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I'm still writing; you just won't find me here any longer. If you want to keep reading my writing, head over to mollyflinkman.com. I'll keep a cup of coffee warm for you.

Thursday, November 28, 2013


word of the day: reveal \ri-ˈvēl\ to make something hidden able to be seen

I like to think about things.  I like to think about things, and I like to over-analyze things.  If you know me, you know that much of my existence takes place in my own thoughts as I quietly process everything around me.

If there were a land for the internal processors, I think I could be their queen (although I’d probably need to think it over for a while first).

Recently I find myself thinking about words.  Words stay with me and etch themselves into my brain.  Today I can’t get a phrase out of my mind.  A phrase from what has nearly become my favorite book.

That book is The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and if you haven’t read it, you need to do so immediately (I now own three copies; my favorite as seen below). 

The book circles around Hazel and Augustus, two teenagers who meet in a support group for kids with cancer.  Their little infinity takes them around the world as they wrestle with life and death and everything in between (a terrible summary, I might add.  If you hurry, maybe you can still find the $2.99 version for your Kindle).  At one point, there is a line from one character to another (no spoilers): “Grief does not change you…It reveals you.” 

Before Lily was born, so many people told me that becoming a mom would change me.  But I don’t think it changed me.  I think it revealed me. 
I’m not a different person because of Lily.  Instead I’m more aware of my faults and traits and tendencies.  She has revealed things about me that I never knew were true and, in many ways, altered the way I view myself. 

I think it’s good though.  I think what you believe to be true about yourself needs to be rocked every once in a while to remind you not to stay still.  To remind you that those faults and traits and tendencies don’t define you.  That the place where personal revelations meets disappointment is where redemption reveals true identity. 

I think I’m blathering on though.  Overthinking things?  Probably.

Thankfulness is the order of the day and I’ve got spoils to share. 

Namely, I’m thankful for Jake.  Without him, I am (very literally) a crazy person.  I don’t know what I would do without his level head and reminders that the tasks will all get done and that we’re really doing ok at this whole parenting gig.
And for this girl.  For her smile and her spirit.  Before she was born, I wrote that she would teach me a different kind of love, and she certainly has.  Thankfulness, really, feels like an understatement.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Sunday, November 10, 2013


word of the day: busy \ˈbi-zē\ full of activity or work

I recently informed Jake that I wanted to start writing again—at least once a week.  His response?

Why don’t you set a more attainable goal?

A reasonable question, really.  I thought life was busy before Lily came along, and now I often feel like the work will never get done.  There are currently 160 short stories sitting in folders waiting to be graded, and yet here I sit.  Typing with no real direction to my thoughts. 

People often ask me how we’re doing.  And I often respond with, “Good.”  Then, the first vague question is often followed up by a second vague question: “How are things going?”  To wish I generally respond, “Busy.” 

Our life is full of activity and (not or) work.  As I read the definition to that word, though, I realized that it’s also full of a myriad of other things.  People.  Baby laughter.  Trips to Chipotle (right down the road from our new place.  I’m developing guacamole dependency).

And if there’s something I’ve gotten much better at in the last three months, it’s making room in my life for the more important things—the spur of the moment Target run we took this evening, for instance (because I think Target fulfills my need for Vitamin D).

The short stories sit.  The laundry basket hums.  The dust collected under the furniture whispers. 

And here I sit, happier that I took some time to write.  Everything always gets done.  That’s what Jake tells me anyway.  He also tells me, though, that if we were ever to rob a bank together, I would not be allowed to come along which seems counterintuitive.

I’m too busy to rob a bank anway.

And, on a totally unrelated note (when did THIS happen?)…