Julie Unplugged

On Assignment: Locked Doors in Vacant Houses I Once Dreamed of Owning

There are several questions I am living right now, as my friend Rilke suggests. I wrote this almost two weeks ago and it has sat, waiting - and yet I continue to ask, live and the question.

“Try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live with them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now.”

― Rainer Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

 

This morning I sat down at my kitchen table, long time favorite spot for morning pages, creative life coaching calls and teaching teleclasses. Yes, occasionally a meal is shared here, also. Occasionally.

 

This morning I labored at writing my morning pages, though.

 

I sat and I scoffed and I wiggled but I kept my butt where? Safely and snugly  in the chair I bought for $5 at a yard sale last summer, a gorgeous harp back chair, duncan-fife style. Though I am sure I am spelling Duncan-Fife wrong I am writing this way so you can see first hand how ridiculously morning pages sometimes look.

 

I managed to stay and after I lamented briefly to Emma about not being in Yosemite, where I would rather be and had planned to be today, but a bunch of spoiled baby politicians decided it would be fun to shut down all the national parks.

 

I dropped Emma at school and set off to take a few random photos as has become my second creative practice of the day.

 

“I want to go look at my house,” I whispered to myself internally, a home I long ago lusted for and even made an offer on but the owners decided not to sell.

 

I blinked twice when I saw it was for sale again.

 

If this was a lifetime movie, love scene music would have started playing.

 

There were the requisite children coming from other homes on the street gathering at the bus stop. I hungrily took photos before I asked a woman sitting against the fence post about the house: how long had it been vacant? What was the story?

 

She was a nice enough gal, lived on South Union so I was pretty sure there was a story there more than I could see on her hoodie and t-shirt with the heart sewn on it.

 

I called the real estate company having absolutely no idea whether or not it was a practical thought, but I felt like/feel like I must visit the house again, even if it is to just say goodbye.

 

The real estate agency called me. It fell out of escrow yesterday.

 

Maybe this will become a lifetime move afterall. Maybe the Morning Pages angels are saying, “Keep your butt in the seat and magic happens.” Maybe this is the way the Yosemite Gods are apologizing - perhaps it is John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt with puppet strings saying, “Give Julie this home!

She has great plans for it or will as soon as she has it!”

 

For now I will pick up and move along.

 

It feels like the right thing, and the only thing, to do right now.

 

For now,  I looked at the home and the question still rests. I may go back down there with my notebook and take some time to love the questions, alone and in quiet.

 

= = = = = =

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

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© 2013

Community & Connection: Why Visiting Off-the-Beaten-Path Places is More Important Than You Think

At the Entry of Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park: Let's Keep Gems Like This ALIVE!

We – as the human community - need to learn about places where community and connection were or are paramount so that we may continue to live in a world with community and connection. Our is world filled with people isolating themselves with too many people with earphones stuck in our ears to separate us or cell phone conversations as we take a walk in nature or just holing up behind Netflix or the pages of an escapist novel.

These activities aren’t bad like nothing is bad in moderation. Please don’t misunderstand what I am saying.

 Our children need to know of these places not only to learn about what was, but to feel the spark of inspiration still burning in these places.

It happened to me yesterday when I set out to visit a place I had thought of going but had never made it to in the past. Yesterday was different.

The small sign told me I had almost arrived at Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park with an arrow pointing across the railroad tracks. “Out here?” I thought. “There is nothing here.”  I expected lots of visitors.

From my perspective, this was a more important place than it appeared. It is close to both Delano and Tulare, not huge places, and a smattering of tiny towns such as Earlimart, it didn't make sense to be so deserted.

Johnson's Bakery - 100 Years ago, a Woman Owned Business. Brava!

Then I saw the small, green clapboard house. I stepped out of my car and immediately fell deeply into fascination. I was in my own little world until a not-so-new sedan pulled up and a tall, older gentleman got out of the car.

His name was George.

It was pure coincidence that we both arrived at nearly the same time. I was walking away from the first spot on the tour when George pulled in.

