Ain't nobody got time for hairbrushes or clever titles.

In The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde concluded (when musing the relationship between experience and artistic proficiency), “He lives the poetry that he cannot write.” I feel like that’s been me for the past two years, and the past two months in particular. I’ve read in fits and spurts. I’ve journaled on random Tuesdays. I’ve crafted on rainy weekends. In reality though, I have done very little requiring sustained intellectual focus. A small part of me feels guilty, as though I should prioritize time for creativity and new knowledge no matter what else is going on; for there was a time in my life when this combination provided fulfillment and a sense of purpose. The much bigger part, however, simply feels grateful…for my husband, for my daughter, and for the life of poetry that I cannot write. As the renowned philosopher Doug Stone offered in the fall of 1992 (some 100 years after the publication of The Picture of Dorian Gray), ...

With that being said, recent conversations about motherhood have reminded me how nice it is to feel a sense of community when experiencing something out of the norm. As a result, I feel motivated to connect and to create. Considering I have not written anything in years, however, I figured it best to “write what I know,” to write my daily reality. Thus, here are some reflections from the past few months that some of you other parents might find relatable.

1.      Songs can be written about anything.

2.      It makes me sad that she seems to be getting used to the phone in my hand, but it’s hard not to take pictures all the time.

3.      Some people act like they have a “right” to see my child or as though I have personally offended them if I don’t want to take her many places. I don’t understand that.

4.      Just when I think, “You know, it would probably be easier to just carry her rather than take the car seat,” it isn’t.

5.      It’s difficult to accomplish things at home that require focus or thought. Even if she isn’t crying, I want to be there if she drops her paci, or spits up, or just seems to want attention. I now understand how stay-at-home moms might not have supper cooked or the house clean (which I didn’t get before Autumn came along).I’m not complaining though; I like that she makes me slow down. I like that holding her as she naps might be the most productive thing I do some days.

6.      I used to really need along time. I now take a shower with the shower curtain ¾ open and her sitting right beside me in the Rock-and-Play.

7.      Speaking of which, when I say, “I’m ready,” I mean “I’ve had a shower.” Ain’t nobody got time for hairbrushes and make-up.

8.      Ceiling fans are the best things ever. I love how happy she is when she opens her eyes and looks up. To see her lounging on the Boppy pillow – smiling at how silly the ceiling fan is – makes every morning better.

9.      She notices new things every day and seems so happy about that…butterflies landing near the deck shrubs, the blue guitar on the radio station canvas, new facial expressions on her dad’s face.  Again, watching her smile at these little things is just the best ever.

10.  I’ve always been a worrier, but goodness gracious, bless the hearts of any medical professional whose number I have.

11.  Breastfeeding is hard and I have transitioned to formula. It just got too difficult to pump and feed at regular intervals when I went back to work. We had been using a bottle for a while though because early on she was spitting up a lot and we had no idea how much she was getting.  The uncertainty of it all was stressful. I wonder if people actually question a parent’s feeding decisions as much as I assume they do …but if you’re one of those judging…just stop.

12.  I question decisions every day and I know I make mistakes every day.

13.  There IS a difference in wipes. We’re currently using Cloud Island.

14.  I never thought I’d say this, but I DID need all of those receiving blankets.

15.  I have OCD tendencies…until she whimpers or looks unhappy. Then nothing else matters.

16.  Backpack diaper bags and Rock-And-Plays are lifesavers.

17.  I never thought I would want to be a stay-at-home mom. I assumed I would get antsy or bored or would feel unproductive. I now completely understand that desire. I love my “boring” weekends with her so very much. With that being said…

18.  I am SO fortunate to have the job I have. Autumn goes with me nearly every day. I have co-workers who don’t mind diapers being changed behind them, who talk to her every time they walk by, who mention her on the radio when doing remotes, who have already bought her Christmas presents, who send me texts that say “She makes all of our days brighter!”, who just ignore the diaper bag, car seat, and sleeper laying around the office, who clean up spit-up off the floor, etc. I love my work family.

19.  If I’m being honest, I used to see a parent riding in the backseat while the other one drove and thought it was silly. I’ve yet to ride in the front seat when Jamie is also in the car.

20.  I don’t even really notice formula on my shirt anymore.

21.  I never knew I would get so excited about a dirty diaper…or tell people about it.

22.  Have a $4000 deductible? Uh, no you don’t. You have an $8000 deductible if you have a baby. We just assumed she and I would be counted as one person. She is, of course, priceless and we were very happy with the hospital and our doctor, but I thought this misconception might be good to highlight for expectant parents.  

