Watch Me Fail At Freelance Blogging. It Should Be Entertaining.

So off I go into the world of freelance blogging.  I already feel completely overwhelmed and panicky.  Hooray for anxiety disorder and stomach aches.

Then I have my ADD-induced terrible self-esteem kicking in, doubting myself and setting myself up for failure.

Awesome.

There is so much to learn and so much stuff out there to read, I just don’t know where to start.

I know a few of you have voiced your interest in my journey and what I find out, so I thought I’d share on here, step by painful step.

I, also, caved in and started up a Facebook account.  I’ll be posting helpful articles and awesome websites I find that contain a wealth of info on freelance blogging and marketing your content.  If you’d like to follow me, I’m Aelris Blogging on Facebook.  I did set up a business page but am still working on it.  I did set up a Twitter account but still have to connect it to my unfinished biz page.  I did set up a website but have not finished it yet.  Lots to do still.

So why am I pursuing this endeavor?  I think I may like to write.  I think this freelancing thing may be for me.

I have ADD, minus the hyperactivity.  This means I get bored very easily.  It, also, means I have a habit of hyper-focusing on new projects and run full force.

I have always had trouble keeping jobs.  Not because I’d get fired, but because I’d quit.  I would work my ass off, always in a positive mood, and I was like a whirlwind, improving the department and reorganizing things.  I’d get promoted to management in a short amount of time.  Then I’d get bored and lose interest.  I’d look for any excuse to quit, to justify it to myself that I needed to quit.

Once there was nothing more to learn or be challenged by, in my eyes, I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore.

I was the same way in college.  It took me friggin’ F O R E V E R to finish.  It took me about nine years to finish my bachelor’s.  Any class that had nothing to do with science was especially painful for me to trudge through.  Well, that and I was taking a ridiculous amount of chemistry and biochemistry classes for fun, before I figured out what degree I wanted to finish.

This is why I initially wanted to pursue a career in forensic science.  My dream job would have been to work in a police forensics lab, or even be a crime scene tech.  I felt that I would be challenged in this field, and I would continually be learning something new.  No, I have never watched CSI.  I lost count of how many times I’ve been asked that stupid question.

I, also, considered working in any lab to be a lab hermit, so I would only deal with a minimal amount of people.  I don’t do well with people, in general, believe it or not.

I need to be challenged, and I need constant change, so I don’t get bored.  I need to learn new things all the time.  I don’t work well with having a boss or working with the public.  Plus, I hate leaving my house.

This is why I think I really need to give this freelancing thing a shot.  Where else would my badass researching skills come in handy?

Then there is the income advantage.  How does $100 or more (minimum, maybe $50) a post sound to you?

Fuck, yeah, that sounds awesome to me.  Even if someone is just starting out as a freelance blogger, this income is completely possible and will only get better.  I was floored when I found this out.

There is still a lot for me to learn, but you don’t need much to just start submitting your work – maybe balls, which I don’t have yet.  I’m getting there, though.

If you’ve heard of freelance blogging and were always curious, or even if you’ve never heard of it before and I’ve piqued your interest, I welcome you to come along on this adventure with me.  I urge you, in fact.  It’d be nice not to have to do this alone.

So find me on Facebook and say hello.

Here’s some reading to get you started, too:  Be A Freelance Blogger.

When I first started researching freelance blogging a few weeks ago, I kept coming back to this website’s articles.  They are fun to read and extremely informative – and encouraging! – for those of us just starting out.

So what do you say?  Want to jump into the flames with me?

My Boots Were TOO Shiney!

Once again I have been remembering funny stories of when I was a cop.

We who are ADD, say that SOME people have attention surplus disorder.  I didn’t come up with that.  There is a fabulous book about ADD  called ..oh crap I forgot the name of it..hold on..   Delivered From Distraction, by psychiatrists Edward (Ned) Hallowell and John Ratey, sorry… I had to look it up! 

You know, those people who tell on you at work, those people who are paying more attention to what YOU are doing and saying then to themselves, those people..here is a story about one of THOSE people.  HA, I am laughing because I typed “hold on”.

I was in the academy, and at this time hadn’t been in long.  We had to polish our boots to a nice shine.  Well, my dad is a Vietnam vet and dang it if my boots weren’t going to be the BEST boots at the academy.  My dad spit shined them to where the toes looked like patent leather!  Now he did this for me but also SHOWED me how to do it.  I should also add that my “guy”, where you buy your uniform, had my academy blues tailored to me so well I didn’t EVER have to iron them.  I looked GOOD, or what we call “squared away.”  I found that was half the battle.  It’s part of having good police presence.  Who want’s someone showing up with their uniform looking like it was just wadded up in a bag or something?  Wouldn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy and safe would it?

All of the guys and 2 other women wanted to know how my boots looked so awesome all of the time and I told them, like an idiot, that my dad showed me.  I told them he had done them a few times.  A few people offered to pay my dad!   My dad said “No way, yours will be the BEST!”    We would sit at night and I would have a bunch of people sitting with me while I showed them how to get that polish.  Nobody had the “base” so only a few attained true “boot” enlightenment.  We also went over our homework and recited codes and things for the following day’s classes or tests.  We all became really close on those nights.

One day, walking through the campus, the MEANEST Tac Officer (Tactical Officer, AKA, an actual cop who taught us) we had walked up to me and yelled, “RECRUIT…YOUR BOOTS LOOK EXCELLENT!”  I started breathing again and said “THANK YOU SIR!”  Then I hear some snot say, “Her DAD polished her boots.”  I just looked at my Tac and waited for him to start yelling at me, or give me a “memo” or pushups or shoot me, maybe pepper spray me or something horrible.  My Tac’s  eye’s got REALLY big and he looked at me and didn’t say anything.    At this point my knees were knocking my legs were shaking so bad because I was REALLY that scared.

