When you get to your mid-20s and people find out you're not married and have no children, the first reaction is often to feel sorry for you. When they find out you're not really in a hurry to wed and not even sure if you want children, the reaction changes to surprise.
"But don't you want a family?" they ask. Yes, I want a family. But I already have one--well make that several.
Of course there is my family by blood--my mom, dad, older sis, two younger brothers, grandparents and so on. I love them all and they love me, but we have to--we're related. What really amazes me are my other families--the ones I'm not related to, who love me simply by choice.
I found the first of these families when I left for college. All by myself, 500 miles from home, I had never been more scared. It was sink or swim. But the without-a-question best thing about Wingate University is that it is not just a school--it is a family. In class, my professors were my professors. But outside of class, I could turn to them with any kind of problem--a paper I was having trouble with or a personal problem that I might normally look to my mom or sister for help with. When I graduated and ventured into the real world, it was every bit as sad as when I left home four years earlier. A couple of nights before I graduated, I walked through campus alone, with tears streaming down my face--my private goodbye to my second home. But the family I gained there is still with me--I still keep in contact with my professors, sometimes still turning to them for advice, and two fellow alum are now my best friends--one of them is even my roommate.
But I soon found another family. I moved to South Carolina, where, again, I knew no one. More self-assured, I at first relished living alone for the first time in my life, having time to myself. But after a few months, I got lonely. I soon started dating a guy there, though, and that changed. Things were never really great between us, but they were comfortable. And with him came his family. All born and raised in South Carolina, they were very different from my family, but they took me in almost immediately. I instantly gained another mom, dad, sister and my first niece. I am no longer with that guy, but they are still my family.
About two years ago, I found another family developing around me. I was working in a job where I was increasingly unhappy, but several new girls who were near my age came to work there at the same time. Almost overnight there seemed to be a close bond form between them, some of the current employees and me. I don't really understand what sequence of events caused this new family to form, but my "sisters" have come to mean quite a bit to me. Even though I've moved on to a new job (where, of course, I'm adding to my families), they still keep me up-to-date on all the hilarities and miseries of my old work place. And they provide multiple shoulders to cry on, even if it's over the phone, listening ears, and the moments of humor that make life worth it.
The point of all this--family is a priceless treasure, but sometimes we define family too narrowly. I don't have a husband. I don't have children. But I have a hell of a family...and I am blessed.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
True Love
My Valentine's Day post was obviously about loving oneself. Love's been a common topic in recent emails among my friends and myself, with some rather cynical and some rather optimistic views expressed. But even though I'm single, and have had my share of bad relationships, I still believe with every ounce of my being that true love exists.
I mentioned in a previous post that one of the things I liked about my reporting job was meeting different people and hearing their stories. That's because for every story that makes you shake your head in disbelief, there's another one that makes you shake your head in wonder.
I had the fortune of hearing one of those stories on the last day at my reporting job, and it's the reason I believe in true love. On June 7, 2004, I had the pleasure of meeting Johnny and Margaret, a couple celebrating their 70th anniversary. By the time I met them, both had been afflicted with Alzheimers, though the disease had progressed farther for Margaret. Still, the closeness they shared was clear by the way they looked at each other.
At their anniversary celebration, one of their daughters shared with me some things her father, a columnist for a small local paper, had written for or about his wife. To encourage all of my friends out there who may be a little cynical about love, I'd like to share some excerpts here.
In a letter to Margaret:
...When I see you walking through the yard or working in your garden and you are not aware that I am watching you from my shop window, I love you. At night, when the day is gone and just the two of us are together in the den, sharing the deepest thoughts of our hearts, as best friends do... then you kiss me goodnight with a kiss that tells me more than words could, I'm filled with an unspeakable completeness, and I love you.
A column Johnny wrote about Margaret for the local paper, but never published:
It was Sunday, Dec. 12, 1982, and we were at Ridge Church. Margaret and I were sitting together, but I had to move because I was sitting too close to the heater and it almost burned my leg. I moved across the aisle to another bench in the little country church.
During the service as I looked across at Margaret, our eyes met, she smiled at me. Suddenly, I had this tremendous feeling of pride in her. I thought to myself, "That's the most beautiful smile on the most beautiful face that I have ever seen... even lovelier to me than the face of that sweet, pretty teenage girl that I married over 48 years ago."
