When I was a kid, I had this incredible book filled with nothing but pictures accompanied by a sentence, maybe two. All of them were unrelated. The introduction was about a page long, a story about how the narrator found these pictures and their story fragments in an old attic and how his kids and nieces and nephews would all write stories incorporating the one or two sentences and the picture. Just one sentence would inspire them to come up with characters, a plot, a reason behind the lump under the carpet and the terrified looks on the faces of the illustrated adults.

I was fascinated by this book. Awed at the notion that just one little thing, a tiny thought, could be so powerful. I loved that there could be whole stories behind little pieces of them. That the pieces of stories themselves were beautiful, inspirational, or even, in some cases, frightening.

I feel like that's what's been floating through my head lately. Story fragments. Little pieces of events that stand out in my mind. It's been hard to find the words to write them out. It's been difficult to decide if, when, or how to sit and write about any of it, since none of it seemed like a complete story.

But I have a knack for incomplete stories. I've written countless paragraphs in my life, snapshots of characters' lives, with no further explanation. I never delved further into the recesses of my mind to find more about them, to write anything else about their lives, to solve their problems. I just let them be, just paragraphs on a page in a little tin on my bookshelf.

After mulling it over, I've decided not to let the incomplete stories of my own life fade from memory. So, without further ado, here are some pieces of what's been going on with me lately:

* * *

I was afraid to teach fifth graders. I'd had the whole summer off, and the first group of the year was fifth graders! They're older, smarter, rowdier, and ruder. At least, that's what I was expecting. I worried needlessly, as they were all inquisitive, adorable, and good-natured. When I teach at the marsh, I teach the same thing four times in a row. So do the other three teachers. The kids rotate through our four different stations. When my third group of the day came up, this one boy totally made my day by saying two different things to me. The first one was when the group first walked up to me. "Hi!" he said, catching his breath from rushing over. "Are you the nice one?"

"What?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him right.

"Are you the nice one? I heard you were!"

I laughed.

"Who said that?" one of the chaperones asked him.

"My friends! All my friends told me she was the nice one."

I smiled and said, "Well... We're all nice, I think." Then I said something about wanting them to have fun, so they should listen and stay together, etc, etc. But inside, I wanted to hop up and down. Me! The COOL teacher! The NICE one! Imagine that! I grinned from ear to ear for the rest of that station.

~~

At the end, the same young boy said something else that stuck with me. When I'd stopped walking to explain something, they all sat down. "Man!" said the boy. "How can you stand for so long?"

His question really struck a chord with me. How could I stand so long? Well, I don't know. It's been a long process, really. Because a year ago, I couldn't. A year ago, I was struggling with terrible foot pain, the inability to walk properly, or stand for more than two minutes without shooting pain, like knives stabbing me in the arches of my feet.

With the help of the physical therapy I had and my orthotics I now wear, I finally have healthy feet again. I'm standing all day. Yesterday, a friend of mine and I even walked a little over a mile to the shopping center, where we got ice cream, then walked back. And today, after all that walking, my feet did not tingle. I did not cry out in pain when I first set my feet on the floor after waking up. A lot has changed in a year. I used to wonder if I'd ever get better, if I'd ever be able to walk without pain again. And now? One year later, I'm outlasting eleven-year-olds. I'm walking to ice cream shops. I'm healthy again. Uh, except maybe for all that ice cream eatin'!

* * *

When did I become a morning person? Saturday, I woke up at 8:00am on my own. Sunday, it was 9:00am. And weirdest of all, I didn't go back to sleep. Nope. I got up and got stuff done! I did dishes, I did laundry, I went shopping.

Yesterday was Monday, and the progress continued. I am 100% caught up on bank statements and receipts that I entered into Quicken. I know how much money I have down to the very last cent, and the online banking website matches my Quicken account, which matches my statements. Ahhhh... Feels good to be organized!

* * *

In speech class, we had to read a work of fiction to the class. Only the beginning pages. And only for four to eight minutes. I chose Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami. It has an excellent stopping point exactly eight minutes into it. I have "excellent diction" according to my professor, though sometimes I "get sloppy" and slur a few words. I was "very effective" with my reading of the dialogue. I got an A-. I'm happy.

~~

In today's speech class, we were in three groups of five people, and had to read Dr. Seuss's Yertle the Turtle in front of everyone. I thought our group was pretty good! I'd never even heard of the story before, and I liked it. What a fun assignment. This class is pretty cool!

* * *

The dryer just buzzed. Doing laundry. Making lists. Getting ready. Because in about 13 hours, I'll be on a plane to Austin! Well, I'll be on a plane to Southern California first, I guess, but then! I'll be on a plane to Austin. I'm going to JournalCon and I am very excited. Well, I'm nervous and jittery and feeling very First Day of a New School about the whole thing, but still... I'm looking forward to it.

