Tag Archives: school

Is This Supposed To Be Saint Patty’s Day Themed?


Have you ever had one of those nights that so many thoughts are going through your head you can’t keep track of them all? They rush by so fast you can’t grip a’one of them greased pigs to hold them still long enough to figure them out.

Of course you have, we all have!

Well that’s the night I’m having. That’s the night I’ve been having for the past week. It’s put a damper on my ability to sleep and function like a normal person might (whatever normal is, and whatever my ‘normal’ happens to be.)

As I think to myself, “What do my precious followers want to read from me tonight?” A number of things go through my mind. The ones that slow down enough to glimpse? My penchant for being a Grammar Nazi? NAH. Music? MAYBE. Probably not. WRITING. Maybe! Maybe? Um, the new book I bought (called “The Well-Spoken Thesaurus” by Tom Heehler) but that may just lead me into Grammar Nazi mode and nobody wants me to go there.

We’ll go with writing. It has the least amount of “hell no’s” attached.

First, I must say, “You Can Do It” By Ice Cube (which just started playing on my new Ipod) is not the appropriate music to read literary quotes with.  There we go. Bach.

Our subject being Poetry, I propose to speak not only of the art in general but also of its species and their respective capacities; of the structure of plot required for a good poem…” -Aristotle, The Poetics.

Along with wonderful suggestions on how to word things not so commonplace, which is helping my writing tremendously, this book also has some damn fine quotes.

Anyway, that’s right… writing.

I wish us writers were still referred to as “poets”, regardless of whether we write poetry or not. Once upon a time, anyone who took up a pen and parchment was referred to as “the poet” and I believe that term had a certain sort of (pardon the pun) poetical aspects to it. Also, a respectable aspect as well.  We may be seen as flighty, or scruffy, artistic and maybe a little odd- but it was well respected. Nowadays, I tell someone I’m a writer, and they say a noncommittal “oh, how nice” and move on. Has it now eluded the common man that writing, no matter what it is that is being written, is no more simple or commonplace than it is to paint a masterpiece of art?  After all, writing is nothing but a painting of words, a mural pieced together by those of us who see words for all the fine color and beauty they are.  I am both an artist and a poet (in the modern literal and past respective meaning of the word) and I tell you, it feels exactly the same to paint as it does to write. The same places in my body, mind and soul are active- and what, besides these two functions (and music) can you say awakens all three parts of the complete human?

Out of many who shrug it off as more-or-less an “eccentricity” or “laziness” to be overlooked or “tolerated” from me when I say I am a writer, are the ones who assume I am in it for the money. This bunch I like to refer to politely as “ignorant”. Everyone has heard of the term “starving artist” Well then, “starving poet” quite applies in most scenarios as well. Furthermore, even if I was somehow “getting rich” from my writing, I’m appalled at the inference that money is the only reason I do it.

The Utopians wonder how any man should be so much taken with the glaring doubtful luster of a jewel or stone, that can look up to a star, or to the sun himself.” Sir Thomas More, Utopia

It is because of these attitudes that I consistently fight the urge to feel lazy and unfit during the times I am writing, or sitting down to write. As we all know, writing takes time, and trying to figure out what to write takes longer. To sit here and do nothing but think, and wonder, and come up with ideas to discard and reexamine, then discard again, looks to others as a waste of time (trust me, I wish I had great amount more time in which to devote to my writing).  They say I should just write the whole time I set aside to write, if I should set aside any at all. To me, that’s like trying to paint a rainbow without mixing your colors. You can’t make a truly believable rainbow with the only three prime colors Red, Yellow and Blue. If I don’t contemplate my words thoroughly, then one of two things happens: 1. It comes out poorly and fake. And 2. It doesn’t come out at all. Everyone knows that writers can “suffer” from writer’s block on a fairly regular basis- I don’t need to feel lazy on top of it. It just distracts me from all the magnificent writing I COULD be creating.