I thanked God for her--the good woman I love so much--a woman wholly above reproach. Just knowing that she is mine, all mine, always has been, and will be until the end of time.
What better place to open up my heart and thank God for loving me so much that he would place that beautiful girl on the same spot on earth he placed me back in the year 1931, and to allow her to become my mate. And now, 48 years later, seven wonderful children and thirteen precious grandchildren, and I still have that pretty girl that allowed me to become a part of her life, to share life with me. After 48 years, to fully believe that she has never regretted that decision is satisfaction to me beyond explanation. And she has never given me the slightest reason to think she doesn't have that same assurance.
Never in all the world could God have created anyone more perfect for me--NEVER.
Thank you, God... and, thank you, Margaret.
I mentioned in a previous post that one of the things I liked about my reporting job was meeting different people and hearing their stories. That's because for every story that makes you shake your head in disbelief, there's another one that makes you shake your head in wonder.
I had the fortune of hearing one of those stories on the last day at my reporting job, and it's the reason I believe in true love. On June 7, 2004, I had the pleasure of meeting Johnny and Margaret, a couple celebrating their 70th anniversary. By the time I met them, both had been afflicted with Alzheimers, though the disease had progressed farther for Margaret. Still, the closeness they shared was clear by the way they looked at each other.
At their anniversary celebration, one of their daughters shared with me some things her father, a columnist for a small local paper, had written for or about his wife. To encourage all of my friends out there who may be a little cynical about love, I'd like to share some excerpts here.
In a letter to Margaret:
...When I see you walking through the yard or working in your garden and you are not aware that I am watching you from my shop window, I love you. At night, when the day is gone and just the two of us are together in the den, sharing the deepest thoughts of our hearts, as best friends do... then you kiss me goodnight with a kiss that tells me more than words could, I'm filled with an unspeakable completeness, and I love you.
A column Johnny wrote about Margaret for the local paper, but never published:
It was Sunday, Dec. 12, 1982, and we were at Ridge Church. Margaret and I were sitting together, but I had to move because I was sitting too close to the heater and it almost burned my leg. I moved across the aisle to another bench in the little country church.
During the service as I looked across at Margaret, our eyes met, she smiled at me. Suddenly, I had this tremendous feeling of pride in her. I thought to myself, "That's the most beautiful smile on the most beautiful face that I have ever seen... even lovelier to me than the face of that sweet, pretty teenage girl that I married over 48 years ago."
I thanked God for her--the good woman I love so much--a woman wholly above reproach. Just knowing that she is mine, all mine, always has been, and will be until the end of time.
What better place to open up my heart and thank God for loving me so much that he would place that beautiful girl on the same spot on earth he placed me back in the year 1931, and to allow her to become my mate. And now, 48 years later, seven wonderful children and thirteen precious grandchildren, and I still have that pretty girl that allowed me to become a part of her life, to share life with me. After 48 years, to fully believe that she has never regretted that decision is satisfaction to me beyond explanation. And she has never given me the slightest reason to think she doesn't have that same assurance.
Never in all the world could God have created anyone more perfect for me--NEVER.
Thank you, God... and, thank you, Margaret.
Monday, February 14, 2005
I'll be my valentine!
I'm cheating. I'm not writing an entry today, but sharing a column about Valentine's Day that I wrote when I was in college. It was one of those that I went back and re-read a couple weeks ago, and wouldn't you know, I had a little bit of wisdom back then. The things I wrote back then are things I need to remember now, so that's why I'm putting it here. This was published Feb. 8, 2001 in Wingate University's Weekly Triangle:
While Valentine's Day originated as a day to honor the Catholic Saint Valentine, it's become a holiday centered on romanticism. As such, it is often embraced by happy couples and dreaded by the unhappily single. Through the years, I have fallen into both categories.
In high school, I was never in a serious relationship, and never once had a date for Valentine's Day. On Feb. 14, there was always a carnation sale at school. Always I hoped that I would receive a carnation from that cute guy I had admired from afar, or, at the very least, from a secret admirer whom I could imagine to be my Prince Charming. Always I was disappointed.
Needless to say, I always dreaded Valentine's Day during those years. More than that, the weeks preceding that gloomy day were always a period when I would get very down on myself. I would look in the mirror and see someone I thought no one could love.
When I came to Wingate University, I began dating a guy here the end of my first semester. So my freshman year I found myself, happily, with a Valentine's Day date. For once, I felt complete--I was someone worth loving, not someone others inwardly pitied.
