2020-10-02 Jump Into this Day From Yesterday’s Sin…

On October 21, 2010 (not a typo – ten years ago) I wrote my first post on my first blog: Day By Day.

It’s proof, that no one can predict what the future holds. No one can know what they are capable of. No one realizes the capacity of their cup.. until they begin to fill it up.

I’ve been filling my cup for 10 years… with whatever I can find that brings me joy and helps me feel satisfied. All that keeps me warm inside. I swirl around the contents, and peer into the concoction to see what magic I’ve collected.

I’ve had so many great experiences with people I’ve cared for. Friends and family. I’ve laughed and traveled and, of course, done the best I could with rotten situations too.

As I look back at all my blog posts, poems, and stories, I recognize that those tough times are often where the focus of my writing often goes. That’s the nature of the beast I guess. But that’s not a new revelation. I’ve known it my whole life.

I’ve joked before about it being ok if I get my heart broken, because at least there will be new poetry at the end of the road. A foolish joke which I believe the Universe used to teach me a valuable lesson (or two or three). Sobbing on the floor like wishing there was no tomorrow is not a pretty site. And there were no words that would save me from that agony.

Hella dramatic much?! Yes. But that’s how that felt.

See what I mean? I started writing this intending to swish through the warmth I’m feeling inside right now because of all the wonderful things in my life. But instead end up spiraling straight to a moment of heartache. Why??!!

Rubbish!!

Today the project I’ve been working on, the start up of a new literary journal, went live with its first issue. It’s a good day and I feel great. I feel grateful. I feel… like it’s a little unbelievable really. A few folks I care for dearly have put a ton of effort into publishing a beautiful, professional issue and of course, it doesn’t end there. There will be promotion and calls for submission for our next issue. It’s just the beginning but I don’t want to think about that right now.

I want to savor this day and what we’ve accomplished. I want to celebrate. I want to slow down this happy day and really just get all that I can from it. Pour it all into my cup. And then lay back and let myself be satisfied.

It’s Friday. Maybe I should pick up a book or see what the gods of poetry have to offer me today.

Or do what I said that I would yesterday, which is to lay down in corpse pose for a few days. Yes.. I read what I wrote yesterday which is often how I start. “Jump into this day from yesterday’s sin.” That’s what that little poem is about.

Ten years is a pretty good run. Who knows what the next ten will look like. I bet even the Universe doesn’t know. 😉

Wishing for peace on Earth,
~Miss SugarCookie

Day By Day

I read what I wrote and then start again,
Jump into this day from yesterday’s sin.
A bump in the road, a thing at the right,
Adding one, day by day, from morning ’till night.
Oh when will I get there and how will I know?
With a smile and a hand shake at the end of the show,
The only words that I heard were “Please play again.”
Adding one, day by day, from beginning ’till end.

2020-10-01 The (Other) Letter From the Editor

I’ve been tucked in a cubby hole of time for a few days. I’ve tried to finish strong with my last few days of work without letting my apathy show through the zooms and emails. I’ve tried to hide the fact that my heart is already elsewhere. Ask me how I feel today on this day, the first day I’m not required to show up on the job. I’m all like “what job?”

Yes, friends, my heart wandered away from the Career Life years ago and so the only difference now is that I don’t have to dedicate so much of my precious time trying to stay in the game. Yes, I like and appreciate my job, and my team. But life has so much more to offer now and I have to let my heart take the lead. Even if I’m pretty sure it’s clueless most of the time about where it is and where it thinks it wants to go.

Yesterday I spent my treadmill time writing a “letter from the editor” instead of diving into my normal rhetoric. What I was writing will be unveiled tomorrow when we publish our first issue of The Good Life Review.

A letter from the editor? The editor?? Is that me? Holy shit, I did that. I’m doing that. This is real and this is really my life now. Unbelievable!

Anyway, I wrote some words, and it’s all legit and I mean every bit of what I said in the letter but there’s other sides to the story that just aren’t a good fit for the actual publication. Stuff people don’t talk about, you know. As we say in the software development business, the sausage making.