It was only that, having written down the first few fine paragraphs, I could not produce any others- or, to approximate Gertrude Stein’s remark about a lesser writer of The Lost Generation- I had the syrup, but it wouldn’t pour.” William Styron, Sophie’s Choice.

I realize times have changed quite phenomenally, even from when I was a little girl, curled up in bed with a book begging my mother to let me finish “just one more chapter” before bed (then trying to see how many chapters I could get in before she came back to “remind” me that I was allotted just “one” more chapter- I can’t tell you how many books I finished this way. “I’m almost done with the chapter, I promise!”) to nowadays, when the most reading I do on days I don’t write includes the horrendous forced short-hand of texts with the even more horrendous awareness that current education is failing this new generation- It’s appalling. I’m not saying one has to know how to spell to magnificent proportions, or that short-hand is a bad thing (with 160 word limits on my texts, I am a sad-to-say habitual user of texting short-hand myself) but the attitude looked upon (and down) the written word, the lack of effort put into its productivity and completion, the lack of caring one has pertaining to the way they “sound” when they write is… how should I put this delicately? Borderline stupidity? Ignorance not to be ignored? Ignorance of the worst kind, indeed. Regardless of the technological era and the fact that our children nowadays can name hundreds more video games than they possibly could species of flower or animal or even book titles, people still fail to realize that more than half of communication we do (ESPECIALLY during this technological age, with the internet readily available and texting now easier than dialing a call) is WRITTEN. Why can we not find it in ourselves to learn to use our words properly?

By profession he is, or has been, a scholar, and scholarship still engages, intermittently, the core of him.” J.M Coetzee, Disgrace

I’ll admit now, I am little less than screwed if I did not have my computer’s spell check (from a publication standpoint, where professionally published novels and their readers are unforgiving of more than a couple spelling errors). But I do not turn it off and I do not choose to ignore it- I learn from it. Every red underlined word I find I MUST understand WHY it is “wrong” (if indeed it is). This creates new learning every time I write. Whether it be that I mistyped a word I know, and how to train myself from making the same mistake again, learning to spell a new word or even an old word I can’t for the life of me remember how to spell- it isn’t a cheat. It’s a learning tool. Did anyone ever refer to a dictionary as a cheat? I use dictionaries, thesauruses and the internet to define words for me all the time, and often learn better ones to use in their stead. In conclusion: Words just fascinate me. Maybe I’m being too harsh on the rest of the world to say they should learn to spell correctly. Maybe I’m sounding pompous. Or maybe, just maybe…

This new “trend” of short-hand texting coupled with the deplorable education system of this nation is driving me crazy. “What” is not “Wut”, “Brother” is not “Bruther”, “Psycho” is not “Syco” I mean, I realize many schools start out their kindergarteners and first-graders with their words using phonetics and sounds- but then they seem to forget to teach them the rest. English is not a sound-based language, sad to say. The WORST advice I got BY FAR in school was this: “Just sound it out.”

Oh boy, I think I’ve trailed into Grammar Nazi land again. I realize I’ve dedicated my life to the written word (among other things) but it is not my place to correct others, I realize that. If the urge to correct others drives me this insane, perhaps I should have pursued being a teacher instead (I’ll pass).

No, us poets were meant to learn our words and utilize them to the best of our abilities. Not everybody is meant to be a poet. Just like not everyone is meant to be a mathematician. As I am sitting here complaining of the atrocious spelling I find all around me, somewhere out there is a Math Nazi blogging “Why can’t they just learn simple division??” Or “She” in my case. There’s my own piece of humble pie, served straight from Humbledoore to my ego’s mouth-watering appetite.

Chomp Chomp. Nom Nom.

… And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief…” T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land

There is something to be said for the technological age. The fact that I can cart around 1000 (more or less) books in something the size of a paperback novel and read it wherever I want. That I can listen to Bach and Beethoven with headphones as I write and not madden the others in my vicinity. THAT I HAVE THE ABILITY TO WRITE AT ALL. This computer, a modern-day poet’s savior. I have written well over 3,000,000 words in my 19 years as a writer (my first published writing was a well-worded book review at the age of nine) I could not even get half that down (or anywhere close) if all I had was an ink pen and parchment. Everything I’ve written by hand, I’ve altered and added upon transferring to an electronic device.

