The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

I Talk A Good Game, But This Is Basically A Self Pep-Talk! September 2, 2012

Paris Sunset from the Louvre window

Paris Sunset from the Louvre window (Photo credit: Dimitry B)

Hello all.

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So I have a milestone coming up.  In three days, I will turn back into a mermaid, over a new leaf, OK, OK!  In three days, I will turn 40.  Forty!  This is a number that is so surreal I cannot imagine it.  Wasn’t I just dealing with stupid junior high crushes, like, five minutes ago?  Wasn’t it just yesterday I was trying to decide whether to strike out on my own and try the college my parents wanted me to try, or take the safe route and go where my best friend wanted us to go together?  Didn’t I just a day ago say “I love you, Seniors.” and with hands shaking, return the microphone to the stand after fulfilling a dream of singing a solo at graduation?  I could swear it!  Or maybe it was just yesterday when I was 21 and drowning in newborn babies when my twin daughters appeared on the scene?  Or when I was 30 and doing the baby thing all over again with my Little Man, The Boy.  Or those years in between, watching husbands self-destruct, searching for myself, suffering loss and surviving devastation again and again and freaking again!?

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Nope.  It was years ago.  Back in the Day.  Old times.  Ancient History.  It’s cool, I can deal, really!  I can live with these realities and look back on the events I’ve just listed and see that, yeah, they were pretty good times overall.  There’ve definitely been some awful times.  I touched on those, but what I’d really like to examine is, “Where the heck am I going from here?!”  What’s in my future?  What lies ahead in the twisty, turn-y, dark and light-y  road through my next few decades?  Why did I just edit that sentence from ‘hell’ to ‘heck’ so I might not offend or shock anyone who knows me?  What’s going to happen to my kids in their journeys?  And please tell me I’m not going to fulfill that horrible line from that poem in Dead Poets’ Society:  “…and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”

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I think society tries to tell us life is meant to be some grandiose adventure, some breathtaking experience that smacks of deep meaning and awe and wonder, and that if we don’t find our experience matching up, that we’re not doing it right, that our life is somehow subpar, substandard, just sub.  Sub means below, you know.  Society tries to subversively and sneakily tell us that there is a bar to be cleared if we are to be able to say we have lived.  Like we must have made certain amounts of money or been to certain places or felt certain throbbing levels of love and lust.  And it’s true, there are crazy infinite amounts of experience out there to be had.  The world is so much bigger, more varied and vast and amazing than this little corner where I have grown to this point.  Society wants me to think my limited experience is somehow inferior.

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But you know what?  Society can just go screw itself.  I’m about to be 40.  I’ve lived. I’ve never owned a million dollar house or driven a Mercedes, but I’ve raised kids and seen them laugh and cry, seen them bleed, seen them struggle for breath, and even seen them die.  I’ve never been to Paris, but  I have loved parents and grandparents and friends, and I’ve laughed and cried with them.  I have never felt the certainty that I was looking into the eyes of my Soul Mate, but I have paid the bills (sometimes even on time) and most often eaten food paid for by the state.  I am still in the town where I graduated High School.  But I. Have. Lived.

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I am filled with hope that this is true, but I don’t have to be reassured that the next decade or four or five that I continue to breathe will be somehow more interesting or more awe-inspiring or more joy filled than the last four.  Just to illuminate with an example:   I got mad at my kids yesterday.  They let me down.  They didn’t do what I asked them to do, even with specific instructions and guidelines.  They just chose not to do it.  I was angry at them and more angry at myself for letting them get away with it.  I suddenly started experiencing a deep desire to just leave them to their own devices and go make myself a whole new life somewhere.  Let them do what they wanted to do, since they were going to do it anyway, and just go.  The girls are almost nineteen, right?  People do it.  But today we were in the car, on the way to my mom’s for after-church dinner.  And they were singing.  My babies.  All of them, singing together, some goofy song I can’t even remember now, but I was singing with them and laughing, and then I started to cry as I thought how just yesterday I wanted to leave them on their own and go be my own person without them.  I forgot for a moment that they are the personification of all I ever wanted in life!  I wanted to be a mom.  That was it.  All else was secondary……  And I knew then that they ARE the glorious, interesting, awe-inspiring, joy filled living that I have done!