I was in that relationship for two years. Though it ended more than a year ago, I don't regret anything about it, and I know that my relationship with that person taught me the most important lesson I could ever learn--how to love myself.
We are often so bombarded with messages about self-esteem that we deflect them without consideration, thinking we already know all that. But we seldom take the messages to heart. In high school, it was common to know people who thought there was something wrong with them if they weren't in a relationship, so they would be with anyone, just to be with someone. Though much of that ends in high school, the reason for it continues.
We are not comfortable with who we are. We are not enough.
When motivational speaker Eric Saperston visited campus last fall, he said something that really struck home. He said that it is not failing that scares us. Instead, we are afraid of being too much, of being too great.
Since coming to Wingate, I've changed immensely. I have honed my skills in journalism, I have become much more outgoing, and I have gained confidence in my own abilities.
I have learned that I am enough, and I am not afraid of that. This is what my college education has taught me. If Wingate gives that gift to every student here, then the thousands of dollars spent for this education are worth every penny.
While Valentine's Day originated as a day to honor the Catholic Saint Valentine, it's become a holiday centered on romanticism. As such, it is often embraced by happy couples and dreaded by the unhappily single. Through the years, I have fallen into both categories.
In high school, I was never in a serious relationship, and never once had a date for Valentine's Day. On Feb. 14, there was always a carnation sale at school. Always I hoped that I would receive a carnation from that cute guy I had admired from afar, or, at the very least, from a secret admirer whom I could imagine to be my Prince Charming. Always I was disappointed.
Needless to say, I always dreaded Valentine's Day during those years. More than that, the weeks preceding that gloomy day were always a period when I would get very down on myself. I would look in the mirror and see someone I thought no one could love.
When I came to Wingate University, I began dating a guy here the end of my first semester. So my freshman year I found myself, happily, with a Valentine's Day date. For once, I felt complete--I was someone worth loving, not someone others inwardly pitied.
I was in that relationship for two years. Though it ended more than a year ago, I don't regret anything about it, and I know that my relationship with that person taught me the most important lesson I could ever learn--how to love myself.
We are often so bombarded with messages about self-esteem that we deflect them without consideration, thinking we already know all that. But we seldom take the messages to heart. In high school, it was common to know people who thought there was something wrong with them if they weren't in a relationship, so they would be with anyone, just to be with someone. Though much of that ends in high school, the reason for it continues.
We are not comfortable with who we are. We are not enough.
When motivational speaker Eric Saperston visited campus last fall, he said something that really struck home. He said that it is not failing that scares us. Instead, we are afraid of being too much, of being too great.
Since coming to Wingate, I've changed immensely. I have honed my skills in journalism, I have become much more outgoing, and I have gained confidence in my own abilities.
I have learned that I am enough, and I am not afraid of that. This is what my college education has taught me. If Wingate gives that gift to every student here, then the thousands of dollars spent for this education are worth every penny.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Revelation
I think I'm making a lot progress on this little journey of self-exploration I've begun. After my whole conversation with my ex last night (let's call him Mack to protect the innocent but make it for easier future reference), and my entry about that conversation, I had a revelation about why I end up with guys who treat me badly.
As I said last night, Mack was one guy I've had something serious with that always treated me well, and when I ended things with him, I really hurt him, and I had a hard time with that. I think I took a lot of personal responsibility for that, and I have let it affect my future relationships. I've met good guys who would have treated me well, and who I liked since Mack. But every time I have, I've never let myself get too close. I've always been afraid that if I did get close, but then for some reason it didn't work out, I would end up hurting a really nice guy again. So I keep my distance from the nice guys and open myself up to the guys that will hurt me. It's like I can tolerate being hurt myself better than I can handle hurting someone else again.
The result of this has been that now I've been hurt so much by those guys that I'm ready again for a nice guy. BUT I still have serious trust issues that I need to get past. AND it seems like now I'm so ready for a nice guy that when I find one, I'm willing to look past all the little things that might make things not work, and just jump right in.
So the lesson I've got to learn now...patience. That'll be a tough one.