I am not one to know a stranger, so it is completely normal that I called out, “hello!” as he got out of his car. “Have you been here before?” I asked him.

“No, I have not,” was his soft voiced answer. He spoke slowly, with intention upon each word. “We didn’t learn this history when I was in school. No, ma’am.”

“I just wish there were more people here,” I said. “People need to know all sides of history. These stories need to be told.”

We commiserated a bit about what we didn’t learn when we were children. I found out George was from Fresno, recently retired, and now had the time to discover and explore and come to know what we both would declare exceptionally important. He taught me about the Buffalo Soldiers and an event soon to come to nearby Sequoia National Park.

By calling this number, (you can click to have the photo get larger) I learned about Johnson's Bakery. Later, I called it with a friend. You can call it from your home, too.

I told him what I had learned, "This building here was a bakery as well as a home. Mrs. Johnson ran the place when her husband left town. This was a woman owned business so many years ago! Isn't that fantastic?"

The smiles on our faces were kept alive by our mutual enthusiasm. We were both here at this place – seemingly deserted – that was once a thriving community settled by what was called “race pioneers, with its commitment to limiting the parameters of prejudice, served as a beacon of hope to blacks in the Golden State and across the nation. The community, Allensworth, belied the notion of African-American inferiority and, in so doing, generated excitement, hope and confidence,” wrote B. Gordon Wheeler in Wild West Magazine.

I had a few free hours and was closer than I had ever been to Colonel Allensworth State Historical Park. I had no idea what to expect. Since I love history, especially history that is overlooked by so many for so long, it was one of those places I knew I should have visited long ago. I had seen the sign off the freeway, but since it is in a location I am normally only driving through, it never seemed important enough to me to stop.

Today was different.

It felt so vacant at Allensworth,  so dry and prickly, as many Central Valley open fields feel. The sun was so bright I had to shade my eyes to see what was around me. Clapboard buildings, primarily. I noticed a few crape myrtle trees. Some barns scattered about.

I felt something else. I felt connection, invisible and perhaps the echoes or shadows of the connection that once thrived there.

I am so grateful I stopped, I stepped inside, I listened to the stories and I pledge to return, with friends. With children, students and friends of friends of friends and others.

It is so important we visit places, preserve memories and share those places with others.

What is an interesting, out of the way place you will pledge to visit this Summer?

 

This photo was taken at Emily Dickinson's home. All history is important.....

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© 2013

At The Corner of Mason & California in San Francisco: Between the Inhale and the Exhale My Past, Present & Future Convened

Reverb Prompt: Which little detail — something you saw… a look… a touch… a fleeting moment — from 2012 would you like to remember in the years to come? The most difficult part of this prompt is remember where it greeted me... ohhh... there. Day 17 from Relish12.

For just a moment I was dizzy with unsteadyness. I looked up and spun around, attempting to figure out where my body was in relationship with the glorious vibe of San Francisco

From the San Francisco Financial District - Can you believe this man is casually texting while leaning on the Robert Frost Memorial? Ay!

Unbelievably for me, I was visiting San Francisco with no destination in mind. I had several possibilities but nothing was in stone. I have sort of learned my way around the City but for some reason I didn’t want to bother with navigation and after a lovely greeting from native son Robert Frost I noticed a cable car had appeared so without thinking, I jumped on it.

A few moments later at the intersection of California and Mason, I jumped off the cable car, feeling an incredible urge. Even with that incredible urge I did the “should I shouldn’t I shuffle” before I leaped from my six dollar seat of a rather short cable car ride.

I scurried across the street and my eyes caught the Fairmont Hotel.

If you take away the Christmas Decorations, the Fairmont looked exactly as it did on that July day in... 1988? I believe?

I actually gasped the forty degree misty air straight into my gut.

This is where Mel and Tom got married on a Saturday in July before I knew how challenging many of the upcoming chapters of my life would be.