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So would I be lying if I said I don’t care what the next 40 years holds?  Yep.  I hope my future is full of experience and adventure.  Travel.  Seeing more, doing more, being more.  True love, even.  But if it’s just day to day living, paying the bills, watching my kids walk their paths, being single but not alone, I know I have already been blessed beyond imagining.  I have loved.  And yes, I have most definitely lived.

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So bring on what you got, September 5, 2012!  Bring on the official turning 40!  It’s been good this far, and it will continue to be good, no matter what.  I am beautiful.  I am alive and breathing and fabulous, and so is my life.  As in my last post, it can only go up from here!

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Until next time,

D.

 

I Don’t Know Where I’m Going, But I’m Making Good Time December 27, 2011

Royal Caribbean's Freedom of the Seas luxury c...

Image via Wikipedia

Hello all.  Ok, so some of you might think that I’ve been taken back to my home planet or that I’ve run off and joined the French Foreign Legion (an expression of my Dad’s) or that I’ve become a goatherder at the top of some mountain somewhere.  Nope.  None of you are right, but thanks for playing.  The truth of the matter is… life is just busy, peeps!  What with everybody’s favorite ready-made excuse for everything, the Holidays (shudder) and changing jobs and all, things have just gotten away from me.  But here’s the deal:  I’m going to try.. TRY to start updating more often.  Shorter posts, more to the point.  I mean you guys don’t have to know every detail of what’s on my mind, just the highlights, right?

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With that in mind, the new job is going great.  Things got smoothed out fine with my old boss.  Misunderstanding.  All good now.  Crazy co-worker, not so much.  She sent me a Christmas card with a sort of perfunctory apology for all the junk that’s gone on between us, saying she missed me and she wanted us to still be friends.  And I said, “Whaa…?!”  So I wrote her a little Christmas card, which I also did for everyone there, and I included a little letter that said, in effect, that I accepted her apology, but she needed to know how she had made me feel most of this past year.  I basically thanked her for making the environment there miserable enough to push me to get out of my comfort zone and try to find another job (which wasn’t hard, because this one just sort of fell into my lap) because I am much happier where I am now.  I ended by telling her I hoped that she found something that made her happy and joyful, and that she was a good homemaker and a great mom, both of which are true.  Overall, best response I could have made?  Probably not, but she needed to know that “Sorry” doesn’t fix everything.  I am definitely happier with where I work now, so that’s all that matters.

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Job-related happiness aside, the children are causing all sorts of emotional turmoil for me at this point.  The girls are graduating in May, which is just one of those “Where have I been the last 18 years?” things.  You wake up one day and realize your job is almost finished, and you hope like crazy that you did it well enough.  Thankfully, I’ve still got…The Boy.  He is enough of a challenge to keep me busy for another three lifetimes.  His educational issues and mood issues and social issues, or rather teaching him to function in society despite those issues, is going to be the focus of my life for the next 10 years at least.  Getting him through high school alive and finding him a direction in life is going to be my main goal.

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Despite the challenges in raising them, the kids are a lot of fun.  We had an awesome 18th birthday party for the girls.  We hired a karaoke DJ and decorated a local small meeting space to look like a club, sort of.  They had a great time.  We all did.  I discovered that I make dorky faces and dramatic gestures like some kind of Diva Wannabe when I sing.  Except I knew that already.  I’ve been a Wannabe singer my entire life.

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Also under the category of Kids and Fun, I am really, REALLY looking forward to our vacation in May, when I take them on a cruise.  I could literally spend hours just looking through my planning notebook, staring at packing lists and flight schedules and touring plans.  I have read reviews of our ship and looked at hundreds of pictures, read Frommer’s Carribean Ports of Call backward and forward.  Just can’t wait.  Except that when it finally gets here, it means the girls have graduated and are now free to go make their own lives.  As tough as it is for me to let them be free, I hope they get where they want to go.

