Moxie Monday: Be Free
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [One Tough Job]
Neil couldn’t stop staring at her tiny fingers. Nimble they were not, but he marveled at her determination. Her little hand was like a carnival claw as she tried again and again to grab a Cheerio off the tray. There were no signs of excitement when she finally succeeded—clutching the crunchy ring in her fist. She stubbornly kept her mouth open while her hand hovered drunkenly, less than an inch away from it. When the treat reached its goal, he couldn’t help but cheer a little inside.
It had been difficult in the beginning. All she seemed to do was cry. Cry and poop. But now he could see that she was a little person. He was fascinated by her clumsy hands and chipmunk cheeks. Her bright, inquisitive eyes and fat smooshy thighs. He found that when she smiled, he smiled. When she laughed, he laughed.
He watched as she mindlessly gummed the treat—her focus returned to the circles still on the tray. Staring at the déjà vu of it all, he couldn’t help but wonder who she would become. What she would grow up to be.
He imagined her as a doctor, or a lawyer, or President of the United States. He wished for her to find love, to get married and have a family. Ultimately, he just wanted her to grow up to be happy and kind and loved.
She wiggled back and forth, clapping her hands, pleased with herself as another Cheerio reached her mouth. She looked up at him, revealing her two tiny teeth as she smiled. Heart melting, Neil clapped his hands and smiled back. By the time Stu came into the room they were laughing.
“Hate to break up playtime,” he said sarcastically, “But the parents called—they have the ransom. Get her ready to go.”
“Alright,” Neil said.
He tried his best to hide the overwhelming sadness that suddenly gripped him. Stu wouldn’t understand.
Then, he thought about her going home and imagined her graduating from high school, then college. He imagined her curing cancer and mediating peace talks. He imagined her happy and then, just like when she smiled, or when she laughed, he was happy, too.
He pulled her from the highchair and she kicked her legs with excitement as if she understood.
“Looks like you’re going home, sweetie,” he said as he handed her one last Cheerio.
Moxie Monday: Start Here. Now.
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
#WeAreAllSarahJones
The outpouring of love for Sarah Jones has not only touched my heart, it has given me hope. Hope that her death will give all of us the strength to speak up for every crew member whose safety is being marginalized. As freelancers, our next job is based on our reputation and speaking up about safety should not get you labeled as a troublemaker, as I have witnessed too many times. We have to do better.
If the Academy honors Sarah during the In Memoriam portion of the Oscars telecast this weekend it would send a clear message. Not only that Sarah mattered, but all of us whose names and faces you don’t know, whose jobs you don't understand, who don’t bring in the $20 million paychecks—matter.
I never had the pleasure of meeting Sarah Jones, but she was a crew member. She was my family. I hope you will join me in honoring her memory by staying vigilant until the safety of every member of the team is more important than the shot.
[All photos were taken from Slates for Sarah. If you want to see amazing love from all over the world, I highly recommend following them.]
Fiction Friday: [Advantage Fara]
I wiped the blood from my lip as a smile spread across my face. Although it wasn’t my intention, the fact that it angered her was a bonus. When you’re angry, you’re not focused. She lunged at me and I crouched down sideswiping her leg. Before her head hit the ground I was on top of her, my knees digging into her thighs, my hands gripping her wrists.
The whistle blew and I got off of her.
“Advantage Fara.”
I looked across the mat as she shook out her arms and rolled her wrists. I shot a little smirk her way in hopes of riling her up even more. It was easy to see that it had worked.
On the whistle, we cautiously made our way toward one another. I could see in her eyes that her judgment had clouded. She hated me and that trumped all her years of training.
I scanned her body noting that her breathing had elevated, her fists were tight, her core slack, her lip curled. Instead of scanning me for weak spots she kept her eyes locked on mine.
When she lunged at me again, I lowered my shoulder into her soft abdomen and used the momentum to flip her behind me. Landing on her back, I heard the unmistakable sound of the wind being knocked out of her.
Using my knees, I pinned her shoulders and my hands to pin her knees. She was not happy about it. Spitting expletives, she thrashed under my grasp and only grew angrier and more insulted when I didn’t budge.
Finally, the whistle blew.
“Advantage Fara.”
As I rose, she kicked me in the butt causing me to stumble forward. The ref blew the whistle again and raised the red flag. I laughed as I made my way to the side of the mat. She was seething.
Searching the stands I found Agent Olandu and watched as she scribbled into a notepad bearing the TELIA seal. I hoped she was writing about me. At sixteen years, four months and three days I was determined to be the youngest recruit pulled from the academy. And after that I would work hard to become the best agent they ever had.
The whistle blew and my focus tunneled once again to the task at hand. One more pin and I would be one step closer to my goal. Unfortunately for her, she was only going to get angrier. Advantage me.
Moxie Monday: Everything
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Elsewhere]
“Why is this my life?” Dawn sighed as she hung the last sheet up on the line. “Other people have dryers in their homes. Some even have maids and don’t do laundry at all. They just sit around eating bon bons and drinking martinis.”
Tina rolled her eyes at her little sister who pretended like she hadn’t noticed.
“Look, Dawn, we live in Maine, worse yet, Bremen and neither of us have any discernable talent worth getting us out of this place.”
It was Dawn’s turn to roll her eyes, but she felt guilty about it. She knew that Tina was bitter, angry even, and felt guilty because she had recently found out why. Of everyone in their family, heck, of everyone they knew, Tina was the one that should’ve made it out of this town.
At just five years old Tina started studying under Judith Balmer who had been a principle dancer with the New York City Ballet before retiring to Maine. According to the stories not only was Tina naturally gifted, she truly loved ballet. Her talent was so strong that her future was certain.
Then, when she was fourteen she met That Damn Russ and a year later she was pregnant. Not only did she never dance again, she gave up. Resigned herself to being stuck in Bremen, forever attached to That Damn Russ. Forever dreaming of what could have been.
At sixteen, despite being a very pretty girl, Dawn never had a boyfriend. She wasn’t going to be twenty years old with sadness in her eyes like her sister. She wasn’t going to get stuck with her own That Damn Russ.
When Dawn was eight she started getting an allowance and even at that young age she knew she had to save every penny. Every penny represented another step out of town. Babysitting, yard work, she took any job to reach her goal.
Every time she added her latest earnings to her Muppets lunchbox she fantasized about leaving in the middle of the night. Moving to New York without saying a word. She imagined sending her family postcards from Italy and Spain and Australia.
And she dared to hope that with each postcard sent Tina would find the strength to dance again.
Moxie Monday: Find the Courage
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
