{"id":211,"date":"2011-03-26T17:09:43","date_gmt":"2011-03-27T00:09:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/?p=211"},"modified":"2011-03-26T17:09:43","modified_gmt":"2011-03-27T00:09:43","slug":"what-the-hell-its-march-already-or-the-new-shoes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/what-the-hell-its-march-already-or-the-new-shoes\/","title":{"rendered":"What The Hell, It’s March Already?! or The New Shoes."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"I
I went for these.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n

Didn’t we just have Halloween? Where has this year gone? I can’t believe it’s been six months since I last posted. It has been so long, I forgot the password to log in to the site.\u00a0 What have I been doing with my time? Well, since the last time I posted a blog, I started a new job and with it came a load of\u00a0 responsibilities and long hours.\u00a0The people are great and it pays the bills, but I’m not meant to be an accountant. It’s not my passion. I am a writer. I’m a writer. I’M A WRITER!<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, I have not felt like a writer for the past few months. My rough draft isn’t finished and I haven’t been submitting my superheroes to anyone. How can I sell a book if I don’t send it out? I know this, I just haven’t found the time or the energy to make it happen.\u00a0<\/p>\n

So now it’s the end of March. Spring. A time for new beginnings. A time to get my ass in gear. Oh, so much easier said than done. All this week I have felt off. Nothing seemed to sparkle, I couldn’t muster any real joy for anything. Housework seems never ending and creativity is down the toilet.\u00a0The world\u00a0was dark and gloomy. Of course with it being Seattle, everything is dark and gloomy. But\u00a0 \u00a0had errands to run, errands\u00a0I actually looked\u00a0forward to doing, yet it still took too much effort to climb out of bed and look presentable. I sloshed out to my car and began to take care of the to-do list, including a stop at the shoe store to replace my broken brown pumps.<\/p>\n

Now you\u00a0should know that I love shoes. Loooove shoes. Maybe because they fit no matter what size you are and there is a shoe for every mood imaginable. You want to know how someone feels? Look at their shoes. The last time I really splurged on shoes was three years ago. My divorce was final, I just moved into my own place, and I decided to truly pursue my writing dreams. I bought eight pairs of shoes in one week because there wasn’t anyone to tell me no. It was an exciting time. I was shedding the shell of the\u00a0person I never wanted to become and there was this new world ahead of me where anything was possible, and it all began by purchasing a pair of shoes just for the hell of it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

A lot has happened since I bought those shoes, some of which I don’t have anymore. They fell\u00a0apart or just weren’t practical anymore. My life has had some crazy ups and downs and have taken turns I never expected. I’ve purchased other shoes since then, but there had to be a purpose, a specific need or else I did without. (My family may disagree about that, but it’s true.)<\/p>\n

And that was the plan for today: get a practical pair of shoes that would pair well with slacks or a skirt. I found what I needed right away. Brown suede with a two-and-a-half inch heel. They were comfortable and half-off. Perfect. But oh, on the next shelf were a pair of open toe chocolate satin pumps- sleek and sexy. I hadn’t bought sexy shoes in, well, three years. It’s hard to feel sexy when you’re covered from neck to toes in wool, flannel and\/or denim all winter long. In the next aisle over there were these cute little ballet flats with the tennis shoe soles\u00a0in a\u00a0floral print, and next to those \u00a0a pair of amazing red suede heels. Ooo, and the maroon patent leather loafer with the gold buckle. What would it hurt to try them on?<\/p>\n

It seared like a sunburn to take them off. I didn’t want to move.<\/p>\n

With each pair I slipped on it was a reawakening, a jolt to my tired soul. The ‘me’ I lost under endless debts and credits and program conversions broke through the mud to blossom. Could I splurge on another pair? The accountant side of me busted out the calculator to tabulate 40% off $49.99 plus 9.5% sales tax. I could live off oatmeal for a week. If only that one had a blue sticker. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Which do I leave behind?<\/p>\n

An hour later I walked to the register with four boxes stacked to my chin. Hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat and I called myself crazy with every step, but it didn’t matter.\u00a0What did I care\u00a0that I didn’t have a specific reason to wear them.\u00a0Perhaps now I will think of a place to wear them, a place where I would do something, or meet someone, and \u00a0my life would change forever. Oh, the possibilities.<\/p>\n

Possibility. That’s a very powerful word.<\/p>\n

The effects of my purchase were immediate. When I left the store the clouds glowed a little brighter and the rain didn’t feel so wet. On the drive home I thought of a new opening paragraph to my query letter that is so fantastic I could kick my own ass for not thinking of it sooner. I want to write.<\/p>\n

Some would say ” but it’s just a shoe,” a piece of apparel meant to protect your feet from the elements, and they would be right. But\u00a0shoes have the power to be so much more. Don’t just stop to consider the comfort or the price. Think of where that shoe can take you, what you could see, or do, or become.<\/p>\n

Think of the possibilities.<\/p>\n

\"And <\/p>\n
\n
\u00a0<\/dt>\n
And came home with these too.<\/dd>\n<\/dl>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Power of the Shoe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[17],"class_list":["post-211","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-shoes"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p39eCR-3p","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/211","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=211"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/211\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=211"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=211"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=211"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}