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So anyway.  Things are good.  I have been working on what I want next year’s theme to be, so be watching for a post on that.  Life theme, I mean.  This year was action, last year was transformation… I’ve been trying to examine where I am in my journey and where I want to get to from here, and that is never easy.  But hopefully with prayer and hard work, I’ll eventually make a start at it, at least.

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Until next time,

D.

 

Have I Mentioned Lately How Much I Love Books? July 21, 2010

Hello all.  I got the idea to write another entry about books from a comment I left on Mighty Maggie’s blog.  (Humorous blog.  Never dull.  Go read her! Wait, finish me first!) I have written previously about the different books I’ve read and the books that are now movies, and the books I can’t help buying from Hastings.  But now!  Oh, now I have two classics to read that I’ve never gotten around to reading before, and I can’t wait to get more into them.

I borrowed them from baby sister.  As mentioned recently, she is an interior designer, so she has a lot of things on her shelves that are basically just meant to look good.  But her back room bookshelf is just where she keeps her books, and after she explained her system (books organized by genre and then by author) she was kind and trusting enough to let me borrow a couple of them!  I’m sure she had misgivings- as much as I love books, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not as careful with them as I could be.  They tend to get abused, a little.

In spite of her fears, she loaned me two books:  Vanity Fair and Mansfield Park.  I realize it’s hard to believe that as an English major I managed to graduate without reading either of these, but I did.  We could get into a whole long debate about canon and classics and so forth, but it’s enough to say that I did read a lot of other books in college, and I enjoyed reading them.  Except this one book Dr. Spencer assigned that I never DID get through, whose title escapes me now, but it was dreadfully boring, the first chapter or so that I actually read, so I gave up.  OH!  Tristram Shandy.  Lord in Heaven, but I struggled with that book!

Anyway.  I started reading Vanity Fair last night.  It was very difficult to get into at first, but I’m thinking it will get better.  I had told little sister she was going to get her books back this weekend when she brings Daughter S. home, but now I’m afraid she will not.  I won’t even be finished with VF, let alone MP.  I’ve been writing too much, so she’ll just have to wait. 

And speaking of writing.  I was looking through my poetry files yesterday, trying to find the poem I wrote for the last class reunion, to read it again at this class reunion, because I’m just an attention hound like that.  Anyway, I started finding all this work I’d written and while some of it makes me want to throw on a fake mustache and move to another country, some of it makes me just want to do a little victory dance and go “Damn, I’m good!”  I’ll put some of it on my poetry page soon.   I know I said a while back that I would be putting up a lot of new stuff on that page and none of it has materialized, but never fear.  This time I mean it. 

Hmm.  I started to talk about how posting poetry is so much more difficult for me because it’s generally much more personal and deeply felt than my blogging, but really it’s not that different.  My writing in this blog is personal and I often write about very deep feelings and hurts and fears, but somehow poetry seems different.  I have more apprehension about the critique of my poetry than my blog.  Many times, the Therapy Journals just feels like something I do, but the poetry is something I’ve given birth to- it’s part of me.  And much of it is written from my worst pain and deepest dark places, so it’s pure vulnerability scrawled across the page. 

Anyway.  I’ll pick out some particularly good ones and put them up as soon as I can.  And since I used that word, particularly, it reminded me of the new book I’d really like to read.  I’ve been seeing reviews for it in magazines, and mostly I just like the title.  But it’s called “The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake.”  It’s about this girl who realizes she has an ability to “taste” people’s emotions in the food they cook.  And through their emotions, she discovers all their secrets and all the things she never really wanted to know about anybody.  It sounds very intriguing.  If somebody really loves me, they can get me that book for my birthday.  It’s coming up in September, you know, but I’m trying not to think about it, because I’m turning 38 and that feels like Almost Dead!  I know, it’s ridiculous to be thinking like that, especially because one never knows when one might unexpectedly be dead.  38’s not that old.  That’s why I’m trying to learn to love life every day and every minute.  It’s a work in progress, but I’m getting there. 

Until next time,

D.

