How to best explain it....

I am writing from a beautiful, octagonal screened-in porch just outside of Freeman, Missouri. I am sitting at a pretty dang big round table with a few plants and some of my favorite things. My chair has padding and that makes my ass so happy I could swear I hear it singing out here.

I am eating a medium rare piece of steak that George whipped up last night on a piece of real San Francisco Sourdough bread that he just got in San Fran a couple days ago. I'd never had anything like it. I also didn't even know that I liked steak - it makes a difference when you don't ask the cooks to cremate it. I've got a side of this seafood bisque (containing crabs that George wrangled up near Maine, I believe) and a moderately fresh Dr.Pepper. 

I'm alternating between some old-school Nelly, Wilco and The Ink Spots on my most perfect Pandora station.

Clearly, yet again, it rocks to be me.

But, since I've fielded so many questions about where I'm at and what I'm doing, I've chosen to just toss this one teeny weeny blog entry to what does not (in my humble opinion) maintain the integrity of Blog-osity that I hope for.

So, when it's done and you're digesting: We'll all just go back to pretending like this never happened. Okay?

I have been in Freeman, MO for one entire week now. Some days it feels like I've been here about 20 minutes, and some others it feels as though I've had years to establish this level of comfort I'm getting familiar with.

It kind of rocks to not be sleeping in a corner of the office where I work or under a bridge or on a sofa in a dorm room or the porch of an abandoned house. I have a real bed with fantastic sheets and if I'm so inclined I can go inside and feel all the frosty cold air-conditioning any girl could ever ask for.

My job in Perry, KS at the lumber mill was ill-fated from the beginning and had finally run it's course while I was in North Carolina meeting my grand daughter. I know I did more good for that business than anyone other than the owner (and the family he loved, who had undoubtedly made tremendous sacrifices) had ever done. I stand by my belief that I did the best I could every day and good things happened. The details surrounding the end of that film do not bear sharing. There was no blood-shed and I didn't bury any bodies.

My friend Loree was kind enough to take me under her wing for the two months it took me to figure out that I needed to figure something out. During these two months I decided, consciously, to see if I could do the kind of good for me (and my abilities as a writer and artist) that I'd done for the people who signed my paychecks. I had whored my soul, body and mind out to these entities for the 40 years before this, so it stood to reason that this might work.

I have been writing like a mad woman (and, yes - that was not some accidental or Freudian slip, I know ~ and am fine with ~ you thinking I AM a mad woman anyways, so no harm no fowl. OR is that foul? I've always wondered and have always ridden the Short Bus to Cliche School.) I have now disciplined myself to spend about half the time and energy I had spent on my last job on ME. Just me.

This effort has not come without a whole lot of dragging, kicking and screaming. For reasons that I haven't been able to accurately define yet - I have always equated self-promotion with narcissism and arrogance. I have had to fight me the whole way on this one. Every single post that I share, or tweet that I complete that has anything to do with making you (the reader, and probably my aunt) like me has made me look for some Tums or Motrin. Just makes me a little sick.

God, that just looks pathetic in print. But, there's a recipe for this kind of thing and by virtue of the Internet, I found the map and have done every single thing that was advised. Well, okay - not EVERY single thing, but all the ones I could stomach. There are still things I "have" to do, or have been advised to do, but I'd rather drive red-hot pokers in my eyes than engage in that kind "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" tomfoolery.

None of this progress would not have been possible without my real and chosen families. My support system seems to be growing every day (from LA to Ohio and NC to Edinburgh and Beijing) and I cannot explain why and do not care to try. There are many people who have saved my lily-white backside from certain death by will. They've endured my tears, my lack of sense, my pain from events that shaped me and happened too many years ago and they have picked me up and provided pillows to soften the falls.

I have now landed in a place where I have been offered an amazingly comfortable place to call home - a place that feels like the first respite I've had in almost a decade. And, better yet: It does not feel like anybody is doing me any favors and I do not feel like I am taking advantage of generous kindness.