From that moment on, I went where I was divinely directed. Every single destination I found had some personal connection with me, as if my past was reaching out to massage my ever tense shoulders, saying, “You are a survivor, you are one who loves a lot and loves well. Continue your journey knowing that you are love incarnate.”

I will remember this “eye-to-eye” glance from my past, present and future for a long time to come.

Now that I have written it, I will more than likely remember it forever.

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Imagine Losing All Your Memories of 2012... in 7 Minutes. Take that time to capture important memories

Yet another fantastic REVERB prompt, this time coming from EMBRACE LIFE.

Visit her link (it is with her name, Embrace Life above) and pick a prompt or two or twenty and play along. It is a grand way to look back and look forward consciously.

Here is the prompt: Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2012 in 7 minutes. Set an alarm for 7 minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2012. (Author: Patty Digh, with an extra 2 minutes from me!) And yes, this is completely stream of consciousness. And as I post I am frustrated because I am thinking of other things I wish I had written down! YAY for the practice of letting go to results I mentioned on another REVERB prompt!

What I want to remember of 2012 in seven minutes:

I want to remember Katherine’s comings and goings. I want to remember going to Canyon de Chelley with all my children. I want to remember how well my friends took care of me after my cancer surgery. I want to remember when Sarah took my photos before my surgery. I want to remember visiting Morro Bay. I want to remember being sad, at disappointments involving that one friend I will not mention. Such bizarreness.

Couchsurfers: we had a decent number and oh, my gosh, met some grand people I would love to see again and probably won’t. I loved the impromptu drive with Tim to Porterville to help him make up days after being trapped here for a few days.

I want to remember Emma winning a journalism award for all of Northern California as a freshman. I want to remember Samuel’s birthday party, he always has fun at them and I love seeing him with friends. I want to remember how I solve his “I don’t want to go to VAC anymore” problem.

(This is still being made…)

I want to remember my parent’s 60^th wedding anniversary which is happening on the 26^th.

I want to remember conversations with people who actually noticed my absence and missed me, especially those that had no idea about my cancer.

I want to remember the eyes of the young prostitute who was hurt, a slashed calf, and the humanity I saw looking into her eyes.

I want to pass these memories, indelibly to others which is why, I suppose, I write openly and publicly.

I want to remember that story thing we did, monologues. I was so bold and shared so from the heart only to have one person say something so out of left field it completely reiterated what was horrid about my story.

And I want to remember I moved along from that. And that is another story that will be published.

With a pseudonym.

I want to remember Weeping Rock at Zion National Park.

My fingers fell silent. I have said enough, with the most important remembrance being I want to pass these memories along.

7 minutes are up….

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Word-Love to You from Elements of Style, Strunk & White, Buzzing Memories & Me

I can’t help falling in love with my Strunk and White Word-Love Roses.

This bouquet is made from the pages of Elements of Style,  a tiny little text book that fed generations of writers wisdom and inspired them to exceptional writing. I also relate to it from the teacher/student perspective – all those red pens smashing the hopes of young writers.

Will you give me just a moment for a story?

When I was in the fifth grade I was in Mrs. Wilson’s English class. We were brand new to Middle School – it started in Glen Ridge in the fifth grade - and it was a sad time for me: students were discerning who was cool and who wasn’t cool and although my winning personality USED to get me a ticket to the cool kids’ lunch table, now I was a cast off and felt very sad and lonely about that AND next, the unbelievable happened.

Mrs. Wilson took a group of seven or eight of us out of the classroom to discuss and correct our sub-par first papers we turned into her. I was horrified. There I sat with, wait, let me remember.

There are only two who I remember because I had my head down almost the whole time in that small room. Sitting here in 2012 I can still see the way the light was shining, I can still see the wooden walls, seeming to mock me.

Beth Williams, who became a dear friend  was there as was Perry Keane, who tried valiantly to comfort me when I couldn’t hold the tears back any more. Perry and I always sat side by side when teachers alphabetized seating charts and after that episode, I carried the shame of being pulled out of the class with him by my side so we never became the good friends we probably could have been.

Perry, if you are out there reading,  thank you for trying to comfort me.

