So here’s my list, arranged by category and definitely not in chronological order.
F A M I L Y
1. Get a dog.
2. See hubby go on tour with his band!
3. Start a family.
P R O F E S S I O N A L
4. Earn a graduate degree in creative writing/publishing.
5. Become a full-time freelance writer.
6. Curate an art exhibit for local artists.
7. Contribute a story to This American Life.
8. Become a regular writer for a renowned magazine, newspaper or NPR.
9. Write and publish a mother/daughter memoir.
10. Write and publish a book of poetry.
P E R S O N A L
11. Buy a Mac desktop complete with Adobe Creative Suite.
12. Buy new living room furniture.
13. Buy a new bed (mattress and frame)
14. Take a French cooking class.
15. Host a four-course dinner party.
16. Donate blood once per year (at least)
17. Run a half or full marathon.
18. Read all of Jane Austen
19. Take a yoga class.
22. Make a scrapbook/photo album of my semester abroad.
T R A V E L
20. Visit hubby and band while they are on tour.
21. Go on a European vacation with hubby.
22. Return to Salzburg, visit the Monchsberg.
23. Go on vacation with my Dad, my brothers, and hubby.
(Yellowstone, Maine, or Alaska, maybe? You pick, Dad!)
24. Visit :
– New York City
– Washington D.C.
– California wine country
F I N A N C I A L
25. Get health insurance for my husband, me and our growing family.
26. Establish life insurance.
27. Get better at saving money.
28. Bring down school loan debt by 50% (I feel like this is lofty, but nothing is impossible, right?)
29. Establish college fund for our kids.
30. Buy a house.
Do you have a list for what you want to do in the next five, ten or twenty years, or before you reach a certain age? What’s the top priority?
Just a friendly reminder for all you lovers out there : don’t forget to spellcheck your valentines.
It’s been a month. One month without mom. Without her voice, her touch, her face, her thoughts. I expected to be immovable, stranded on an island of grief and away from the world that I understand. But grief defies expectations, and so does faith. When the two interact, we often find ourselves in unfamiliar territory; rough, but not impossible.
– give myself a weekly manicure (this one has also been a success!)
I feel the wind in my face.
I see nothing but space, color and light.
I drift as the sky carries me away.
I close my eyes and savor the moment.
I feel the warm light against my face.
I am lifted higher.
I begin to soar, up and down, all around.
I drift away as the sky continues to open.
I find even more colors above.
I continue to drift in the heavens.
As I drift towards you.
Jim Woods is a dreamer, writer, and guitar junkie living in Nashville. Jim writes to inspire others to pursue their passions and follow their dreams. You can read Jim’s blog at www.unknownjim.com.
Yes, I suppose I’ve stayed in bed too long,
tangling myself between sheets,
roaming the untouched corners of my mind
while my head is held comforted
It’s the only way,
these lazy Saturdays,
while the white noise of neighbors’ water runs
and planes of busy people
fly high above me.
At the peak of daytime,
I am only just beginning;
better that I make this transition
than rush myself through
taking note of nothing.
Run along without me.
Let me savor sleep
and hold myself
in the quietness of simply being.
Oscar season is upon us! Do you watch them every year? Last night the hubs and I watched the Ides of March, which is a nominee for Best Adapted Screenplay. I haven’t read the book, but it got me thinking about best adapted films from literature. I find it interesting that The Help is not on the list; I felt that the film did great justice to this beloved novel! But that’s not the first time I’ve disagreed with Oscar picks. [Here is the full list of Oscar nominees for 2012.]
My all time favorite adapted film is Atonement. It is also in my top favorites of books and films in general. It was nominated for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay at the 80th Academy Awards in 2007, but fell to No Country for Old Men on both counts.
Tell me, what is your favorite film adaptation of a novel?
I’ve wanted to get my hands on it for a long time, and now I am finally and blissfully engrossed in Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. It is as good as everyone has insisted, and it’s just what I need right now. I love the imagery in this,
“I wish I had a secret I could let you in on, some formula my father passed on to me in a whisper just before he died, some code word that has enabled me to sit at my desk and land flights of creative inspiration like an air-traffic controller. But I don’t.”
Mingus at the Showplace
BY WILLIAM MATTHEWS
I was miserable, of course, for I was seventeen,
and so I swung into action and wrote a poem,
and it was miserable, for that was how I thought
poetry worked: you digested experience and shat