Rethink the 9 to 5 life

I’m busy. I know, I know, no one is that ‘busy’. What I mean is I’m busy with my full-time job at the hotel. I don’t doubt that we are all busy – trying to make it through to the end of day. I can’t remember it being this busy at the hotel over the past six years that I have been working there. But, I have changed my responsibilities, I wear two hats and it is keeping me on toes.

 

 

I love my job, it provides me with what is needed to maintain and excel this creative life. I’ve been professing this gratitude statement for years because deep down I know it to be true. I wouldn’t be on this beautiful Canadian West Coast Island where I am surrounded by the Pacific Ocean and mountains. I’m happy with the rain over the heaps of snow that tend to pile up over the winter across the country.

Today, it’s Friday, I work in the afternoon. Some people who work 9-5, Monday to Friday cringe when they hear this. They tend to say, That’s terrible, I could not have weekends off. You’ve been doing this job for over twenty years, you’d think you’d get weekends off by now. Do you want to know what I think when they say stuff like this to me? I’d like to keep it PG here, but the f-bombs go off in my head as I smile politely and tell them it’s okay, it’s part of the job and I like working Friday nights. I get to people watch and you know I love to people watch – I’ve seen and heard some interesting conversations that have triggered my creative juices and I have another story swirling around to be written. Thank you. I also get a lot more work done than on a Tuesday afternoon when stuff is hitting the fan; like the hot tub going down or an employee calls in sick for the overnight shift and you are calling all the backups desperately wishing someone will be available or I’ll be the one sitting at the front desk making sure I roll the day over for the accounting team. (This hasn’t happened to me, but it has come pretty damn close over the years in different hotels I’ve worked at.)

 

The one thing the people who cringe that I don’t have weekends off are right about is I have been in the hotel business for over twenty years. That much is true. I haven’t been at this hotel for twenty years and your time served in one industry does not guarantee you weekends off. The only hotel job I ever had weekends off was when I was an administrative assistant and the office hours happen to be Monday to Friday, 8:30-5:00 pm – getting home at 5:15 pm (I lived 15 minutes away from the hotel) was so foreign to me. What do I do with myself on a Friday night when most of my friends are working at another hotel? I soon filled my weekends with what I really wanted to be doing. Writing. Spending time with other writers, attending workshops for writing, volunteering for art festivals, promoting the writing group I was a part of. It was my heaven. It was the creative life I had been visualizing myself living for a very long time. It wasn’t even me seeing myself doing this, I was living the life that I knew to be true. Does that make sense? I hope so, it sure feels like it was at that moment. I miss that work-life balance that I am currently striving to have in this moment.

 

The other time I had weekends off was when I worked at a bank before weekend hours started. This was when I briefly left the hotel life for about a year and a half. After working in a bank and then retail, I couldn’t run fast enough back to the hotel world and I never looked back. I may vent about my job, and I know I started this blog off with “I’m Busy” and I am, but I am so very grateful for this amazing opportunity that has been provided. One where I get paid to be a coach to great employees and to myself. I also get a bird’s eye view of every kind of personality and they all help add to any story I am working on, even inspire a few short stories here and there. Thank goodness for visitors and random people who walk up to the front desk and share their story.

Even if you are busy, what are you grateful for in that moment?

Until next time, keep on typing. . ..

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E is for Extrovert

Are you someone who is a friendly person who enjoys talking to and being with other people? Extroverts love parties, talking on the phone, and meeting new people.

I am not an extrovert yet I’m not an introvert.

An introvert generally prefers solitary activities to interacting with large groups of people. If you would rather work through your feelings in your diary than have a conversation, then you are an introvert.

Okay, so I’m more of an introvert than I think, however, I like spending time with my friends and I like the idea of going to a party to network, make new friends all while being the dynamic person I am, but when it comes down to the brass taxes I would recoil and slink back into my bedroom or sofa and do what my comfort zone prefers. Writing or watching a movie with my partner who is also hybrid introvert. He is comfortable with going to parties and talking to strangers but would rather be with close friends having meaningful conversations that stick with you for days.

So, what am I? I’m in-between the introvert and extrovert.

Ambivert: Someone who exhibits qualities of both introversion and extroversion.

Which explanation sounds more like you?

  • I am drawn to people, I get energy from social gatherings and am pretty outgoing. (Extrovert)
  • It’s draining to be around lots of people. I prefer peace, solitude and quiet time. I usually crave alone time in my free time. (Introvert)
  • It depends. (Ambivert)

I get more energy from being with one or two of my friends, and being by myself emerged in writing. I think that equals being an ambivert. Which personality do you sway towards? There are many tests online to take but my gut tells me what the body, mind and spirit needs to maintain the balance of this beautiful creative life.

Until next time, keep on typing….

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you Science of People

 

D is for Diving

Diving deeper into your passions can be scary but so exciting and rewarding all at the same time.

When I was younger taking swimming lessons, the Original Canadian Red Cross Water Safety classes with different colored badges, yellow for beginner all the way to white for water sport safety. I loved getting the Water Safety Programme Personal Report Card, well until my instructor said I needed to work on my diving before I could advance to the next level.