I may write to make my living now, but back then I was a little girl who had excelled and now was being told my work was “fair” at best and I believed I was destined for a life of failure and the dreaded red pen would dangle relentlessly above my word-loving page. Mrs. Wilson might have put a slash through that last sentence and shouted “RUN ON!” with her red pen.

My writing students often give me the feedback they haven’t written in YEARS because of the dreaded red pen and through my teaching are reborn as word-loving writers.

For this, and many other reasons, I love these red roses. The color and flower of love and the washing away of “mistakes” in our writing and “bad form” in our writing: Strunk and White and all our writing teachers truly only hoped to make us into better writers.

Thank you, Mrs. Wilson, for believing in me after that fateful day.

And thank you for casting me as the Cook in The Dispeptic Ogre. While that memory was also tarnished by the meaning I bestowed upon it and the choices I made afterwards, I now see it as cherished and lovely.

I am even posting this photo, where I see the roses very clearly and I also see on the right side of my face, the fading pink slash mark of my surgeon. It could almost be mistaken as an indentation, but it is a part of my scar.

It must be a day to celebrate mistakes made whole. It must be a day to take hurts and integrate them, choosing to see them, finally, as just right.

This post was inspired in part by Art Every Day Month. Click the link here or over <--- there, on the image.

 

 

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

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Gratitude for the Best Department in My Local School District

Maybe I can blame it on being raised in a quintessentially WASPy household.

You see, I have this overwhelming need to be considerate.  Yesterday when I picked Samuel up from school rather than sending him on the bus to Valley Achievement Center I went directly to the special ed bus to let the driver know she didn’t have to wait.

Mr. R, one of the autism teachers,  gave my face & scar the once over briefly. This is always strange to watch: people take the scar in and then pretend they didn’t notice it because they don’t know what to say. Perhaps they don’t realize I survived as a child by quick reads of faces.

Anyway, I reached past Mr. R and his stilted greeting and told the bus driver Samuel  wouldn’t be coming so she didn’t need to wait. In the past, bus drivers complained if they weren’t told, since Samuel is one of the few children who is mainstreamed and consequently gets to the bus later than the other children.

The transportation department in my school district is the most personalble, easy to work with department there. I have been known to call in the very early morning with requests and they have been honored. I have argued and debated and argued... and gotten my way. Perhaps this is a part of my conscientiousness.

I saw the driver and said, “Hi, I just wanted to tell you I am picking Samuel up today.”

The woman wasn’t the driver who had been there in the past. “Thanks – oh, and I used to drive Samuel when he was very little.”

My eyes widened. “You did?” I said, attempting to not let my speechlessness strangle me.

“Yes, I drove Bus 137 back then,” she continued.

My hand covered my mouth. “That was you?” I said, stepping onto the bus. “Oh, you were the best bus driver ever.” I continued, “Your name is Chris, right? Oh, please let me see you… you have no idea. You just have no idea…”

I used to have her cell phone number on my phone and I would call her at 6 am if the children needed to be picked up. She would drive right to my door and pick up Emma and Samuel. Sometimes she dropped them off right at my door if I didn’t appear at the bus stop.

In my phone directory she was listed as “Chris, the best bus driver.”

I reached up to hug her, “That was an awful, awful year for Samuel,” I explained. “That was before he was diagnosed and that Principal at that school literally threw him under the bus.”

I had to cover my quivering chin with my hand.

“I can’t believe it is you.”

Later I asked Samuel about Chris, the afternoon driver. I asked if he remembered her from kindergarten. He grunted a non answer and later said to me, “Please don’t talk about the past to me ever again. If you talk to me about the past, I will tell you how old I am going to be on my birthday. I will tell you my shoe size!”

We joke about these two topics, especially, because I like to fuss over him growing up.

I can understand him not speaking of the past. I can’t imagine what it feels like from his perspective to go from being a “normal” kid to a “special” kid.

