I was watching Sister Act this weekend – and I cried.  It’s not a movie I haven’t seen a dozen times before, and frankly it’s not one that pulls especially hard on the ole heart strings.  I mean we’re talking about a has-been lounge singer in Reno who’s sleeping with a married mobster and he threatens her life… not exactly The Notebook.  But, when Whoopie was teaching those freakin Nuns to sing I welled up and real tears came down my cheeks.  I’ve always admired people who walked through the world, making people better – happy.  Not as a job, but really because they can’t help but be who they are.  Picasso said it best when he said “The purpose of life is to find your gift.  The meaning of life is to give it away.” I have always wanted to be that kind of human.

For as long as I can remember, inspiring people has always made me explode inside.  There is something really beautiful when a person takes a minute to light the flame of encouragement in someone else.  And I bet many people don’t realize how bright that flame can burn, or for how long.  Many of us receive a compliment or some praise and think “I’m sure you say that to everybody” or “oh, they’re just being nice” but as I’ve grown up and been through the world a little, I have changed my tune on that. Please believe that there are a lot of miserable shits out there, so when someone stops and pays you a kindness – I hope you let that cover you like a strong beam of sunshine in the middle of a frigid day in February.

That sort of nicely segways us to how I got here, in the moment, writing this blog.  As a kid, my dad always told me that I had qualities most people would kill for. Gifts, if you will. I had the ability to talk to anyone, about anything – and enjoy it.  But to me, that was just Tuesday in Megan’s head.  A kid who couldn’t keep her mouth shut and had zero stranger danger. He told me I was funny – but I thought that just meant I fucked up enough to be comical, not necessarily that I was clever or witty or could string together a solid joke.  He told me that I made people feel loved, seen and comfortable – but for me I just never wanted to be alone, and I couldn’t handle the idea that someone else might be lonely.  It made me want to get to know everyone.  I honestly would label myself as nosey.  I will pull up a chair and listen to your entire life story, ask questions and then double down with my own deepest darkest secrets.  As an adult, I see that the things I wrote off about myself as nothing special are gifts.  And while I still have a hard time saying “I’m outgoing, I’m funny and gosh darnit it… people like me” it was hearing them as a kid that make me want to be those things today. 

As a mom I see in my own kids their strengths and the qualities that they naturally possess, and I wonder if when I tell them my observations, they go in one ear and out the other.  Well, that’s not true, I’m sure they do – these humans are nearly 9 and 12… going on 25.  They, like the younger Megan I used to be, believe that I am gassing them up because I am their mother and that is my job.  But I can tell you as I tell them, I will never gas you up if I don’t truly feel it.  Mom or not – actually especially because I am their mom, I don’t lie to them.  I want them out in the world as prepared as they can possibly be for whatever life throws at them.  I’m a Scorpio and we do not believe in bullshit.  I would sooner light myself on fire than shower anyone in an undeserving compliment.  I was not born with the ass kissing gene – much to the detriment of my career. But living this parental paradox on the other side has made me appreciate the words of encouragement that my parents gave to me as a smaller human, and I wish that I had been open to receiving them sooner.

A few years ago, I found myself at the edge of a cliff with my career.  My Dad had passed away and he was generally the source I went to when I needed some big, ambitious advice because that man saw no value in playing it safe.  I got on the phone with my mom, desperately craving some parental guidance because as old as I get – there are times when I really want someone to say “Megan, this is what you need to do.”  I am often exhausted by having to make all of my own decisions, but as a mom I am also in charge of the decisions for every living creature in my house.  So, we discussed jobs and work and my mom said “Why don’t you write?  You’re so good at it.  The things you post, I love reading your words.”  And this stopped me in my tracks.  Not because my mom isn’t wonderful and encouraging and loving – but because next to the word practical in the dictionary is a picture of her face.  She doesn’t like risks of any kind and is as private as they come – so for her to say that I should go look for a way to canvas the world with all my thoughts and attempt to feed and clothe my kids with it was BOLD. But truly what I took from that phone call was that she believed in me enough to say that, despite the fact that she is the type of woman to be sad on the first day of summer because it means winter is on the way. 

So, friends, after 20 years of wishing I was good enough to write, 10 years of toying with a blog and 5 years of searching for that thing that lights me up inside – here we are.  And I can promise you right now, it won’t be perfect.  And as much as I want it to be aesthetically pleasing, cutting edge, ripe with new ideas and a full fucking side cramp of laughter – I am giving myself the grace to get there one post at a time.  I’ve talked myself out of so many things from the fear that it won’t live up to my expectation and will feel like a waste of time or funds or energy.  Worse yet, a flop that nobody reads or relates to – Heaven forbid finds utterly boring and useless.  Like I told you, I grew up with a very practical parent who was raised with that classic Eastern European upbringing – save your money for a rainy day – don’t tell anyone when something good happens to you or it will go away – wear your new clothes only on a special occasion – hide your money under the bed and not in the bank mentality. And I do believe all of those things and think that they have served to protect me in many ways; but I was also raised by a parent who would wear a brand-new white shirt to eat spaghetti, who taught me to ride a horse bareback on an actual thoroughbred racehorse at 4 years old and to drive a car in a 6 speed electric yellow Corvette.  So, as you can see, inside me there is an eternal battle that rages on.

I’m sure there are rules to blogging or being successful – I’m sure there are rules for everything.  Rules and procedure are what have stopped me thousands of times before this exact minute.  Rules intimidate me, they make me question myself and seem to immediately extinguish any razzle dazzle.  If you want me to play a game with you, DO NOT OPEN WITH THE RULES.  I have been playing Monopoly, Uno, Mancala etc. for the better part of 4 decades and I do not care to do it by the rules – frankly those are none of my business.  Sometimes shit works just fine without all the red tape, ok?  Here, I am not going to be bogged down by the rules because my humble opinion is that trying to make everything perfect is what stops the majority of us from ever trying; and what a sad fact that is. 

I have a lot of thoughts and stories to tell.  I have a lot of wins and even more fails.  I have a lot of recipes and dreams, home projects and hobbies.  I have a lot of life experiences, but even more bucket list items I want to check off.   I have some answers, but really just a fuck ton of questions. I like to swear.  I love to do makeup.  I ‘m into fashion but dress like I am in an Adam Sander look alike contest. I want to travel to fancy ass resorts, but my favorite place is .getting lost in the woods for hours with my dog.  I love love, and like a true romantic will do anything in the name of it.  I believe in soulmates and timing, reoccurring numbers on the clock and that when I see a Cardinal it’s my dad sending me a sign. You will get to know me, and I will probably also get to know me. Maybe that’s the point.  Stay tuned.