Standing on the spring board when you are eight or nine with an instructor telling you to keep the board still is hard. Trying to focus on your hands being over your head to prepare to jump and dive into the water and then thinking how you don’t want the water to go up your nose all at the same time while your mother and everyone else’s parent is watching. Keeping the spring board still while I jump is the last thing on my mind.

Eventually I learned howto dive without the spring board moving and I could quickly dive into the water without a sound. I would practice after swim class and any chance I could get to the pool. I was determined to get my next swim badge and I didn’t want to be scared of what people thought if I didn’t dive perfectly. The swim lessons taught me that practice does help you get better at whatever you are working on.

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. ~ Stephen King

Much like learning how to dive, I use the same determination to focus on my writing. The more I write the more I get a little better with each word that is set on the page.

Until next time, keep on typing….

 

Ready, set, write…

 

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This is what makes sense in my life…Write for 15 minutes – prompt, answer, prompt again, answer.

Are you ready? The timer has started.

I recently heard that blogging is not as it use to be about five years ago. This maybe true, but for me blogging makes sense in my life at the moment as blogging gets me here on the page and that is what makes sense in my life. Writing makes sense in my life. Why? The list is ever-growing. I’m here to tell a story and yes I should be spending this fifteen minutes on my work in progress that I want to finish editing and revising by mid-march, it all makes sense to me. The process of writing, the process of sharing the writing, the process of learning more about writing, promoting, marketing, all of it makes sense to me. What doesn’t make sense to me is the procrastinating that settles in when I’m not looking. All of a sudden three or four episodes of whatever Netflix original has gone by and I wonder why the hell I feel so tired. Because I’ve been wasting precious time on something that does not fuel my soul, it feeds the ego and the old behavior of what feels comfortable. If I’m going to change and I’m going to go after what really matters in life, then I have to do something different. That is the truth.

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This is what makes sense in my life. That I’ve been bouncing from place to place. I mean I’ve been guided to beautiful places in Canada, I’ve flown across the country from the east coast to live on top of one of the most beautiful Canadian rocky mountains to work and to experience life, this was to add to my creative life, this makes sense to me. The fact that I was with a company that transferred their employees to other beautiful resorts and hotels was a blessing, that made total sense to me. At the time I took it for granted, but deep down I knew that I was in the right place at the right time and I went with the flow, it all made perfect sense. I knew I was a story-teller from the start, I knew I was here to share this talent that has been given to me, a gift so precious that it almost seems like a secret that I shouldn’t share, but why would I think that? Anyone else who has the gift to tell a great story hasn’t held back, look at J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, Danielle Steel, Nora Roberts, my goodness they keep writing and keep sharing, why wouldn’t they? Why wouldn’t I?

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What makes sense to me is that I am procrastinating from time to time and the excuse of my full-time job is really pissing me off – it’s no excuse, it’s the old behaviour wanting to sit on the sofa and numb the creative being into Netflix submission. That makes no sense to me what so ever, so what am I going to do about it? Get off the sofa, go into my writing room that I’ve been manifesting for most of my life yet don’t spend as much time in there as I have fantasized about, and write, or at least spend time there to give my writing room my energy, to keep giving it time to settle with me, to idle and let the words flow and be with the creativity as it should be. That makes sense to me, to spend time with those who support me and strengthen my abilities as I would do the same for them. Creativity has supported me for this long and it’s time for me to support the talent that has been so graciously loving me. I’m tired of hearing myself be upset hat I didn’t spend time with my writing, so it only makes sense to me that I continue to fight hard to be with it, stay away from the distractions that numb the senses, and go for it, go for the truth and be here on the page!

Well that was a quick 15 minutes – nothing a good rant onto the page won’t fix, or at least have some eye-opening moments.

What makes sense to you? Ready, set, write.

Until next time, keep on typing. . . .

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I’m Getting There

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I didn’t write a lot last week, it was an unexpectedly busy week at the hotel life or should I say it was a week of procrastination that I wasn’t involved with and could not avoid at the same time. Sound weird, well it was and it feels strange to be this far away from writing, but you know what? I’m here now, with you words being tapped onto the blank page and I feel like no time has passed, well except that I’m behind on my word counts, but you get what I mean. I’m back where I am to be, right here and now.

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On Friday night after I got home from work, I wanted to write using one of the writing prompts I stocked up on from a friend, but the cards were in another room and I was pretty comfy on the sofa. It was a long day at the hotel life. I was wearing my HR hat for most of the day which I love, yet it can be a bit emotionally draining. Either way I had fun and now my true self is like, ‘um, come on, let’s play!’ So I searched on-line for some writing prompts and I found 365 writing prompts, perfect! I don’t know why, but this was the one I was drawn to, well I have a niggle of why I chose this one:

Closed Doors: What’s behind the door? Why is it closed?

I think I will start the timer for ten minutes and see what happens. Are you ready? I challenge you to write with me, explore the closed-door.