I'm also looking forward to seeing my family! I'll be staying with my brother and his wife for almost a whole week!! I haven't seen them since my wedding a year and a half ago, and I'm totally excited to hang out with them. They're awesome.

Pretty much none of my family knows about this site, or online journals in general. Therefore, none of them really knows about or understands JournalCon. So when I said "Web Writer's Weekend," or "Web Writing Conference," or whatever it was that came out of my mouth, I got a reaction like I was becoming a professional writer and would be listening to serious literary award winners and writing professors talk in boring lecture rooms or something. For instance, I was offered an opportunity to hang out should it get terribly boring. Which I appreciated, because, you never know. But it's JournalCon! So it should be exciting and awesome the whole time, I'm guessing. And my dad asked if there'd be a conference event one night that he was planning to come to town, and when I said yes, he said, "Do you have to go to it?"

Hmm. Do I have to sing karaoke? No. Do I want to? You betcha!! I want to sing and drink and dance and laugh with crazy fun web geeks like myself. So Dad, bro and the wife, and I are doing lunch the following day, instead. It's difficult to explain to them, so I've just tried to avoid it as much as possible for the moment. I'll have to figure it out later. Because, as we all know, when you ignore or put off difficult tasks, they go away! Heh.

Anyway, JournalCon. Totally psyched! Nervous, yes. Excited, abso-freakin'-lutely! If any of y'all are reading, I'll see you soon!

* * *

I've been embracing my pagan spirituality much more fully lately. I'm always a little confused by my own prejudices regarding spirituality. I imagine most pagan spiritualists as weirdo hippies, who (in my head) are never angry, always high, and all about loving the earth and each other (if you know what I mean) all the time. In theory only, of course. Because in actuality, I am aware that pagans are just regular folks who all have different tastes, different walks of life. And I'm starting to be okay with the fact that not all spiritual people are the same. And not all spiritual people are super zen and calm and goodie-two-shoes 24/7 (if ever). I like that people don't have to be any certain way. That being pagan means something different to each individual.

Me, for example: Sure, I love the earth, and I think it's great to take care of plants and animals. I am all for ecology and am trying to become more earth-friendly, trying to remember to recycle. I like candles. I also like profanity, weird comics about zombie children, horror movies, punk music, South Park, and cheesey reality television.

I like feng shui. I believe in karma, synchronicity, that all things have energy, and that thinking positive will bring good things into your life. I also get angry, I have road rage, and I really do wish I could slap some people upside the head every so often.

I'm also the girl who loves soaking up the energy of the moonlight while contemplating letting go of the old and bringing in the new...

I guess my point is I'm glad to be more accepting of myself and my beliefs... all of them. I feel more connected to the world around me lately, more in tune with my life... happier. Calmer.

* * *

I'm in therapy for the second time in my life. The first time, I was seven and had no idea what therapy was or why I was there. It lasted two months. I loved it. And my mom was told I have OCD.

This time, it was my decision, and I'm older, but I still had no idea what therapy would be like. As it turns out, it's great! I LOVE my therapist. She is wonderful. She says "pissed off" and "goddamned" and talks to me about interesting ideas. She gives me articles about the biology of the brain as it experiences fear and anxiety. She taught me a simple deep breathing exercise which has helped me far more than I expected it to. I'm training my brain to be quiet. My anxiety attacks have lessened considerably. She is helping me from all angles, suggesting Yoga, and better nutrition, in addition to meditation. Why didn't my medical doctor address those things?

Therapy is awesome. I look forward to all that I'll learn as I continue with it.

* * *

I saw Loki today! I love that dog! He had his very bad knee operated on yesterday. But since his last knee operation went so well, he now has three healthy legs to stand on (he raises the surgery leg up in the air when he walks). So he's doing much, much better than he did with his last surgery, when most of his weight was being supported by his bad leg. I'm so happy he's doing well!

I spent the afternoon cuddling sleepy Loki, petting him, handing him his chewy bones, and telling him not to lick his stitches. Oh, and reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire to him. (Only two more chapters till the end of the book!) Loki likes Harry Potter!

Of course, it was great to see the fantabulous Bobbi as well, who paid me for my time. I almost feel guilty when she pays me for petsitting, since I enjoy it so damn much. But hey, who says work can't be fun? Plus, I pay her to watch my guys, so it all works out! We're going to do lunch when I get back since it'll be a few more months till Loki's allowed to visit the dog park. After he recovers, he'll be all set. Four healthy legs! He's the bionic dog, as Bobbi said today. "We have the technology, we can rebuild him!" She cracks me up!

* * *

There's a site called Storypeople that I'm ridiculously in love with. I love the art. I love the stories. Okay, not all of them. But the ones that do resonate with me, resonate loudly, and damn if some don't bring a tear to my eye. Stories don't have to be long, or even complete, to be powerful and interesting. Sometimes, even just pieces of stories are absolutely worth remembering...