How Lucky We Are

How Lucky We Are

I like to wait until I have a clear, cohesive message before I let it go live on my site, or before I send my work out, hoping someone else will press that publish button. This will not be that. I have too many thoughts. I need a professional organizer to help me get them straight, and then, perhaps, we can work on my closet. Until I find someone willing to sort out this mess in my brain, you get to read it. You have to click, though (I know. That’s a lot of extra work. I thank you for going through with it). I published an essay on Medium with some of my post-election thoughts. If you want to know why I think it’s okay to be sad, and why I also think we are lucky to be alive in this season, then go have a read. That’s right. I said we’re lucky, and I believe it to my core. (Click either of those links up there. If you don’t see them, try...
Move. Act. Love.

Move. Act. Love.

Lately, I feel raw, like my emotions are all sitting on top of my skin. A suit made of human emotions, if you will. (It puts the lotion in the basket, but with feelings rather than skin?) Joking aside, since I’m not feeling especially jokey at the moment, when this rawness comes over me I succumb to inertia. When this happens, I can’t decide if I want to watch the news or boycott it forever, read the Internets or shut off my wifi for eternity, scroll Facebook and Twitter or run the other way. We are bombarded with hate, and thanks to our constant connectivity it’s hard to avoid the vitriol. My natural inclination is to see the good in everyone. I automatically assume everyone I encounter is a decent human, and consequently, sometimes I’m shocked and dismayed to discover otherwise. I’m a bizarre-o combination of Pollyanna and a realist. I’m the first one to say, “That project is too big, we’ll never finish it.” I’m also the first one to say, “I bet that guy driving like a jerk is just having a terrible day. Maybe he’s on his way to an emergency at the hospital.” When I feel the rawness, however, I go beyond realist, straight to Eeyore territory. With the sting of tears constantly threatening behind my eyes, I feel defeated. Our world is full of hurt. It’s full of people who are angry, racist, and homophobic. It’s full of people committing acts of terror in the name of their beliefs. What are we supposed to do about this? What can we do? Anything? I feel...

And We’re Off… Like a Herd of Turtles

Welcome to Missy Stevens Writes! Technical difficulties delayed things around here. Aren’t there always technical difficulties? There are when I’m running the technology. Thanks to Jen at Blue Yonder Design for stepping in and fixing my mess(es). I’m officially open for business now, though. Or blogging. Blogging business. In continuing with my haphazard theme, I’m launching on a Friday, and will be attempting my first new content during the last week of school. This should be fun. (New bloggers, this is not the place to turn for a how-to tutorial.) My About page is updated, if you’re looking for new content right this minute. The Good Stuff page is coming soon, too. Check back next week. Oh, and please go look at the pretty Facebook image Blue Yonder Design made for me. You can like the page while you are there. It’s free, and comes with loads of fascinating updates and thoughts from me. You won’t regret it. And if you do regret it, don’t tell me about it. I can’t fix all of your problems. Jeez. Thanks for hanging in there, or for stopping by for the first time, or for giving me another chance. However you ended up here, I’m grateful. See you next...