 

Weight, Weight! It’s an Update! March 15, 2010

Hello all.  Just thought I’d devote today’s post to the topic of my attempts to become a non-Klingon woman (read, losing weight.)  Click here to see the explanation of the Klingon-Woman thing.) As those of you know who know me in real life, I’m not a waif.  In fact, I’m the Anti-Waif.  I make Amazon Women look like delicate flowers.  Ok, I’m not tall enough for that, but you get the idea.  Never mind.  The point is, I’ve been trying to correct that situation by following the Weight Watchers program.  I started in mid-late January, the 19th.  Instrumental in this decision were the encouragement of my counselor and the desire to be able to take part in normal human activities like sitting in an airplane seat or a movie theater seat pain-free, hiking up a mountain, and wiping my backside without strategic advance planning. 

So I went to the meeting one day, all by myself, and joined the crusade.  I was feeling very nervous and worried about going in there.  I was worried that all I would see would be fairly small people who were already in maintenance or people who only had 20 lbs to lose.  In short, I was afraid I’d be the biggest person in the room, the purpose of the gathering not withstanding. 

Turned out I was wrong.  There were plenty of people who were my size or bigger, just beginning their journeys, hoping like I was that they didn’t stand out in any way.  I sat down at an unobtrusive table in the back, listened, and watched.  I planned my own meals and tried to envision the end of the journey.  A friend of mine says she can “see” herself thin.  I couldn’t.  I’ve tried, but I can’t imagine it.  I can’t picture it.  I can’t yet fathom what it will be like to be this normal-sized person, this person who is only limited in what she can do by the mental aspects, rather than the physical. 

So anyway, I plunged right in.  By the next week I had inspired a friend of mine to join.  And I’ve gone to every meeting since then.  I have not missed one!  They have this reward that you can get, called Stay and Succeed, for attending 16 or 17 consecutive meetings, and I’m trying to get that. 🙂  I don’t sit at a table in the back anymore.  (Hey, there’s another good autobiography title- A Table In The Back.  More on that at another time.)  I sit in the rows of chairs with the rest of the journeyers.  I comment.  I applaud.  I laugh.  I volunteer things. 

And since January 19th, I’ve lost 19.2 lbs.  I’ve sustained a pretty good weekly average, despite several occasions on which I completely disregarded my healthy eating goals and went… well, berserk, quite frankly.  Up until last week.  Last Tuesday morning I went to the meeting, and the scale didn’t change.  I stayed the same.  I neither gained nor lost.  I was actually very satisfied with that, because I knew there was no way I could have lost, but gaining would have been too hard emotionally.  It had been such a tough week, and I felt like I had done the best I could, mostly, and I didn’t deserve to have a gain for the week.  Now I guess the reality is, nobody deserves to gain weight, so that thought process was flawed.  Okay, let’s just say I subconsciously hoped that Natural Law would exempt me and I’d escape the logical consequences of my actions.  Except that sounds even more messed up.  Anyway!

So in the past week I’ve tried to do better.  I’ve continued to track my food intake.  (Which is super easy using Weight Watchers’ Online tools, by the way.) I’ve made myself walk a few times this week. (!) And I’ve also made myself realize that no matter what happens on the scale, I have to continue.  I have to keep going and keep trying and keep working through the process of changing the habits that brought me here in the first place.  I also have to accept that this is not going to be a quick and easy journey.  I have taken 37 years to get to this point, and while I thank the Lord that it won’t take me another 37 to correct it, it will take at least a year and a half to two years to get down to a realistic, healthier weight, losing at a sensible rate of 1-2 lbs a week.  I say realistic because, Have you seen those weight charts!?  The weight ranges seem way too low, and way too ‘unaccomplishable.’  I think the range for my gender and height is something like 140-155.  I can remember when I lost weight before on Medifast and got down to about 160 or so.  I was a size 10-12 and looked haggard!  So I’m thinking my goal should be about 175.  I can do that.  It doesn’t feel like it’s out of my reach. 