But, in my stubbornness, my penchant for the old fashioned, and in yearning for respect as a writer, I still maintain it would be fantastic if us writers were once again referred to as the “poets” of our society.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for the freest action form’d under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Book 1 “Inscriptions”

I am by no means laying claim to the theory that my writing is in any way shape or form better or worse than my fellow poets. But I write from the heart, always. Leaving me to leave you with this one last quote, taken from the book but with no explained source:

If his performance was not electrifying, at least it was believable.

Thank you, and Happy Saint Patrick’s day.




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When Change Calls- Pick Up The Phone!



I am having a difficult time writing, and it may not be what you expect. For once, I’ve been able to work on book 3 without a hitch all day yesterday.

I’m having a difficult time writing because there’s a dog in my lap.

myjezzieblog1Something interesting has happened.

Ok I’m tempted to make another photo blog but damnit, I just don’t have that kind of time.  Mostly because I spent all of it reading old blogs and realizing I was a much better blog writer way-back-when than I am now. Well that may not be so, but here’s what made me come to that conclusion: I don’t blog nearly as often as I used to.

And right now, I’m kind of feeling a little shabby so I don’t have the energy to really get in there and think.

So far, since waking up too early, I’ve done only a few things. Most of which included letting my dog in and out of my room as she struggles with her indecision whether to stay or to go, and touring through old blogs of mine making additions, or just reading for fun. It began when I went looking for an old post with pictures of my dog for this blog, since I switched computers I couldn’t find these pics on them. Here’s the post I’m talking about: The Jealousy Between Small Pets and Your Keyboard. 

The other one I found myself both taken with and taken aback by and had to add an addition to, was this: This Post is So Random! And Somewhat Sexy…

Ah yes, back to the present. I decided to write about change and spent the last hour reading past blogs. How ironic.

Maybe I just need the right song.

Ok, I’m going to get back on topic, because this blog is neither entertaining or fun. And if it’s not seriously, which was its original intention, I would at least like someone to finish reading it.

Something interesting has happened.

No sooner have I written a blog about being a spinster (or viewed as one) that I have a date with someone I text with every night. Uh-oh, I just gave everyone gossip. It’s ok. But I can guarantee this isn’t like my ex fuck-buddy- I mean, boyfriend?? (The question marks are there because I still to this day haven’t a clue what exactly that was, even though he still shows up at the store). Whereas I make no assumptions about whatever this new thing happens to be, I am calm, I am attentive, I am comfortable. Is it, isn’t it- it doesn’t matter. It will be what it’s meant to be, patience is a virtue best understood with… patience 🙂

Ah, so anyway…

The reason this blog is titled as it is, is because this isn’t the only change going on in my life. And part of me has been fighting it. I ignored my phone yesterday. And fucked myself over about a hundred times doing so. I forgot to make an important phone call, and missed one even more important. I haven’t even checked my messages. Is that not depraved for a woman about to begin her own business?

I keep telling myself “I’ll do it when I’m ready”. Well guess what, I’m ready. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but it’s true. I just need to continue shaking some issues off. It’s been a long few months in which a lot of beautiful things happened and a lot of awful things happened. A lot of changes happened and not all of them good, and some of them more blessed than I could ever have imagined. I have yet to really register a single one of them, so really… can anyone blame me for wanting to hide once and awhile?

I am conducting a social experiment. What does that entail? Accepting those who want to be my friend. I have been fucked over by friends in my life to extremes I don’t care to speak of, and something occurred to me just the other day. What the previous people have done in my life has NOTHING to do with the current people in my life.  When one asks if I want to go shopping with her- Why say no?? ( I didn’t, I’m going some time today). But it did take three weeks for me to ask if she wanted to hang out again. I’ve said no twice to someone who wanted to hang out.  I nearly canceled my date. So on and so forth. I began to realize, out of everything that’s happened: I was becoming the bad friend. The one not to rely on. The one who forgets to go online when she said she was going to be on to chat. The one who doesn’t return messages, doesn’t answer calls… I feel terrible. I’m going to change that. But its none-too-easy.

