Jiminy Pays a Visit

Recently I read a reminder that grasshoppers are good luck, and realized I hadn't seen one in ages.

On Thursday I spotted a GIANT one on the outside of my living room window.

Yesterday morning I woke to find a small one inside, resting high on the closet door in our front room. When he was still there last night after work, I decided to keep him and name him Jiminy. When he was still there this morning -- exact same place -- I realized he's probably terrified, and it's probably not good to keep a grasshopper indoors. So, I set him free.

As he hopped off my front stoop, he called over his shoulder, "Thank yoooouuuu, Janna! I'll put in a good word with Geppetto about that good luck you're duuuuueeeee."

You're welcome, Jiminy.

And thank YOU.

New Resident Log: Day Two

It's cozy here. Not real tidy at the moment, but homey none the less. I can overlook the dirty dishes.

I'm being very careful to exist with little to no lasting impact. Nobody likes a new roommate who isn't conscientious about that.

Janna doesn't know that I've been sleeping with her at night. (And she thinks that guy with the weird eye---she calls him Rooney---is the bed hog. If only she had a clue!) She talks in her sleep. Funny stuff.

She hasn't yet noticed that I shower when she does, which is only because water conservation is important. I'm sure she'll thank me later.

There are SO many books here. I wish I could read.

There might be just as many pairs of shoes, but since I've got eight legs I can't borrow any.

Okay, that's it for today's log. I can tell Janna is pretty drained, and I think she's headed for the couch. I hope we watch another episode of Law & Order, I like that show! BUH BUH! Ha.

Until tomorrow,
Stanley*

*Stanley is my real name, not The Biggest Spider I've Ever Seen, as Janna initially assumed.

From Fiction to Truth

Back when I was a writer of fiction, and planned the same for my future, I had no idea how important truth would become to me.

Now, roughly a decade later, truth is my platform.

I didn't anticipate the shift. I've been hesitant to wholly accept it, too. Thought I still had to honor the fiction dream, make room for it, keep myself promised to it. That *that's* what made me a writer.
I've allowed a feeling of guilt about it to fester, even---not just because there has literally been no head space for fiction, but also because some part of me didn't think it was okay to change my mind. To change course.
Cue epiphany!
I see now the course for me was set all along, I've merely had to arrive at it in my own time. With my own truth in tact, and with an understanding that it's my power and ability as a writer which helps me share truth for others. That's what my advocacy is borne of, and it bolsters the plans I have for the foundation I've been building and want to expound upon. Ideas on top of ideas, and that's my power and ability as a creative.
Maybe my fiction was only meant for that life before, the one I got myself out of. Maybe it's good and intended that I choose truth now, fully, not just for myself, but for all the others who need it.

Fiction has its place but I don't think it's with me anymore. It's time for me to embrace that.