Somehow, though, I feel blessed that Chris is a thread in the beginning and the end of his elementary school years, a consistently loving person in his life whether he knew it or not. As a Mommy, I knew it.

For that reason and probably more I can’t put into words, I am grateful for her presence in our lives again.

 

 

 

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Do you have a lot of stuff to get done but can never seem to find the motivation? We have a solution - Get stuff done while having lots of fun at Passion Activator Friday - November 16, 2012 Check it out!

© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

Autumn Memories Filled with Laughter Bubbles Amidst the Other Stuff

Last night after I read today’s blog dare topic - Fall Memory from High School - two vivid sequences played in my mind, both at high school football games though they were years and three thousand miles apart.

The first one took place in Fall, 1976 when I was a freshman in high school. It was the last football game I would attend as a student at Glen Ridge High School in Glen Ridge, New Jersey.  We were playing our arch rival who we had beaten a lot in the past, but this season was different. Five of our football players had died in car accidents the Summer before, so it wiped out players and morale simultaneously.

I remember after half time, seeing the team gathering outside the field. I could feel them work to muster up the strength to play this final half game of the season.

I was sipping hot chocolate and my breath came off in smokey puffs from the cold weather.

That moment lasted forever, in fact is still alive now, though it was probably less than sixty seconds long.

In Fall 1979 I was a senior at Dana Hills High School in Dana Point, California. I have no idea who we were playing because I didn’t care about our lousy football team which rarely won a game. The beach folks at Dana Hills don't have a single creative commons photo available so instead, I am posting a photo of our cross country track team. Anyway, I went to the games to socialize. On this night, I was flirting with a boy with curly blonde hair. I think he was a friend of a friend. I was due to graduate early, I was working at a job I loved, I was finally feeling comfortable in my skin.

For some reason the blonde haired boy whose name is lost in memory and I found something ridiculously funny to laugh about and we sat on the bleachers and laughed and laughed and laughed and it was, all of a sudden, like we were in an invisible bubble and no one else was there.

You might think this moment would end with the cliché high school kiss or something, but it didn’t.

Instead it just ended with laughter and the bubble going away but me, feeling almost overwhelmingly content in that moment. There were no expectations, no explanations, no possible heartbreak, no reason to be afraid, no awareness of what was to become of my life. I was no one’s sister, no one’s mother, no one’s best friend, no one’s babysitter, no one’s student… for that bubble moment I was just me and that blonde boy laughing.

When I came back to the world that joy of nothingness and everythingness continued. Last night, it showed itself to me again. Even now I am smiling about it.

And to think I wondered recently why I still love high school football so much.

 

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

  This was inspired by a prompt from The Blog Dare from Mommy Blogs. 365 Days of Blog Prompts and Blog Writing.  Watch challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.

  Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

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Sing to Me - Stevie: To Be Suspicious or Not Suspicious

Today's prompt comes from Kel at The Monkey Heart Discourses who wonders about whether or not we are superstitious. The black cat image along with the girl in striped tights is precious and her post today lends itself to a lesson on the most popular superstitions but naturally, with this topic there was only one way to go.

I turned on Stevie Wonder to keep me company as I wrote of Superstitions in today’s BlogFest2012. I am breaking all the rules. I mean, the instrumentals are awesome but it can’t be a song without Stevie’s lyrics.  You know the song I’m playing, don’t you?

Granted, it was popular when the ancient me was twelve but even the opening gets my fingers moving on the keyboard. Rolling Stone ranked it as #74/500 Top Songs ever.

Do I believe in superstitions?

That depends on the day of the week and the moment of the day.

A black cat ran in front of my car day before yesterday and my children squealed, “Don’t hit the cat!” and I said, “Especially THAT cat!” Some things are just deep in the blood that we believe in them without knowing we believe in them.

Stevie sings:

“Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin' strong,
You don't wanna save me, sad is my song.

When you believe in things that you don't understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition ain't the way, yeh, yeh.”

Trumpet, bass, electric piano… shouts… bongos, rhythm guitar…..more drums… freestyling….improv…

I like to believe I am rising in consciousness, but this song makes me dance and I don’t understand that much either except I can’t help but move to it.