I have suddenly become surrounded by writers and artists and entrepreneurs (with actual morals, very unlike the entrepreneurs of my youth) and we feed on each other daily. You should check out my friend David's book: From Abba to Zoom or look for Toni Lee Gould's work: The Excellent Miss Keller  (soon to be released) or my friend Stephanie Gallichia or my cousin Cheri's poetry. You should also see some of the art that my friend Lynne is producing in Howard, KS... and David Bonfiglio... so many, too many to mention.

They have become friends through a myriad of ways, and some I get to hug in person - some I have to wait a bit to hug. Some I have known forever and some I have never met. They have brains and they know how to use them. They don't speak ill of people, they don't talk about the sex lives of movie stars and they (and a few others, like Mr. Culp) have been more than giving of their time and critiques. They are honest and have no reason or motivation to blow smoke up my skirt if they think they are reading insipid trash.

I've maintained three different blogs for varying lengths of time. My stats (the numbers, the metrics) have remained pretty abysmal for quite some time, and I wasn't losing any real sleep over it (because I really do get that I am but one little tiny voice amidst the millions) and I had done nothing to promote them (except to the few cousins and aunts I have left, and because they are family, I knew it unlikely that they would even tell me if I sucked.)

Two weeks ago, my combined numbers for all three blogs were hovering at about 900 hits per week with an average length of stay at about 3 minutes. That certainly didn't make me the rock star that I hope to one day become, but it was way better than double digit numbers with 2 minute stays for the last year or so.

I pulled my numbers on Sunday and literally almost fell off my chair. Combined numbers for all three blogs showed that I had over 10,500 hits in one week and the average stay was between 4 and 7 minutes. I don't expect you to get this, but for somebody to park on your site for anything longer than 3 minutes is just short of a miracle. For my numbers to jump so dramatically is simply inexplicable. And, I may have a big family, but it's not THAT big.

I have started posting on the Daily Kos (a more politically oriented web site with crazy mad wicked numbers that you wouldn't believe) and have been a "Daily Recommendation" 2 of the 4 times I posted. Go check it out, see how many posts they have daily. For me to get their "Thumbs up" on half of what I have posted is, again, a miracle.

There are more stories like this, but some have not come to fruition yet, so I'm not going to tell you about them. The most important part of this whole story is this: I may have been born to be a writer. I have written, and I mean this literally, since I was a child. I started the very first newspaper at my grade school (Blessed Sacrament.)

Out of necessity, I became a proof-reader in 2nd grade (my dad was an information man just building his empire and breeding for help - not children, so much.) I have wanted a lot of other things for a lot of other people, but I have just now learned that it is more than okay to want some things for myself. I want to see me succeed. I want to see me be able to buy my loved ones thoughtful gifts. I want to take them on trips and to good restaurants.

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.

And, that 45 mile walk a couple weeks ago.

I am fine. I have a home and I eat meat and more vegetables than I knew were even possible to consume.

Sometimes I have a few beers (I'm ridiculously wasted at Number 4, so I do mean "a few.") I'd still smoke pot if it just walked right up to the front door and offered itself to me. But, I'm not going to burn any calories making it happen.

I have learned to love cooked brussel sprouts (Thanks, Cecilia!) and cooked spinach (Thanks, George!) and I relish the long and late meals filled to the brim with stimulating conversations and food that makes my mouth get all jiggy with it.

I am accountable to the people who have invested in me and their investment best not be wasted. I have a job to do. Many jobs. And, I'll always be right here.

I am no longer vilifying myself for my short-comings and I am not going to repeat the mistakes I got to watch my mother make. She was a saint, but she sure didn't need to take that kind of shit - not from anyone, least of all her husband and son.

I think this is what is meant by the term "evolution." And, the legacy I leave my grandchildren will not be found in the nice cars or expensive educations I provided for them, rather in the fact that I survived and got a little bit better than those who broke this ground before me.

Questions?

Good then. I think we've covered the subject matter, and thanks - I am fine fine fine.

copyright 2010 moemasters