A Virtue of Trust

By Michelle Carr

  Trust, like love, this word gets thrown around a lot. I trust you. You trust me? Can I trust you? Can you trust me? Sometimes it is said with the full meaning and intention behind it. Other times it is said lightly almost as if the person doesn’t understand the full meaning of the word, but knows it will make them look good to use it.  What does it mean to trust someone … The dictionary tells us that it is something committed and entrusted into ones care for their use or safekeeping. That can mean a lot of things, one thing in particular is someone’s heart, their affections.  To say I trust you and mean it can be a very hard task. It can be especially hard to those who have been hurt emotionally. Most people fall into two categories with this, they are either open with the trust or closed off from it.

  The closed off person has most likely been hurt and hurt badly, maybe once, maybe several times. Their reaction to this is to build walls around themselves. These walls have slammed up, tall and strong.  They keep everyone around them at a safe distance never letting anyone get too close. Never letting anyone see the truly beautiful person they are inside. Because if they did this, they would open themselves up to a chance of being hurt. The fear of the potential hurt makes them keep to themselves. Sometimes allowing only a few very persistent people in. Those persistent people, who continued to chisel at their walls, not giving up until they are allowed in.  And once in, they may not even be truly in. The walled person is always scared that they may need to run once more. Sometimes the closed ones end up all alone, after having shut everyone who cares out.  

  Then there is the person that is open with their trust. They offer it to anyone and everyone. You get it for free. Not a problem. But don’t prove them wrong for offering it to you. Don’t take that gift and stomp on it. Because if you do, these people throw the wall up too, but this time it’s only against you. It may take but one time and you’re done, untrustworthy. Other times they may try and give you the benefit of the doubt, offering you multiple chances to prove them wrong. Chances, that is, until you hit the point of no return. By then it’s too late, the wall that was slowly building brick by brick with every heartache finally crashes into place. The difference with this wall compared to the other above is this wall has been placed with their experience with you. This wall is a lot harder to get through, almost impenetrable.

  I see myself as the latter of the two. As a little girl, my mother often told me about her mother, my grandmother. She was this wonderful saint of a woman that I was never lucky enough to meet. But she too had a big heart, and welcomed everyone in. My mother told me that her mom always looked for the best in people. That no matter what, she believed deep down there was goodness there in everyone. Some people may look on this as naivety or weakness. To me, this was beautiful. To be able to look past everything else about a person and try to help them see the goodness in themselves that you see, inspired me. I want to be that person. So I enter every relationship with a line of respect and trust. I will give and give without question. Loving you for who you are. I will trust you and help you as much as I can.  I will be your best friend, your loudest cheerleader, your shoulder, and confidante. But once you start to prove to me that I’m wrong, I start to place that wall. I don’t like doing it. I don’t like believing that it is needed. But sometimes it is. And when a person hurts me and those around me too much, the need for protection steps in. I know now, what I didn’t know as a child that even though everyone has it, some people take a long time to find that inner goodness. Some never do. It is not healthy to allow someone to continually crush you. I know now, that sometimes, you have to distance yourself in order to keep yourself. Though this is not something I enjoy doing, it’s just necessary.

  In the end, I’m me and I’m always going to offer trust and friendship up right away. I would rather do that and be proven wrong, than to not have ever experienced true friendship. Though my heart may take some hard hits along the way, I am completely blessed by those who are indeed true. I am very grateful to be trusted and loved as well by the wonderful people who have never made that wall appear. Those relationships are ones I wouldn’t trade for the world. 

Photo by Martin Barraud/OJO Images / Getty Images

Vive La France

By Michelle Carr

I’m walking as quickly as I dare to. My feet are slightly uncomfortable and I am kind of wishing that I had worn my tennis shoes instead my chucks. But the desire to complete my outfit with my black and white shoes had outweighed the need for comfort this morning. Damn the curse, that comes with the need to look somewhat put together. The long black apron continuously brushes against the middle of my shins and I pray that it stays in place. I can imagine the apron sliding down my legs, becoming entangled around my feet, causing me to trip and fall on my face. As I try to push the image from my mind, I hear him. Him being that cute little boy who has been pacing me since shortly after the beginning. He runs a head of me. Just as he passes, his now empty plastic cup flies from his tray and hits the ground directly in front of my feet. Kid dead stops, he swoops for what seems like the millionth time to retrieve his cup.  I nervously switch my eyes to my tray and watch my so very essential water levels as I sashay around him. From having already done this dance multiple times, I feel as though I am about to reach the expert level. The sun beats down on me as I near the second turn and I feel sweat forming in spots all over my body.  We have only reached the halfway mark.  My legs are starting to cramp from the unsupportive shoes. My hand that is holding my precious water is starting to weaken and shake.  Once more the boy’s footfalls land in my ears and I sense him starting to pass. I prepare myself for what’s to come. What strange form of torture it this? Why am I doing it? Well I’ll explain. But I have to go back a bit to do so.

    I was in the fourth grade, there was some kind of mini drawing and they pulled only so many names out of a hat. Mine was one of the lucky names drawn. The selected few, were given the chance to join up with other students and travel down to the gym. Sounds like the start of some Marvel movie, I know. But what we were chosen for wasn’t a mutant experiment. It was to learn a foreign language from some volunteering high school students. There were several different options to choose from and we got to pick which one we wanted to learn. The only thing I could tell you from that moment of choosing was that I knew French was the language of love. Even at nine, the hopeless romantic part of me had already started to form. I was more excited than I thought humanly possible, as we spent those few days learning only a handful of words and phrases. We were also taught a little of the culture. Yet, even in this short amount of time, the seed that grew into my love for the language and country was firmly planted.

   By the time I was entering into high school, I knew the language I would take would be French. I adored everything about my class. I enjoyed learning a new language, one that my brother and I used later to have secret conversations while around other family members. He had chosen to take the course as well and we both shared a mutual love for everything French. I remember, he and I staying up late to catch parts of the mini -series The Count of Monte Cristo on television, the older one with Gerard Depardieu. We watched it with the English subtitles on but we tried our best to pick up as much as we could without reading them. I, myself, even became one of the volunteering high school students that traveled to an elementary school to share the love of French with younger children. In my love for this place that I’ve never been, I may romanticize it to be more than it is, But hey that’s a part of dreaming, right? At some point I don’t remember exactly when, I decided that one day I was going to France. I would travel all over its country and I would immerse myself within its culture. That I would one day look upon the city of love from the top of the Eiffel Tower, stroll along the Seine and lose myself inside the Louvre for hours on end. This became a firmly planted goal not a wish.

   So when I was told of the celebration that the town of Fortville, Indiana put on in honor of Bastille Day, I knew I had no choice but to go. Bastille Day or Le Fete Nationale, as they say in France is the celebration of the French Revolution of 1789. It is very similar to our Fourth of July. One of the co-founders of the Fortville celebration said that she grew homesick after the Fourth of July Celebration in 2009. Since Gabrielle Hendryx- Park wanted her children to experience, she & her husband organized a small celebration in their front yard. Over fifty people showed up to celebrate this impromptu 14th of July holiday. Gabrielle was encouraged by this and approached the town about hosting the French event in a bigger venue. The very first official Indiana Bastille Day was hosted on July 2010. It is free for all people to join in the festivities. And there are many things one can do while you are there. I, for example, had to partake in a banana and Nutella Crepe. I watched eagerly, as it was prepared completely in front of me by the Crepe Guys. Its light and fluffy texture was made complete by the hazelnutty banana goodness it held inside.  I also got to try French soda made from Strawberry flavored Teisseire and Perrier. C’etait vraiment delicieux.  Kids got to have balloon objects made, faces painted & create paper lanterns all while listening to French music performed live on stage. There were people who walked around dressed in clothes worn during the time period of the revolution. There was even a fashion show that the young people performed in. People could also test their skills out in a few games of petanque. There were so many fun activities to do and things you could see & buy. I was indeed a very happy girl as we walked the promenade.  

  Then can the crème de la crème, the Waiter’s race. This is where I left myself earlier. When I heard of this Waiter’s Race I thought it sounded like hilarious fun. You tie a giant black apron around your waist, this apron holds your number. You then get a black waiter’s tray, upon it they place a plastic cup filled to the top line with Perrier water and the remaining water in the bottle is added as well. You have to hold the tray with one hand only through the entirety of the half a mile race. You can only walk or speed walk the laid out trail. If you touch the tray or items on the tray with the unused hand at any time, you lose seconds from your time. The winner is judged by who gets to the end the quickest and with the most remaining water in their containers. Well for those of you that don’t know me well. I am quite simply the clumsiest person you will ever know. So this race was going to challenge me on so many levels.