As I said last night, Mack was one guy I've had something serious with that always treated me well, and when I ended things with him, I really hurt him, and I had a hard time with that. I think I took a lot of personal responsibility for that, and I have let it affect my future relationships. I've met good guys who would have treated me well, and who I liked since Mack. But every time I have, I've never let myself get too close. I've always been afraid that if I did get close, but then for some reason it didn't work out, I would end up hurting a really nice guy again. So I keep my distance from the nice guys and open myself up to the guys that will hurt me. It's like I can tolerate being hurt myself better than I can handle hurting someone else again.
The result of this has been that now I've been hurt so much by those guys that I'm ready again for a nice guy. BUT I still have serious trust issues that I need to get past. AND it seems like now I'm so ready for a nice guy that when I find one, I'm willing to look past all the little things that might make things not work, and just jump right in.
So the lesson I've got to learn now...patience. That'll be a tough one.
Reconciliation
Given my recent attempts to analyze and understand my lack of success when it comes to relationships, I've been thinking lately about the first guy I ever seriously dated. I was never really in a relationship until my freshman year of college (oh great and wise sage Gabe credits my late blooming with my current difficulties, but I'm not sure I buy that). That relationship lasted until the middle of my junior year. For awhile, we were all set to get married. Despite my history of dating jerks, this guy didn't fall into that category. He's a good guy. But I was young, and this was my first relationship, and I realized one day that I'd set this path for the rest of my life that I wasn't really ready to commit to yet.
It was a hard decision for me to make, because I still loved this guy, but I broke up with him. I knew I needed to figure out on my own who I was. But a lot of what I was feeling I really couldn't put into words yet (time gives you amazing clarity), and so I never really did a good job at helping him understand why I wanted to end things. I tried to stay friends with him, but it just seemed like that hurt him worse. I had told him once when we were dating that if we ever hit rough times, I would fight to keep him in my life, so when it was I that decided to leave, he tried the same thing. But the harder he fought, the harder I pulled away. And it seemed to hurt him so much to just be friends, I eventually put up a wall and shut him out. It wasn't what I wanted, but I thought it would be easier for him in the long run.
I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't really have a choice, because if I'd stayed, I would have always resented him, and it would have still ended badly, just later. But I still have always felt bad for hurting him the way I did. Every once in awhile, I see him online. We say hi, how are you, but that's about it. Tonight I saw him online, though, and decided that we've had enough time and distance to talk about things, make amends. I asked him how he sees our relationship, looking back....he said he feels like if he hadn't been selfish, maybe we would have made it. I told him that the whole thing didn't have anything to do with anything he had or hadn't done, and that he was the one guy I've had anything serious with that I don't look back and think, what an asshole. I think tonight he finally understood that it really wasn't him, it was me.
And then he told me that the thing that bothered him the most was that he'd lost his best friend, and I realized how selfish I've been to wait so long to try and make things right. I really should have seen that sooner; after all, I've had something similar happen to me, and I know how much it hurts. About six months after this guy and I broke up, I started casually seeing another guy who was a good friend of mine. We were never officially a couple, and, to be honest, I didn't think we had much of a future after college, but I thought what we had at the moment was pretty special--until I found out that he was in a relationship with someone else, and I was the other woman. The hardest thing was that I'd trusted him to be upfront with me, because he was my friend. If he'd said he wanted to date other people, I would have been okay with it, because I was never under the impression that we were exclusive. But the other girl he was dating was under that impression, and he involved me in betraying her without my knowing it, and, in so doing, betrayed me.
For three years after that, we were no longer friends. I'd see photos of him when I glanced through my college yearbook and feel a little something missing, because I'd lost a friend. Then at homecoming this year, I ran into him. I was ready to mend fences, and he came up to me and told me that he'd owed me an apology for three years, and it had been eating him up for three years, but he hadn't known how to get in touch with me. That was all I needed.
I don't stay in touch with him now, but I don't feel a loss when I see a photo of him. I just get a good feeling, because I can say, "That's my friend." As I told him that night, I feel like I got a piece of my life back.
So why did I wait so long to make things right with my first love? Why did I leave him with a hole in his life for so long? I don't know. But like I said, time brings clarity, and with it, forgiveness. If my friend had tried to apologize (and he sort of did) three years ago, I wouldn't have been ready to hear it. So maybe I just didn't know when my ex-boyfriend would be ready to hear it.
I'm sure I waited longer than I should have. But hopefully now, when he looks at photos of me, he can say, "That's my friend."
