Fear is Stupid

I have decided that fear is stupid. Fear of failure is a huge hurdle for me. I was born a shy little girl and I have been working for 22 (almost 23) to get over this, so since this is my new age of exploration, a time to stand up and stand out as an individual I am putting fear,- which encompasses everything that is bad- including shyness and fear of failure, IN THE PAST. I will not be scared of the dark anymore, I will not be scared to be myself. I like the country, I like weird music, I like animals in an obsessive manner and I will not be scared to tell everyone about it. I had this great epiphany when I stumbled upon my new favorite blog, The Pioneer Woman. I have always been slightly obsessed with the "pioneer days" and she has this amazing site that just instantly makes me want to be a better person and move to Montana. (or the South, like the original plan, who am I kidding, I have no idea where I will be in four months, but I do have a blog!) Anyway, the point is, fear is no longer going to exist in my life anymore. Welcome to the funnier, sassier, easier going Mandy! Now I have to go religion class... Fear God. That's probably a fear that I shouldn't erase....

and it begins....

I am back to my native land and it feels good. I must say I missed the land of free flowing soda and my cat. I have been back about 20 days and Manchester is now far enough away that it looks like a shiny, golden spec of dust where nothing bad could happen. I am very happy I can now say I have "studied abroad" officially and have seen most of the highlights of England. My report is that I loved the English countryside and that London was pretty hardcore for me. Pocahontas likes to see a little greenery and wildlife every now and then. Too bad I don't have a wise willow to tell me what my next move should be now...

I am honestly going to try harder with the whole blog upkeep thing (it's harder than I thought, or maybe I just get embarrassed, I don't know). Even though no one on earth reads what I write, I don't keep a journal even though I know I should so maybe this will be a more contextual and easier way for me to track myself and my writing. Bluntly, I am attempting to throw myself "out there" in hopes for something to happen. I have too many writers I admire that got their start randomly to not believe with a small part of my being that it could happen to me. And, let's be honest, not much happening in America's job market right now, it can't hurt.

So up next on the Mandy show is a little trinket of spittle I produced today with a prompt to write about an object, any object, as long as it isn't over 10feet (?) It's pretty indicative of where I am at in my life at the current moment, hilarious, but maybe just to me.

The Skeleton and The Cat
The skeleton isn’t mine. It stands up there all day every day and sometimes I wonder if she ever takes it down. Can a skeleton help you study? I’m not sure. I’m not a med student. I also wonder if the cat has noticed the skeleton yet. We’ve been here four days and she seems to have infiltrated every other nook and cranny, but then again she isn’t very good about looking up. She’s more of a close-to-the-ground-type of cat, if that’s possible and I’m pretty sure it would scare her. I wish the skeleton could tell me what she does all day, the cat I mean. I know what she does when I am here, but what about when I’m gone, after I’ve shut the door, locked the deadbolt, felt guilty about leaving her by herself, started my car, and driven to wherever I am leaving her for, then what does she do? I bet she walks around and meows. She does that sometimes when she thinks I have gone out because she doesn’t like being alone. I usually guide her back to me by yelling, “I’m right here Olliebear!” and she will come running, relieved to find me in the next room. Aren’t cats supposed to like being alone? This feeds my curiosity even more about what she does in the condo all day long.
The skeleton just stands up there on top of the bookshelf staring down at the tiny room. I don’t understand why it’s there; I mean do people give these things as gifts? If you get into medical school do you automatically get a skeleton as an entry prize? Or is this the type of skeleton she thought would look intriguing as a decorative piece but turned out not to match the rest of the antique décor and now is banished to the study? Why didn’t she take the skeleton with her on her away rotations? Wouldn’t it be useful in a hospital setting? She could simply say, “point to where it hurts”, but then again brain surgeons probably don’t ask a lot of questions. She didn’t even think that maybe the cat and I wouldn’t want to live alone with a skeleton. Maybe I will hide one of my brother’s wildlife cameras in its ribcage and when I leave it will take a picture of any movement in the room. Then I could know what the cat does. Or maybe, I should focus on not becoming a twenty-two year old cat lady. But perhaps I want to be a twenty-two year old cat lady? Screw it, I love cats.