 I prepared myself for the fact that I would have to laugh at myself the whole time, especially if I dumped my water all over me. This was more than likely to happen. I tied the apron around my waist and it hit my lower shins. I was given my tray, my water and I tried my best to place my hand in its most comfortable position. ( my palms were already sweating) We lined up. The first and also last part of the race would be through the grass. THE GRASS. That is the one thing I know I can’t run on without twisting an ankle or just randomly dropping to say “Hello” to the ground. Well, so far this looks to not be in my favor. But all in good fun, all in good fun.  So we head off. I’m doing pretty well. Kids are all in front, I started in the back. Poor boy drops his tray and its entire contents as he hits the pavement.  He is gone again by the time I reach his spill. I round the first corner and there sits a police SUV. The officer behind the wheel reaches towards my tray and says “Why thank you ma’am” jokingly, like I had brought him water. I try to maneuver my tray away from his outstretched hand and spill my first drops of water. Oops! Okay, its okay, I haven’t spilled that much and clearly others have spilled more. I could be doing much worse. I began to find my groove and start to pass people. I am amazed with myself that I’m not spilling much water. Now the little boy and I begin our dance. I make it to the third turn and feel that my shoe is loose on my left foot. I chance a glance down toward my feet and notice to my dismay that my shoe is untied. I have no time to stop so I continue on in hopes that I don’t trip. What else could possibly go wrong? I am nearing the end now. I know I am not one of the first to cross, but I have almost finished and I haven’t spilled too much of my water so I’m feeling pretty good about this whole thing. As I near the final turn I have to cross a small parking lot. I’m not that far behind the other waiters but I guess this is just my luck that as I stepped up to the cars one would back out in front of me. “No one would ever believe me.” I think to myself and begin to laugh out loud. This, I think, startled the driver whose window had been down. He looked over at me and looked immediately sorry for having paused my race. I wave at him to show no hard feelings. When my path is clear, I began again and finish with the race with a good amount of water still. And no matter all the craziness I didn’t spill any on myself like I thought I would, so WIN!!

   All in all the Fortville, Indiana Bastille Day was an amazing thing to behold. Something I was very glad to be able to share with my children. It was a festival I would definitely travel back to experience again and again. Just while wearing slightly more comfortable shoes, mind you. And I will most definitely be practicing my waiter skillz… So next year guys watch out! ‘Til then Vive la France!

Source: http://www.townepost.com/geist/indiana-bastille-day-brings-french-culture-to-fortville/

Love Wins

      By: Michelle Carr
  
     Twelve years ago a man and a woman were married. At the reception, like every reception, the DJ called for all the single ladies to form a group and prepare to catch the bouquet. There was one lady who was hesitant to join in. But with some urging from her friends, she finally fell in with the rest of the pack. Now if any of you have ever witnessed a bridal bouquet toss, you know that they can get rather brutal. And increasingly such as the number of single ladies in the group is greater. This group was pretty large and there were many very flower hungry girls. The bride anxiously turned her back to the girls and grasped the specially made bouquet tightly in her hands. After a short delay, she took a deep breath and tossed the bouquet hard over the back of her head. Without pause, she eagerly spun to see who the lucky recipient would be. Turns out it was the lady who at first hadn’t wanted to join in. This quiet and dear friend approached the bride with a very troubled expression on her face. 
  “Here take them back and redo it.” She tried to hand the captured bouquet back. Now it was the bride’s turn to look disturbed. 
  “Why would I do that? You caught them, they are yours.” The bride replied feeling very confused that her friend would even try to return them when all the other girls would’ve ran happily away with their prize. 
  “Because …” The friend explained. “They are meant to signify the next person to get married… And I will never be able to get married. So it isn’t fair that I caught the bouquet.” The friend told her softly without trying to draw too much attention to herself and looked slightly uncomfortable.  Seeing her friend so bothered, upset the bride. She understood exactly what she was trying to say. Her heart hurt at the thought that anyone would be denied the happiness that today had brought her, simply because of who they loved. Being the stubborn person she is, she was determined that she wasn’t going to redo anything. So she smiled at her friend instead.
  “No, you keep them. You are a single lady and you caught them fair and square. Just because you aren’t allowed to marry now doesn’t mean that it will always be that way.” She held her hands away showing that she wouldn’t dare take them back.  “You keep the flowers, I insist, because one day the world will change. And when it does you will have them waiting.”
  “I don’t know about that.” The friend still seemed unsure. “Are you sure you don’t want to redo it?”
  “I’m sure. You keep them. You might be surprised one day.” The bride broadly smiled at her friend. She hoped with all of her heart that she would be right. That they would both live to see their world change in this way. The friend finally smiled and agreed to keep the flowers. As the years passed by, the bride wondered if her friend had held onto the cloth bouquet that symbolized so much. A couple of years ago she received a message with a picture of the flowers. Her friend let her know that she did indeed still have them. She had kept them in a vase all this time. 
  Today, June 26, 2015, the Supreme Court ruled by a 5- to - 4 vote that the Constitution guarantees the right to same- sex marriage. This now makes same sex marriage legal in all states. Upon hearing this news, this wife’s thoughts immediately drifted back to that day so long ago. To that moment when I so confidently told my friend this day would come. I wished immediately that I had her number still so I could call her and tell her “See it happened!!! It’s here! The world took it’s time, but it is changing. You can have that day as well now.” I am happier than I can fully express at this change that this day has brought. No longer will same sex couples be denied the ability to express their love for each other through marriage. No longer will they have to fight for the legitimacy of their relationship. In every state, they are now granted these rights and it is a truly beautiful thing that should’ve happened long before now. 
  I know that there are many out there who don’t agree with this ruling and will try to fight it. I know some will have negative comments to say and will do what they can to make this change difficult. But the truth remains that change is in the air. The light is growing and it won’t be stopped or put out. You can’t deny or stop love for it is the most powerful thing in this world. Today folks LOVE WON!!!!!!  And to my dear friend, I apologize that I couldn’t call you. You are in my thoughts none the less, and I want you to know that I’m so very happy that you kept those flowers. 

Much Ado Over Summer

By Michelle Carr
 
Early morning’s sun waiting to say hello as soon as you wake
Warm morning walks taken without the need of a jacket
Fragrant smells from the flowers that are now in full bloom
Calm, heat induced relaxing feeling you derive from the sun
Browning skin, revealed by shorts, tanks and “barely there” clothes
Lightened locks shining brilliantly under the sun’s rays
Spontaneous morning trips made down to the pool
Mixture of freezing chlorine water and hot beaming rays
Floating on your back, ears under water, shutting out the world’s sounds
Lounging poolside, drink in one hand and favorite reading material in the other
Constant sweet smell of sunscreen lingering in the air
Beads of sweat forming on your forehead and running down your body
Giant gulps of ice cold tea slowly cooling your insides
Frozen blocks of ice sliding down the glass against your lips
Enchanting melody of the truck that promises frozen treats 
Giggling children frolicking to and fro outdoors
Humming lawnmowers cutting diagonal lines into yards
Scent of wild onions and sweet corn during country drives
Concert days and music in the park, music and dancing
Sweltering days turn to slightly cooler nights
Nights filled with outdoor activities, cold beer and friends
Fireflies repeatedly blinking as the light slowly darkens
Shot fired, fizzles and booms before brightly colored gunpowder lights the sky
Celebrations with loved ones, laughter, music and togetherness
Low built fires, citronella candles burning 
Sugary snacks built from chocolate, marshmallows & crackers
Tired young ones, covered with the hints of outdoors carried to bed
Thin PJ’s tossed on, sore sun burnt bodies nestle into bed
Dreams of the passing day and new ones possibilities filling our heads