23.  Scarfing down food one-handed is a thing.

24.  I still haven’t figured out sling wraps.  

25.  I didn’t really understand the “don’t touch their hands” obsession until now.

26.  Her crossing her little hands is the cutest thing ever. 

27.  I’ve yet to figure out why some people continue talking (usually about unnecessary things) when a child is crying (or a dog is barking…I used to think that was crazy).

28.  I didn’t know I would be so foolish.

29.  I didn’t know I would call her “sister” and “girlfriend” so much.

30.  Gas drops are as great as everyone said they would be.

31.  The first time I saw real tears, it absolutely broke my heart.

32.  Swaddling seems easy enough. Ha, we had to practice.

33.  I feel very fortunate to share this experience with my best friend since Kindergarten. I’m sure we never thought we would be having our first kid at 38/39 years old.

34.  She is the best thing Jamie and I have ever done and she is the best part of every day. We thought we knew love before.

You will be missed every single day, sweet girl.

Lucy (affectionately known as "Lucy Lou")
September 6, 2006-December 3, 2017

Waking up to only two pups these past few mornings has been really hard. Even over the last several weeks when Lucy was sick, she would get up, wag her tail, and offer what seemed to be “Morning, Mom” as soon as she saw me. It was something to which I had been accustomed for eleven years, an innocent, “Yes! It’s morning!” happiness expressed on a face, increasingly gray with age, that everyone always described as “the sweetest.” I will miss that daily 6:00 am greeting from the little girl who had the kindest heart and the most loving spirit. In his “This I Believe” essay, Silas House argued that “Dogs make us better people” and the relationship between Lucy and me is a testament to this seemingly simple conclusion. Lucy was one of the few constants I had in my adult life. Despite changes – some tragically sad, others incredibly inspiring – I got to come home to her every day. And it did not matter the city or the house we were living; as long as Willie and I were around, she didn’t seem to mind the specifics. I could count on her to be friendly to every person we met when strolling Main Street in Danville, Glasgow, Burkesville…or any random town on any random road trip; I knew she would be equally kind to Charley and Willie even when they got food first or stole the bed she typically slept in; I knew her ears would perk and she would dance by the door if asked, “Want to go for a walk?” or “How about a car ride?”; I knew she would be excited to see me regardless if I had been gone for eight hours or eight minutes; I knew playing at the farm made her as happy as working it had made Dad; I knew I could trust her completely around Isabella, Averey, and Charlotte, that she was the kind of pup that made little girls want to color pictures of dogs and buy Christmas presents for pets; I knew that she, and her brother and sister, could make even the worst days better. In these ways, and in a thousand others, Lucy helped me appreciate small joys, reminded me to be more patient than I would otherwise be inclined, and taught me that some love truly is unconditional.
 
Lucy just made everyone happy when she was around and I am grateful for every day I got to be in her life. I’m grateful for all of the kind words my friends and students have offered over the past few days. I’m grateful for the little boy for whom we originally got Lucy (and his father who always commented on her soft ears); I’m grateful for those who attended birthday parties for Lucy, or welcomed her to picnics, or got her an Easter basket, or petted her head when she ran up to them at the park. I’m grateful for family members who came to see her at the clinic to say goodbye, helped dig her grave at the farm, and who warmly embraced the role of grandmother long before actual grandchildren came along. I’m grateful for a father who was known to take his own dog to WKU with him every day, a father who, as an adult, was rarely seen at Marrowbone store without one in tow. I’m grateful for a husband who laid in the floor of vet. clinic with Lucy and me for hours upon hours and who carved her a headstone at the farm (using the type of cursive writing that Lucy always used when signing cards😉). I am certain that Lucy loved all of you.   

I am also certain that while feel-good clichés such as “She had a good, long life.” or “She knew she was loved.” or “You still have two pups that you adore.” apply, none really make me feel better right now. I am heartbroken in a way that I do not know how to describe, in a way that I do not feel like others can understand. Even though we are all sane adults who can mentally accept that other people have loved pets too, when we lose our own, there seems a part of us that concludes, “Yes, but…” The universality of emptiness and sadness suddenly seems less concrete, less truthful. In fact, I’m sitting here right now thinking, “I imagine this all sounds crazy to most people. They just can't understand.” Delusion helps us cope sometimes though. If I tell myself that no one else could have possibly shown her more love or made her feel any more special, I will hopefully reach the point when the clichés at the beginning of this paragraph are indeed the framework for my memories.   

