Walter Mitty and Dirty Paws

Warning: This post may contain spoilers for The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.

Having seen the trailer for The Secret Life of Walter Mitty a gazillion times, I couldn't wait to see it. And, yes, I loved it, though I'm not sure why.

Well. That's not entirely true.

I, too, am a dreamer. I, too, am more comfortable observing from the sidelines. I, too, have dreams gone stale and unrealized. I, too, set my sights a bit too high.

I desire exotic travel, a grand adventure or better yet, a series of grand adventures. Walter Mitty touched and fueled these places inside me. I ached with him, hesitated with him; leapt, skateboarded and ran with him. Along mountain ridges, through ocean storms and beneath an exploding volcano. I risked it all. I grabbed hold of life. And of love.

I am left now with a haunting song that meanders through the movie and through my head. Icelandic and based on Nordic myth, the title is "Dirty Paws", the band, Of Monsters and Men. I've included it here.

I hope you enjoy.

~ Olivia J. Herrell

Christmas is All Around

"I feel it in my fingers/I feel it in my toes/Christmas is all around me/And so the feeling grows." ~ Billy Mack, Love Actually

I felt a jolt just now when I opened Blogger and read the date of my last post. Three weeks ago. How could I be too busy to do the thing I love most, even more than writing fiction?

It's not the time. I have plenty of that in the evenings. But I've been spending those hours with Lazy Boy and Bugsy Boy, watching Net Flix, Hulu Plus and DVD's.

Yes, I do know that I'm throwing away hours, weeks and even months. But guess what? Miracles have happened along the way, the most profound being this: I have fallen deeply in love with the one person I can't get away from. Me.

It's been a long journey. An intense process. Now transformation has arrived. I don't just see the difference, I FEEL it. I feel loved. Cherished. Cared for. Safe, appreciated, respected, supported, defended, protected. Adored. 

Laugh if you want, but this relationship is quite divine. I'm treated like a queen. And I know that no matter what, I am loved and treasured. Just for being Me. Is there a Man in my future? I sure hope so. But he has big shoes to fill.

Huh. My plan was to recycle a post from a couple of Christmases ago. But what the hay. It was about Love anyway. Love and a Christmas song. Six of one. Half a dozen of the other. Right?

May Love find you this holiday season. Like Christmas, it's All Around.

~ Olivia J. Herrell

Thursday Thoughts: On Being Rude, At Fault and Another's Subject

Today has not been my day.

It started in the morning when I was told I was rude. No. Not just rude, exceedingly rude. My offense? I'd brought along my breakfast (which I do to every 9:00 a.m. meeting) and, because it was in cookie form (healthy oats, chia and tiny chocolate chips) rather than a smoothie, I was rude for not bringing enough for everyone. Really?

In hindsight, isn't it rude to attack a person just because she has a cookie and you don't?

Then I was chased by a woman at a later event. She wanted to talk. I didn't. Call it rebellion, call it boundary-setting, but dang it, enough already. After a personal conversation and two emails, I'm done. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please don't make me.

Suffice it to say, she cornered me before the meal, intent on saying it, that question burning the tip of her tongue, the one I had answered in detail only days earlier. Every time I would say something she'd get a blank look, unable to remember the rest of her thoughts. Then she would. Then it happened again. Finally she looked at me and said, "I can't talk to you."

After a further-deteriorating, disjointed conversation, I once more answered her question. She took exception and countered with a rebuke, whereby I acquiesced.

Are ya getting how I'm feeling about right now?

There is nothing quite like the sting of being made someone else's "subject", is there? Or being blamed for another's own difficulties? I walked away from the exchange, cheeks flaming, knowing that I would resign from the relationship rather than be treated like a lackey.

My lunch, the event I usually enjoy so much, was ruined. I talked to a friend about it. Then called another. Feeling better but still burning, I grabbed a rake and finished off the front yard before my 2:00 appointment. I was huffing and puffing when I finished, even glistening a bit on this chill day, but the burn was gone from my belly.

Later on, there's a conversation to be had and boundaries to be laid. But not today. Today I relish the freedom to be me, to nibble a cookie in public without qualm and to be independent of another's forced servitude.

And that's a really good feeling.

~ Olivia J. Herrell