What the letter doesn’t say is that this entire process is exhausting. It’s hard work. My friend Sarah told me that. She said, “people don’t realize it unless they experience it for themselves.” #truth

From the word “go” it has been one challenge after another. Between getting the infrastructure in place to deciding on a name to engaging folks in the process to trying to keep everything organized and operating smoothly.. it’s been a wild ride.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a great learning opportunity, and for sure I’m coming out the other side of this first issue a wiser soul. It’s just that I truly had no idea how time consuming it would be. And the Universe knows how I have a tendency to be over-committed. What on EARTH was I thinking??!!

I know. I wasn’t thinking. I was letting my heart lead. And if Robert Creeley can do it, damnit, so can I!

He started the Divers Press and was also an editor with the Black Mountain Review for its first three years. Also, he wrote and published literally hundreds of poems across decades. A role model I will never get to meet.

If it sounds as though I’m aiming high. It’s likely because I am. “No limits but the Sky” baby!

But that’s probably the adrenaline of the treadmill working magic in my body.

When I woke up today I had a hell of a headache. It was compounded by last minute scrambles to get everything just right for pulling the trigger on our first issue. And trying to keep things smooth. A lot of folks are paying attention now and we have to do our best to keep our best front and center.

What I want, more than anything, is for the people who are involved to have a good experience. I want people to say, “The Good Life”, was good to them. I want people to think of us as kind, and thoughtful, and professional yet personable.

Keeping that in mind is key. In my letter I wrote about the “difficult” time we are all having this year. And therefore we could all use a little more leeway, love, and kindness. I certainly could use a little more.

I hit my migraine and nausea with all the meds I could get my hands on (sans Lorazepam). I had an English muffin and drank a bunch of water. I’m better now. Feeling like I can continue on this fast moving train for at least one more day. One more day.

It’s the final countdown folks. And after that?

After that I’m gonna lay down on the ground in corpse pose for about three days. Yeah. That seems like a good plan.

Ok, I think that’s it for today. I hope you enjoyed the alternate version of my “letter from the editor.”

Peace, love, and tacos,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-09-25 Tides Don’t Turn

They’re relentless rolling towards the shore where waves crash like an unforgiving Kublai Kan. Or the resulting opiate inspired vision in dream. Just a fragment. A sliver of the largest moon that ever pulled the tide up with such reliable gravity. Such a tragedy that the only words to linger after the last line are ones about broken hearts.

Today is a strange day. Yesterday at about this same time, when I was thinking about today all I could think about was the fact that it’s my brothers birthday and also the 25 year anniversary of the day I started my first job as professional adult. I actually thought about that for a while and considered writing about it but the end of the world seemed more important.

Plus, the anniversary is today so I figured it would make for a better fit for today anyhow. But now it’s not.

Get this. I have (had) 4 days left working at my current job (Same professional line of work— different gig) and my boss tells me yesterday late in the day to take Friday off. What?!? That’s does not happen.

So instead of pontificating over the fact that my career is ending neatly at almost exactly 25 years to the day it started, I’m waking up to thoughts of writing poetry and beginning my journey catching up on stacks of books and lit magazines. With the day off, I also got a pass at getting up to make breakfast and ended up laying in bed with my laptop until like 9:30.

I revisited my spreadsheet of submissions and my Submittable account. I went through and marked all the recent rejections (I highlight them in light orange because it’s so much more pleasing than the red color that is oft associated with rejection). As I look through this spreadsheet I’m delighted by the few stripes of blue that have started to appear.

I colored in another row last week with that cornflower blue. I’ve got a poem that will be appearing in December in a journal that, like my beloved Good Life Review, is on its maiden voyage. The poems I had submitted there were one’s I had not submitted anywhere else and really, the whole process feels like a twisted crap shoot. The fact they picked up the one they did amazes me. Who knows what might appeal to someone or fit with what they are looking for? 🤷‍♀️

Oh to get into the heads of those editors!! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Still.. it gives rise to a warm fuzzy inside. Cozy like a cat stretched out by a crackling fireplace in the middle of winter.

So I had to send them a new bio and headshot. My headshot is not really a headshot, but it’s the best I’ve got right now. The new bio took me a bit as they wanted more words than I typically offer and just wasn’t sure how to beef it up.