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The door is closed and I want to know why. A part of my mind, the darker side, the part that I don’t usually let out most of the times has stepped up and taken the mic. It wants to speak up and tell a story. What kind of story, I do not know, but I do know. Deep down I know how I can slip into the dark side of things, I think the worst case scenario and run with it, let it take over my entire self and let it live as it wants to, as it was intended. I’m a good person, yet there is a piece of me that is very aware that I can be dark and mysterious. But why is the door closed? Where is this door? Why am  I seeing a door closed? Maybe it’s a character that sees the door closed and when they look in the peep-hole they can see very clearly what is happening behind that closed-door. Is it a murder, an affair, and loving moment, a celebration?

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There is a man at the door with his hand on the door handle. He knocks first and says a name, Miranda. He knows she’s behind the door. He can almost smell her soft scent of vanilla, she is a baker in a small boutique bakery and she always seems to smell like cookies. He loved that about her, but she didn’t. Behind the door, Miranda is in her bathroom trying to scrub the smell of sweetness off her skin. She uses a fresh bar of soap and rubs away. She hears the knock at the door and she stops suddenly.

Miranda?

She faintly remembers the voice on the other side of the door, she walks through her living room to the front door. She turns the door handle slowly, she is cautious, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She opens the door even more slowly and sees a man at the door, he is someone she has seen, but doesn’t know her.

Can I help you? Miranda can feel her arms numbing from the hard soap on her skin.

I was going to ask you the same question. 

The timer has stopped and I wonder where this story will end up going? It’s fun to let creativity take over and have fun. Just let go of the day and let it all be right here and now. Did you’re closed-door have a story? Set your timer for ten minutes and have fun.

Until next time, keep on typing . . . .

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Thanks to thinkwritten for the 365 writing prompts that you can find here

Funny things about dreams

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I vowed I would post two blogs a week and so far so good. I set a goal of using writing prompt cards from a friend, but today’s blog is going to be a little different. I have written a blog from the writing prompts, but creativity has another agenda and I am following the path. I had a dream and it has been with me for days now.

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They say if something appears to you several times to pay attention. Like an idea about a book or business.
With in less than 24 hours, I’ve been presented with the notion of Paris.
First during a dream, I witnessed a woman touch a man’s face softly saying, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris.
Then at the gym, I heard a song about Paris and as I was searching for a picture to post about dreaming, the picture above shows up. Talk about a A-ha moment. Hello? My muse cries out as she knocks on my head.

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A few days have passed, and the whispers of Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, lingers in my mind. I have questions, who is Brock? What is it about Paris that I should know or look into? Or is it about the dream?

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As I walked to the coffee shop to meet up with my friend, Jacqui Nelson for our Sunday morning writing sessions, I thought about the statement, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, and I thought maybe I should write the story just like I witnessed it in my dream, and I can still see certain images from the dream, when some mornings I can barely grasp on the last image I might have witnessed during the REM state. So, let’s go ahead and try to write a little more about Brock and this woman.

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I might be dreaming. I’m waiting in a line, outside, it’s a snow-covered trail, there are many people in this line, waiting, shuffling along, I don’t see the end of the line or the beginning. I don’t even know why we are in line? It’s not cold out, the snow-covered trail is pretty, I still don’t know what I am here. The woman I witnessing this dream through is watching a man with soft grey eyes, dark brown hair with flex’s of grey, maybe salt and pepper, but not as much as grey as you’d imagine. He’s wearing a navy blue pea-coat that gives him that certain mysterious look. The man looks sad as his gaze lingers past her. The woman reaches her hand towards the mans face, she softly glides her finger tips along his chiseled jaw line and whispers

Let it go Brock, it’s Paris.

They begin to walk, the line has moved, the people in front of them are quite ahead of them. I can hear the woman say over and over, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, it rings in the mans mind. They approach the line with more people waiting on the snow-covered trail, it begins to lightly snow. The man and woman see an older man looking for his wife who is behind the couple. Then older couple finds one another and embraces with passion, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years and it was only a moment ago.

Then my alarm goes off, but I can not forget the lingering whisper, let it go Brock, it’s Paris…

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Who is Brock? Is Paris the city or is it another person? Is the woman his lover? Is this small statement like ‘we’ll always have Paris?’ did they met in Paris? What is it about this six word sentence that has the creative mind stirring? I wanted to write it down so I could continue with my editing of my NaNoWriMo project – my weekly goals have been 50% met, I’ve written two and posted two blogs which I feel really good about. However, I haven’t done any work on my work in progress. I’ve slipped back into the hotel life and my ego has sucked me back in with its old behavior’s of “thinking” it’s okay to sit around doing nothing after work. Sorry ego, you’re wrong. I must write, edit, work on my passion any time I get a chance. I’ve waited to long and have been quiet for far too long. It’s time to turn up the volume on this great voice that has been given to me.

I am grateful for this idea and I will let the imagination run wild, let’s see what we can come up.

Until next time, keep on typing. . . .

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