This chair dancing I am doing would so embarrass my children.

I better stop this before… it’s too late…

But come on, watch – listen – dance along……

 

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

  Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -

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Writing Into the Question: If Oprah Chose to Interview Me, What Would She Be Curious to Know? How about you?

September 25 - Oprah's first question to you would be?

Oprah would be bound to be oh-so-curious about my life (see me insert my tongue in my cheek.)

What might she ask of me? Because no #1 burning question from Oprah rang through my head,  I just started writing  question possibilities to  see what would rise to the surface.

As usual, surprises popped up and rather but sharing my “first question” I would love for you to tell me which question YOU would like Oprah to ask of me first.

Ready?

We share a birthday – January 29. In what ways are we alike? What might I learn from you?

How did you start writing?

What is your favorite place to write?

When you are not writing volumes upon volumes, what are you doing?

Tell us about how some of the not-so-great moments in your life have fueled your creative spirit?

What was it like growing up with six siblings with the brother right below you – only by fourteen months – had Down’s Syndrome?

How would your life be different without your brother John's place within  in it?

What was it like to facilitate his Celebration of Life after he died?

What do you make of your “leaving your body” when you got word he had died?

Tell me about your children: the loves of your life.

When did you first start writing poetry?

Who are your three favorite living poets? Hmmm. What gives them this title?

Who are your three favorite all time poets? Hmmm. What gives them this title?

What is your relationship like with your remaining siblings?

How did you start your performing career?

What has been your favorite role to portray?

What do you notice makes an exceptional collaboration? How is it different from run-of-the-mill collaborations?

What do you want to leave behind for the world when you die? Tell us more….

How did you discover you have melanoma?

You have been described as “a brave woman” – do you consider yourself courageous?

What do you suggest our viewers do to become more courageous?

When did you start collecting quotes?

In what ways do you use them?

What has shifted your life the most: death of your firstborn at birth? Your son, Samuel’s autism, Your daughters, Your writing and poetry, your performance careers  - victories and losses, where you live?

Tell us about your many friendships –

How did you get comfortable being considered “unconventional” or “out there”.

What would you tell other people about being comfortable not being “just like everyone else.”

What is next for you?

If your next big thing could be anything and fully fundable with each resource you need, what would it be?

How will you contribute (and how do you contribute now) to making this world a better place?

Most importantly, what questions would Oprah ask YOU?

= = = = =

Photo of Oprah courtesy of Creative Commons License

Some rights reserved by Michal Story

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Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. 

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Powered by us.groups.yahoo.com  © 2012 by Julie Jordan

 

 

 

 

Remembering Back in the Day to My Best First Date...What was Your Best First Date?

Wow. Today's prompt for August Blog Challenge  requires I dig back into my archives.

Subject? Best or worst first date.

I am grateful I haven’t had many worst dates because I tend to be openly fascinated with each person I encounter.  Some first dates have been… ummm… more interesting than others and some of my break-ups have been hysterical… but this, for now, that I can come up with….

It is interesting because when I am not feeling well I tend to drudge up characters from my past. So I searched for him on facebook yesterday and read what I could. I don’t want to be his friend or anything, I am just curious about him.

Our first date was supposed to be an open mic followed by dinner. What a way to win my heart: agreeing to listen to poetry with me.

The open mic turned out to be another night so instead we went to dinner.

He didn’t know it, but the week leading up to that Friday night was extremely stressful. I needed a nice dinner and a friendly conversation companion. He chatted up a storm and I mostly smiled and nodded, but this was just right for that moment.

I was disappointed when I didn’t get a goodbye kiss. That came on date number two. 

But I have to say, this date stands out as the best because #1) it was a first date after a long time without dating #2) its shape was based on what I love the most #3) even though we didn’t know each other well, the conversation flowed.

This isn't a photo from those days... it was long before digital photography - but it shows the way I felt before I went on this long ago date.

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Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. 

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