Tag: Thought of the Day

Thought of the Day

Somedays I Wish my Brain had a USB Port…

L.J. LaBree

Ever have those moments where you have an epiphany of creativity, coupled with the inability to write the idea down, promising yourself that you’ll remember it later, only to never think of it again?

Yeah, those moments tend to come around in the middle of the night for me.

It’s always around 3am too, right when my cat gets bored that she’s the only one awake in the apartment, in the whole house really, and demands I awake from my deep slumber to keep her company.

For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you what the wonderful idea was – I know it must have been some sort of residual image or story my mind came up with as I dreamt – it’s rare for me to not have a vivid colorful dream of some sort.

What I can tell you is I was so inspired by this dream, I started plotting a story to follow. Of course, I had to placate the furry brat first, but as I was petting her and letting her drool her happy drool on my face (gross!). It was something that was inspiring and worthy of one – no, TWO Oscars for original screenplay and movie adaptation from a novel. I remember smiling and imagining walking up those hallowed stairs, accepting my award from a beaming Emma Stone ( who seems like a real cool gal if you ask me), and just as I was about to give my speech, see my dad quickly bound up the steps, hug me hard, then go back down to sit with my mom… along with my award.

What? Obviously I’m going to bring them to my first award show.

And what did I do while I was imagining this lovely scene? Did I actually rouse myself to grab my notebook next to my bed and write down this wonderful award-winning story?

NOPE.

I fell asleep petting Spooky.

When I woke up again at 6am, the only thing I remember from this story is the fact that I actually came up with a story.

Faaaaantastic.

I ended up taking faaaar too much time that morning wracking my brain, trying to remember even an ounce of my story.

Not even a crumb was remembered.

These are the days when I think life would be so much easier if I had a USB port somewhere on my head and plug in my phone so I can record everything I can see in my dreams. BOOM, no more forgetting stories or plot lines. Just think of all the stories I could remember and save!

Ah well, such is the daydream for writers.

Thought of the Day

Finally I can Take a Breath…

L.J. LaBree

Hey Everyone!

Life must have decided to kick things up a notch since I last wrote in May.

To summarize:

I was deep in the thralls of apartment hunting – my roommate and I decided that although we enjoyed each other’s company, our desires for the future wouldn’t allow for us to stay under the same roof. So, at the end of our lease, Jazz moved back home to Maine, and I moved into a cozy au pair-esque apartment in Waltham just big enough for myself and Spooky. It wasn’t easy to find this apartment, that’s for sure!

I must have looked at over 15 different apartments, and unfortunately over half of them were barely a step above the exaggerated dives you often see in movies – cracks in the walls, water-damaged wood floors that creak if you look at them wrong, and porcelain tubs with gobs of tape covering the holes where the faucets used to sit.

That wasn’t the worst part though. What took the rest of the cake was the landlords who wanted not only the security deposit and first month, they wanted the last month and for me to cover the realtor’s fee as well… along with an extra $100 a month for “pet fee” and an extra $100 for a ‘potential’ parking spot (meaning you might get one, you might not – it was all first come, first serve). After everything was said and done, the price would have been well over $1,900 a month – something very much out of my budget.

“Why not just get another roommate, Leah?” you might be asking? A couple reasons why that wasn’t in the cards this time around:

  1. With the 7 other roommates I had in my first apartment in Medford, and the one who lived with me and Jazz in Cambridge who hated my guts because I didn’t let him control every minute of my life (including when I could use the bathroom – there were two in the apartment…), I had my fill of roommates. I needed to find a place where I could live and be unapologetically me. Don’t get me wrong – Jazz was a great roommate! One of the best I’ve ever had! But he was also a rare good roommate. those are becoming harder and harder to find, especially with my luck.
  2. Building off the ‘finding a good roommate’ bit, I knew it would be increasingly harder to find someone who not only liked cats, but someone who Spooky would like and want to be around. She doesn’t usually like new people and will hide under my bed or wherever she thinks is safest. She especially didn’t like third roommate who often tried to rush at her and grab her when trying to pet her. He didn’t understand when I told him he needed to let her come to him first – let it be on her terms.

