Happy Halloween from the Dolls in My Attic

October 28, 2015 | Coleen Patrick

In general, I’m not afraid of dolls.

But they do have the potential to be super creepy.

I loved (but also kinda hated) this book in middle school.

And a recent trip to the flea market reminded me that I wouldn’t want to spend the night in a flea market.

She’s for sale! I dare you to take her home.

Now she looks sweet.

Still not having a slumber party here though.

Sure she’s smiling but all I can hear is a line from the Twilight Zone episode, Living Doll.

“My Name is Talky Tina, and you’d better be nice to me.”

Nope.

A doll selfie.

She was in my attic.

Apparently I have unknowingly been sleeping in a house full of dolls.

Not so scary. She’s tiny and I could outrun her.

Especially because she’d probably have to stop to pick up her hat.

And her hair.

But they’ve got their eyes on me.

So I’ll sleep with one eye open,

probably wondering where her other arm went…

but mostly trying not to imagine it stuck in a giant spider web.

If dolls don’t make you shudder, what creeps you out? I’d love to know!

Happy Halloween!

Abandoned, but Maybe They’ll Leave the Light on for You

October 31, 2014 | Coleen Patrick

You know how some people need to sky dive or bungee jump to get their adrenaline going?

Not me.

All it takes to get me running scared, is an old, abandoned motel (during daylight).

Haunted? Maybe.

Just tires. But my mind added chainsaws.

Definitely no air conditioning (some find that scary)

It was super quiet here.

And something made me start running back to the car. Fast.

Probably just my imagination.

But I’m not opening the door to find out.

What scares you? Would you stay the night in a haunted motel?

Enjoy your stay!

Happy Halloween/Weekend!

Fear Less: Ten Things You Can Control Today (Plus, Some Flying Aversion Therapy)

July 15, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

I am not fearless.

But I’d love to fear less. I dream of the day I can hang out–anxiety free– in a tiny (locked) airplane bathroom, buffeted by turbulence, while holding a tarantula.

Um, okay, not really.

One of my biggest fears is flying, but I don’t have to deal with that regularly. However, I can brew up a complex worry and fear stew made up of poisonous, self-defeating thoughts at any moment. Last week, when I was sick, drifting in and out of sleep on the couch, I managed to criticize myself for my lack of productivity. And more.

Turns out there’s no need for me to fear criticism from others (although that happens too), because I know all my insecurities and secrets. I have the ability to obliterate my self-esteem all on my own. Some days I am my own worst enemy.

But I understand WHY I sometimes make these noxious fear stews.

Control. I’m pretty sure ALL of my fears are based on my control freakery.

I had really no control over the dizzy spells and nausea, much the same way I can’t do anything to stop anyone else’s thoughts, judgments, or words (oh, but sometimes I try via self-editing–essentially censoring ME).

I also have no idea how to fly a plane (and no matter how many times my husband the engineer explains the Bernoulli effect I still tend to see aviation science as pure luck.

And there was apparently no control to be had over the door handle mechanism breaking in a JC Penney fitting room last month. However I could’ve taken a moment to breathe before panicking and dropping to my knees and shimmying under the small gap at the bottom of the door.

Yeah, I haven’t figured out how to deal with my fears, not all the way. Like flying, I take this fear thing one trip (and one Army crawl under a dressing room door) at a time.

But recently I tried something that might be considered fear aversion therapy. A couple of weeks ago I got up close with those “lucky” flying machines.

A lovely, unsuspecting beach in the Caribbean.

But this beach (Maho beach) backs up to the airport.

Happy pilot waves at beach goers making happy plane associations.

Beach goers find a spot on the fence to hang on. Wait…what???

Then this happens.

Jet wash.

Sand pelting.

But wait, there’s more…

What’s that coming in over the horizon?

A jet.

You can’t tell by this photo, but it’s a big one.

And even though I’m scared of flying, I was pretty excited to see a plane landing right above me (it’s that fear/fascination thing).

Yes, that’s me in the blue pants running away. But hey, I did it!

And if you suffer from daily control freakery, here’s a little something that might help. Maybe being a little more mindful of the things we can control, might lessen the load of those we can’t.

What are your thoughts on fear?

Happy Monday!!

Sunset over Maho Beach

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NaNoWriMo Inspiration: Life is for Enjoying

November 5, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

It’s National Novel Writing Month and I’m participating again. It’s so exciting starting a brand new project.

Although, I have to admit, I’ve never juggled this many writing projects at one time. I’m thinking about buying brand new outfits–one for each story. Then I could just change wardrobe when I open a different Word document (I assume my brain will make the transition as well).

Totally makes sense, right?