Faith

By: Michelle Carr

  I have a confession. A confession that I’m not happy to have to admit. I have been quiet due to the fact that I’ve been stuck. Yes, my words have been locked up inside. Why? Because even I have bad days. I know, I know it’s a shocker right? But sadly, I let something someone said get to me more than I should have. As much as I would like to say that such things don’t bother me, when it comes from someone close it does. I find myself not only lost because of their words, but frustrated at myself for allowing it to bother me. How can I possibly encourage others when I feel lost myself? I try and shut it out. Tell myself it doesn’t matter, that they just don’t understand. But it does matter.
  It matters because though they may not understand what I am doing or why, their words made me doubt myself. Their thoughts made me question everything that I have worked on so far. Fed my inner voice that is always telling me that this or that is not good enough. Makes me question the path that I have chosen to take because it isn’t the same course as someone else. Because I don’t want to find my thoughts being limited to thinking inside the box. I don’t want to change the thing about me that I feel makes me different. It also made me wonder if I was really doing anything helpful at all. That the all the things I have started doing may not really be making a difference because they couldn’t see it. It’s frustrating, because no matter how many times I try to explain the great need I feel to create things and express myself, I can’t make you understand it if you’ve never felt it before. 
  For the first time in a very long time, I have been happy with the things I’m doing. I look forward to getting up every day and creating something or working to bring about change. It isn’t always writing, sometimes its images, pictures, sketches and such. And I use these things to try express whatever inner turmoil or joy that I am feeling at that time. I often use my words to try and inspire or motivate others. There is hardly any better feeling than that of knowing that something you did made someone else’s day even just a bit better. I love knowing that I made someone smile or laugh, even if it is a friend that I have never met in person. I have been able to not only express myself but I’ve also been able to use my voice to try and fight for the things that I believe in. This is something else that I have always wanted to do but never felt capable of doing. There is something rewarding about feeling as though you are helping to bring something good in the world. Even if that means that you are being paid for it. It’s not about that. It’s about bringing change, helping to make the world a better place in which to live. I can’t tell you how amazing it feels working towards brighter goals. But then in the time span of a day, I found myself questioning everything. It’s never easy when you find yourself questioning if you are taking the right paths for your passions. Especially when those paths seemed so clear before.  And for several days I was stuck. Locked in silence. I tried other creative methods to clear away the block that had my voice silenced inside but nothing seemed to work.  
  Then just as suddenly as my doubt respawned, something remarkable happened. I was talking to a relative and they had not been aware of everything I had been doing. They knew about my blog but they had yet to read it… (trying not to let this bother me) But what I did find out was a very good friend of ours does. That he has read every single one and keeps an eye open waiting for my next post. In that moment I realized, that even though the people closest to me may not get it, there are those I’ve affected that do. Even though I may not be aware of the fact that I am doing so, it’s still happening. And that while I was too busy fighting the emotions of sadness and confusion from a loved one’s lack of faith in me, that there are others whose faith is there. It is from those who have supported me that I draw my strength to shrug of the doubt and the anger I felt at myself for feeling that way. It is for those who make me smile and feel good about being me, that I carry on. I hope that I can help you to feel the same way when you need it. Because even those of us who are determined to bring a positive light into this world still manage to have our share of bad days. We just have to keep trudging forward, knowing that it won’t always be this way. That in order to have sunshine and flowers we have to have a little rain sometimes. Carry on my friends, carry on. Know that you always have someone here that believes in you.
  

Fire For Life

By: Michelle Carr

  In my head, I often compare people to stars. Each of us having our own unique fire burning inside of us, the fire for life &  our passions that we hold so dear. It is up to us to determine how brightly our light will shine. The world is full of these twinkling stars that have so much potential and whose paths may or may not cross. During our lifetimes we encounter many such stars. Some of whom are with us our whole lives, slowly burning and nurturing our spark. Others may appear in and out like a shooting star, a brilliant flash of light. Even though they may have only been with us for a short amount of time, their flame burns so intensely that it marks our soul. Thus leaving us changed forever. 
  I have felt for a long time, that in this randomly well-organized universe there is a plan, fate or destiny you may call it. That everyone that comes into your life is there for a reason. Your path is connected to those which belong to the people whom you are destined to meet. Though it may take a while to become active this connection is one that can never be broken. You can dance circles around each other, never noticing the other until one of you makes the pivotal choice needed. The choice that sends your paths onto the course that causes your stars to collide. Usually this happens when you have need for this person, whether you realize the need or not. But the two of you were meant to meet at that time to fill the existing void. I truly believe this is why we can met some people and after a very short time we feel completely connected to them. That feeling that even though you don’t know each other well, you have known them your whole life. This usually comes with an amazing amount of trust. These collisions don’t happen very often, but when they do it is an amazing experience. Keep these people close and make sure to nurture this relationship often. For these connected stars are meant to help us create beauty in the world.
  There are also the stars whose light has dimmed or gone dark. They are often drawn to your brightness as a way to escape the black. Your light can be the very thing that can help push aside their grey and feed their inner fire. The more you shine for them, the stronger they reflect that light. Until the time comes when  they can once again keep their own fire burning bright. I have experienced this myself. The need of having my own spark dim and then later finding the help to relight it. It is an amazing feeling to once again have my passions aflame. To be free of the shadows that I was lost in for so long. 
  You might not know when you are the ray of light for someone who needs help escaping their hell. You might be surprised at all those you affect in your own life. So it is vital that we try our very best at being the best us that we can be. Smile as often as you can, I know it’s not always easy. But if you can, do so, for they are very contagious. Do something nice for someone else. It can be something small like popping in just to say hello, letting someone go ahead of you in line, or even sharing a drink. Any small act of kindness without expectations of a return can go such a long way. Spread some love and joy around. Never ever forget or be afraid to tell those you care about that you love them. They need to hear it. Life is too short sometimes and those we care about can be gone in the blink of an eye. So make sure that you show them often how you feel. Always pay good deeds forward. Let your fire burn strongly, BECOME THE LIGHT. For together we can make the world a much brighter place, one person at a time. 

Credit to the owner found @ www.fimfiction.net

Raise Your Voice, Save the Paws

 By: Michelle Carr
  
  Lately my attention has been drawn to a matter that has greatly sickened me. It is one of those things that you may have heard stories of but had hoped that it was not real. Because the mere thought of something like this happening was just too horrific to imagine. What am I referring to you ask? It’s an annual festival that is held in Yulin, China on June 21. A festival that has recently been denied but still continues to take place. Why does this festival bother me? Well it is because of the food they choose to eat at this festival. The main courses of this day include none other than the meat from dogs and cats. Yes, you read that right, dog and cats. This is not culture by any means, this is the slaughtering of innocent animals.
  The Chinese lore behind this is that the eating dog meat during this inaugural day of summer will bring you good luck and health. Because of this thinking, they estimate that tens of thousands of dogs are killed for this day alone. This practice includes the rounding up of stray animals and sometimes even the kidnapping of beloved pets to sell in the market. Many animals are seen still wearing their collars as they are held in cages to be sold. Often times, they are caged with many others and with very little room to move. Trapped inside with no food or water, several die from shock, dehydration and starvation before they are even sold. And in some cases, the animals, in times of desperation, will turn on each other. If they are lucky enough to survive this, they are then subjected to other torturous acts that may include being beaten, shaved, butchered, skinned alive, and some dishes even require the poor animals to be boiled alive. 
  The demand of this meat also encourages dog meat farms where people trap, beat and torture the animals until the time arrives that they can be sold. These people are only after profit. They don’t see these defenseless animals that can become or are a member of one’s family. They ignore the whimpers and howls from the pain they cause. They see these innocents as nothing more than merely a product to be sold. Cash to line their pockets. Their conscious was checked at the door. 
 The secretary of the Yulin Food Service did say that the Yulin Dog Meat festival wouldn’t happen this year and that the government doesn’t endorse it. But the same thing was said the year past and even though the results were not as bad as before, thousands of animals still lost their lives. It seems that even though the announcement was made and restaurants removed the word dog from their signs, these activities still occurred. The acts still happened just on an undercover scale and without the title of a festival. The fact that the government is backing away from the festival, shows that the words of outrage from all over has had an impact. Many Chinese citizens are also appalled by these acts and are doing what they can to help put an end to it completely. A proposal for a ban has been sent to the National People’s Congress by NYC deputy Zheng Xiaohe. It has been reported that it had the support of 30 other NPC representatives.  But it will be months before a formal reply could happen and it may not happen until after this year’s celebration.  
  We need to raise the awareness of this atrocious day. We need every voice we can get to express their rage and disgust. Because if we all speak loud enough for these precious creatures who can’t speak for themselves, we can save them. Together we can stop this from happening this year and ever year to come. Won’t you please join me in this fight? If you are an animal lover you must. Below I have included a link of multiple petitions that are being signed and set to help end this forever. Please sign all and share. SPREAD THE WORD! Let others who may not be aware of these acts know what is happening and how we can stop it! Together we can ban the eating of dogs and cats. Together we can BE THE CHANGE.