***

All I know for sure right now, though, is that you will be missed every single day, sweet girl. You were, you are, and you will remain so very loved.

 

 

 

 

Get a soda and Little Debbie cake on random Tuesday afternoons.

This editorial, shared by Caroline a couple of years after Dad passed, remains one of my favorite essays: "Write your father." I saved the link that Father's Day and often thought to myself in subsequent years, "Sit down and do that. It will be good for you." Last year on his birthday, some six years after his death, I finally felt ready. I'll spare you the details about my wacko, but loveable, herd of animals and the conversation with him about philosophical concepts of "place," and specifically Turner Farm, but I did want to share the closing of the letter. These are things I hope he knew I recognized and respected, but for which I didn't take the time to thank him. On this particular Sunday in June, I encourage you all to take the time. 

Thanks, CLT, for living a life worth living.
***

You reminded me that sometimes things really are this simple…

 

Do something. Make a decision. Show up. Change what you don’t like. Just live your life. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Learn to let go of needing explanations; knowing will likely change nothing.  Don’t coerce someone into accepting or loving you.  Know what you believe and be able to explain why.  Don’t force your views on someone else, but don’t stand idle in the face of ignorance or mean-spiritedness. Don’t look for a fight, but don’t be scared of one.  Don’t seek attention, but don’t be lazy.  Don’t be afraid to cuss sometimes. Let your animals ride in the car; clean trucks are overrated. As long as you have a vest on and your ears covered, you’ll probably be alright.  A fire and a crockpot of soup make working in the cold seem worthwhile.  Conservative pundits are ridiculous…but so are out-of-touch hipster liberals.  Work hard every minute that you’re up. Know when to bite your tongue with your parents. Cowboy boots go with everything. Vacations will be rare so try to really be present when you’re on them. Take kids (whether yours or someone else’s) fishing and to country stores and let them steer when coming up the driveway.  All day breakfast places are always a good choice. Keep books and magazines handy.  Tell stories.  Don’t go for the obvious joke.  Kick somebody in the ass if they need it.  Give someone money if they need it, but try first to give them a job.  Don’t overuse “I love you” or hugs.  Wear flannel. Make Christmas presents or go to Grider Antiques on Dec. 23 and look for cookie jars.  Be able to ad lib presentations at school or work, coming across as professional, but down-to-earth. Eat dessert.  Get a soda and Little Debbie oatmeal cake on random Tuesday afternoons. Spend Friday nights with your family at Shoney’s and Wal-Mart. Spank your kids if they’ve earned it (and they will earn it). Make sure they know how to drive a straight shift.  If you want something, make it happen. Create opportunities for yourself. Don’t rely on someone else for your own happiness…but be grateful for those who want to share their life with you; be proud to be theirs, they, yours. Swallow pride and occasionally do what you have to do in order to do what you love. Have the courage to be who you really are.  Live a life worth living. 

 

I wanted to give her concert tickets. Then I considered a box of pumpkin faces. A blog post and gift card were my last option.

To be honest, I still can’t really picture Adrienne with a baby.  It’s like imagining the Burkesville Dollar Store both clean and not gommed up.  In my mind, she will always be the “little sister” to whom Mom gave unfortunate bowl cuts, yet in contradictory logic, clearly considered and considers the favorite (Leigh and I accepted this long ago; at least it meant I prolonged that hairstyle until collage when I accidently self-inflicted it in the fall of 1998). She is the blunt one who, upon making her first ever trip to Benton, told Zach’s early-rising, quite fit mother, “I don’t love walking. If you’re asking me if I want to go exercise with you, no.”  Adrienne has no qualms in acknowledging that she’s never started a lawn mower or cooked supper two nights in a row. As of a few months ago, “nurturing” and “good at doing things you don’t want to do” are probably not the qualities I immediately and instinctually associated with Adrienne. This is not to suggest, however, that my sister is either irresponsible or unlikable. In fact, quite the contrary. You can’t help but love Adrienne. She will consistently be one of the funniest in any room she walks in. She is a fantastic elementary school teacher. When she gives her opinion, you can trust that it is honest and will inevitably remind you to also expect (if not demand) what you deserve.  She is a kind granddaughter, the only child who will let Mom dance in the kitchen (including an awkward, yet repeated, hip bump) to “Slow Jazz” without saying something along the lines of, “Just stop,” and the wife who is obviously adored by her not-so-bad-himself husband. 

