I’m hoping to quit my job at the end of this school year. I want to be a writer. It is scary to leave a job with a guaranteed monthly paycheck to try something new. I’ve done it before; it worked out well. However, this is a totally different situation. Before I left to get a higher degree in my field. It raised my salary by 12% when I re-entered the workforce. It gave me the opportunity to do the kind of teaching I do today. I am a Reading Specialist I work with small groups of children who are having problems learning to read. I enjoy what I’m doing. However, Father Time is marching on and I find my energy level and stamina declining. I think about a job where I can work on days I feel well and where I can just rest on days I don’t. I’m getting older. My health reminds me daily of just how old I am now.
I have ideas about ways to generate money as a writer. I have so many, many things written or almost written completely and I want to see what I can do with them. I’ve noticed few people read my blogs. Suppose no one reads my books? Suppose no one buys another article? Will I be able to find an illustrator for my children’s books?
There are more questions than answers right now, but like ten years ago when I quit my job to get a higher degree in my field – when most people thought I had lost my mind to quit a job that I did well at – was I crazy? It was a leap I felt I needed to take and I took it. There were regrets and problems, but mostly there were successes and joy. It turned out to be two of the happiest years of my life.
Now I’m on the ledge prepared to leap again. I glance back from time to time at what I’m leaving and a few times I think I want to continue to embrace it. But do I really? Don’t I think it’s time to explore what I can really do with this God given talent? Everyone says I write well. I think I write better some days than other days.
I’m gonna jump. Part of this blog has been to think through and see what I can do as a writer. The thinking part is almost over. It’s time for action.
I love to write. I write every day.
Yesterday I was in a workshop on writing and was surprised to hear that many people – people at the workshop – do not like to write.
I use my gift of writing to help me in life.
When something is not right, I will send off a letter or an email.
If I get really fired up, I’ll send off several.
I’ve been doing this today.
My bank made a mistake and will not do anything about it.
I’ve been busy all morning filling out complaint forms and sending letters.
People think you can’t do anything about the wrong-doing done to you.
People should learn to enjoy writing.
There’s a lot you can do with the written word.
My bank wants me to call them. No. When I’ve talked to people on the phone, they have mis-represented what I said. If anyone calls them, it will be my lawyer.
It’s not a large amount of money involved for a bank, but it is a large amount of money for me. It’s MY money. They had no right to take it and I’m going to do everything I legally can to get it back.
I almost went to law school. I wonder what my law practice would have looked like, if I had. I think I would have been successful.
Let’s see how this all works out.
And for others planning harm to me, or to do me wrong? I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Once fired up, I don’t stop until something has been done about the injustice. Something legal . . . through legal channels. We do have laws in America.
We honor the weak in America. If you have a genius IQ or any sort of advantage, America has no use for you any more.
This is one of the reasons America is in its death throes.
Only as strong as its weakest link ??? Suppose all the links are weak?
The term “Special” was grabbed from the high IQ students and bestowed on the low IQ students because parents were upset and jealous about the label. At first, it seemed a harmless enough condescension. Now it is one of the reasons America has lost her greatness.
You cannot glorify only what is not even average and still expect to hear about great ideas and great achievements.
Yes, a down syndrome student can be a homecoming queen. People in wheelchairs can go to dances. My own mother was a victim of polio, but she never, ever wanted to be treated special because of her handicap. Her brightest star was her intellect. Never would she have wanted the world to focus on her handicap and given her things because of it.
America is passing by their best so that the weakest won’t feel bad.
We’re all going to feel bad about this decision eventually.
Which would YOU choose? I think I’ve been going about this all wrong.
North Carolina does not value its teachers. They are paid so little that many qualify for food stamps.
So off I trudge daily because at some point in my life, I thought it noble to educate the uneducated and devote my life to helping others.
Maybe this should be under Ms. Playful’s blog, which is a humorous collection of life’s amusements.
All of America and her dreams and aspirations are laughable.
Nothing is valued anymore.
Who can get the most for nothing is the theme song now playing in America.
People show up to work and compete with who can do the least and not get fired.
Shame. It’s a shame I chose to work and be starving when I could have sat home and at least been wealthy in time.
I’m wondering if anyone has had experience with the foster care system in America?
Sometimes I wonder how many prisoners in our prisons were children placed in foster care.
Foster Care is a system in America that is badly broken. Can a pen fix it? (Reference to “the pen is mightier than the sword”. In researching this quote, it appears to come from Assyrian the Sage who lived during the early 7th century BC. There are other details about the use of this phrase here:
One of the reasons I enjoy writing is that I have seen what using the right words with the right person can do to change a situation.
I’m not a good speaker as far as getting people to follow me.
I am a good writer and when people read my words, I often get a reaction.
If anyone reading this has had experience with foster care in America and would like to leave a comment, I would like to read it.
Organ recipients are hoping that someone else will die before they do. They sit and wait for the phone call. It consumes them and every aspect of their lives – that wishing and hoping, and yes, even praying, that someone else will die first. I don’t want to give them anything, much less a part of my body.