I trust those in my life now (well, most.) The thought keeps popping in my head “well I trusted the others, too” Then I need to take into consideration that my skills of being able to see people as they are and not be oblivious to what may go wrong are much more fine tuned. I can watch my back without being paranoid.  I am more mature. I can trust my personal judgment better.

Still, I’m having a hard time because some of the biggest changes of my life are coming up, and I don’t want to be alone when they do, yet I’ve been alone for so long, it’s now my comfort zone.

In school our motto during the less-than-enlightening business course was “Get comfortable being uncomfortable”

Usually I’ve always abided (abode? I like abided better) by that. That’s why I make decisions in my life based on the “close your eyes and jump” theory. Had I not lived my life this way, I never would have went to school, I never would have gone to CNA training, I never would have climbed ranks in most jobs I’ve had, I never would have worked honestly toward my goals. You know, etc. I never would have gotten to the point where my life is so full of choices that I have no choice but to choose one and change and I just want to run from it all.

I just want to find a choice that’s easy. But you know what, it doesn’t work like that, and I know it. So why am I having this crisis, why am I going through this, this… thing? Whatever it is? Is this my way of slowly coming to grips with the fact that everything that’s eluded me (relationships, career paths worth the effort I put into everything,real  friendship) is now facing me head on and I wasn’t expecting it, even though I’ve not only been wanting it, but asking for it?

Nobody deals well with change. Particularly me and I am somewhat known for that. I threw a fit when my seat in school was changed. Yes, a fit. For about a week straight and occassionally for the next month did I mention it.

This is a hell of a lot of change for one person to handle alone. Possibly the reason so many opportunities to get close to other people are opening up to me. I cannot, I repeat, cannot ignore them. Without being daft and a generally bad person, anyway.

Don’t get me wrong. Out of everyone I know, I’m probably one of the most firm believers in the human condition (that we’re not meant to be alone) than a lot.

As I said, I am so used to being alone and knowing people in my past that it was PREFERABLE to be alone, that I no longer know what it’s like to trust. And I am terrified of letting that get in the way of friendships and relationships.

I realize this blog has turned into a therapy session/diary entry, but it’s needed. For me, and maybe for someone out there who can relate.

Just because change is scary doesn’t mean you need to run from it.

Accept that lunch invitation. Go on that date. Don’t run from a miserable job without understanding why you want to run, and THEN make your decision. I discovered that my problems with my job were improved once I got the guts to have a personal face-to-face discussion with my boss. The issues were not entirely fixed, but a compromise was struck and it’ll do me until I get my license (paperwork went out two days ago, yay!)

Just repeat after me:

I am strong enough to face the challenges in my life, to accept these changes without fear, and become the person I want to be. Become the person I already AM. Strong. Courageous. Caring. Loving. Healthy, Brave. I open my arms to change, I open my heart to those around me, I open my mind to the opportunities that will arise for me once I realize the pure solid truth: I am me, and there is no better person for me to be.

So when change comes calling: Pick it up, it may just be that opportunity you’re looking for. Don’t give that up for anything. Misery and loneliness, no matter how comfortable, are not the best way to live.




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Crunch Time!

I say “crunch time” because of how many things I must get done in the next month. Publication for my second novel, for instance. Its publication I won’t admit is a couple of months past my original plan, but it still needs its final edit and there was no possible way I could find time for that these past few months. Also, getting my license to practice massage is going to be spendy and a little time consuming, however that I need to get it done soon because I’ve already got clients waiting for me. Yikes. Makes me feel grown up.

Murder On Her Mind is going to have to live for awhile without an ISBN, if I want to publish it on time. It’s a simple matter, and doesn’t really matter, because I can always add the ISBN as soon as I have the money to do so (they’re $125 each, unless you buy a “ten pack” for $250. I’m bending over to see exactly where I can pull that money out of, and I’m not finding it.)