Once that was done, I hunted for new places to submit. I took my time (still gloriously laying in bed) revising a few things for three different new places. That’s what delayed me by like 2 hours getting down to my treadmill. But I’ve got the day off so who cares!! 💃💃💃

And with that.. I’m now checking the weather and contemplating a bike ride and perhaps sitting out on the patio sipping an iced latte. Time to get down to figuring out what this jobless life is going to be like .. right!??!

Feels like it’s the perfect time to resurrect “First Draft Friday.” Again., it’s been so long since I’ve written anything new or worthy of sharing and I very much want to do that. The best place to start, of course, is by reading. That stack of books will be the perfect jumping off point. Yes??


My bro, the rocket scientist, is 49 today. He’s a brilliant person who is a good role model for what it looks like to live your best life. He’s nearly two years my senior but has never had much time for me. When we were kids he avoided me like the plague at school.

Now he makes stacks of cash working for Ball Aerospace on contracts for NASA and spends his free time hiking and climbing mountains near Boulder Colorado.

He’s never given me as much attention as he did that time I climbed a fourteener. I remember arriving back to the apartment I was staying at in CO after that climb and being exhausted out of my mind but not able to rest until I called him to tell him. We talked and talked and I was so pleased he was impressed with me. Guess I’d been waiting for a long time for that. Admiration from someone I’ve looked up to my whole life. Life is strange.

That saying.. “The tide is turning”.. where did that come from? Tides don’t turn do they. I mean they get larger and smaller but they don’t turn. Rivers never flow the opposite way. The toilet may flush down in the opposite direction, but only when you are in the opposite hemisphere. What gives?

Anyway. That’s it.. my hour is up.
Happy Birthday Bro,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-08-29 Girls Just Wanna…

… Eat Tacos!!! 🌮🌮🌮

It’s Saturday and I’ve done a few things but I’ve also kinda wasted the day away. The sun is already in its daily slide down the west side of the big Nebraska blue and I’m just not satisfied.

I just need a little more time. I just always want more. I’ve got a lot of reading ahead of me yet this weekend. Workshop stuff and GLR stuff and I’m just not feeling any of it. I read a little last night and this morning and my patience is so thin. I want to be engaged with what I’m reading. I want it to knock my socks off but I can barely get through a paragraph before my mind starts wandering away.

Don’t even get me started on the state of my emotions. One minute I’m feeling happy and the next, I’m grumpy of melancholy or some other such nonsense.

I want to read poetry that makes me want to write. I want a story that grabs my body and drags it through a vortex of sensations. Make me think. Change my mind. Make me cry or pump my fist in the air with an audible “YES!”

Instead I slide off my chair and lay flat on the floor looking for my new sweet kitten hiding under the bed. Instead I’m mentally and physically and emotionally distracted.

Instead of reading, I resume sending the rest of the declines in the decline pile. A dirty job, but someone has to do it. Today, it’s less effort than actually trying to read, so I guess that’s it.

What’s happening right now?

I’m walking off the too full feeling I acquired eating too much chipotle.

Fun fact.. I have had a taco for at least one meal everyday since last Tuesday. Guess I’m going through a taco phase.
Also noteworthy is that has oft been accompanied by margaritas – a recipe Jim and I have perfected. It’s a pretty bomb combo. 🌮+🍹= ❣️ I digress.

No matter. Times up. I gotta get back to work wading through shallow waves of words.

Peace and Love,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-08-25 Reading Past Repetition to Get to the Good Stuff

There’s no way I’m not going to not be tired today. That’s what less than four hours of sleep does to a person. 

Impossibly, it was not because of performance anxiety over the two hour training session I’m supposed to conduct today with a group of folks I’ve never met before. Incredibly I could not fall asleep in the first place, which has rarely been my problem. Impractical as it is, my issue was caused by my mind wandering around poetry. 

I was reading a lot of poetry before going to bed. Add that to the growing list of things I can’t do in the hour before going to bed. 🤷‍♀️

Thankfully that was all it was and had nothing to do with the results of the 3-D mammogram and breast ultrasound that occurred hours earlier. That mess had already been discussed and swept away. Thank the Universe, that topic was open and shut quickly. Grateful today to be lamenting sleep woes in classic SugarCookie broken record repetition style instead of thinking about how my life will never be the same. 

