August 25, 2014

case of the blahs

Source: BuzzFeed

Maybe it's the stress of work. Maybe it's the humidity. Maybe it's my recent carb and sugar addiction relapse. Whatever the cause, I'm working a serious case of the blahs.

Unlike Blue Ivy Carter who worked the VMAs last night like it was her job.

As a result, I'm running a little short on the old "writing blog posts" and "working on my novel" fronts. It's not a shortage of ideas. I have plenty of those. But it's a matter of tearing myself away from the Saturday/Sunday moving binges on the Hallmark Channel and ABC Family to do something more meaningful with my day.

Even while I sit there watching something I completely dislike (which isn't everything. I really enjoyed The Color of Rain on Saturday night and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles marathon on Sunday), eating chips that aren't as tasty as I remember them being, it still seems more appealing than going for a jog, making a healthy dinner, working on my book, or anything.

What does it say when the most productive thing I've done in the past week is draft two fantasy football teams? Not much, if I can't even blog about my quest to find my future Fantasy Football Prince Charming. (And I drafted some frogs with real prince potential, ladies, but you'll just have to wait until I get the energy to peel myself off of the couch to find out about them.)

So what do we do, my friends, to get over the blahs? Do we ride out the wave and accept that maybe we need a little break, or do we push forward? (This is a purely hypothetical question. I'll do one or the other, I'm sure.)

Eventually, I'll be ready to tell the blahs to go fly a kite, but for today... I think I'll watch the Emmys and re-watch Blue Ivy telling the world she woke up like this, because she's flawless.

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August 18, 2014

let's livetweet 'the little mermaid'

By now you've realized I have a teeny, tiny, baby obsession with Disney movies, and The Little Mermaid specifically. I mean, I've blogged about it a time or two or three.

Imagine my delight to find a marathon of Tangled and The Little Mermaid on Saturday night. I was like Ariel discovering the wonders of the dinglehopper (which... sounds pretty dirty now that I've written that down, but it is what it is).

I mean, what more could a single, twenty-something lady like me want from life?

And as way leads to way, I found myself live-tweeting along with one of my favorite movies of all time. I'm not sure if three-year-old me would be a) delighted b) amazed by the wonders of science or c) terribly depressed that I'm home alone instead of romancing my very own Prince Eric.

Whether or not Little Laura would approve, here's the rundown of Saturday night's tweet-fest.

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August 14, 2014

fightin' words can go fly a kite

This one is pretty basic: Today I'd like to tell people who feel the need to make insensitive, unsolicited commentary, inquiries or advisories on other people's lives to go fly a kite.

We're all guilty of doing this at one point in time or another. Or at least I have been. But that doesn't mean you, me and we can't still make more of an effort to be better to each other.

I've seen a lot of lists pop up lately. "Eleven things not to say to a mother." "Twenty-seven things not to say to someone who's gaining weight." "Fifty-three things not to say around your a-hole co-worker who just won't leave you the eff alone." Some of these posts have been funny. Some have been insightful. Some have been a bit harsh. But they've all made me a little uncomfortable. At their heart these lists and posts are a reaction to someone or several people making hurtful or insensitive statements to or about another person.

Words, even spoken with the best of intentions, can hurt. So be conscientious of how you use them. You might think you're helping. You might think you're being sensitive. But whether or not the person is a stranger or your best friend, do you really fully comprehend what he or she is experiencing? Is what you're going to say or ask something they truly need to hear or just what you think they need to hear?

I'm all for conversation. But when we have these conversations, we owe it to our peers and ourselves to approach them in a respectful manner. Or not to talk about them if it serves no purpose other than to cause pain.

Let's be kind. Let's be courteous. Let's treat our neighbors with a little more love and a lot less judgment.

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August 11, 2014

kissing frogs

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved football. She loved football so much, she signed up to play Fantasy Football in the hopes of finding her Prince Charming. The NFL player who would secure her throne as queen of the Fantasy Football kingdom.

