Category: Raw

Raw

Can I Write About This?

FanTC

Can I write about my up-coming wedding preparations on my tutorial blog? Is that acceptable to you guys? I have to ask, because I don’t want to bother anyone with my silly, stressful, and agonizing personal details when you come here to read about writing or books or fantasies.

To be honest, I feel like I’m living a fantasy right now – and I’m stuck in the bad part of the story.

I knew planning a wedding would be emotional, stressful, and frustrating. I knew little things would go wrong along the way. I knew life would be messy and complicated and RAW like it typically is, but part of me…kind of wanted to experience a little heaven-on-earth perfection.

But let’s face it, my wedding was never going to be that easy because my fiance wants the big, white dress wedding…and I do not. In fact, I want to elope. However, I love my man, and life is not about me. It’s about us.

So here we are with a year to go and nothing planned. 

Turns out, finding a venue is the single most difficult part of wedding planning.

Who knew this would be so hard.

Let’s all be honest. I’m no best selling author. I’m as broke as you are as I sit on a hand-me-down couch writing this blog on a phone that came with a $40 rebate because – guess what – it’s not name brand. So trying to find a venue that meets our individual specifications and fits within our budget is extremely frustrating. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit I completely pushed the blame on my loving fiance in a fit of emotional breakdowns. But we’re still together! Thank God. I am NOT as patient and understanding as he is.

This weekend we have a tight schedule to look at some venues. Every time I see the price tags, I can feel myself hyperventilating (I need to start carrying around a paper bag.) 

I just want this to be done. I know when we finally nail this project, we can look forward to the less-intense-but-still-important tasks of writing invitations and registering for gifts. We can finally start preparing.

GW (fiance) keeps reminding me that it will work out the way it’s supposed to, despite all obsticles. I used to believe that. I guess I don’t trust the process as much as I thought I would.

I think life is a series of pop quizzes we all get jumped with. There’s no way to prepare for what the teacher is going to ask. You can only hope you were paying attention up to this point.

That’s where I’m at, folks. Step one…of the rest of my life.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin

Raw

I Have a Confession, Readers

FanTC

I had a nightmare. This isn’t something new or out of the ordinary. I get them sometimes – I suppose every dreamer does once in awhile. Nightmares are a result of stress and anxiety, and they can take two forms:  A nightmare can be based in real life, depicting people and places you recognize, but with scary circumstances; or a nightmare can be based in a fantasy life, such as a circus, a world of witches, or an obscure, but terrifying, vision.

I’m not going to describe my nightmare because I don’t really care about it.

The dream woke me out of a dead sleep at 3am. It’s now two hours later, and I am spending the time browsing Facebook, Instagram, and finally, the Reader portion of WordPress. I switched to Discover mode, hoping to find something meaningful to pass the time. I still have 2.5 hours to go before I have to get ready for work, and I’m simply not fatigued enough to sleep.

It’s rare for me to find these moments of reflection. It’s probably a story you’ve heard similarly all over the internet. We as people are far too busy. But for me, it’s not just about finding the time, it’s about allowing the time. There’s a difference. Let me explain: There are three things going on in my life I cannot change, three things entirely dependent on a second party to fulfill their roles. Since I can do nothing about them, I avoid thinking of them altogether. Thinking makes me anxious. Anxiety leads to frayed nerves. Stress leads to snapping at my boyfriend in mean-full ways.

You see, I am a passive-aggressive goal-orientated person. When my conscience is presented with a goal, it mulls it over, weighs out the options, and analyzes for possible reactions. When I finally come to a decision, I want to act right away. I set to work researching the matter and filling in the gaps of my knowledge of it. I follow up leads and query persons involved, directly or indirectly, for their opinions. I pour myself into the project until it is finished, and then I sit back and enjoy the satisfaction of finishing something. That’s how I work.

People are always saying “Trust God’s timing. He is teaching you a lesson in (patience, perseverance, etc.) He knows what is best for you.”

Trust the timing.

It’s a simple statement. “Trust the timing.” There is such a rush to get stuff down now. We run in halls, race through traffic, scamper to and fro in a mad dash to achieve. But we forget that we have time on this Earth. I know that’s a contradiction of many statements – The trouble with time is you think you have time, Buddha; All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls, 1 Peter 1:24. Ironically, both statements are true. We have time on this Earth -or- Our time is fleeting. I may die tomorrow. So what? I’m at peace with my life. To be honest, my confession is I am more afraid of living.

Confession: I am more afraid of living than dying.

Living requires a lot of work and dedication with very little direction. We are all blind men tapping our canes before us to test the pavement or dirt for obstacles. We have no idea what we’re doing. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just a blind man running his hand along a banister. For a short time, he knows he can continue, but sooner or later that banister is going to end, and he’ll be just as lost as when he first started. Some people run in circles thinking they have found a clear path. We all know better.

Readers, it is now 5:23am. A whopping 23 minutes after I started this post. I think I am finally tired enough to catch an hour or two of sleep before the alarm goes off. So goodnight, and in the meantime, I will continue waiting – trusting in the timing, and trying not to be so deathly afraid of this life.

One last word of caution: Don’t eat pepperoni pizza before bed.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin, Writer in the Raw

Raw

Independence

FanTC

Hey, look at me writing blog posts for major holidays. Like, something I never do. But this year I’m trying something new.