It was a hard decision for me to make, because I still loved this guy, but I broke up with him. I knew I needed to figure out on my own who I was. But a lot of what I was feeling I really couldn't put into words yet (time gives you amazing clarity), and so I never really did a good job at helping him understand why I wanted to end things. I tried to stay friends with him, but it just seemed like that hurt him worse. I had told him once when we were dating that if we ever hit rough times, I would fight to keep him in my life, so when it was I that decided to leave, he tried the same thing. But the harder he fought, the harder I pulled away. And it seemed to hurt him so much to just be friends, I eventually put up a wall and shut him out. It wasn't what I wanted, but I thought it would be easier for him in the long run.
I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't really have a choice, because if I'd stayed, I would have always resented him, and it would have still ended badly, just later. But I still have always felt bad for hurting him the way I did. Every once in awhile, I see him online. We say hi, how are you, but that's about it. Tonight I saw him online, though, and decided that we've had enough time and distance to talk about things, make amends. I asked him how he sees our relationship, looking back....he said he feels like if he hadn't been selfish, maybe we would have made it. I told him that the whole thing didn't have anything to do with anything he had or hadn't done, and that he was the one guy I've had anything serious with that I don't look back and think, what an asshole. I think tonight he finally understood that it really wasn't him, it was me.
And then he told me that the thing that bothered him the most was that he'd lost his best friend, and I realized how selfish I've been to wait so long to try and make things right. I really should have seen that sooner; after all, I've had something similar happen to me, and I know how much it hurts. About six months after this guy and I broke up, I started casually seeing another guy who was a good friend of mine. We were never officially a couple, and, to be honest, I didn't think we had much of a future after college, but I thought what we had at the moment was pretty special--until I found out that he was in a relationship with someone else, and I was the other woman. The hardest thing was that I'd trusted him to be upfront with me, because he was my friend. If he'd said he wanted to date other people, I would have been okay with it, because I was never under the impression that we were exclusive. But the other girl he was dating was under that impression, and he involved me in betraying her without my knowing it, and, in so doing, betrayed me.
For three years after that, we were no longer friends. I'd see photos of him when I glanced through my college yearbook and feel a little something missing, because I'd lost a friend. Then at homecoming this year, I ran into him. I was ready to mend fences, and he came up to me and told me that he'd owed me an apology for three years, and it had been eating him up for three years, but he hadn't known how to get in touch with me. That was all I needed.
I don't stay in touch with him now, but I don't feel a loss when I see a photo of him. I just get a good feeling, because I can say, "That's my friend." As I told him that night, I feel like I got a piece of my life back.
So why did I wait so long to make things right with my first love? Why did I leave him with a hole in his life for so long? I don't know. But like I said, time brings clarity, and with it, forgiveness. If my friend had tried to apologize (and he sort of did) three years ago, I wouldn't have been ready to hear it. So maybe I just didn't know when my ex-boyfriend would be ready to hear it.
I'm sure I waited longer than I should have. But hopefully now, when he looks at photos of me, he can say, "That's my friend."
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Beautiful
Don't tell me that I'm beautiful when you first meet me, because you don't really know that yet. Wait until you've known me long enough to appreciate my strengths, forgive my weaknesses and know that I am beautiful. Then tell me, because then I'll know it's true.
More about me
I didn’t want to weigh every one down in my profile with a really long life story, but if you want to know more about me, read this entry.
I'm a Yankee converted to a Southerner. I grew up in western Pennsylvania in a very religious family, but ironically moved to the Bible Belt about 8 years ago for college and drifted away from religion. I suddenly realized that I couldn't find the answers to all of life's moral dilemmas in a book, and that there was too much judgment and not enough love in traditional organized religion for my tastes. But I love the South, despite the fact that I often don't fit in. I love how everyone knows everybody, even strangers.
After I graduated from college, I worked for a small daily newspaper in SC for three years. I loved a lot about my job – meeting new, different people, hearing their stories, and feeling as if I were making a difference. But I also came to believe that journalism is a noble profession that has in many ways lost its nobility, and until the media can steer itself back in the right direction, so that good journalists can do their jobs without remorse or ethical concessions, it's a profession I don't want anymore. I'm now working in public relations – what I, as many reporters do, used to refer to as the “dark side.” But I’m actually enjoying it. I’m working for a good cause, and I still get to meet interesting people, and I’m still helping tell a story.