The year started off shaky. She lost four of her first five games, and a fair amount of her sanity. Still, her team rallied and she earned a spot in the playoffs. But when the time came to play for the championship, her princes turned into frogs, the carriage became a pumpkin and she ended up in a consolation game for third place.

And she lost. The only throne her team had been destined for was the shitter.

Never again, she swore. She'd never be foolish enough to put her heart out on the line again. Fairy tales, it seemed, weren't real, and she was but a peasant in the Fantasy Football world.

But a year passed, and so did much of her heartache. When faced with the option of joining two fantasy leagues, the still-naive girl decided to give football love and royalty another shot. Plus, she had two chances at ruling a kingdom. One of them would certainly have to pan out.

And for a time it seemed her dream would come true.

One team did exceptionally well. She lost only one regular season game, and was a sure bet to be league champion. The other team took her on a bumpier ride. She never knew if she'd win or lose, and she did a fair amount of both. Somehow, she still made it to the playoffs. From rags to almost riches, it was a true Cinderella story.

Two teams. Two entries to the playoffs. Two chances to win it all and take the crown.

The first team, her sure bet, blew it in the first game of the playoffs. And to add insult to injury, she once again ended up in fourth place without a trophy. Talk about being led on.

The other team made it through the first week of playoffs and secured a spot for the championship game. But as had been the trend of the season, one week she'd be up, and the next down. That week, it went down, down, down. At least, some said, she got second place and a bit of the prize pool. The kind words did little to ease the hurt, and her crown-less head ached.

And so another year of Fantasy Football came to an end, and the girl returned to her ordinary life without a kingdom, a crown, or a Prince Charming to call her own.

If you're a long-time reader of the blog, then you know that the girl was me, and these ill-fated Fantasy Football seasons are my own. Last year I blogged about my quest for Prince Charming, and was ultimately let down.

Look at the naivete and hope in that face.
What an idiot.

That's why the past two Decembers, I've made the same vow: I will never manage another Fantasy Football team again. Ever.

Then July rolls around and Yahoo strategically places ads everywhere I turn. "Don't worry," they seem to say. "You'll be fine this year. You won't freak out and make an ass of yourself when your team suddenly chokes during the playoffs and robs you of your rightful spot as league champion."

Well I'm not buying it, Yahoo. I know my limits. And I know my temperament. I really shouldn't test either.

But then it's August. My Facebook feed fills with photos and updates from Packers training. Pre-season games start playing most nights of the week. If there isn't a game on, there's coverage and projections and drama.

Then it comes back to me. The thrill of never knowing if I'll win or lose. The sweet taste of victory once it's mine. And before I know it, I'm getting invitations for leagues--yes that's plural--and after five minutes of soul searching, I'm clicking "join" and selecting an avatar, name and theme for my team.

When it comes to Fantasy Football, I'm just a girl who cain't say no.

In Oklahoma! Laurey may say you can't go around kissing every man who asks you, but like Ado Annie, I'm putty in the hands of these NFL fellers.

The shirt says it all.

And I have faith that one day one, or several, of these world-class athletes will take me to a Fantasy Football championship where I'll come out the victor. Yes, I'm still searching for my Fantasy Football Prince Charming, and I'm willing to kiss a few frogs on my journey to find him.

Won't you join me for another year of going after my Happily Every After?

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August 8, 2014

from the desk of bingley - the end for now

Blogger's Note: While I make an effort to generate some serious progress on Book 3, the wonderful Bingley Chapman has agreed to oversee Change the Word. All opinions expressed in these posts are his and his alone. (Except when they're mine, but being portrayed as his.)

Guys, it's been real, but I think it's time for me to say good-bye. At least for now. Mom is in a good groove with her book, and I need a break. Writing a blog post every day is hard work.

I'm sure I'll make more appearances in the future, but until then, thanks for following my adventures. It's been real. I hope you had as much fun as I did.

Now excuse me while I go catch-up on some much-needed sleep.

Gosh, that was fun. Let's have an encore!

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