Petitions Link: https://sites.google.com/site/yulinpetitions/

Sources: 
https://www.change.org/p/president-of-the-people-s-republic-of-china-stop-the-yulin-dog-meat-eating-festival    
http://time.com/2891222/china-dog-eating-festival/ 
https://www.thedodo.com/china-yulin-dog-meat-trade-1113447741.html 

Credit to the owner- unknown

I Am the Echelon

  By Michelle Carr

  For me, my love of the band started in 2005 with one song, A Beautiful Lie, and a familiar face. I didn’t realize Jared Leto was the vocalist of Thirty Seconds to Mars until after I fell in love with the song. I was completely in awe. I loved the music, the lyrics seemed to speak to me. Everything I heard from them I found amazing and was blown away. I can’t tell you how many times I listened to their CD, A Beautiful Lie. But every time was just as good as hearing it for the first time.
  When 30STM came out with This Is War, I wasn't aware of everything they had gone through to make that album. But in listening to the songs, I could tell there was a big change from what I had heard before. There was a now burning rage beneath the lyrics. The challenge to accept a fight. I learned about what had happened to the band from their Artifact documentary. Knowing the story behind the songs, they all began to make sense. I was angered by fact that they were sued and almost lost the ability to do the thing they loved most, make music. I couldn’t help but join in on the songs as if I were joining them in the fight. I was moved and inspired beyond words by this CD. I grew a whole new found respect for this group of guys that I had already grown to love. That is when I knew for certain that I am an Echelon. An Echelon being a member of the family that formed from the mutual love and respect for 30STM.
   Then when I seemed to need it the most, I began to hear the message:

Follow your dreams. Don’t give up. Believe. 

Even though these were things I had heard repeatedly in the past, I listened this time. I think for the most part, it hit home because they themselves had just went through a horrible battle fighting for their own art. As I heard the repeated message to follow your dreams, a fire grew inside of me. I realized that I couldn’t go any longer without pursuing mine. I knew in order to be at the happiest that I could be I needed to stop making excuses and just do it. So I took a leap, jumped back into what had always given me the greatest of joys, writing. I have reconnected with that part of myself that I had believed was gone. I pulled my lost self out of the rubble, dusted her off and embraced her tightly. Now, I have taken steps that I had convinced myself were no longer possible for me. I live every day following my dreams, pushing myself to see what I can accomplish.
  Slowly through Instagram, Vyrt and Twitter, I started to discover other members of the Echelon family. I am blown away everyday by how creative, beautiful and simply wonderful everyone in this family is. They are some of the most open minded, daring and compassionate people that I have ever met. I happily embrace all those whose paths I cross, as they have embraced me. I am so lucky to have my Echelon brothers and sisters in my life. We all started with loving the music, the band and then found something more. Each and every one of us knows it’s not just the band or the music (as wonderful as it is) but the sense of community and love. We have found our family in this group of misfits, people who are flawed and yet simply a perfect fit for us. We share an understanding, the need to be ourselves. We fight for our dreams and the things that we are most passionate about. We are the dreamers, the believers.  We are the leaders of change, each doing his or her own part to try and make this world a better place. From Mars and the Echelon, I am inspired daily to better myself and become the person I have always wanted to be. I am constantly motivated to follow my dreams and dream bigger, never stopping. I have found comfort and love. Among the Echelon, I have found my home. I am and will always be proud to say I am the Echelon.
  I know that many people won’t understand and even perhaps think that I’m a little nutty. But it’s okay if you do, I don’t mind. Just because these things have affected me so, doesn’t mean they will for you. I encourage you all to find what does have this effect on you. Find what makes you happy. Find what inspires you. What helps to make you to be the best you that you can be. Now embrace it. Be brave and jump in with everything you are. Because we are only really truly happy when we start to follow our hearts.

It Isn't Always Easy Being GREEN

By Michelle Carr

  Today is Earth Day!!!! The day that we all remember how fragile our home really is. It is often the day we tell ourselves that we are going to do a better job of trying to be GREEN. Though our intentions come from a very pure place, we often fall back into our regular patterns as the days progress further and further from the celebrated GREEN day. I know I am guilty of such actions myself. I have the strong wish to be better but with the craziness that life brings I end up telling myself that it’s too hard to go all the way. That I just don’t have time to do the things that I should be doing. 
  I have always wanted to be that person that recycles or reuses everything. That lives clean and GREEN. That grows my own veggies and uses everything I have until it is impossible to do anything else with it. I want to be that girl that walks or rides a bike to places that are near., and keeps her footprint to a minimum. But alas, no matter how often I walk behind people and turn off the lights there are always some that I have missed. My recycle collection doesn’t ever seem to make it to its designated home.  And as much as I love walking, I live too far from the store to walk or ride a bike. I don’t have a green thumb, and try as I might,my gardens never seem to thrive. Every time, I start to think that this time will be different, my plants start to die. I am literally proof that not everyone born in Indiana was destined to be a farmer. 
  But in my never ending search to learn new things, I stumbled upon a book called It’s Easy Being Green by Crissy Trask. Now I’ve only just started this book, but I’ve already been opened to a new way of thinking when it comes to being GREEN. Here’s the secret… you don’t have do it all at once!!!! Like losing weight it’s not about dieting… it’s about life changes! Making adjustments here and there, tweaking the things you do and how you do them can make all the difference. Some things you may even been doing already and just never even thought about it, ie using a reusable water bottles versus buying bottled water. And the amazing thing is, that even small changes can really make a difference if you do them continuously over a long period of time.  
 We all know that riding a bike versus driving a car is an excellent way to be GREEN, but isn’t always the easiest if your destination is far. But if you need to go a reasonable distance it can also be a great form of exercise too. There are also things as simple as remembering to use recyclable cloth bags instead of paper or plastic when you go to the store can really help. I have a bad habit of using them for a while and then forgetting to take them with me once and it’s done. I know it’s not easy to remember, but in the effort of change, I’m going to work really hard to remember to take them back out to my car each time I’m done. Reading about the effects that the making of paper and plastic products has on our planet, I know that we need to limit how much we use both these items. And not only just recycle said products but look for products made from recycled items such as recycled paper. 
  What I have learned is that I don’t have to jump completely into being GREEN right from the start. This knowledge makes it seem so much easier than I had previously believed. That it is ok to make the gradual changes. Remember that the smallest of changes can make a difference as long as you make them a habit. There is no being a hypocrite when trying to be GREEN, it’s ok not to change everything at once. It is that fact that you are making an effort be better that is what matters. Just remember not to ask  people to do things that you yourself aren’t willing to do. Goodness knows, I am the forever work in progress.  This is something I feel I really need to work on. I promise to do my very best to be the change and I hope you will too. Let’s challenge ourselves this year to not only try to be GREEN today but to do so from here on out. Find some changes you can make and put them into practice. Because if all of us work together we can make all the difference in the world. It really is easier to look after our home than we believe it to be. Please join me in being the change. 