Anyway, yikes.

Go to Murder On Her Mind, Book Two of The Legends of Sangue to read snippets, as I did with Blood of Darkness, Book One of The Legends of Sangue. For those who don’t know, I put half the book in snippets nearing publication time, before putting my book up for sale on Amazon for Kindle. I did it for Blood of Darkness in May, and it was a great success. So Murder on her Mind is next! Catch up!

Talk to you all later, my friends. Sleep well. Or have a good day. Whatever part of this spinning globe you happen to be sitting on.




* Blood of Darkness- Book One of The Legends of Sangue *

* Murder One Her Mind- Book Two of The Legends of Sangue *

* My Blog: Words of Fantasy *

* Purchase Blood of Darkness *

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A Brand New Day

Well, this is going to be quick. Not because I have nothing to say (when have I ever been accused of having nothing to say? Can’t remember…) But because dinner is almost done. I’m beating the timer on the oven, here.
Today is the first day it finally hit me that school is over. It’s time to get on the ball. Time to take the next step into “adulthood” and establish myself as a professional. Spoke to a client on the phone today, wondering when I was opening up my shop. It sounded a little something like, “uh, well first I have to update my insurance and uh, um then I gotta get my license and it should take something like a couple weeks- or uh, somewhere between the beginning of December and the middle….”

Because that SCREAMS “I am a professional, you may trust me!”

I need to improve my phone skills.

Either way, she knows my work and knows my skill makes up for my lack of phone-maturity. I’ve been working (for years) on nixing the “uh”s and “um”s from my vocabulary. Honestly, I hate phones. I need to make peace with telephones.

And oh boy, how in the world did this blog get on to the topic of telephones??

Dinner’s almost done. Gotta cut this short. Moral of the story: We all have room for improvement, so never believe for an instant that you are perfect. Your imperfections make you the beautiful soul you are. Accept and improve upon yourself, we are forever evolving creatures, and it’s our intuition and love for life that keeps us going.

Anyway, good night! (or good morning, or good dinner, whatever)

Oh oh, one last thing. Check out the prologue to my latest: Murder On Her Mind, Book Two of The Legends of Sangue

Even I’m impressed.


Stacey 🙂




* Blood Of Darkness *

* Murder On Her Mind *

* My Blog: Words of Fantasy *

* Purchase Blood of Darkness *


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Found A Few Words- And A Surprise!

Ok, so I’m still a little numb from the whole graduating thing. We’ll say that’s normal. Because I think it is, lol.

On to other news while I’m thinking about it. NO, I have not forgotten about Blood of Darkness and my whole series, The Legends of Sangue. So I bring you this (details inside): Murder On Her Mind, Book Two of The Legends of Sangue


Tell me what you think!

More on everything else later. It’s sleepy time…



* Blood Of Darkness *

* Murder On Her Mind *

* My Blog: Words of Fantasy *

* Purchase Blood of Darkness *

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Being a Graduate

I decided to write this while I am still stunned, still crying, and still in denial.

I am a graduate!!!!

Why did I decide to write it in this frame of mind??

Because holy-fucking-cow I’m a graduate!!!!
I am now an official certified massage therapist. Next comes the license in a couple of weeks. Yikes.

And every single moment has been worth it. Every single second, every single trial, every single triumph, has all been beyond worth this moment. Every moment.

Wow, and for once in both my written and non-written aspects of life… I have no words.

They’re there, just waiting for my denial to diminish. All I can say is how damn proud I am of my classmates, my teachers, and myself.

The end.

No, just the beginning…


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The miracle that was my first massage

From the first moment I shook her young hand to the moment I first spoke to her, found out her troubles and concerns, discovered her history as we spoke softly as I guided her to my massage table, and when she sat down on the edge tentatively, emanating nervousness and concern not just for lack of massage experience, but also due to the fetus growing inside of her young womb, I knew I was hooked on helping people.