It took some time, but I finally did find a place that was well-kept, decent pay, and allowed pets for no extra fee. I even have my own parking spot! There aren’t any washers or dryers on the premises, so I need to go to a laundromat. But that’s okay – just one small compromise for the chance to have a space to myself and Spooky.

I’ve had a chance to slow down and take a few deep breaths. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that – there’s been this perpetual feeling of impending doom and waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while now. It isn’t an easy feeling to get out of, especially when you’ve spent years just trying to survive and see the next sunrise.

I’m praying that this will be the last time I move for a while. It’s hard – and expensive – to move around every year! Constantly packing and unpacking really did a number on my anxiety.

I know it isn’t much, but all I’m asking for at this point is to stop and break the cycle of moving every year. I just want to live in a place where I can feel at peace and be with my cat. I want the chance to take more breaths and not feel like I have to bug-out at a moment’s notice.

Thought of the Day

Me Needy Coffee

L.J. LaBree

Ever have one of those mornings where you just can’t seem to get out of bed? Where it wouldn’t matter if the skies were bluer than a robin’s egg, barely a cloud in the sky, and birds twittering at one another and singing for their breakfast, but all you wanted was to slink straight back under the covers and close your eyes?

Yeah, that’s me this morning.

My cat, Binx, tried his usual best to wake me up in the wee hours of the morning dark, yet I didn’t wake up to pat him and say hello back. I almost didn’t wake up when my fitbit vibrated my signal to rise to face another day. I could’ve easily slipped back into sweet unconsciousness and flown back into the coercing adventures of dreamland.
By some sheer miracle, I managed to roll over and check the time on my phone, which blared the thin white numbers 4:57am. Mind you, I normally wake up at 4:35 to have valuable bathroom time all to myself before the rest of my family comes bumbling down the stairs in their slightly-disoriented-just-woken-up stupor. As my heart jumped about a foot up my throat, I leaped from the bed, almost cartwheeled down the stairs, and clumsily opened the food cans for four hungry mewling cats.

I don’t quite remember how I had gotten myself fed and clothed, yet there I was, standing in the bathroom with my work attire on and brushing out the mangled mess of my hair when I heard the heavy-set steps of my father. And not long after my papa, down came my mom, patiently waiting for me to grab my makeup so she could take her clock-work shower.

The rest of the morning followed similar suit. I remember getting into my car, yet the actual travel time between home and work are somewhat fuzzy. I can tell you that I listened to Adam Levine, Shawn Mendes, and several other songs that made me want to swing mindlessly to the beat and melody.

And so, as I sit here at work, writing this piece to keep myself awake, all that I can keep thinking about is: did I bring coffee??

Thought of the Day

What Separates Them from Us?

L.J. LaBree

portrait of man

Alright, I’ve been debating even writing this since I first heard of it, but it seems I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut about it. For the past few weeks, we’ve been hearing about illegal immigrant children being taken away, more often than not forcibly, from their parents as they try to cross the border into the United States. Pictures of little ones with red-rimmed eyes, tears scratching their way down their cheeks, videos of children being held in makeshift wire cages like animals, and audio clips of babies crying for their parents have flooded our TVs.

Seriously? This is really even a debate?! These are human beings! Say it with me, now: THESE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!! Homo Sapiens! Just like us Americans! They aren’t coming to this country just to fudge things up! They’re coming here to escape the woes of their homeland, i.e. drug cartel, gangs, even their government! They aren’t cattle! We shouldn’t be treating them like a blight!! Good lord! Where is the compassion?! Where is the decency?! Where is the soul and heart of those who look past this with a blind eye, or worse, a smile on their lips?

How can we allow these people to be subjected to such cruelty and unusual punishment? This goes against everything our country stands for! No one deserves such traumatizing experiences, especially children!

What separates us from them, other than our nationalities? What makes their blood any less red than ours? What makes their tears any less salty than the ones running down our cheeks?

