Evolution

I've always found it interesting to think about how much I've changed over the years. I was doing some cleaning and organizing at my house today and came across boxes upon boxes of old notebooks, pictures, clippings, etc. It was almost like I was looking at someone else's stuff. Even though most of the stuff was only about ten years old, I was surprised by how naive some of my handwritten scribbles about life seemed in retrospect. For example, I used to write notes to myself about everything. No matter how insignificant it was, I would write down what that particular event meant to me.

Thinking back on this, I'm wondering where in the hell I found the time to do that. I can't even backtrack and remember everything I do in a day at this point in my life much less write down the meaning of each event. Even when I've wanted to write things down like my daughter's first words, haircuts, potty experiences, etc., I haven't always been able to write these things down and have just had to rely on my ability to remember that it happened. I guess that when you are young and experiencing things for the first time, you want to make sure you remember every detail in case you never get to have those experiences again. Or maybe it's just our crazy way of acknowledging that things actually happen.

After I hit thirty, the reasoning behind hanging onto every detail of an experience was no longer making sense to me. The only significant experience that I paid that much attention to was the birth of my daughter. Oddly, three and a half years later, I can't remember exactly how I felt, but I remember that I felt something. The sensations are harder to recall, but the idea of the whole process is still burned into my brain. Perhaps the business of life takes away from the newness of things that we really wish we could feel forever. The first kiss, the first time you really make love to someone, the first time you hear your little girl tell you she loves you, the first time you realize that things are ok in your life. These are the things I wish I could hold onto and never forget how I felt when they happened. Sadly, the things we don't want to hang onto seem to linger in our hearts forever. Constantly reminding us of the pain that we felt the first time someone broke our heart, any time we have lost a loved one, and even when we realize that one day, we'll be the one who is lost.

This is not a typical post for me. I normally try to stay away from topics that involve so much introspection unless there's some sarcastic edge I can put to them. There's just something about reading old journal entries and seeing how much effort I once put into simply acknowledging life as it happened. I guess it doesn't hurt too much to be human. Even if it does, it's ok. Maybe, in writing this blog, I can get back in touch with the feelings that I seem to have so much trouble holding onto in my adult life. These are the ones that really count and the ones I don't want to lose amongst the clutter of the everyday.
Thanks for indulging me on this. I hope you take a moment to think about the things in your life that you've been able to hold onto and allow yourself just a moment to appreciate being human.

Until next time...

Great Reviews!

Today I received two great reviews on In the Wash! If you want to take a look, they are both listed on Amazon.com.

I'm thrilled at the wonderful reviews that the first Rona Shively book has received over the past nine months. I can only hope that readers will find Under Lock and Key just as intriguing!

Blah, Blah, Blogggg...

It's Wednesday, I'm sick, and I'm tired. I attempted to start writing the third book in the Rona Shively series last week and got as far as page 23 before I started coming down with a respiratory infection...again. I do not have asthma, I am not sick with some dread disease, I do not smoke, nor am I around smokers but for some reason, my lungs have decided that they only want to function correctly about a third of the time. So, after hours of coughing and hacking, I gave up and went to the doctor. They prescribed the obligatory Z-pack and Zyrtec combo and sent me on my way. This was two days ago. I'm now on day three of taking the colossol cold conquering cocktail and I feel just about the same as I did on Monday. Needless to say, I'm not thrilled.

So, I figured the most therapeutic way to deal with my condition would be to complain to all of you about it. I'm sure you're thrilled that I have chosen to confide in you about my struggles with sinusitis, my battles with bronchitis, and my conflicts with congestion. Ok, I'll stop. There's just no way to make mucous cute and fun. Maybe I should look into moving away from Ohio. I've heard that this is one of the worst possible places to live if you are prone to respiratory infections. I've always wanted to go to Montana or maybe Minnesota. I don't know if the weather is much better out there, but I don't recall hearing about all of the sinus troubles the people out in Big Sky Country endure.

How has climate where you live affected your health? Have you moved somewhere based on the positive impact the climate would have on your health? Tell me your story, I'd love to hear it.

Thanks for listening...cough, cough...until next time...cough, cough...cough, cough, cough...crap!

New Contest!

For more details, go to www.rebeccabenstonwrites.com!

The Eye of the Beholder

This is where I do my thinking. My desk. Although it looks cluttered, it really is a great place for me to work. My house is quite small, so my desk is pretty much in the middle of everything. Thus, I have the luxury of writing while listening to episodes of House or American Idol...when American Idol is actually on. Where do you do your thinking? Provided it's not extremely disgusting, send me a photo of the place in your house where your mind is most productive...even if it happens to be the bathroom. It's ok, I won't lose respect for you.

The e-mail address is lonestoryteller@yahoo.com. Send in your photos today! I might just give a prize away if I get a particularly interesting story!

Thanks,

Rebecca