Despite not knowing until later just how young she was, on the cusp of childhood and adulthood, no doubt barely out of high school, I knew there was something pure about her and it wasn’t just that unique and incredibly special pregnancy “new mother” energy about her. It was the young “I’m lost in the world and still trying to find my way”. At seven months pregnant, I can only imagine how hard her life is right now.

I’ve had two hours of prenatal massage training and I am nervous until the very moment I realize she is more nervous than I am, and as she tells me about her pains and her problems prompted and guided by my gentle questioning, I begin to realize… I can help her.

I talk her through the process so that she understands, I educate her through my training on the possible reasons for her pain and discomfort, she gets on the table under the sheets and blanket and I begin the massage. At first she is tentative, this is a whole new experience and I could, with a fair amount of accuracy, assess that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched her with any kind of care, or healing intent. This is far beyond muscle relaxation, far beyond the muscle releasing techniques to loosen the pull on her muscles and low back, it’s beyond my weeks of training and hours of prenatal training. This isn’t about the massage, it is about her, and it is about her baby, and it is about her quality of life, and how I could improve it.

This girl, who has probably not once relaxed in her entire life, finally began to relax. First her expression gently folding from one of trepidation to one of comfort, then her muscles following suit as they realize it’s ok to relax, and then… She fell asleep. With a slight smile on her face, taking deep breaths of comfort and security, something I could also safely say she is unaccustomed to.

With one of her hands on her baby belly, and her other hand in mine, she lets go of the worries in her life, at least for now, as I relax the muscles in her hand and gently break apart the fascia in her palm as tense as she used to be. With my gentle touch, I’ve told her muscles that it is safe, and it is ok to be relaxed and healthy. To me, this sight seems a miracle, and perhaps it was.

She confirmed to me later on that she was more relaxed, felt better and was in less pain. But the comfort still lingering on her face and in her eyes told me more than that. For once, if only just an hour in her young life… she felt safe.

And that is a sensation not to be taken for granted. But we all know that. I wish her the best in her life and her motherhood. And I am more than grateful for the gift she has given me of not just the ability to learn and practice what I was taught, but for showing me that strength has nothing to do with muscle mass. It has everything to do with letting go of your pain long enough to let someone hold your hand.

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Yes, I AM still alive!!!!

This was originally going to be a cute little poem, since I don’t believe in cute little paragraph-sized blog posts to let everyone know I freakin miss them and miss wordpress as I have been so so sooooo busy with school (and a broken computer) that I am unable to go online except for the very minute amount of occasional spare time on another’s borrowed computer, however, the poem stopped at two lines and I thought, “Holy crap, I can’t even write a poem today” Maybe it’s not enough caffeine, too much sun in the hot 100’s + the last couple of days (or the muggy 93 degrees now) or because my mind is swimming with muscles and tendons, but… what was I saying? Yes, oh yes, I keep losing my train of thought, that’s what I was saying.

Anyway, I hope everyone is doing good and I miss everyone so much! I’ll come back on soon and type another blog. Until then, not much to say except I’m finally through A&P and I’m on to actual massage now!! YES!!! Going to school was the best decision I ever made.




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Oh boy.

Oh boy.

Somewhere between cramming my mind with sarcolemmas and acromions and plantar fascitis, I’ve had to somehow cram my mind with the extensor digitorum, extensor carpi radialis brevis, quadratus longus and pinky toes, I’ve been overwhelmed and bombarded with exhaustion, desperation and thirst.

Losing the internet for a few days didn’t help.

Honestly, you may have gotten a chuckle out of the previously stated sentence. And where I can see the humor, it’s so totally true.

I can’t even sort my thoughts into appropriate sentence structures at the moment. All I know at this point in time, is that I’m finally glad to have my internet back. More blogging soon 🙂


Oh, and I’m also glad I got my seat in class back. Boo-yah!