And, you know what, despite the opening line, Adrienne is also the one who I am starting to see as a really wonderful mother.  In fact, I think Charlotte is going to have just one of the coolest moms ever, a mother who teaches her how to get along with everyone, make witty off-hand comments, and always expect and create the life she deserves.  I could want nothing more for any of my nieces.  So, as long as Zach always gets up in the middle of the night, fixes all the meals, does all of the yardwork, washes all the clothes, and finds time to take the dogs out too, they should be in good shape. ;)

Today, though, Adrienne is not mother-to-be.  Adrienne is birthday girl.  Happy birthday to the “little sister” who is becoming an even better version of herself, the one who inspires this nine-year-older sister to be more flexible, the one who unfailingly looks cuter at seven months pregnant than I do at zero months pregnant.   

Now, hurry up and get that baby out so we can go to more Avett Brothers concerts.

Goodbye, friends.

Because you know how I love haikus...

It has run its course.

Thus, with one last post, goodbye.

Sad, but time for change.

When I started Pillow Book over four years ago, my goal was to create a digital version of Vivian Swift’s illustrated travel journal, When Wanderers Cease to Roam.  I wanted it to be my own journal of staying put, a journal that detailed the quirky and beautiful that existed in my very ordinary daily life, a life that I was rather unexpectedly rebuilding in my hometown at the age of 29. I had hoped it would “reconnect me to the beauty I’ve been missing” and inspire this disengaged graduate student to actually enjoy writing again.

Well, I feel like I have basically accomplished those things. You have heard me philosophize/blabber on and on about my family, heartbreak of all sorts, collective joy, awesome v. not awesome lists, local restaurants and go-to recipes, my undying devotion to the Avett Brothers, personal insecurities, my love of all things whimsical, my distrust of false hope and unsubstantiated fluff phrases and technology and people who don’t return shopping carts to the collection bins, and my desire to see this wonderful little southern Kentucky town be a real-life version of Stars Hollow.  You have offered thoughtful comments and hilarious Facebook quips. Many of you have put me to shame with your guest posts, posts that always reminded me how fortunate I am to be dumber than my friends.  You have inspired me to write and think and read more.  You have reminded me that while perhaps different in hue, we are all basically fighting the same battles. You have helped me embrace happiness in simplicity. You have encouraged me to live a more creative and a more engaged life.  You, and this blog space, have kept me sane and kept this perpetual wanderer from roaming.  

Thank you for sharing the past four years with me.  You all deserve a spot in my gratitude jar.

Now, lets go write a book.J

Time for new adventures...:)

My favorite princess...

Isabella turns five on Wednesday. Although no poem, short story, or song could do justice to how much joy she (and Averey) bring to my life, I try to write her a little something every year. 

Happy birthday to the little girl who has the biggest heart of anyone I know. 

"My Favorite Princess"

It was a year of firsts for the newly crowned big sister of the clan,

“avenging” her mother’s t-ball fears, pink glove (and sand piles) in hand.

She swam in the ocean and at her BFF, Kynsley,’s pool,

and somehow, beyond explanation, made ruffled pants look reasonably cool.

She “earned” forty two new pairs of Wal-Mart pajamas on persuasiveness alone,

a convincing conversationalist, skills honed on her parents’ smart phones.

The day she pretended to be TJ, fake male voice and insurance lingo at hand,

was the day I realized her graduation from endearing to witty, foolish land. 

She became a daddy’s girl, piling in the truck or razor when farm duty called,

checking on fences and cows, insisting she “help” when hay needed to be hauled.

You see, Isabella Kurtys doesn’t really take “no” for an answer;

she’s “got it covered,” whether as farmhand, Averey’s babysitter, or BAFA tap dancer.

Speaking of which, her role as “big sister” is obviously the most important “first,”

a part she has embraced, one we’ve surprisingly never had to coerce.

I’m sure hairbrushes will be thrown and unfathomably unequal school desks arranged,

but for the time being, it’s living room laughter and a little red rolly ball exchanged.

They love each other just as the Anna and Elsa they both so adore,

a companionship that has naturally developed, one never implored.

And thus, to see them together would melt the most Frozen of hearts,

in matching Matilda Jane dresses they perfectly play the doting sister part.

And so, on this last Sunday in June, I write a poem for the little girl who has become so much,

the one worthy of labor-intensive homemade cakes, life-sized Disney cut-outs and such.

She is the niece whom I love far beyond the words I annually try to put down,

the birthday girl who this humble Aunt thinks everyday deserves a crown. 