Even without the new outfits, I’m having fun. This NaNoWriMo quote sums it up for me:

“Thirty days and nights of literary abandon”

national novel writing month

November 1st-30th

Literary abandon. For me that means locking my inner editor in the tool shed outside–and really enjoying the fun of just making something up.

Last year I blogged about my NaNoWriMo inspiration–about how my brother inspired me to not only pursue my writing, but really enjoy my life. The information still applies. 🙂 So here’s that post.

Life is for Enjoying

I first heard about NaNoWriMo five years ago, and used the general principles to write my first middle grade story. I’d been filling notebooks with stories for years, but I did it strictly for the fun of it. But I wanted to do more, and NaNo seemed like the perfect way to launch that spark. So I started writing with more of a purpose. The only person I told at the time (other than my husband) was my brother. I remember him being fascinated by the idea of writing a thousand plus words a day. He was a creative type–he drew, wrote, cooked (even went to culinary school), so he was the perfect person to understand the need to do a writing marathon in a month.

When I finished that first draft, I put it away to read it at a later date with fresh eyes. Then, when the time came to go back to it, I decided I didn’t really want to write. So I went out and got a job, leaving the story behind.

I was afraid. Afraid to read the rough draft. Afraid of what it would mean to move forward with my writing. So I went about life and work without it.

And then a couple of months later, my brother died.

It was sudden–a brain aneurysm. He was 31.

My brother was so funny. He did the best Chewbacca impression ever. He was also incredibly kind. Maybe it’s the sharp finality of death that smooths away the rough edges of a life, but I truly can’t remember him ever being anything but nice to me.

But I think he was hard on himself. He had unrealized dreams. He had physical obstacles, like when he stopped working in restaurants because he couldn’t be on his feet for that many hours (he battled Type 1 diabetes starting from the age of 11). But I think maybe some of his biggest struggles were more internal. He got bogged down by dark moments, the kind that show up to shadow your plans and leave you filled with self-doubt and fear.

I know that fear. I think we all do.

I have one of my brother’s journals. In it there’s the beginnings of a story, some sketches, and some personal notes he wrote to himself. One of those notes stays with me:

“Write damn you! Write! Anything, something, Please!”

My first instinct is to feel sad at that personal plea to his self, but then I realize that goes against what he wrote. Because he didn’t want to get stuck in those paralyzing fears.

In fact the first line in the journal he wrote is: “Life is for enjoying.”

I remember my aunt said at his funeral that she was sad because she couldn’t learn anything more from him and I get that because I would love to know what he would have thought of the LOST finale (our last conversation happened to be about the beginning episodes of season three and the oh so random subject of peanut butter). I also am curious what his thoughts would be regarding Twitter, the Kindle or his take on the whole new world of publishing. I would love to hear his opinion on all of this crazy writing stuff I’ve been pursuing. Plus I wonder if he too would be blogging, putting his writing and drawings out there. Tweeting.

My brother Daniel

But then again I know now, five years later, that I am still learning from him.

I am learning not to be afraid. I am learning not to worry about regret.

And I am learning to enjoy my life, from random peanut butter moments to marathon writing months.

What are you enjoying this week? Are you participating in any of the creative marathons this month? Do you think I need to go shopping to keep my writing projects straight?

Have a great week!

Literary Hobnobbing: Let Yourself (and Your Dreams) be Seen

October 15, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

I used to say I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. Out loud.

I even brought my stories to school for my fourth grade teacher to critique. I proudly wore, then displayed the button she gave me. I still have it.

My kid badge of courage.

Sometime after high school, that courage deflated a bit. I still wrote, but I filed it all away in a large Rubbermaid container.

Part of it was a lack of direction. Part of it was fear.

Because it takes courage to put yourself out there–whether you are making new friends, trying something new, or setting goals toward your dreams. Maybe you hesitate, fill in all the unknown factors with worry, or maybe you paralyze yourself with fear, imagining your hopes floating unattached, like the fluffy bits from a dandelion.

What happens when you put it all out there?

Sure, there are scary things, like rejection.

But, you also leave room for opportunity.

This past week I got the chance to be a literary judge for a local elementary school’s PTA Reflections program. They were looking for a writer. My dandelion bits made their rounds (thank you Andrea!), and they asked me.

The writer.

I don’t think it had anything to do with my once upon a time literary connections.

Hobnobbing with Babar in the 80s.

The opportunity presented itself because I put myself out there.

It’s not always easy to be open, but YAY for new opportunities!

But wait–what does a children’s literary judge wear?

Something classic, maybe Suess-ian or Potter-esque?

Or, perhaps someone more inspired, more representative of Life and the Great Quest . . .

I found Waldo. In my own backyard.

Then I settled down to read the reflections of future artists. The theme this year is Magic of a Moment.

Reading the stories and poems reminded me how much courage abounds in the young.