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My list of discoveries

During a certain business course I have been required to take mandatorily for school, I have discovered some things. Actually, today has been a day for discoveries, and I will number some of them for you, before dissecting them like the dead body I keep telling my instructor to ask the school for so we could dissect it and really learn about the human body… Strangely, he believes I could handle it, despite my aversion to the chicken leg we played with (I was finally ok with it when we broke the bone and I used a piece of it to dig out the marrow. Quite interesting indeed. A part of me still cries for that chicken.)


Ok so here we go. My list of discoveries (for the week):

1. My classmate and I have the same “pee schedule”

2. The human body is the most amazing thing that could possibly have been created, and trust me, we all owe our bodies a great huge “Thank you for your hard work!!!”

3. Slight weather changes bring on major stupidity in drivers and pedestrians

4. It’s ok to cry

5. How NOT to make sloppy joe’s

6.  Out of the sixmost common fears the business course outlines (Mistakes, the Unknown, Rejection, Failure, Pain and Success) my number one fear is: Success.


For everything (EVERYTHING) this business course has for lacking, that is one thing that holds true for it. Those most common fears are indeed the most common, and most debilitating. I had originally chosen “failure” as my biggest most number 1 fear- but I realized just today how untrue that is. How opposite. I’m not afraid to fail. In fact, I am quite successful at failing. I’m afraid of succeeding. Why?

Why indeed?

Everyone in class asked “Why would somebody be afraid of success? How can that be so common?” After all, doesn’t everyone strive to succeed? Isn’t it those other FIVE (mistakes, unknown, rejection, failure and pain) the ONLY reason we don’t succeed? Because we don’t try, out of fear of these things? Well, not according to the course. According to the course, success IS a fear. I kept quite. This was a debate I did not join. Why? Deep inside I knew- or somewhat knew- the answer. There is a such thing as a fear of success, not just fears that keep you from succeeding. When I succeed at something, the first thing I want to do is BACK OUT NOW.

I think I figured it out.

Success, being truly successful at something I consider important (life and happiness) is not something that has come easy, nor something that has come hardly at all. Everything I have done for myself, in my life, has been accompanied by some kind of unpleasant experience that counteracted the happiness I THOUGHT I could gain from it. Becoming a CNA- I thought I wanted to help people, not be the only one cleaning up the next dead body because nobody else wanted to (or everyone suddenly had to go home early, ahem, ahem.) And the bulk of that career, not just struggling through the politics of the job and the barriers that kept (keep) me from truly helping these people, ended in injury and failure. Failure every day. I couldn’t help these people heal. My most current CNA position, indeed, I could help one awesome person get better (well, not get worse.) But that’s probably the only person I’ve actually helped IMPROVE, rather than SUSTAIN or DIE. I can’t think of death as a failure, particularly not in the elderly or sick, but I can think of the fact that I couldn’t protect the residents from the politics and disgruntled employees and unhappy/downright mean family members and sadistic nurses. I went as far as I could and I… failed.

Being a waitress I couldn’t do. Somehow, I found myself outside my realm of ability. Plus, the kind of harassment us servers were subjected to by management was cruel, and I had to do something about it. Quit and contact HR. Regardless of how you see it; Fail.

Dude, slicing roast beef? Really? We won’t go there.

I succeeded at being a fast food manager for awhile, and that was ruined for me by somebody else so I suppose that began my fear of success. Maybe I’m slow to recover. That was seven years ago.

I could go on, but I won’t, because I’ve had a lot of jobs and the last thing I want to do is spend my blog-time wallowing and crying. Waa.


Failure is familiar, therefore it has become my comfort zone. The fear that my book might actually sell, the fear that I might actually graduate school, the fear that I might become successful at what I do. It’s terrifying.

But my book has been selling copies, I’ve gotten all A’s except 1 B in class, and the more I get into it, the more I realize they really are prepping us for our own careers, and honestly… that’s just terrifying, the more I realize the possibilities.

What I need to do is step outside of my comfort zone and try accepting that I may be worth more than I think. See how that feels for awhile.

I hope it sticks.





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