My Tac turned to this guy who is just a SHIT in my mind now, (here’s where the attention surplus disorder comes in) and say’s to him, “COME HERE RECRUIT!”  The guy walks over to him.  My Tac told me to leave but  I stood not far behind my Tac to watch what was going to happen.  My Tac says “YOU SERIOUSLY JUST TOLD ON HER?  YOUR UNIFORM SAYS “KICK MY ASS” AND YOUR BOOTS LOOK LIKE SHIT!  I WANT A 1000 WORD MEMO ON WHY YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT!  I DON’T CARE WHO SHINED HER BOOTS AT LEAST THEY LOOK GOOD!”  I almost fell over laughing.  I stuck my tongue out at the guy (yeah REAL mature I know) and walked off.

I’ll NEVER forget that little SNOT TELLING ON ME!  WHO DOES THAT??  “Her DAD polished her boots.” I can still hear it.  It was sooo funny, he told on me like we were 5 or something and then he literally almost got his butt kicked!

We had a saying, still do “If you aren’t cheatin’, you aren’t tryin’ ” which doesn’t mean to actually CHEAT, it just means to figure it out.  This is also the same as “If you don’t know the answer, go find someone that does.”  These rules still stand.  “Don’t be a tattle tale” still stands too.

Turns out the Tac I thought was so mean was a sweetheart.  His name was Pierce.  Corey Pierce.  Pierce took me to the Dr. a few months later because I was really sick.  I lived on campus and didn’t have any money.  He paid for the Dr. visit and for my medication.  I’ll never forget how he stood up for me.  I was a woman,  and smart and some guys, believe it or not, did NOT like that.  Little did they know I would have the highest academic score and was president of my reserve academy.  I also had a letter of commendation as a reserve officer before I even went to the full time academy for solving a burglary in less than 48 hours. (That’s a whole ‘nother story!)

My lesson was never judge a book by it’s cover.  They HAD to treat us a certain way at times.  It made us pay attention to detail and made us tough.  It made us smarter and better people. I will never forget Pierce and what he did for me.  He reminded me that I had a career now, not a JOB.  He talked to me the whole way there and back like he was my brother.  He was and still is my “brother”, my brother in blue.  You never stop being a cop.  It’s like being a Dr., but not having a practice or any patients.  You will always be a cop, feel like one, and act like one on so many levels.  Sometimes that’s a good thing, other times, not so much.  We have to learn how to take the “cop hat” off and put blinder’s on.  Especially when it comes to family and friends.  More importantly for when the day comes where you have to quit, or retire for whatever reason.  Mine was to take care of my daughter and family.  I couldn’t do it working so many hours.

Pierce went back to normal scary after we got back.  After I graduated he was so cool.  We talked, hugged, laughed..I called him by his first name just because I COULD, and that made him laugh.

Stick up for the little guy!  They just might be your boss some day.  I ended up a detective and the little snot ended up not lasting..who would’ve thought?  Not that I wanted him to fail..THAT was his own doing, and was good for all of us.  We don’t need cops like that protecting and SERVING our citizens.

Take Care All!

My Life Is Now a Country Song..

I had to give my DOG to my mom.

First of all, I only live at home half the time now because I’m living at my sister’s.  I need to be there to take care of her house and three kids in order for Mike, her husband to complete his tandem stem cell transplants.

I see my own child every other weekend.  My house is on it’s way to being done, and I won’t be able to live in it.  My car is breaking down.

NOW I HAVE NO DOG!  I rescued her from my MOTHER’S house in the first place because her other dog was basically eating her.  Ray-la would attack Lucy out of nowhere.  SO I did what any good auntie would do and took Lucy for our own.

Lucy does not do well alone.  We rescued her from people who abused her, so she is a bit traumatized.

I wanted to have a baby.  NOPE..NOPE, now I need a hysterectomy.  No baby and no dog.  I bet my husband is REALLY HAPPY with me.

My husband cries, ACTUALLY cries when he sees Lucy’s little sweaters and her collar.  I on the other hand feel a sense of relief.  She did not do well at my sister’s, and now with Mike’s lowered immune system, she just can’t be there.

I think he is mad at me.  Giving a man’s dog away is not cool on so many levels.  I mean, sure we talked and he says he understands, but I know he is hurt.

I don’t know what to do.  We can take her on the weekends.  I just wonder if that would be harder than just letting my mom have her.  She is happy there and even the cat likes her.  Our cats try to mess with her head every chance they get.

So, now, no dog, no house, family on hold.  Not really a country song, more like I’m just whining.

Sorry.  It just hurts.

He left for work and didn’t seem happy at all.  Barely said two words to me.  Is it the dog?  Am I just being sensitive?  I am being a girl.  I AM A GIRL, and this girl has WAAAY too much on her plate.  Everything seems like a big deal.  Must be those hormones they are giving me.

I responded to a nice woman who’s NAME IS JENN WITH 2 N’S.  Do you think I put 2 N’s in her name when I responded to her???!!  NOOOO!! I saw that this morning and felt horrible.  She said it was ok, everybody does that.  I’m NOT everybody.  Some detective I am..I apologized to her this morning.  When you spell someone’s name wrong, especially when it’s STARING YOU IN THE FACE, it feels bad for the person.  Like they aren’t important.

Well, Jenn, you are important.  I was just to ADD and busy trying to help.  Some help..huh?

Take Care All.  Guess I’m at the end of my rope..

Em

Here’s my saint of a husband and Lucy..he called her his “Puppin.”  I feel like I’m going straight to ..well, you know.

Em