Much love on your 5^th birthday, Isabella Kurtys,

Aunt Liza, Willie, Lucy, Charley, DC, Wendell, and all the outside cats

***

A few points of reference:

-Isabella's t-ball team was called the Avengers.

-Leigh Ann and I both cried and refused to play when Mom took us to our first t-ball practice. 

-Leigh has never let me live down the time I threw a sage green hairbrush at her. I still talk about how she gave me the crap school supplies and makeshift office furniture.

-I hope you have seen the video on Facebook where Isabella and Averey are rolling the little ball to each other. It is incredibly endearing. 

-Isabella loves Frozen and had a Frozen-themed birthday party last Sunday. 

A little help from my friends...

I seriously doubt that I have ever been at risk of this; nevertheless, I really love this quote. Some people get intimidated or frustrated or defensive or just plain mean when in the midst of impressive people. I have learned to appreciate it (somewhat out of necessity...such is life when your friends tend to be amazingly handy, creative, well-read and intelligent). We should all put ourselves around people who make us want to be better. 

Thank you to all of you who do just that. 

***

As I mentioned in the last post, I asked several women in my life to answer the same questions related to fulfillment and expectations that I posed to myself. Since that time, I also decided to send the same questions to several male friends/family who I thought might be willing in contribute. I figured it would be interesting to see if males and females responded significantly differently.

Regardless of gender, the first received responses, as suspected, have already proven testament to my "find a comfy chair and stay put" room status.  

***

I taught next-door to Jackie Rogers at Pulaski County High School from 2004-2006. Even though I haven't kept in touch with Jackie much over the years, I'll never forget how much I enjoyed being around her. She was one of the wittiest people I had ever been around (and about the only person I knew who could so easily trade quips with Scott), the students loved her, and the staff and parents respected her.  If you were a kid, you wanted to have her in class; if you were a teacher, you wanted to have my classroom so you could crack jokes with her in the hallway and eat lunch together. 

"One of my best friends and I like to get away in the fall for a quiet week on the beach. We pack several books, drums of sunscreen, versatile outfits and lots of shoes. If it rains, we sit on our balcony with coffee and say, “bring it on.” If dolphins come close to the shore, we nod with casual interest like we have one at home. If a shark joins us in the water, we crap our skirted bathing suits full. It isn’t that we are uber cool, we don’t even use the word “uber”, it is just that we have become comfortable. We’ve settled into our 40s and are wearing it around like yoga pants.

Last year on our first morning in the condo, coffee in hand, sunrise on the water, making plans for supper in about 12 hours; I rubbed the dull ache in the middle of my forehead.  I told my friend, who was as content as I to sit silently together or laugh like sorority girls, that I hoped the headache would go away before we made our way to our pre-paid, umbrella covered chairs. She informed me that it would go away in 24 hours. “You’ve got an old woman headache,” she informed me.

Old woman headache. Now that was new to me. She explained to me that people “my age” start getting these perimenopause headaches and it would get worse. Being four years older, I am benefitting from her misfortune of going first. “Why didn’t old women tell us about this?” I asked her.

“They tried,” she said.

And then we laughed. Everything is much funnier after 40. By “after” I mean the moment you wake up on your 40th birthday. You’ve spent the last decade scoffing at the hundreds of people who comment on how you will suddenly not be able to read or how your body parts will give in to gravity. It seems so cliche, until you wake up the morning of your 40th birthday and wonder why you can’t make out the expiration date on the milk. For several months you blame it on the lighting, but finally you buy a value pack of readers and start wearing them on top of your head.

At this point, I embraced it. I wasn’t in this alone and I wasn’t the first to watch my 20s and 30s slip away. When I reflect on those years, they were fun but too full of competition and struggle and self-doubt. If I could pinpoint the moment I let that go, it would be when I saw this quote that seems to be floating around a lot on social media “Girls compete with each other. Women empower one another.” I didn’t have it tattooed on my foot, rather I burned it in my heart. The more I give, the fuller my life becomes. “Cast your bread on the waters,” the Bible says, “and after many days it will return to you.”'

*** 

Since most of you who read this are from Cumberland County, you likely know Barbara Booher. Even though I went to school with her son, David, it wasn't until I took the job at the library that I realized what a wonderful person this woman is. The library, our kids, and the community in general are truly lucky to have her. I promise you, you won't find many people with a bigger heart. 

  

1. Do you consciously resolve to be a better/happier woman? How do you do this? 

I really don't consciously think about what would make me happier.  I might realize that I need to make a change of some kind in order to function better. But, I have discovered that I have a personality that needs to be "helping or giving" to someone in order to feel fulfilled or "happy".  I find true joy in doing for others.   I have also learned that people aren't fooled.  I must be real and sincere in what I do.