Hate is not a Value

By: Michelle Carr

  Just as there are times that inspiration takes over, there are also times when you just have to stand up and shout loudly about the things you feel are an injustice. In the light of the past couple of weeks with the Indiana Religious Freedom Law issues, I have found myself feeling greatly disappointed. I can’t help but feel that due to the decisions of some, our state has taken a leap back into the past. This decision not only causes undue discrimination, but also hurts our state’s image as others believe that all Hoosier’s support it.  It also hurts the state economically as businesses and big events shy away from allowing us to host. 
  After my initial disgust at this bill, I did some research on in it to make sure I wasn't making a bigger deal of it than need be. What I discovered made me feel completely justified in my feelings of disappointment and anger that I have towards this new law. Even though I had already felt this was taking us away from a more tolerant place, I couldn't figure out why so many attacked Indiana so fiercely when other states had implemented similar laws. What I learned was even though 19 other states do have a version of the Religious Freedom Law theirs mirrors the federal law that was put into place during the Clinton administration.  According to Senator Chuck Schumer, who introduced the federal law back in ‘93, these laws were made to basically protect individuals from the government infringing on their religious beliefs. The federal law was not thought to and cannot be used to justify discriminating against anyone regarding sexual preference due to religious beliefs or any other reason. The federal law doesn’t protect companies or corporations from such, considering them as entering the marketplace voluntarily. This was never intended to protect businesses as private individuals. Businesses were considered to have made the choice to work with the public, the public being everyone.
  The law that Indiana put into effect is worded differently so that it does not mirror the law the 19 other states. Indiana’s version is worded to protect businesses as individuals. Treating a company as an individual, now allows businesses to enter into the marketplace and then have a defense if they decide to choose which public they will work with. This new wording, can give way for companies and corporations to discriminate against those whose actions do not fit into their beliefs. Without having any nondiscrimination laws in place in Indiana, this new law could be used not only for sexual orientation matters but also for any other subjects that may conflict with religious beliefs. This could potentially open the door for other types of discrimination to take place. I can’t help but feel we have stepped back into a world that supports discrimination. 
   Religious supporters of the law state that the law is to help protect those from being forced to do jobs that are against their religious beliefs. I am a huge believer in following one’s moral beliefs. I myself have stood up many a times against doing something that I knew was wrong and could potentially hurt someone. But there is a difference in stopping from causing one harm and turning away someone because they are different. As someone who grew up in the church, I could never understand why we were taught to love one another (everyone) and yet continued to set some people apart from ourselves. To me these sets of ideals seemed to conflict and always seemed confusing. 
  One of the stories I remember the most from my youth spent in the church was the one of The Good Samaritan. It was a lesson we were taught along the lines of love thy neighbor. This parable was told by Jesus to answer the question of who thy neighbor is. Basically, this story went that a man was beaten, stripped and left dying on the side of the road. A priest, a man of the cloth, passed him and failed to help. Then a Levit passed him by and did the same thing. Neither stopped to help the dying man. Then a Samaritan came by. The Samaritan stopped and gave the man the help he needed. The Samaritan didn't care about the man’s religion, race, sexual orientation or social status. He didn't ask him these things before offering to help. He simply saw a man in need and helped him. The Samaritan, as the hero in the story, was a shock to Jesus’s audience because they and the Jews were thought to despise each other. He was considered the least likely person to offer help. This story had a great impact on me as a child. It helped to teach me acceptance and compassion for my fellow man. Those were key factors I wanted to associate with religion, acceptance and compassion. But as the days go by, it feels like those ideals have become lost in the hunt for the self-preservation of one’s religious beliefs.
  I will never understand how people who are supposed to be the following the teachings of a man, who was believed to treat everyone as an equal, can go so far to push non-followers away. These are the same teachings that instilled me the passion that I feel in making sure that everyone is treated fairly. The passion that demands that we should be spreading LOVE not hate into the world. I, myself, will to the best of my ability fight for equality for all. As a mother, my job is to also ensure that my children look on everyone as the people they are and not to look only for their differences. I dream of a world in which we all stop using those differences as an excuse to treat others poorly. A world where LOVE is promoted, not hate. Even though I know a Utopian society seems far fetched, I will always dream that one day we will as a human race learn to overlook the things that separate us. A day when things such as race, gender, sexual preference and social status will fall away and we will simply be humans. Take care my friends and LOVE on. 

Sources: www.cnn.com/2015/04/01/politics/indiana-religion-law-text/ ; wikipedia

For the Love of Art

                         By Michelle Carr

  This post is of its own mind. I was totally prepared to write about my family vacation last week. Share my funny insights regarding our trip to Anna Maria Island in Florida and apologize for the small break I took from posting. But today my heart and mind are floating elsewhere and the words seem to have taken over. Sometimes you just need to express your feelings and I guess today is that day. 
  If you have read any of my other posts, or if you are familiar with me at all, you know I love creativity. I love art in all its forms, whether it be in the form of a drawing, sculpting, writing, music or any of the other multiple avenues. I am always excited to see what gifts people have and am intrigued by the way they use them to express their thoughts and feelings. It is truly awe inspiring to witness someone create something from nothing. This love for creativity is one I’ve had for as long as I can remember. That is why I am so conflicted by these three things that affected me this past week. I witnessed someone trying to practicalize a dreamer, an artist losing his true self to find the spot light, and another amazing artist put down for being mortal. 
  These things have plagued my head, made my heart heavy and I walked the beach trying to clear them away. And these thoughts and feelings felt the need to be expressed. As anyone who has a gift and the dream of sharing it with the world knows, you are your worst critic. You have a voice inside you that constantly tells you that you are not good enough. That you are crazy to think that what you do is any good and you are insane to think that anyone would even care to see it. No matter how well you succeed in what you are doing, you always carry this voice inside. It is what keeps you pushing yourself to be better, it is what helps you to succeed. So you see as an artist you already have to battle with yourself. And if you are strong enough to push that voice down and set forth anyway you have accomplished a lot. But then you come across those who don’t understand. They are the more practical people, the ones who see dreamers as people walking around with their heads in the clouds. They may even view artists as lazy people. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being a practical person, the world needs them too. It’s just that when an artist, a dreamer, is taking the uncharted path, often times the practical person will feel the need to set them on the marked one. But what they don’t see is that they are just making it that much harder on the person to succeed in what they love doing. By trying to set them straight, they are forcing the artist to fight not only their own doubts but the doubts that the others feel too. What the practical person doesn’t realize is that if they had perhaps encouraged the person instead, then the artist might’ve succeed beyond their wildest dreams. But often times these battles prove to be too much for the dreamers and they settle in doing whatever practical job comes along. Then sadly, whatever beauty they may have had to share with the world is most likely lost.
  I know what this feels like. I know what it is to be the odd one out. It’s not a smooth ride. The battles you fight to follow your dreams won’t be short or easy. But if you are determined, you will make it through. Just don’t give up. I, myself, am now of the mind that when someone tries to convince me that I should be doing something else, I want to prove them wrong. I feel a very strong need to show them what I can do. I take that confusion that I felt from it  and shift it into my motivation to prove to them that I can go the different route and succeed. That the unmarked path is only uncharted because no one else has dared to take it before and I will make it through to the end. I use their doubts to fuel my fight to do what I love instead of shy away from it. I have already spent too much of my life doing the things I thought I should and not the things that I love to do. I know I am much happier now. I am happy knowing that somewhere out there I may have helped someone else too. 
  Then there comes the need to share. I, as a writer, totally understand the need to want to share your gift with others. You want to allow others to partake in whatever wonderfully inspired creation you have made. Share with them the feelings it invoked in you. You do this hoping that others will relate and find the beautiful in it as well. But there are some who feel the need to share their work with as many people as they can as quickly as they can. And some of these people don’t care how they go about doing it. For those it becomes more about the attention and the notoriety, than it does about their gift and what they have actually created. It stops being about the art then and more about what the art can bring them. In doing whatever they must to get the needed attention, they lose themselves. And with this, they also lose touch with the very thing that made their art worthwhile to begin with. I write because I love to. I write to try and make the world a little bit better, brighter. I am very pleased when even one person finds something in my work that makes them happy or something that they can relate to. I don’t understand those who feel the need to put on an act to get themselves noticed. I would much rather let my work speak for itself. If something I have created gets noticed one day and someone thinks that it is worth sharing, then I will be incredibly happy and grateful. But even then, I want it to still be about helping people. Created for those who needed to not feel so alone or someone who may have needed a break from their crazy life and chose me to entertain them. My mission is to always stay true to me and my art. 
  The other scary aspect I came across this week was the great demand for the art and the price some pay to make others happy. No matter how talented and strong a person is, the fact remains that they are only human. As long as they are on earth they will be human, there is no changing that. Being that, they will get sick, and they will have emergency situations that are not in their control. Then no matter how much they want to please others, they simply can’t. It makes me sad to see how people who claim to love them, turn on them when they don’t get what they want. If something happens and the need to postpone things arrives, I have witnessed some people going absolutely nuts. Some fans seem to think that they deserve whatever it was they were promised. They tend to forget that there are people, actual people behind the magic. People with health to look after and feelings that can be hurt by their rude comments regarding their disappointment. I’m sure the artist already feels terrible for having made the decision that they had to, they don’t need to hear how it upset others. I get that it sucks if something gets cancelled, but one should really move on. I’m sure that whatever it was will get rescheduled, there is no need to make the artist feel like crap about it. I’m sure if they could’ve done whatever was promised, they would have. I would much rather know that the person was okay, then put them through hell just to entertain me. 
  All in all, I just see these things and they make me take pause. I wonder how anyone could say being an artist is easy. Because even though you love what you do, it doesn’t make it any less uncomplicated. I am challenging myself to things that are so much harder than anything I have ever done before. It can be even harder than then 8-5 job at the office, because it never stops. Art doesn’t stop at a certain time. It doesn’t punch a time clock. It can come to you when you least expect it. It can make you change an entire blog just to get out the words that have been haunting you. It is a mystery, a beautiful gift that should never be discarded, used or abused. The gift of art should be treasured, shared and loved, for without it the world would not be nearly as beautiful as it is. 