***

Last night I had to send out lots of declines for the lit mag. I don’t like that part of my new gig. Turns out I dislike being the bearer of bad news more than I dislike receiving it. I’ve got declines rolling back to me now quite regularly and I open those emails and just kind of shrug. I update the spreadsheet I’m using to keep track of my submissions like it’s just a business transaction. I don’t feel the sting of rejection and I wonder why not. It’s curious. 

What’s even stranger than that is my reaction to instances I’ve opened my email and found an acceptance. “Congratulations,” they say. We want your words.

This from my most recent acceptance letter.. “What powerful pieces! We particularly loved ‘Mining the Gap’ and are thrilled to say that we are going to publish it…”

This makes me feel all warm inside for a blink or two and then my heart returns to its typical rhythm. Not quite as subtle as a shrug but also not the spinning on dance floors one might expect. Why is that?
Is there something wrong with me? Do I disbelieve what I read? Am I incapable of being moved? Or do I not trust the sources? “Powerful?” Really? No way.

Maybe it’s indifference because I intend to keep submitting my poems regardless of the outcome. Perhaps it’s similar to writing them in the first place. The feeling I get from writing is pretty satisfying. Then really working whatever that is over and over until it feels finished is next level. I get excited. I turn the music up and dance a jig in my underwear in the kitchen all by myself. I love it when I read one of my beautiful babies and get that same rush and tingle. 

This morning I was at it early, revising a poem to prepare it for the world at large. When I finished and read it through without stopping, I welled up with tears. I mean, the topics of my 20’s and 30’s are old news. How incredible is it that I can still get choked up like that? That’s the stuff. 

Perhaps publishing is not the goal, but part of the motivation to revise? Perhaps I get enough satisfaction from self-publishing and don’t really need more? Perhaps these are the things I tell myself to steel my mind— to prepare for all the inevitable rejection. 

In any case, here’s the latest SugarCookie poem which is currently on display at wonderful online publication called Prometheus Dreaming (Poetry Volume 2, Issue 2.5): Mining the Gap

I’m grateful to this publication for wanting my words and including them among so many other wonderful poems I’ve read there.

That’s gonna be it for today folks. Thanks for playing along. (Time to go take a nap now – ha!)

Peace and Love,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-08-23 The Saturday AM Update

I woke up at about 6:30AM and for the first time in a while, I’m looking forward to the day.

Something about a long string of days that involve stuff you’re not looking forward to that really messes with a persons groove. I’ve obviously been in a funk. I’ve obviously been a broken record, stuck on repeat and really.. ain’t nobody got time for that! 😜

But I can feel a change in the air this morning. It’s still August and hot out but the leaves are starting to turn and fall. I’m counting down the days left working for the MAN (23 💃💃💃) and feeling great about my decision. I’m waking up thinking about my family and what were gonna be able to do together this weekend instead of all the work crap that’s always looming over me.

I’m thinking about really catching up on lit mag business and taking my time reading through all the selections our editors are passing on through to publishing. I’m excited to get to be that person who tells someone else “yes, we love this! We want to showcase your work.. let’s do it!” And I’m excited about the first issue coming out and the updated design for the site and all the opportunities that will open up to generate interest. We’ve got podcast action in play and I really feel like that will boost us to next level.

That’s a lot to be excited about but it doesn’t stop there. I’m looking forward to re-engaging with my own personal writing endeavors. From the submission spree I went through in July, I’ve gotten a few accepts and a few rejects and though I know most will come back as rejects.. I’m still energized to follow through with more revision and submission and maybe putting together a chapbook or full length book.

I’d like to say I’m looking forward to reading and writing more but I’m not gonna try and force that. I think my mo-jo will return soon. I think it will happen naturally as the work garbage winds down and I have more time. I hope anyway.

What else?

Well as far as status goes I feel as if I’m going to be a good citizen and not contribute to any community spread of the deadly virus that’s all the rage this year that I’m gonna have to self-quarantine for the duration. Both my kids went back to school recently and so far this week we’ve gotten a total of 4 emails from the HS principal about known cases with students.

The students are not identified in these emails of course and the communication assures is that if there was known contact with our child, we would have been notified separately. We haven’t, but that does not mean it wasn’t possible. I’ve seen what the scene looks like dropping my son off and picking him up. Lots of teenagers standing or walking in clusters. Some with masks and some without.