2. What advice would you give to someone in regard to creating/inspiring a fulfilled life? 

My advice is to know exactly what your priorities are and make your decisions accordingly.   Don't get caught up in "busyness".  It will rob you of your energy, time and your peace of mind. I know that my relationship with my God comes first, my family second, and then anything else in my life.   I also know the importance of respecting the fact that people have different priorities.

3. What lesson have you learned the hard way? 

I learned the hard way that I can't do it all, I can't fix it all and that I can't be everything for everybody.    But I can do my part.

4. If you wrote one quote on your bathroom mirror, what would it be? 

There is a plaque in my house that says "Be Kind, Be Wise, Be True".  I think of it as a revision of the Bible verse that says "Finally, be ye all like-minded, compassionate, loving as brethren, tenderhearted, humble minded." 1 Peter 3:8

5. If you had one piece of advice for your daughter/best friend/[any other woman of significance in your life], what would it be?  

My advice is to always stay focused on what is important....and the importance of passing on the values you have been taught to others around you through your actions and words.

***

Jim Brady is probably one of the most interesting people I have ever met: father, author, wine maker, explorer, philosopher, animal-lover, jack-of-all-trades, [insert about anything else you can think of]. There are so many little nuggets of wisdom in his response....even if for some reason he did capitalize the entire thing.;)

LIZA’S  5 QUESTIONS  IN HER QUEST FOR A FULFILLED LIFE…

1) STRIVE TO BE THE BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF YOU CAN BE, CONTINUALLY, AND REGARDLESS OF OTHERS’ THOUGHTS OR VIEWS ON HOW YOU PLAN ON SUCCEEDING.YOU WILL FIND RESISTANCE ALONG THE WAY DUE TO THE FACT THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST INDECISIVE ABOUT THEIR OWN WELL BEING AND WILL RESENT THAT YOU ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT. IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE IF THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REASONING, KEEP MOVING FORWARD, AND IF YOU INFLUENCE THEM EVEN A LITTLE, ALL THE BETTER; IF NOT… IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL.

2) DON’T LIVE IN A BOX. OPINIONS OF IDEAL LIVING PROBABLY DON’T AMOUNT TO MUCH IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS. WHEN YOU STEP OUT INTO THE REAL WORLD YOU REALIZE THAT MOST OF HUMANITY IS HAMPERED BY THEIR OWN STRUGGLES WITH HUMANITY. WE ALL LIVE IN THE SAME WORLD. DON’T BE AFRAID TO MAKE BIG DECISIONS IF YOU WANT THINGS TO BE DIFFERENT. YOU SOMETIMES HAVE TO HURT PEOPLES FEELINGS AND TURN PAGES; IT’S ONLY THEN, THAT YOU CAN REACH THE NEXT CHAPTER. SOMETIMES A FRESH START CAN REKINDLE OUR CREATIVITY.

3) NEVER CONTINUE DOWN A PATH WHICH THE AMOUNT OF HAPPINESS AND JOY IS EXCEEDED BY SADNESS AND MISERY. IT’S OK TO HAVE EXPECTATIONS THAT SOMETIMES FALL SHORT. DON'T BE AFRAID TO WALK AWAY.

4) WHAT YOU BELIEVE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE…PLAIN AND SIMPLE.

5) LIFE IS WHAT IT IS. GOOD, BAD OR INDIFFERENT…LIFE ISN'T FOCUSED ON YOUR RESULT. GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO BAD PEOPLE, BAD HAPPEN TO GOOD. THE SOONER YOU TAKE YOU OUT OF THE EQUATION, THE HAPPIER, AND THE MORE RESILIENT TO DISAPPOINTMENTS, YOU WILL BE. THIS WILL NOT MAKE YOU IMPERVIOUS TO THEM, JUST MORE AWARE THAT IT ISN’T ANYONE’S FAULT, IT JUST IS, WHAT IT IS. SOME LIVE, SOME DIE. SOME LAUGH, SOME CRY.   

6) ALWAYS GO TO BED WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE KNOWING YOU PUT IT OUT THERE AS HONESTLY AS YOU COULD, WITH THE CONFIDENCE YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD IN THE GIVEN SITUATION. YOU WILL BE MISUNDERSTOOD AT TIMES, BUT IN THE END YOUR INTENTION WILL BE TRUE AND YOUR PILLOW WILL BE SOFTER.