The first day of the last month of the year ...

Being a grownup is hard work. The responsibility of a job places time constraints on how we get things done and I've been lucky to have a boss who tolerates my tardy arrivals when I try to cram too much into the early morning before I leave my house. But, I grow weary of the long commute. When I began working at my current job back in 2005, it took me 25 minutes to get from my house to my office. Today it requires 40 to 45 minutes to make the same journey. That is 7.5 hours per week spent in my car getting back and forth to my job. Or, 16.25 days per year. Insert a sad face here. Why? There are just too many people in southeast Florida where I have lived for the past 41 years. And, the rich developers keep building high rise condominiums priced for the wealthy. Affordable housing? Not in Florida. Not anymore. So, my long commute may well grow longer.

I've always worried about money. I never had enough of it.  As I move closer to retiring from my full time job with benefits, I'm getting butterflies in my stomach. Will my meager retirement income be enough? Will I be able to find part-time and/or free lance work to fill the gap? Will I grow into one of those sad old ladies at the nursing homes whose families have abandoned them because they had to sell everything they owned to be able to qualify for Medicare to get into the nursing home in the first place? Now, THAT is a frightening prospect, for sure. Should I work til I'm 70? What do I really want to do? Why am I so anxious about this?

The current proposed tax bill making its way through the Senate this week scares the bejesus out of me. This could change the way we live in America. I think of "The Hunger Games" and the division of classes and I fear we are hurling toward a time when the rich have everything and the rest of us just survive. I am stunned at how the dynamics of class division is being manipulated in the media today to prevent oppressed groups from joining forces into a united front against the government's actions to rob from the poor and give it all to the rich. Apathy runs rampant. Where do we go to to protest? Our legislators aren't listening to us!

My escape from all these tough issues is, of course, art and fashion dolls. They are way more fun and way less stressful than all that other stuff, but, I cannot ignore what is going on in this tiny life of mine. My struggle to survive is nothing compared to those in Yemen, for example. Yet, a struggle it is at times. I've kept my tongue in my head for a long time now. That's over. I'm writing. Finding these words has been a real effort this morning, but, there they are. My thoughts. My truth. My joys and my fears. Mostly my fears today because the Senate is voting on that fucking tax bill that will make the rich richer and richer. Insert another sad face here and let's call it a day. Time to start decorating for Christmas!

My contest entry ...

              Me and Samantha, 1989

I love to write.
Sometimes I have to toil to get the words out. And, sometimes they just spill out of me. When they're spilling, I'm grateful that I took typing in high school!

Last week, I wrote a story and entered it into MORE Magazine's "One Amazing Thing" contest. I did submit a story last summer, which the MORE editors posted to the web site, and that was kind of neat. (It's here.) But, this contest ... well ... I really want to win.

I've posted it on Twitter and Facebook quite a bit in my attempts to get someone ... anyone ... to read it and vote for it. I e-mailed it to a bunch of my women friends and asked them to vote and some of them have voted. I think the "registering" part is what spooks people, though. They're afraid they're going to receive lots of e-mail or spam as a consequence of registering. They won't, and I tell 'em that. But, still, they don't vote.

So, here I am, five days from the close of the contest and I've moved up to No. 31 with 15 votes. In order to qualify I need to be in the Top 25. From those 25 entries, the editors of MORE will chose one winner and that lucky person will have a one-hour phone consultation with Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, the author of "One Amazing Thing," described by MORE's web site as a "breathtaking tale of survival."  The winning writer will then expand her story to 1600 words to be posted on MORE's web site and, maybe, Barnes & Noble's web site. That's it. No prize money. Just an opportunity.

The current top entries are about cancer survivors, a night at the Emmys, saving a life, raising a child ... things that are uplifting and wonderful. My story isn't quite so "warm and fuzzy."  It's brutal. It's honest. And, it took me 22 years to write.

Friends who have read the story have written messages or told me to my face that they are so glad to know how I turned out.  If I win, it would give others a chance to find out WHY that experience was, truly, 'one amazing thing 'for me.  It really did change the course of my life forever. And, I'm sure no one will be disappointed how it ends.

It may not be pretty, but it was amazing to live through.
Cross your fingers. And, if you haven't already, go read it and vote.
You'll never be sorry you did.
I promise.