Keep Calm and Be Weird

By Michelle Carr
   

  It is funny how one simply made comment can affect a person so much. This time for me it was a comment made at my kid’s school. I take my little people to school every morning. Every morning, I walk my daughter down her hallway to help her situate her stuff before class. I often help the other children who are there as well, the children who know me as Mrs. Carr aka Alexis’s mommy. The children are usually very excited to see me and want to share all of their news with me. This news usually includes information regarding their birthdays, new pets or any new booboos that they have acquired.  But this particular morning, while I stood in the locker area, I overheard one child tell another kid that they were weird. The second child, in response, looked slightly hurt and bothered by the comment. I, being quite the weirdo myself, quickly responded “Well I think it is awesome to be weird. I am totally weird and I love it when others are too.” The second child looked up at me and smiled. The first child then added quite quickly that they were weird too. And before I knew it, several of the kids were piping in on how weird they are. I mentally cheered for myself that I had turned the situation around.  
  But as I walked back to my car, the child’s comment continued to plague me. Why is it that being different (being weird) always seems to carry such a negative rapport? Why do people often view those who are weird or different with such fear? Make them feel badly for being not of the norm. What exactly is the reasoning behind that? Do we all really want to be the same cookie cutter type person? Is this our goal, to be just like everyone else? Well this girl screams HELL NO! I refuse to be! I love weird and find joy in being so myself. I have found that the people who are considered weird are the most interesting people to get to know. They are the ones who aren’t afraid to think outside the box or even run circles around it. They are usually the ones who create the best stories, art, music and other forms of entertainment. They are the ones who never see things as impossible, but see it as something that doesn’t have a solution yet. They could very well be the ones to solve the world’s problems and yet we want to tell them not to be weird.
  I’m sure people told Ben Franklin that he was the equivalent to being weird when he did his lightning experiment. I’m almost positive, people said the same to Stephen King when they read his first books. Or even to Jane Austen, when she dared to dream to be a female novelist. What if Christopher Columbus decided not to leave England because people said he was weird to do so? Think of how strange of a place our world would be if no one dared to be weird. It would be so incredibly dull. 
  You have to imagine that these people, who thought up these strange and wonderful things, probably had some weird habits or likes as well. This thought comforts me when I think of all my weird quirks. Like the fact that I love to dip my salty golden fries into my cold chocolate frosty from Wendys. I hate ketchup on my regular fries but give me a frosty or a milkshake and I’m in heaven. Or the fact that I have been known to spontaneously burst into song and dance. I’m a regular walking talking Disney character at times. But then again, I am totally the girl who you can find head banging at an XFest concert. I’m the girl who weeps at Jane Austen's love stories and revels in Stephen King’s bloodiest of nightmares. I often use words that are outdated and make up my own terminology when I can’t find a word that fits (Michelleisms). I often find myself checking the door repeatedly before I go to bed at night, just in case it magically became unlocked.  One of the weirdest things about me is that I have an overwhelming dislike for trash bags. Even if they are unused, I can never shake the feeling that they are dirty and must wash my hands thoroughly after touching one. I am multiple layers of weird packed into one single person, a quandary. But I am completely happy with the person that I am today.
 I know that some people would find me too eccentric or think that I’m crazy, but I am happy with my weirdness. I know that it makes me different, unique and I am glad for it. I challenge each and every one of you to embrace your weirdness, not to try and overcome it. Be happy with the things you love or do that maybe different from everyone else around you. Be to school for cool and happily let your weird flag fly. Your differences are what make you, you. They are what make you beautiful and special to me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

A Mouth Full of Words

By: Michelle Carr

 Why do I want to be a writer? Why write stories? Why blog? Why is blogging so important to me? These are questions that many people have asked me. And believe me, I have asked myself these same questions many times. I just normally do it when I’m lying in bed, wondering if my words sound sophomoric and repetitive. The only answer I have is one that someone gave me once, you don’t choose to write, writing chooses you. 
 My realization of this love, happened when I was about nine years old. I was a skinny, short curly haired girl, who wore glasses. I was the complete nerd package, in every form of the word. (I still am but that is beside the point) We had this assignment. We were supposed to write a play for students in the class to read and perform. I decided to write my own version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I remember that I wanted to make people laugh so I set out to make it humorous. Basically, I wrote a parody of the story, before I really even knew what a parody was. Soon came the time for mine to be read and acted out in front of the class. I was so excited, nervous and petrified all at the same time. They started... My heart raced as I listened.  I watched in amazement as my work was transformed into live action. To my surprise and joy, the class laughed at all the right places. It suddenly became very clear to me that this was what I wanted to do more than anything in the world. I knew that I wanted to reach people with my words. Though I didn’t completely understand everything that a writer is capable of at that age, I knew I loved entertaining people with my words. 
  All through my years of education, I held onto the dream of being a writer. I loved the times when we were allowed to create our own stories. I never shied away from essays or term papers. I was never at a loss of words. I always found writing to be an easy task and enjoyed filling a page. I had many instances where I had received praise and positive feedback on something that I had written. But no matter how often I was told my words had made an impression, I always found myself surprised by praise. I was thrilled they enjoyed my work but could never understand why they did. All I knew is that I loved writing. I loved spinning stories and seeing someone enjoy them. 
  Then life got in the way, as it so often does to many of us dreamers. I found myself more focused on other things in life. And even though those things brought me such joy and happiness, I began to lose touch with that part of myself that had once shone so brightly. I often found myself disagreeing with things in the world around me. I would feel great frustration in that my voice wasn’t big enough to make the difference, to bring change. I couldn’t seem to shake this need, this indescribable growing ache to create something. Something that would touch people and I simply couldn’t do it.  I felt like I was suffocating, drowning under an invisible tide in a vast ocean. I worked in a financial office and I loved the people but my work often left me bored and unsatisfied. I never felt as though I was doing anything to create a positive change in the world. And that’s what I wanted more than anything to do. I felt like I was stuck where I was, and the dreams that I had held of being a writer were dead. That my inner voice had been hushed for far too long to ever talk to me again. 
  You hear all the time to “Dream big and follow your dreams!” I had honestly thought that that time for me had passed. But my life slowly began to change when I starting meeting people who were doing just that. People who were afraid as well, and yet were determined to make their dreams a reality. That sort of motivation is inspiring and contagious. With this inspiration, I decided to make a change. To do as they were, to live my life in pursuit of my dreams. I was a stay-at-home mom now, so there were fewer excuses. The excuse of not enough time could no longer be a crutch. I started doing little projects with kids, trying to jolt the creative side of me awake. And then it happened, a story started coming to me like a dream in the night. Using a pencil, I wrote it all down in several notebooks. Feeling such happiness as my words filled the pages. Falling in love with the world I created, I finally felt like I could breathe again. My voice inner voice had returned with a gusto! 
  I feel so blessed to be able to reconnect with that part of me that had been silenced for so long. I know that I am not the only one who had given up on their dreams in pursuit of other life goals. Part of the reason I started this blog was to pay it forward. I wanted to spread the inspiration and motivation that I have been given onto others. Now, I’m not going to advise everyone to just stop what you’re doing and only follow your dreams. But I will tell you that it is never too late to take those steps towards your true happiness! Never give up on your dreams! Even if you only take a few steps each day, small steps add up. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but one day you will get there. And that day will be one of the best days of your life. Provehito in Altum my friends!