The fourth of July is a big event for us Americans. We spend the entire weekend traveling. We waste too much money on silly fire crackers. For many of us, it’s our time to showcase our grilling skills (not I, sadly.) For many Americans, this holiday is as important as Christmas.

Independence is a big word in a lot of ways. It has 5 vowels, 7 consonants, and 12 letters all together. The dictionary definition is “independence [in-di-pen-duh ns] noun, the state or quality of being independent. Freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.”  The historical reference is the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, in which, the Continental Congress declared that the thirteen American colonies regarded themselves as a new nation, the United States of America, and were no longer part of the British Empire. That was 241 years ago, for you history buffs.

241 years is a long time. The average life span of an American is between 75 and 80 years old. There are a few generational gaps between then and now. What does “independence from the British Colonies” even mean to my generation? I mean, personally, England is a place I’d love to visit one day, I find their accents incredibly romantic, and I think the fact that England still has a royal family is fascinating (I’m a fantasy fiction writer, remember.) But as far as being independent from the British Empire, this information doesn’t hold a lot of value in my day-to-day life. I simply don’t have any experience other than my American independence to compare. So I eat Polish sausages, German potato salad, and drink French wine.

Isn’t that the wonder in the day and age we live? There are cultural influences all around us. Because of wars and allies, stationed military bases, and travel, we carry with us living pieces of history from all over the world – DNA. In my own family, there are Germans, Swedes, Norwegians, and, yep, Brits. We’re so accustomed to our heritage that we rarely put stock in it. It becomes a part of what we consider to be normal. This holiday we celebrate every year, it’s just normal. That business trip our dad takes to Ireland sometimes, that’s just normal. The news broadcasts we receive from all over the world, they’re totally normal.

So consider the normal in your lives this weekend. Say a quiet thank you to whatever ancestor or god you feel deserves it. Because we are really very blessed to live normal lives. I thank Jesus Christ for my independence. Who do you have to thank?

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin

What’s normal – or maybe special – about your life? Share a favorite Independence Day memory, or unburden something tragic from past weekends which may be haunting you. Whatever the story, this is a safe place to tell it.

God bless you all this weekend.

Raw

A Belated Post to Fathers

FanTC

Fathers Day Free new Clip Art

I was late with everything this father’s day. I was late buying a card and late sending it out. I make it a point not to call my father, so I texted him instead.

I am likely to receive a good bit of flack for this post, but I’m going to write it anyway.

I don’t like my father. I love him, I just don’t like him. I’m stuck with him, but I don’t have to visit him. When he’s old and gray(er), I’ll happily see him off to a good nursing home and visit him once a year. If that.

There are some wonderful dads out there in the world. I wish to acknowledge them and thank them for doing the best they can, for trying their hardest, and for loving through the pain of raising children. I want to encourage them to keep fighting the good fight, to remember to pick up groceries after work, and to always make it to at least half of the kids’ games. Most importantly, I want to remind them to remain men of integrity. To speak truthfully, conduct themselves honestly, and promise responsibly.

Children see everything and forget little. It’s amazing what those little buggers can dredge up from the past when you least expect it. But if you can admit when you are wrong, they learn how to put others before themselves. If you give them responsibilities and encourage them to fulfill those obligations, they learn how to work and contribute to their society. If you can keep the promises you make – no matter how small – they learn the importance of integrity in their home, work, and social lives.

God bless the fathers around the world. Lord knows your job isn’t easy.

Now, I’m not going to go into the details of my childhood. I’m not going to tell you a bunch of sob-story lies. My dad wasn’t an alcoholic. He didn’t beat me or my mother. He wasn’t belligerent. He was just negligent. He is a product of the 70’s through and through – putting himself first and his wants and desires before anyone else. He’s a professional saboteur (I’ll leave you to work out the details of why a marriage failed after 25 years and 3 out of 5 children won’t speak to him.)

But that is all I will say. Some of you might run into him. Some might already know him. You’ll see me in the grocery store and say “Your father is such a good man! How could you say such mean things about him?” And I’ll just smile. Because unless you’ve lived with him for any length of time, you’ll never understand.

Judgments

Raw

An Open Letter to Mothers

FanTC


First, I want to thank one mother in particular. For your calm and caring personality, for your wisdom and advice, and for always steering me on the straight course in life – thank you. You’ve showed me how important relationships are in all stages. You taught me how to be strong and wise in those relationships. You’ve modeled the proverb Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, and helped me realize the value of those instructions. You got me through some of the toughest times in my life, and I want you to be there during the best as well. 

From your experiences and loving cautions, I have become a better woman, a stronger, more confident individual.

Thank you, Linda. You’re friendship has meant more to me than you’ll ever know. 

To my own dear mother: Thank you for raising me with honesty, morals, and values. Your tough love shaped me to be more independent and to look out for myself. You are my mom, my teacher, my mentor, my pride and joy among all my friends. Not one to be overly sentimental, you raised five children with varying personalities, from emotionally sentimental to pragmatically logical. 

We all have our flaws, but you were always honest, from mistakes in our educational curriculum to disciplinary actions (I admit to deserving everything I got and probably less than I deserved.) Now that I’m an adult, I find myself mimicking your traits, and it makes me smile.

Momma, I love you. Thank you for everything. 

Happy Mother’s Day to these amazing women. 

Until next time, this has been, 

Fanny T. Crispin