I want you to imagine yourself in their shoes: Instead of them coming into our country, we are flooding theirs. Drug cartels have taken over our government, shooting and killing anyone they please. Imagine the mothers and fathers of our country screaming, reaching out to their children as they are taken away by border patrol. Imagine those children – our children of America – being placed into cages, told to sleep on the floor with thin blankets and tiny pillows. Imagine, for even one second, the feeling of terror, exhaustion, and anguish going through the children’s minds, begging for their mommies and daddies until their voices run hoarse.

Imagine those children being Americans. Do you still turn a blind eye? Do you still smile? No?

Tell me, then, why do you turn a blind eye for someone who isn’t your kind? What separates them from us?

On another note, why is this even happening to begin with? Would Mr. Trump have signed that executive order had there been less negative feedback from the populace? Why did it take this long for him to even do so? Why did he even choose to enforce this policy of his? How is this even strengthening the border?

And so, I ask you as I would ask Mr. Trump if given the chance: if you throw out the nationality part, what separates them from us?

Thought of the Day

To Start a Blog or Not.

L.J. LaBree

I’ve been seeing this a lot lately: someone somewhere on this Earth has written something on the inter-webs along the lines of “if you want to be a serious writer, then you must start a blog!” or “No one will ever look at you if you don’t have a blog/website.”

And, like a lot of people, I start up a blog/website to start my career. But, as I always seem to do, I start the blog and then forget it. I’ve probably started at least 4-5 different blogs, only to stop writing it, or forget about it entirely. I can even tell you the last time I posted an opinion piece on a website (May 20, 2017).

Sometimes it’s because I’m not sure what to write about. Other times I end up putting the website on a back burner because of…well… Life. I come up with the excuses of ‘I just started a job’ or ‘I’m too tired to write anything of interest’ or some other lame excuse. But the truth of it all is: I’m just not good at keeping blogs.

It’s true! I’m even terrible at keeping a diary or a journal. It’s not that I don’t have any thoughts (I have too many!) it’s just that I often don’t think anyone would be interested in what I have to say. That thought is often coupled with struggling to find a topic to stick with and write about.

I like to write about a lot of things: School, my animals, my thoughts about daily life, politics, the list really could go on for another page or two. And don’t even get me started on creative writing. I love coming up with stories in my head! Short stories, novel-esque stories, I even tell myself a story in my head to lull myself to dreamland. Sometimes it’s hard to try and pinpoint a single topic to base an entire blog on. I try not to dwell on one thing for too long and move on, otherwise there’s the issue the topic could consume me whole like some sort of giant python swallowing its prey. Have you seen some of the stories where one of those snakes have swallowed a man whole, with nothing more than his feet sticking out of the creature’s mouth?! That there is nightmare fuel in its own right!

I marvel at how some people can use their blog as some sort of live diary where others could read it and make comments. Some days I wonder if I could do something like that, just to see how people would react to the thoughts that swim in my head all day every day. But then I’m brought down from that cloud when I think that there couldn’t possibly be anyone interested in what’s going on inside my head.

Plus there’s the fact that I seem to veer off topic and start talking/writing about random things that have taken my attention for however short a period. I can honestly tell you that I have stopped and started this opinion piece more times than I care to count! (Of course, I’m also writing this while waiting for the phone to ring at my day job – but let’s not focus too much on that right now.)

In the end, it all boils down to indecisions, fear of not being appealing to the public, and not actively setting the time aside to write something – anything – down to later edit and post to the inter-webs.  And whether or not I’m ready to deal with any negative responses.

That being said, I think – believe should be the more appropriate word – that in order to achieve our goals, we have to do things that make us uncomfortable and expose our talents to the world around us. It’s what makes the good in our lives all the more worth-while. It is in that experience that we become the person we want to be.

Aldous Huxley once said, “Experience is not what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens to you.”

We confront experience every day – it isn’t something we can avoid. It’s the same for this blog/website I’ve created. Whether it is good or bad, this is an experience I need to take. And most importantly, it is what lessons I take from this exposure that define who I am.

I hope this helps any of you who are just as indecisive as I have been.