Ok, I’ve talked about religion and work, on to family. My parents, one brother and one sister still live in Pennsylvania, and I have one brother living in Maryland with his new bride. Our family is pretty close, but I must admit I get along with them much better from a distance. Before I left for college, my mom told me she knew from when I was little that I would be the one to really venture away from home – that stubborn, independent streak of mine. I love my family very much – I’ve just always walked a different path. As far as relationships…well, I’m not so good in that arena. A friend recently told me that I let guys treat me badly, and as long as a guy is just a little nicer than the one that came before, then I figure it’s ok. I didn’t agree with him at the moment, but, as he usually is, he was right. I don’t let guys kick me around or anything, but I let them treat me with less respect than I deserve. I haven’t quite figured out why I do that, because I don’t accept that in other areas of my life…friends, careers, etc. But now that I know I do it, I can fix it.
Ok, that’s a shot glass full of Misty, and probably all you can handle, so I’ll wrap it up!
I'm a Yankee converted to a Southerner. I grew up in western Pennsylvania in a very religious family, but ironically moved to the Bible Belt about 8 years ago for college and drifted away from religion. I suddenly realized that I couldn't find the answers to all of life's moral dilemmas in a book, and that there was too much judgment and not enough love in traditional organized religion for my tastes. But I love the South, despite the fact that I often don't fit in. I love how everyone knows everybody, even strangers.
After I graduated from college, I worked for a small daily newspaper in SC for three years. I loved a lot about my job – meeting new, different people, hearing their stories, and feeling as if I were making a difference. But I also came to believe that journalism is a noble profession that has in many ways lost its nobility, and until the media can steer itself back in the right direction, so that good journalists can do their jobs without remorse or ethical concessions, it's a profession I don't want anymore. I'm now working in public relations – what I, as many reporters do, used to refer to as the “dark side.” But I’m actually enjoying it. I’m working for a good cause, and I still get to meet interesting people, and I’m still helping tell a story.
Ok, I’ve talked about religion and work, on to family. My parents, one brother and one sister still live in Pennsylvania, and I have one brother living in Maryland with his new bride. Our family is pretty close, but I must admit I get along with them much better from a distance. Before I left for college, my mom told me she knew from when I was little that I would be the one to really venture away from home – that stubborn, independent streak of mine. I love my family very much – I’ve just always walked a different path. As far as relationships…well, I’m not so good in that arena. A friend recently told me that I let guys treat me badly, and as long as a guy is just a little nicer than the one that came before, then I figure it’s ok. I didn’t agree with him at the moment, but, as he usually is, he was right. I don’t let guys kick me around or anything, but I let them treat me with less respect than I deserve. I haven’t quite figured out why I do that, because I don’t accept that in other areas of my life…friends, careers, etc. But now that I know I do it, I can fix it.
Ok, that’s a shot glass full of Misty, and probably all you can handle, so I’ll wrap it up!
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
My first blog
Ok, I admit. I've made fun of blogging. But I was looking through some old issues of my college paper a couple weeks ago, and reading some of the editorial columns I'd written way back then (alright, it wasn't even four years ago, but it seems like an eternity). And I realized that the process of writing those columns, whether based on a personal experience or my take on some current event, always helped me see things more clearly. Somehow when you have to put deliberate thought into the words you're going to put on paper (or on screen), it helps sift out the gray and leave the black and white.
After college, I spent three years working at a small daily paper in SC, and now I'm working in public relations, so I certainly haven't stopped writing. But everything I've written in the past four years has been, though with some creativity thrown in, pretty much "just the facts, ma'am." I really haven't written much that would fall into the category of personal expression. And along the way, a lot of stuff seems to have blurred into gray, so this is basically my attempt to one, sift out the black and white, and two, get back to writing for my own personal enjoyment.
So if you happen on this site and enjoy it, great. But if you hate it, I'm sorry, but it's really for me anyway.
After college, I spent three years working at a small daily paper in SC, and now I'm working in public relations, so I certainly haven't stopped writing. But everything I've written in the past four years has been, though with some creativity thrown in, pretty much "just the facts, ma'am." I really haven't written much that would fall into the category of personal expression. And along the way, a lot of stuff seems to have blurred into gray, so this is basically my attempt to one, sift out the black and white, and two, get back to writing for my own personal enjoyment.
So if you happen on this site and enjoy it, great. But if you hate it, I'm sorry, but it's really for me anyway.
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