So, of course, I carefully swept the “magic of a moment” essence off those papers with my unicorn tail hair brush. That sort of pixie dust is akin to the Fountain of Youth.

So if you’re looking to reclaim some of that gutsy kid attitude, I’ve left some on a dandelion in the Jungle of Nool.

Waldo will lead the way.

What are you mustering courage for this week? Are you more of a TRUTH, or DARE person? If you could dress up as any literary character, who would you be?

Let me know in the comments! 🙂

Dreams and the Depths of Fear

August 31, 2011 | Coleen Patrick

Not long ago I had a dream that really stuck with me. Usually my dreams slip away unnoticed, but not this one.

In it, I was standing on a beach with my son (a much younger version of him). It was nighttime and the waves were numerous and way too big to consider a dip. Well, that and I am scared of the ocean.

It’s more of a yin yang fear and fascination with the ocean (my mom blames Jaws). You see I am curious about it, I find it beautiful (especially those tropical oceans), but for the most part I view the ocean from a distance, or the shoreline. Pictures, TV, movies, books or if I’m lucky a beach towel or hammock are all acceptable vantage points. I will even go on a boat, and if the water is clear enough I may brave a toe dip, but for the most part I fear what lies beneath.

Still, in this dream, the water beckoned and so my son ran to the waves, and immediately they swallowed him up.

Now the water was dark and beyond scary, but when my son made a dive for the water, I had no choice. I didn’t even hesitate. In fact, my fear of the ocean was not even on my mind, not at all.

I followed him, pulled him out and then when he was safely in my arms I stepped back and that’s when I saw them . . .

Whales.

They were everywhere. The moonlight spotlighted them and I saw them breaching the waves, rolling on the water. It was a curious and beautiful sight, and the ocean no longer looked scary.

The dream moved me so much, that I felt compelled to research the significance of whales when I woke up. Captain Ahab aside, I found that whales symbolize motherhood, calmness, the depths of our conscience, and endurance.

Most of all they represent power and strength.

I know that a big part of my fear of the ocean is the unknown, but it’s interesting to think of these amazing creatures swimming beneath. It reminds me that we also hold strength, a power deep within ourselves that is ready when we are to breach our fears, to allow us to do what we want to do despite being afraid. Of course, in my dream, the only thing on my mind was my son’s safety, so it felt like a no-brainer.

But still, I believe that power is within us, swimming in our own depths. I think it’s a matter of making what you want a priority, making your goals a no-brainer in the face of fear.

FREE TO BE YOU AND ME ON SOCIAL MEDIA

August 5, 2011 | Coleen Patrick

This week I saw Maroon 5, Train and Gavin DeGraw in concert. It was an awesome show, especially because we had great seats (I was surprised, I must have read that online seating chart upside down). Being close to the stage, I could feel the music working its way up through my feet, plugging me into all that energy. Plus I love watching people do what they love to do, to see them in the middle of what they created.

It feels like a real connection.

I could see the sheen on Adam Levine

But one of Train’s lyrics kept tapping at me, “reminds me that there’s room to grow,” and I started thinking . . . about connections and Twitter and this blog and Facebook, um and writing and growth and fear and then Eleanor Roosevelt’s quotes on courage like this one: you must do the things you think you cannot do.

*deep breath*

Okay so maybe that wasn’t exactly what Train imagined when they wrote that line (although Twitter was mentioned plenty up on the stage), but social media can be a little scary. When I started on Twitter, it was one small tweet for Twitter, but one giant leap for me.

Mostly because it was a change.

Is there anyone out there, ’cause it’s getting harder and harder to breathe

It’s funny how easy it is to resist change, because give me a movie, magazine or talk show with a makeover to see and I am all over that. Then again I once resisted getting a cell phone, because I thought my handy dandy pager was oh so much better (yes I said pager). I was just used to it.

It was easier, or so i thought.

Now I’m not saying my cellphone led me to a feeling of Zen, peace and serenity, (although there might be an app for that), but it was one of those “leap” things.
Every time I tweet, blog, leave a comment on someone’s site, or a lurker’s comment on my husband’s Facebook (I’m still not on it–I know, 750 million people can’t be wrong, but baby steps people), I wonder:

Am I doing this right?

I don’t know. Maybe.

The thing is the Internet always comes across to me as so virtual, but it is real life, real people. So if that’s true, then how do I be me in this virtual but not virtual place?

I don’t want to be anything other than me

Because being online is different than say meeting someone at school or a party or work, or even what you get from being at a live concert, but whether you’re out in public or on the couch in your pajamas, it seems like we are all still showing up for the same reason:

Connection.

And that can be one of those important things that reminds us “there’s room to grow,” because we get to discover people living out their goals and dreams and vacations and children and books and music, and hopefully find a little inspiration for our own lives.

Then, what do you know, along comes change.