere that really only have a fraction of something to do with the main conversation, but I tell them anyways.  My boss asked me once if there was a song I didn’t know the lyrics to, which brings me to number 4.

4. I’m awesome because I love to sing, even if it sounds horrible.  I learn the words to songs after only a few listens and I love my long commutes simply because I get to listen to the radio and sing at the top of my lungs while dancing in the driver’s seat and entertaining the other drivers around me.

5. I’m awesome because I genuinely enjoy doing nice things for other people.  I love to make home-made ice creams cakes for the staff at work.  I go above and beyond for my clients.  I give compliments that are deserved and will make someone smile.

6.  I’m awesome because I love to laugh.  I like watching comedy specials on tv, I laugh aloud to books or movies.  I’m not particularly funny myself, but I appreciate someone who is.

7. I’m awesome because I’m pretty realistic.  I don’t make plans that are over-the-top or logistically impossible.  I don’t expect a white knight on a noble steed to come charging up to rescue me.  I know life isn’t always easy and most definitely isn’t fair.  I see myself through unclouded lens.

8. I’m awesome because I know my limits.  I’m not a good or particularly fun drunk, so I don’t drink a lot and when I do, I drink very little.  I’m not good at sports, so I only play them occasionally with family and then usually to made up rules where it doesn’t matter how good you are.

9. I’m awesome because I can type pretty quickly.  May not seem like something that’s too awesome, but I love the feeling of my fingers flying over the keys and letters and words suddenly appearing on the screen.

10. I’m awesome because I’m kinda a slob.  But an organized one.  Kinda.  I am pretty messy in private, but at work, everything has a place.  I’m super efficient and I know where everything belongs.

So, now, why are you awesome?

Almost Famous

| rachelhamm

Okay, I admit it, I’m an attention whore.  I love it, I crave it.  I try really hard not to beg for it, but when there’s a chance to display myself in a way that I think will receive positive attention, I’m all about it.

I sing karaoke every chance I get.  I have a decent voice, not amazing or anything, but in a room full of drunk people you’d think I was Kelly Clarkson or someone similar.  Hearing the announcer call my name, walking up to the microphone, and waiting for those first few notes, yeah I feel nervous.  But almost as soon as I start singing, I just feel happy.  And when I put the microphone back on the stand, do my little appreciative wave and nod to the audience, and head back to my seat, I’m elated.  On a “yeah, I just kicked ass” high.  It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world.  Especially if my friends tell me I sounded good!

In high school I did a lot of community theater.  My school didn’t have the funds or the interest for a real drama group or musical theater, so I participated in every community production I could find.  Sometimes I worked backstage and sometimes onstage.  I loved every minute of it.  I loved the costumes and scenery and the audience and getting up on stage and feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

This past Friday I had the chance to display myself on another medium- radio!  I signed up to be in the studio audience of a local morning radio show and the show’s host always chooses a few people from the audience to talk to on air based on questionnaires we had to fill out before hand.  When I was filling out my questionnaire I thought there was no way they’d put me on the air- I’m so boring!  But they did!  And I think I did a pretty good job.  I did sound nervous at the beginning, but it got easier, and they talked to me for a long time- almost 15 minutes.

So I walked into work today (for the ortho) and several of the employees at the dentists’ office where we go four times a month mentioned my fifteen minutes of radio fame!  One of our patients had heard me and told her mom, who works for one of the dentists.  She called the office and told the receptionist.  And a different patient’s mother stopped before leaving and said “Were you the one on the radio?”

I may never be famous for writing or wedding planning or anything else.  But I felt almost famous today, and it was kinda cool.