Not sure what to make of all that and nothing I can do really except watch my kids for symptoms and keep having open dialogue about what to watch out for and to keep up on the regular hand washing and mask wearing and not touching their faces.

What else?

Yesterday marked the end of the first full week where I took zero lorazepam. I’m still struggling with the annoying withdrawal symptoms but it’s no where close to what I had when I tried to cut it out cold turkey,

I had my annual visit to the gyn this week and the PA I saw suggested I try magnesium for my continued struggles with sleep. I don’t listen to hip-hop but I’ll give it a shot I guess. Oh.. and she found a lump in my left breast so I’m going for a deeper diagnostic on that Monday. Not too concerned about that and no reason to dwell on it until the diagnostic is done.

What else?

Nothing. That’s enough really, don’t you think?

My step counts look abominable lately and I’m gonna end my walk today with a quick jog and that means I’m done writing.

Cheers to the Weekend,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-08-16 No Good Way to End – Part 2

What’s a girl to do I ask.

It occurs to me that I love to start new things. I get jazzed about beginning. Give me a new day, tip-toes on the edge of the next big adventure. Anticipation is a delicious appetizer and don’t you sometimes just want to order every appetizer on the menu and skip the main course?

I do!

I want to start new projects and talk to new people and think about all the possibilities. The trouble with that is over commitment. The starting all the things and then being in the middle and not having enough time to do a thing well. Which is my other desire. When I do a thing, I want it to be done really well. I want to please people and maintain a certain reputation as a person who is an asset to have around. I can’t not care.

I try to convince myself it will be easy to quit and disconnect from work but the truth is that it won’t be easy. There’s no good way to end and I’m going to struggle.

As far as quitting my job goes, I have to remember that I mustered the courage to do it before and that it turned out great. That ended and the sun still came up in the same way the next day.

I need to frame this quitting business as an opportunity to do the other projects I’ve committed to even better. I can throw my whole heart into my lit mag startup and really focus on making that a success. I’ll finally have time to do more than just “barely getting by.”

And let’s not forget why I decided to get an MFA in the first place! I’ll be able to focus on my writing and really do something more with that than blogging every week. School forced that focus because of deadlines and expectations and now that that is basically over, what’s the motivation? Where will my accountability come from? What fire was started thee and how?

And let’s not forget the fact that I’m always feeling mediocre about my contribution at home and my parenting efforts. Now I’ll be able to better with all of that. I think that’s the part Jim is excited for and my kids don’t really know it yet, but it’s gonna be better for them too. Time is a hot commodity and I need to remember that as one thing ends, it opens the possibility for more beginning.

But not too many beginnings or I’ll be in the same boat as I am now. Is it an inevitability? Will I be able to stop myself from starting more things? Probably not.

It will all be ok as long as I can really cut the cord. Probably since that conversation is tomorrow I should think about the language and what I’m going to say. Probably. 😨🤔😱🤣

Yeah. No good way to end. No way around it so straight through the heart of it is best.

Until then. I’m gonna try and enjoy my Sunday.

Peace and Love,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-07-31 Adios July.. Don’t Let the Door Git Ya!

Remember all that I was saying yesterday about riding out the hormonal storm until the crashing waves calm down? Yeah, just effff that. It really is easy to talk logic than to put it into practice sometimes.

Listen. Yesterday was a bitch. Work sucked. And at the end of the day I was on the couch, half laying into a stack of pillows watching some YouTube video Jim was playing for me. It’s a guy playing like a really old guitar. We’re talking made in the 1600’s old. And I just started to cry.

Was it that a guitar that old could still exist? That it could still be played, strummed by human hands and make such beautiful music? The mystical mastery of fingers picking the strings. That ‘we’ are capable of crafting an instrument out of wood and strings. And compose music. It was beautiful.

I told Jim it made me cry. He said it makes him want to take guitar lessons. I told him it makes me feel like I’m wasting my life. He just laughed.

He reminded me I’m working hard on my art, and that’s a good thing. He’s right, damnit, but ugh… the stress of trying to do too much is, well, too much.

Today is Friday and the last day of July. It is the last day that’s the window for submissions for the first issue of the good life review will be open. And midnight tonight the window will be closed. At midnight tonight the clock is going to start ticking down for reading, copy editing, author agreements, and all things required to publish that first issue. It’s going to be a lot of work. I need to quit my job.

