Getting Across The Room

If you have been through a life training program or you are just really well adjusted, you may have heard this term before....there are a thousand ways to get across the room. I didn't believe it because I could think of ten ways and I concluded that I was right and neener neener suck a wiener. I wasn't in that group of well adjusted, in case you were wondering.

In a room with 30 people on one side and a trainer at the other end, the game begins. How are you getting across the room? If you are part of the first 10, you use the most well known methods of skipping, jumping, hopping, crawling or walking. Then the fun really begins because the rest of you jackasses have to find the other 5,000 ways that look nothing like what you have just seen. Crawling on your neighbor's back for a pony ride, scooting over on a chair, rolling like a small child. Honestly, the ways seemed endless and they were all lots of fun. Obviously it's a lesson about life. There are millions of ways to get through this crazy journey. There are ways to raise kids, ways to be a spouse and ways to be a writer. Have the ways of other writers worked? Yes. Some of them rolled right over to the other side and got published, have thousands of FB fans and are working on their 600th book. Is that the only way to get to that side? No. I'm working on getting there my own way, which is really out of character for a people pleaser like myself.

There are endless books, blogs, articles (usually with a number listing how many tips they will give you on how to be successful) and this week, I read way too many of them. 27 Ways to Finish Your Manuscript in 24 Hours, 10 Tried and True Tips Every Writer Must Know, 89 Ways To Get Published. I was gearing up to replicate someone else's trip across the room, because they know and I don't. I'm learning to filter out advice, decide if it jives with what I want to accomplish and burying the rest in my backyard next to my dog's chew toys.

I get stuck (very often and more than I care to admit) in how to do it like that author I just saw on Amazon or that guy on NPR or that jackass who's book just sold 10 million copies. Yeah, that's the ticket, I'll get across the room like him, with my hand down my pants, sporting a squirrelly smile. Then I remember that his way and my way are different, mostly because I don't like my hand down my pants as much as he does. I am also learning to accept that his way and my way are both valid. I don't know what it will look like when I get to the other side of the room, but I know that there is more than one way to get there.

Brotherly Love

I'm back!!! Thanks to all of you peeps who came by for a visit from my post on mythirtyspot, I was out of town and without decent Internet so my regular posts took a vacation, too. Here is a link to my article if you missed it and don't forget to enter the giveaway and read some of the other great content on her page.
http://www.mythirtyspot.com/2013/05/why-some-relationships-need-to-end.html

Growing up, my mom would always tell us that one day we would be glad we had siblings. I didn't believe a word of that nonsense. My brother annoyed me and my sister was a shadow I constantly wanted to hide from. We fought and cried and thought it would never end. That's the thing about my mom, she always knows what she's talking about, even when I don't want to hear it.

When my brother was born, I was three years old and I had been promised a baby brother by my dad, so thankfully that worked out for every one. As you can see, he was adorable. We got along just fine before he could talk, which took awhile because I made it my personal quest to talk for him. "Chad needs that." Being the head strong person I am, it pissed me off when our mom wanted him to talk for himself. Clearly, I had it handled. I have been the proverbial bossy big sister ever since.

My brother is one of the smartest people I know and he never belonged in public school, he was too smart for that shit. When he got a new bike for Christmas, he would proceed to take it apart piece by piece and rebuild it just so he knew how it worked. The school kept telling my mom he needed resource classes and when he ended up there, he never fit in because he was 'too well behaved'. His brain was never built for book work and thank god for that. I know too many dip shits who can list off all the great American authors, foreign film directors and the periodical table, and they are the same people who burn up their engine because they never get an oil change. I tend to appreciate real over pretentious, every day of the week.

Growing up, we fought like crazy. Our cousin recently reminded me of one summer afternoon where he witnessed me beat my brother with part of our canister vacuum. I don't remember that particular incident, but it's not of the realm of possibilities. I used to lick the palm of my hand, pull his shirt up and slap his back as hard as humanly possible. He liked to mouth off and I liked to beat the crap out of him. Indian burns, fingernails embedded in his arm and dragging him by his shirt as he tried to flee the scene. To any of you with kids who wonder if they will ever love each other after the shenanigans they pull growing up, I promise they will.

The only time I was farther than 30 miles away from my brother, was when I moved to Vegas for a year. He was 16 at the time and we didn't have a lot in common. I came home to a baby brother who towered over me at 6'5 and made more money in a year than our parents did. I have taken for granted that he would always be close enough to meet for lunch or listen to the weird banging sound my car is making. Every holiday is a house full of laughter and every Sunday we all catch up over brunch. My brother has hilarious derby car stories and he is great at harassing us about car repairs we owe him for. He wouldn't take our money if his life depended on it. He stays late at work to help a buddy fix his brakes and drops his weekend plans to help our dad move. If you wonder what humble looks like, this is it. A man who gives of his time willingly, works hard, loves his family and thinks that it's nothing special. I'm overly protective and I don't have to justify it. It doesn't matter. I'm the oldest and he's my baby brother and no one understands how great he is except me. The end.

This week my brother will be making some big changes in his life and moving across the country to be with his fiance. Sunday brunch won't be the same, my car will have unending rattles and a piece of my heart will be thousands of miles away. I am so happy for him and so sad for me. All those years that I couldn't wait to get rid of my annoying little brother and now I don't know what I'll do without one of the most important people in my life. Mom was right, I am sure glad I have siblings.