The key here is that I must be patient.  I must be calm, cool, and collected, and not start stressing out about how much time I do or do not have, because that was my main motivation for trying to improve my health by improving my weight.  Friends, I was scared.  I knew that, realistically, we do not see 95-year-old people running around who weigh over 300 lbs.  We just don’t.  We might see late 50s-early 60s people who are in that weight category, but we won’t be seeing them for very long!  I couldn’t bear to be at the place I am in this journey, so unfulfilled, so unsatisfied, so filled with longing to do more, see more, BE more, and think that my time was more than half over.  Maybe that’s morbid, but it’s where my mind was.  I know that none of us have much control over when our time is up, but this was one thing I could at least influence for the better, if not control entirely.  I want to be around for my kids.  I want to see them graduate high school and college, get married, have babies, fulfill their dreams and their potential.  I want to see the world, go places, have adventures.  I want to see how technology advances in the next 50 years, and see if as a society we ever get it right!

In short, I want to LIVE.  Click here to see the lyrics to a John Denver song of the same title, whose words express a little bit of what I’m going for here.) Weigh-In is tomorrow.  Wish me luck!

Until next time,

D.

 

Spring Break! And The Internal Angst It Causes! March 14, 2010

Hello all.  So how are things?  I hope everyone is well and happy, because it is Spring Break! and it is most important to be well and happy on Spring Break!  Not that I’m going to go anywhere.  I always wish I could go somewhere fun, and I never end up going.  Not that I know exactly where “somewhere fun” is, but it always seems to be wherever I’m not.  I guess I sort of envision some Carribean or Mexican or Hawaiian beach, under a big umbrella with dry-grassy fringe on it.  Sunglasses.  Big floppy hat.  Fruity, buzz-inducing beverage.  A soft, salty breeze.  Someone tall, dark, “ripped,” and coated in suntan oil standing there fanning me with a palm frond, ready to do my bidding immediately if not sooner. 

Yes, I know, that totally doesn’t mesh with the whole Alaska scene I’ve been yapping about for the last 4 years, but maybe I’ve watched too much of the Travel Channel.  I’ve always sworn I’m not a ‘summer person,’ that the beach and the sunny vacation destinations don’t interest me.  Apparently they do interest me, but I try to pretend they don’t, because I’d look like the Michelin Man in a swimsuit on the beach:  blindingly white and extremely round.  That, and I can’t ski, scuba, parasail, or any of those other things you do in water or near beaches, so I just figure I might as well write off the whole scene.  And I’m scared of skin cancer.  Anyway.

It’s actually a little funny, because I always wanted to do one of those all-girl trips, where you go to Mexico or somewhere with three or four of your best girlfriends and see how much trouble you can get into.  Only now I think maybe I’m too old and should be much more mature, and way past that gently nagging urge to party it up.  If only I didn’t have this sense that I’m missing something by never having gone on one of those vacations- even if it were hiking through Europe or spending a weekend in retreat with the Dalai Lama or something, at least it would be doing something with my girlz!  Problem now is, the people I would want to do that stuff with all seem like they’re all about being Wonder Moms and Super-Wives or Career-Building Young Professionals.  In short, they don’t seem to want the ‘Girlz Vacation’ scene like I do. 

Consider, for example, all my Facebook friends who are always posting about how it throws them into absolute bliss to be piled on the couch with their kids, scarfing popcorn and watching a movie, or taking their kids to the mall, or whatever.  Don’t get me wrong. I usually enjoy those things, but am I weird to be wishing I could have some quality adult time?  (Driving to and from work totally doesn’t count, by the way!)  Maybe they do have an occasional night out with grown-up company and we just don’t hear about it on Facebook.  Maybe I’m a little jealous that being with my kids doesn’t feel like the end-all and be-all of life to me they way it does to them.  Maybe I am under the impression (mistaken or not) that they’ve already done the Girls Gone Wild thing and that’s why they’re content to remain eternally in contention for the Mary Poppins Mom of the Year Award while I sit here wondering when Life starts?

Anyway, I want to make it clear that I’m not downing these people.  I think it’s great.  I’m happy for them.  I’m totally glad they are happy just being with their kids and doing whatever it is they do.  I’m just wondering why I’m not the same.  I guess the point is that it gives me something to look forward to- when the kids are grown and I’m old and grey and decrepit and wrinkly, I’ll go sit on the beach and drink something from a coconut and gross out the poor pool boys by being the old lady pinching their butts.

