The Hills are Alive

All the things I am not — part 2

Am I on?

Is this thing working?

Is this where you type? lol. ;)

3.2.1. Go. Write.

Here I go, stay with me folks.

All of these people coming out after the election. It is really cool if you ask me. People who haven’t talked about their problems and have surpressed them for the last thirty odd years are all of the sudden publishing their stories in the aftermath of the dust of that earth quake. Baam.

Take that!

I am just going to concentrate on the goal, eye on the ball. An artist, keep the pen moving, Julie, keep it going. There are people out there reading your words and you can do this.

I am not going to share my thoughts on the election. People who know me know my first friend in fifth grade was a beautiful sweet black haired girl who picked onions before school who sat next to me. She gave me a bag of 1,000 or more rubber bands. She had as many as she wanted. She was ten.

She invited me to her house after school once. There were so many people and laughter and voices. I really enjoyed it. Her mom asked me if I had ever tried tortillas.

Should you delete Snapchat? Ask Katie.

They had a bowl of prepared dough in her fridge and then there her mom went slapping the dough back and forth with happiness into one of the most delicious warm tortillas I have ever eaten.

Mariaaa! Mariaaa!

Now I am going to break into song for you and sing that song from …. the Hills are aliiive with the sound of m u u u u s i i c!

Cue song: How do you solve a problem like Maria?

Moving on. Keep your eyes on the ball, you.

Writing. Using your pen. Using your voice.

Can I just say sorry to you who ever you are if you are hurting? Can I offer you a virtual hug?

Can I?


I am not an entrepreneur. I am not a mom-trepreneur. I am not a fem-trepreneur, nor an anything-trepreneur.

I don’t have peeps.

I don’t tweet. I am not a bird, although I envy their ability to fly.

I am not a man.

I am not a foreigner unless of course I am outside of my country — in that case I am so all things being equal I shall remain whole and equo solidale.

I am not a blogger.

Can I tell you why? I don’t write every day and probably 90 percent of my work gets edited by a very fierce minded editor so often that the original rarely emotes anything raw or original.

What does that mean? Well, if you take a recipe and then add and subtract let’s say carrots, no, make that salt, to the broth, so many times, people might not even want to take a taste because it might just burn or be too spicy.


Voices: My ___ says, Don’t show your crazy. Hah! That’s a good one. You know who the crazy ones are? The ones who won’t write the word.

As the most beautiful writer Lewis Carroll wrote, But I don’t want to go among the mad people.

Equo solidale.

I can classify that as something that I am.

Here is my hope, that my boys get scholarships to play ball. They are truly very good players. My husband is being groomed as well to be one of the top coaches here and for that I am so truly thankful.

At the ball park, I always ask myself, how did I get the two boys who are the pitchers, multiplayers, so talented, strong and serious?

They concentrate and laugh, and compliment their adversaries. You can see here now as I write that they are my solid rocks on which I rely.

Things I am not.

I am not a writer. Nor a politician. Although I play one on TV. Joking!

I am a person formost. I have written since I was a child so there you go — just because an artist is handed a brush that does not make them Van Gogh. Especially when you add marketing into the mix.

What do you mean exactly by that? It means that I ask myself if it is enough to purely write your thoughts down, share them with the world, unedited, or is it better to actually share a link with your friends and say, read me, read me!

I am not a politician.

I was elected so in high school for two years and had the time of my life. What does being president entail, I asked myself? It means I get to make the final decisions on where the prom will be held and what is on the menu.

Ooh, I like that.

What do you mean I have to do the work too? I have homework! When and where and how am I going to find the time to scout a location. Best time of my life. Really.

Well. Not really. I was just writing that for emphasis. The downside of being political is that people walked up to me and said words like this, So, Julie, are you going to go into politics?

No, I thought, I am just going to sit in meetings and listen and offer advice.

They told me politicians were all corrupt anyway so that would be a good idea to stay out of it. I was looking at them thinking, really? So now I am corrupt? People!

You can’t win for losing.

Or you can’t lose for winning.

That’s my Byron Katie coming out. If you don’t know her you should meet her. She says all opposites are true. You should try it? It a good eraser technique, just four questions to help you see things in a new light.

All things I am. Part infinity.

Mom, sister, daughter, wife, lover, friend, psychologist, nurse, peace maker, column, columnist, aunt, ant, reader, writer, communicator or softs, communicator or sorts, comedian, actor, actress and none of the above.

Now your head is spinning and you are asking yourself, well Julie, what was the point of you writing this down? What did I learn out of this?


I am just getting my thoughts on the page where they belong.

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