My First Touch of Ink

                                     By: Michelle Carr

  I have loved tattoos for a while. The spectacular art, the way they allow you to express yourself, the message they can share. But there was always two things that held me back. One being the permanence, I could never decide on what I would be okay with having on my body for the rest of my life. If you don’t choose wisely then you could later come to hating it and that is not something I wanted to do. Second was the nervousness of the potential pain. I have never been in love with needles. My feelings towards them are quite the opposite actually. I hate needles. I am definitely one who never looks when blood is taken or even when I get a shot. Epidural needle? Dude NO, don’t show me that! Bravest thing I have ever done regarding needles, to this point in my life, was get my belly button pierced. That lasted like two seconds and I didn’t ask to hear details on that one either. So I kept shying away from the idea of getting a tattoo myself.

  Then because of my love of Thirty Seconds to Mars, I was introduced the Echelon family. This family is full of creative, intelligent and wonderful people. I have been completely motivated and inspired by the family I have met along the way. The Triad, symbol of the Echelon, has become a symbol of love and inspiration to me to follow my dreams. Every time I see the Triad I feel energized, ready to attack whatever I am working on.  I feel loved and accepted for who am I. We are all misfits who have found a special connection together. I find myself drawing this symbol on everything. So after very little debate, I decided that the Triad would be perfect for me to have as a tattoo. I knew it would be one that I would never get tired of seeing. I decided to put it on the inside of my wrist so that I could see it all the time. It could be my motivation and inspiration while I am writing. My constant reminder to never stop moving towards my goals. To push myself harder and higher to achieve my dreams.

  Okay so now I have my tattoo idea, step one check. But step two…fear of needles. Yeah, there is no getting past that fear unless I just do it. So I save my cash, get a place to go picked out and made an appointment. And my appointment ends up being on Friday the 13th. I am so not sure how I feel about this… It could be really good or really bad. My husband takes the day off and goes with me. He is completely stoked as well. We were told I should eat lunch before and bring juice. So we follow the instructions and go to lunch. My stomach is beginning to turn. How could I possibly eat? I about ready to sit for an hour as somebody stabs me repeatedly in the wrist with a needle. God what was I thinking? What if he starts and the pain is too unbearable and I end up with a crazy looking line or dot? My mind is whirling and I try to eat my food but it doesn’t taste as good as it normally does. I try and push the thoughts out of my head. I’m doing this damn it. I want this.

  After lunch, we head to the tattoo parlor. I may appear totally calm at this point on the outside but on the inside, I am freaking out. We go inside and it is cool as hell in there, with random pictures, skate boards and such covering the walls. I fill out my paperwork with a shaking hand as my husband makes small talk with the lady behind the counter. Her husband is the artist who will be torturing me. Oh God!!! Okay deep breathes at this point. My tormentor appears from the back. “Are ready for this?” He asks. “No” replies the small voice in my head. I deny it and out loud reply “Yes! I’m really excited. Nervous, but excited.” Which is true too but I don’t want to show how nervous I really am. My heart pounds as I hang up my coat and follow him down the hall to the torture chamber.

   The room has amazing feel to it. Maroon paint coats the walls and a wooden hutch leans against the wall. Said hutch holds his supplies. There were cotton balls and other random unidentifiable objects in glass jars on the uncovered shelf. It literally looks like I have stepped into a torture chamber that was designed to look inviting. I set down my hand purse and Gatorade in the chair that’s in corner of the room. Swallowing, I turn and face the artist. He is kind looking with a tee over his long sleeve grey shirt. His tattoos peeking out of his clothes gives you the impression that he loves his work. With his stocking hat, glasses and greying beard he has the appearance of someone who had just stepped off a boat. He had a paper in his hand with my Triad drawn on it. “This is the one you want right?” I nod, trying to hide the fact that I am now shaking. The picture he had also had the symbols that stood for Thirty Seconds to Mars underneath it. It did look really cool but I knew he had said the Triad would take an hour and I was nervous about it going into the time we needed to go get my kids. So I choose just to do the Triad this time around. Showed him the direction that I want it and he warns me that that symbol seen in reverse was one used for a different meaning. He says he does that one all the time and I may want to think on it while he makes the stencil. He steps away and I look at my husband. It really didn’t bother me if people took it the other way, I tell my husband so. He says “It’s up to you.” I knew that I really wanted the Triad pointing up when I looked at it. Telling me to reach for the stars. With the decision having been made, we take a quick pretattoo photo.

    The artist comes back and I tell him that I am staying with my original choice. He then begins to shave the spot on my wrist with a Bic razor. Ouch this spot has never been shaved before and I grimace as the very fine unnoticeable hairs disappear. Then he sprays my wrist and places the stencil. It quickly transfers onto my skin like a child’s tattoo. I check out the placement as I sit down into the reclining black leather seat.  It is perfect. My husband stands ready and posed with the camera and I’m thinking pictures taken when I’m in pain may not be such a good idea. The artist sets up his equipment and I am fine, that is until I heard the soft hum of the needle begin. This sound is all too uncomfortably like the sound of a dentist drill. “Oh God!” I squirm in my seat. I glance at my husband who mouths “It’s okay” at me. Another deep breath, I can do this, I can do this. I hand over my wrist…. it starts

   Slightly uncomfortable but not too terribly bad. Okay I can do this, I can definitely do this. The artist starts talking about 30STM, he says he doesn’t listen to them because he is a dude. I’m like really guy?  I reply “Well at least they aren’t a boy band” and he gives me a look like yes they are. I’m thinking at this point that it’s not wise to piss off a person who has a needle in your arm. But at the same time I am like dude, obviously I like them and I didn’t tell you that your music sucks. But once again needle, so I try and make lite of it. He keeps talking and my husband joins in. I begin to ignore the back and forth as he starts in on the side that is directly below my thumb. This hurts like a mother and I am so determined not to show it. I breathe in deeply and look around for something else to focus on. In front of me there is a black and white picture of a girl with redrum written underneath in weird lettering. All I could think of is Danny from the Shining saying redrum so I kept repeating it in between curse words in my head. And before I know it, I am done.

   “There you go.” He says “You are officially the biggest Thirty Seconds to Mars fan I have ever met.” And now that I no longer have a needle in my arm I proceed to tell him. “It’s not just the band. It’s the family who have formed from the love of the band. The Echelon. They are some of the most creative and caring people I know. We are full of writers, artists and dreamers. They have inspired and motivated me to once again follow my dreams.” He grows somber and asks. “And are you doing that? Following your dreams?” I reply, “Yes I am, I’m a writer. I am working on a book and have started a blog. And this Triad is my reminder to keep pushing myself further.” He nods “Well good.” And gives me a smile. It now holds a look of understanding. He begins to tell us a bit about his crazy life from before and that he is working on a book himself. And I find that even those who may not understand it all, may understand part of the message.

  It has now been a week since I took my leap into tattoodom. I’m still in love with my Triad and so far it has done for me exactly what I thought it would. I am so very happy with the choice I made. Now I only have to find the time to go back for the symbols underneath. Be brave my friends, don’t be afraid to do those things that you dream of doing, even if they scare you. For it is not until you challenge yourself and overcome the fear, that will you find your true happiness. 

The Ever Elusive Sun

By Michelle Carr

As the days grow colder, cloudier and shorter, I find myself hunting the sky for any glimpse of the sun. I search in vain some days, just needing that little peek of sunlight to break through the dreariness that winter brings with it. Though I love the Fall, Winter always seems to bring me down just a little.  I lose the ability to go outside and bask in the warmth of the sun. It becomes almost a mission to get out on the days of beauty. To absorb as much sunlight as I can before it hides itself away from me and the ground becomes covered in snow.  Days much like the past three days have proven to be. It's almost as if I need to bottle the golden rays up inside me so I can keep that light burning brilliantly inside for  the dark days. (I so would not make it living in Alaska.) I have now resorted to skyfishing as well. I caught a the big beautiful orange ball  several days ago and thought I would share it with you! My gift to all of you, a little sunshine to brighten your day;)