I have been working hard on my art. The new lit mag is just one of the balls I have thrown into the air and I am trying to figure out how to catch without it falling on my head and cracking my skull open.

I’ve been revising poems and attempting to attend workshops to learn some new things. I haven’t really written a ton of new stuff, but the few things that I have written in 2020 seem like good candidate to continue working on in the future. You know sometimes you get a vibe about a piece of writing. Sometimes there is something in the core of it that remains so strong that you know that even if it looks like garbage on the surface, there could still be a diamond hidden underneath.

Either that or I’m just too emotionally attached to these precious few new poems in my virtual poetry pile. Someone told me once to set aside a new poem for at least six months. Let the emotional attachment fade. Then when you revisit, you can see with a fresh perspective if there’s something worth working on.

I mean I don’t know if I necessarily agree with that, but it does help me justify procrastinating revising new material. 😜

One final thought before I adjourn this session. On this day in history (not sure what year) my parents were married. When I think about that.. I can’t help but realize that if they never met or got married, I would not exist. Or if I did exist I would be a different person completely. Wild!!

Anyhow. That’s it.
Cheers to Friday,
~Miss SugarCookie

2020-06-02 Introducing… The Good Life Review

I’ve sent some of my darlings out into the universe and it’s so tough to let them go when you know life is tough and people are critical and maybe they (my babies) are not wanted or needed and their message will land in the hands of someone too busy with chaos or wrapped up in their own confusion.

I open the door and let my toddling poems wobble out to these strangers in a strange land and I kiss them on the foreheads and wish them well and wave goodbye as they disappear out of sight.

I fear for them, that I haven’t prepared them enough for what it s next. Afraid that I myself am not prepared.

Someone, somewhere equated writing to having children. To babies. To little darlings. I understand this to my core. It echos inside of my body as I realize I gave them life in the same way I gave life to my actual children.

I probably should submit more of my writing but haven’t been very diligent about it. Still, there are a few out in the wild, wandering about the digital forest, looking for a home.

Wouldn’t that be something. A place where all the writing could congregate and the publishers would have to visit that place and convince the writing to come to their home. Flip the script so that the poem has a choice where it wants to live and.. AND go with the one it likes the best, where it feels like it fits in the most among the other poems. Ahhhh… aren’t daydreams satisfying?

You know what else is satisfying? Listening to Sara Bareilles singing “Sweet As Whole”. If you’re having a tough time trying to do good and frustrated with people who just insist on making your life more difficult, I highly recommend listening to this song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IcqRbPk_bk If you are anything like me, I guarantee it will make you smile and also feel empowered to do what you want to and say what you want and write what you want. I won’t spoil it, but check it out and let me know what you think.

I’m going to avoid the elephant in the room for a moment to do some shameless self promotion. Self promotion is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve got well manicured Facebook and Twitter and instagram accounts out there and am not particularly active and frankly hate what these platforms have become and how they have destroyed real human connection and any hope we ever had for uncovering truth.

Still, the world has latched on to them as if it’s a lifeline. Like the blood running through their veins might cease if they don’t get their social media fix or find someone who will listen to what they say and agree with them with tiny like and love buttons. I’m only human, I’m susceptible as anyone to the pull of it all. I can get sucked in my some I m age or video or story and fall down the rabbit hole.

See that? Just there I got sideswiped by my own soapbox! Have you ever been hit in the head with your own soapbox? Incredible!

Anyway. Last week I launched a new website. It’s been about 5 months in the making and I’ve spent literally about 100 hours researching, doing setup for domains, securing accounts at various agencies and building the site. I’ve been organizing meetings, conducting meetings, trying hard to work through issues and solve problems. All of it leading up to the moment when the site was live.

I learned a ton about block editing on WordPress among other things and now have the opportunity to learn a lot about how the submission platform, Submittable, works.

There I was, sitting alone in my living room and hit that “launch” button. It would have been great to throw a party. Gather up all the people who have agreed to be a part of our team and raise a glass to the vision becoming a reality, but alas, that was not meant to be.

No. Instead there is a pandemic and riots and curfews and we’re all sitting in our little corners of the universe alone.

The good news, is that the evil social media beast is good for something and that’s advertising. The word is out and there are little thumbs up and hearts and even a few comments.