Wow, I totally went off on a tangent again.  I was going to talk about the plans we DO have for Spring Break.  The kids are going to go visit their father, about which they’re very happy.  I’m taking them over there tomorrow when I get off work and they’re going to stay with him for a couple of days.  I’ve been trying to iron out some plans for my cousin to come here for a visit, but so far, nothing has been finalized.  If my cousin doesn’t come here, I am hoping to take next Saturday off from work at the very least, and try to come up with something to do with the kids.  Just us.  Something fun that they will love and that won’t cost a bundle.  I’m sure I can come up with something eventually.

While they’re gone to their father’s house, I will also be spending time with my other cousin, and also probably with RMB.  I’ll TRY to make myself do a deep clean on the house, and I’ll enjoy the ‘me’ time, even if it’s not on a Mexican Beach or the Lido Deck of The Love Boat.   

Until next time,

D.

PS- I totally just realized that the truth is that I just wish I could afford to take the kids somewhere big. like Disney World, or anywhere, and let them have fun, and have fun watching them have fun, and also have my adult fun somewhere in there at the same time.  That would be the ideal.  It’s not that I don’t want to do anything with my kids.  It’s that I can’t afford to do what I really want to do with them, and nothing else seems adequate.  That’s why the popcorn-and-movies-on-the-couch scenario seems so unfulfilling- because I wish I could do more for them.  Maybe I’m not a cold, selfish, unfeeling parent after all. 

Until next time again,

D.

 

About My Blog Title… January 21, 2010

Filed under: Aging Angst,General Observations,Weight Woes — DDKlingonGirl @ 4:21 pm

Some of you may be wondering about the title of this blog.  What is a fat-headed Klingon Woman, anyway?  Well, first a little background information.  You may or may not be ready to hear this, but I’m fat.  I’m overweight.  I can say it.  I’m not chubby, chunky, dumpy, or fluffy.  I’m just plain fat, ok?  But I’m working on it; I’m changing habits and actions, and someday that statement will be in the past tense.  Got it?  Ok, good.  Now the story.

In the winter of the year of my 20th Class Reunion (STRESS!) the skin on my face suddenly went insane.  When I got out of the shower on New Year’s Day 2010, (where I had been imagining a conversation with God about my Facebook status- more on that later) my face felt different.  As I air-dried under the ceiling fan, it became a tight, flaky mask that made me wonder how something could sag and puff simultaneously!  I studied myself in the mirror, thinking about what I’d just written on Facebook about this year being one of transformation.

I briefly considered, in the motorcycle sidecar of my mind, how much moving I was going to have to do to gradually shrink this body.  I saw a hazy, cloudy vision of myself becoming one of those exercise fiends, one of those people I like to refer to as sick and twisted, who get up at 5:00 a.m. to make it to a 6:00 a.m. Turbo class.  And I saw a much clearer verson of myself as the Fat Headed Klingon Woman I now saw in the mirror. (Apologies to Gene Roddenberry.) 

It was just that I had reached the point where even my forehead had enough padding on it to smoosh as I slept on my sides in the night.  Consequently, I woke up and looked in the mirror every morning at these great, fading, diagonal red lines over both sides of my face that reminded me of the Klingons on Star Trek! 

Life as an Extra-Terrestrial was not what I had envisioned for myself, so as my 300+ pound body silently double-dog-dared me to try to change it, I moved my thoughts of me as a “Person Who Exercises” from the sidecar to the driver’s seat of my mind, hoping that they would grab the handlebars and just take off down the highway.

So far, they’re just idling in park, but if we ever get anywhere on this exercise road trip, I’ll get the word out. 

Until next time,

D.

 

 
The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

Broadside

Smart and surprising

Mostly Bright Ideas

Some of these thoughts may make sense. But don't count on it.

Mad Scientist.Crazy Mom

Welcome to my laboratory: five kids on a farm

A Clean Surface.

simplicity, organization, inspiration, minimalism, humor...and reality

She Likes Purple

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Crazy with a side of Awesome Sauce

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

musings of a madwoman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Glam-O-Mommy

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

happily ever me

a life in progress

mighty maggie

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Writing Finger

Translations of Poetry from Galician and Spanish into English

The Better Man Project ™

a journey into the depths