The Day of Love

By: Michelle Carr

  Valentine’s Day… this day often gets a lot of grief. It is said that it is just a day for greeting card companies, flower shops and candy stores to make some cash. A commercialized day, that is more about receiving the biggest Valentine, than love itself. Those who do not have a Valentine often shun the day. Even some that do, will say “I show my sweetheart every day that I love them, why do it more on one day because someone declared it a holiday?” Well good point there, but I have always felt there was more to it than that.
   I was watching the movie Valentine’s Day recently, feeling ready for today, and Jennifer Garner’s character told a story that caught my attention. She was a teacher and was sharing the history of holiday with her class. This story caught my attention again and I wondered if it was true. So being the person that I am, I dove into research mode and hit the Internet. Apparently there are many stories about how Valentine’s Day was brought about. It seems as though it is almost as mythical as the stories of King Arthur and the round table. 
  From what I could find, it started with the Pre Roman Pastoral Festival called Lupercalia. This festival would run from February 13-15 and its celebration’s purpose was to ward off evil spirits and purify the city invoking health and fertility. The name of this month came from the festival Lupercalia Subsumed Februa. People would mark this festival by sacrificing dogs and goats to the god Lupercus, who was the god of shepherds. They would also offer cakes by vestals and woman who wanted to conceive would appear before a priest, who was dressed in goat skin, to be struck. The festival itself marked the founding of this god’s temple that was on February 15th.  We now think of this time as the time of spring cleaning.
  Later, Christian’s took this pagan holiday and using the stories of martyrdom that were perhaps told of a couple men who were named Valentinus, they Christianized it. The most popular myth, and the one I love the most, goes like this. It was war time and a law was passed where soldiers were not allowed to marry. This Saint Valentine chose to marry those for the sake of love. He also continued to minister to Christians, who at that time were being persecuted by the Roman Empire. He was caught and imprisoned. It is said, that there he healed the jailor’s daughter. And during his imprisonment, he continued to convert his guards and their families. Because of these actions, he was sentenced to death. The story goes that before his execution he wrote a letter to the jailor’s daughter and signed it Your Valentine. 
  I don’t know about you but that gives me warm fuzzys. I have always been one to argue for the sake of Valentine’s Day. I feel that even though you should indeed tell those you love that you love them every day, this day should still be special. For this day is the day we celebrate love and all that it means. This is the day that you can go stand on a mountain and shout your love of someone and you won’t be considered insane. This is the one day of the year that makes you feel brave enough to express those feelings for someone that you may have been afraid to share before. The day of love is a celebration of love not an obligation to go spend money. Because when it is really love than it is more about the feelings behind the gift that the gift itself.  On this day it is perfectly acceptable to be crazy in love. So feel free to be crazy, my friends. Happy Day of Love. 

Web source used: Wikipedia

Photo by Sam Edwards/OJO Images / Getty Images

What is Love?

By: Michelle Carr

  What is meaning of love? Is it a feeling you can express with chocolates, musical cards, giant stuffed animals or maybe even diamonds? I mean, if you believe the saying that diamonds are a girl's best friend, then you might be right. Is it what some of Hollywood would lead us to believe, falling for one another while lying in a field of flowers? Chasing each other around like half crazed people until one of you gives? Falling helplessly over this person and that person while a part of themselves remains still looking for the right one. It is something scary that should be avoided? Is it better to protect our hearts from the pain of losing someone than to let someone in?
   Je t’aime… Je t’adore…Te amo…Tave myliu…  I love you…  There are innumerable ways to say it but the words all have the same meaning. And just as you can say the words in many different ways, love itself comes in many different forms. And even though the forms of love vary, they are all still rooted in the same place. That place being deep within our hearts. We do everything we can to nurture that feeling and protect the people we love. Some consider this a weakness. I consider the ability to love and be loved a strength. But what is love?
    Well, there is the love that you feel towards you parents. The grateful, thanks for putting up with me and loving me no matter how many catastrophes I throw you into, love. They are the first people you love. They are the ones that teach you what love is and what it is to be loved in return. That love is beautiful and lasts forever. You may forget some things from childhood but you will always remember, cherish and long for your parents love. 
    There is the unconditional love that a parent feels towards their children. The love that wants to protect them from all harm and yet wants them to experience everything so they will be well rounded. The love that bursts with pride when they do any sort of accomplishment great or small. The love that rejoices when they say “I love you” without you having to say it first. That love never ends, no matter how big they get. They will always be in your heart.
    Another type of love is the love that you feel towards your friends. That love is special because these are the people that you have chosen to love. These people are your chosen family. People that you have carefully selected to share your heart with. Friendships are always as blessing, for they love you as you are and chose to keep you around too. Which is unlike family, who you sometimes just have to love, right   
   Then there is falling head over heads, you complete me, soul mate type love. And I, as a hopeless romantic, find this love amazing.  Love to me, is the overpowering feeling you get when you think of that someone. Love is intense, terrifying and wonderful all at once. It is the butterflies that never fail to appear when you know you will see them soon. It is the terrible ache in your heart when they are not around. The ache that is only silenced when they are near. Love is the multitude of voices in your head and heart that are forever screaming their name. Love is the bolt of lightning that shoots through you when their eyes meet yours. Love is a thousand unquenchable kisses. It is the fire the burns through you when their skin touches yours. Love is knowing when to speak and when words are not needed. Love is embracing someone for who they are and loving every part of them. It is joining them in their darkest days and guiding them back into the light. Love is forgiving and beautiful. True love is two hearts beating as one. 
   As the day of love nears, I hope that you all have someone you love, that you can celebrate with. Whether it be a friend, lover or family, keep them near. Let them know how much you love and cherish them. Life is too short not to express such things. Love deeply my friends <3

A Simple Small Town Girl

By: Michelle Carr

   I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “simple small town girl… so she is simple, right?  Simple like not complex or maybe simple like… (we really don’t want to say) And she lives in a small town? Okay so… not so thrilling.” And maybe you’re right, maybe my life isn't as exciting as say Angelina Jolie’s, with a slew of children. Or J.K. Rowling’s, for that matter, with a slew of published work. But most of the people in the world just lead ordinary yet exciting lives, right? So maybe, just maybe, my life might be slightly more identifiable to some who live similarly to me, than say Tom Cruise’s private life. “So who is this small town girl and why should I read her blog?” You ask. Well I’ll tell you.

  My name is Michelle and I have spent my entire life living in a town just roughly twenty minutes north of John Mellencamp’s small town. No, I have never met him but I have attended the same church that his grandmother did. Crazy how life happens, right? Anyway, I’m in the later half of my thirties, with a heart as big as that of a child's and the soul of a much older person. I don’t believe in acting one’s age, age shouldn't define us. I think you are only as old as you feel. I feel like I’m in my twenties but with a lot more knowledge than I had then. And I’m going to act accordingly.  I’m a little weird or crazy … depending on who you ask and I pride in being so. So don’t be surprised if you read about me jumping into the foam pits at Sky-zone, taking on a laser tag challenge or maybe even joining in on a giant water fight. I might even decide to jump out of a plane one day… That is still on my bucket list of things to do. I love to be challenged, I love to push myself and experience new things. I have many different roles that I play in my life. My two most important roles are that of wife and mother.  My husband and I have been together for almost 19 years and have been married for 12 of them. He is the one of the few people in this world who gets my craziness and lovingly puts up with it. I am also the mother of two wonderful and imaginative children. I spend a great part of my day trying to feed their imaginations and help shape them into the creative, compassionate people that I know they will be. Like most people, I have my own share of addictions. My addictions include and are not limited to books, music, movies, coffee, blankets, and of course chocolate. I love being creative in many forms, writing, drawing, singing, dancing and even baking. The further we go, the more you will learn about my crazy love for life and the surprises it holds.

   I am truly insane, occasionally humorous (wink, wink), viciously loyal, honest, slightly lovable, wickedly imaginative and a completely lost hopeless romantic. Most importantly, I am an Echelon, a dreamer. I write because my dreams have always been so vivid that I feel an overwhelming urge to make them real. If I didn't write, my dream world would probably send me into a mental ward. One dream, I have always had, was to do something to make the world a brighter and better place to be in. So that is one of the reasons I have started a blog. I know that at times, my day to day may not be so epic but maybe I can make you laugh at my clumsiness, or delight in something amazing that has happened. I know that not everyone will agree with my all of my loony opinions or actions. But I do hope to be a small bit of encouragement that you are not alone in this big and yet small world. That there are people just like you. People that are going through or that have gone through similar experiences. I want to offer comfort and hopefully inspiration. I will be open to ideas as well. If there is something you want to know about or maybe something you want me to try, within tasteful limits, I will offer chances for input. I would love to hear your stories as well and would be more than happy to share them too. This is my first blog, so I’m pretty open.  But if you decide to go no further in my blog or take nothing else from me, please take this with you. Continue to dream, for our dreams are what make us who we are. Dreams are a beautiful part of ourselves that we should chase and never let anyone take away. Dream big my friends.