See how terrible I am at self promotion? I should have led with the links instead of closing with them. Here’s the shiny new website for the new online literary magazine for which I am the Managing Editor and frankly also playing Oz behind the curtain pushing all the buttons and working the levers and knobs.

Welcome to the Good Life!

If you are a fellow writer and, like me, looking for a good home for your babies or toddlers or teenagers or adult children who don’t seem to want to move out, send them our way. Submissions are now open for our inaugural issue!!

https://thegoodlifereview.submittable.com/submit

You can also check us out on FB (https://www.facebook.com/TheGoodLifeReview/) or Twitter (@goodlifelitmag) if that’s the kind of thing you are into. Kindly remember that we’re just getting started. But like most things in life, you gotta start somewhere or you won’t get anywhere.

OK, that’s it today folks.
Wishing you peace and love,
~Miss Sugarcookie

2020-06-01 What other choice do I have?

A friend of mine texted me out of the blue to ask how I was doing. I said I’m OK, but that I think it’s “the end of days” going on right now. I’m not sure if this hellfire of strangeness is biblical, but it sure feels like it.

It would be just like the Universe to send the Earth into an unrecoverable tailspin just when I finally get my life together and good things start happening. I mean I get married and look what happens. Good grief. (Of course I’m not that self centered but how else does one human being approach trying to make sense of madness and chaos).

2020 – The year a deadly virus travels the globe and threatens the health, safety, and well being of every person on the planet. Humanity is tested to the extreme by the global pandemic. Results are pending.

2020 – The year racial tensions escalated in a way I’ve never experienced in my lifetime. Protests erupt into violence and people are hurt and murdered. Curfews are put in place in my city. Human beings are pushed to the edge of what they can tolerate. A test wrapped snug inside the first test. Results still pending.

2020 – The year America launches people into space for the first time in decades in a venture that was privately funded. Proving to the world that not only are we making progress forward again, but are dedicated to continuing on that path, driven by a desire to explore new horizons and fueled by determination. But how on Earth do we celebrate this when any celebration feels dangerous and disrespectful.

The spiral wraps a little tighter. A coil compressed with so much pressure. What’s a girl to do?

Get involved? Volunteer? Wait out the surge in hiding? Engage in conversations? Actions speak louder than words, but actions have consequences.

2020 – The year I was supposed to get married and now that day is a distant daydream. I’d like to rewind the clock 4 months and hug my friends and parents and siblings again. How long will it be before I can hug you again.

2020 – The year my daughter was supposed to have her senior prom, graduate, and celebrate making it 13 years through school. Senior lock-in-night, prom, skip day, grad parties, and graduation all cancelled save for a 1 hour virtual video I sat alone and watched, crying for her and myself and the fact that like most things, this too will just pass and fade.

2020 – The year I was supposed to finish my MFA. Celebrate with my new crew on the back patio, taking turns saying “cheers” as the sun slides into the trees behind us. The vision of that moment dissolved into a perpetual winter with white noise on an 13 inch laptop screen that constantly reminds me that my “internet connection is unstable”. My hope is hanging on a thread I’ll get to see these folks in person in January. My thesis sits in a box on the floor.

2020 – A year that’s already in shreds and yet I push forward for the launch of a new online lit mag. I turn a blind eye and just do the next damn thing on the checklist because it’s all I can do. I mean, I could have put it on pause. Would that have been the right call? No, I don’t think so. I believe in our mission and the power of words. Maybe this is just what Omaha needs. Maybe our mission and lifting up certain voices will help us all inch forward.

2020 – Almost half way through the year and I can’t stop myself from crying and I don’t care. I’m human and I do as the humans do. It’s these private moments when I’m torn between gratitude and self-pity, between helplessness and empowerment. A yo-yo winding and unwinding on some invisible string.

Maybe it’s the end times, but I don’t think so. The only end times I really believe in is the sun going nova and that’s not supposed to happen for millions of years. I wonder if human beings will still be around when that happens? Probably not. Not if we keep going like we are right now.

It’s June 1st. A new day, a new week, and a new month. All we can really do is put pants on and try, once again, to retain our humanity and find something of the good life in the day.

Wishing You Peace My Friends,
~Miss SugarCookie