Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Hello April!

I'm still working on RE-working this blog... but I've also been writing another blog that has seemed to totally consume all of my free time.

Add to that, my son has a cold - you tell a 6 month old to blow his nose and he just looks at you, covered in snot, and smiles.

The things we take for granted.  You know, common bodily functions.

But the new blog should be a fun one.  I'm going to keep it a secret just because I want to surprise all y'all!  WOOHOO!

But first I need to figure out how to hook up this page to an web address I'm gonna buy... Yes - I diving in head first!  
But blogger just confuses me... let me tell you - I'm really diggin' wordpress... if wordpress was a hot dude, I'd totally mack on him right now.  I would.  I'm not proud.

Alas... how many times can I start a sentence with "but" or "so"?  Good question!

I wish I had something new to report... I'm still trying to get my scanner to work - I need to story board a kids book I just finished writing and lay out notes for the next one.  Finish the plot of a game I'm running and get back to my book - but the other (traitorous) blog - WHERE DOES THE TIME GO!

And what day is it?  Yeah... I hate April first.  Most people know not to play pranks on me - because I shoot first and ask questions later - aha - I'm a bad ass (and due for parole in July)... the jerk deserved it... 

And now I'm off... I need to figure some time issues out and then try to sleep... 


more soon!

~good night!

Saturday, March 28, 2009

the land of blogs

I'm going to be fixing this place up a bit over the next few weeks, so if I stop writing, I'll be back!


Thursday, March 26, 2009

Things you should check out!

My blog tonight will be a short one...
I hope...
I have way to many things running through my head, so I could ramble - that would be easy, but I can't image the thoughts would be that coherent.

I somehow fell back "there" back to the bad place and I'm going to ignore it. 

I'm thinking some yoga, a nice hot mug of jasmine tea, some writing (the other writing I like to do so much) and then I'm gonna crash.  You know, before I start writing bad poetry.  No one wants my bad poetry - least of all me!

UGH!  (I've had a bad headache for about 4 hours now - I'm assuming that is the cause)

But if you're in the reading mood, I have two places for you to go:

oh silly me and my lack of having control over my own brain... 


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Observational techniques and gravy! YUM!

So, I like to figure things in life out.  I kinda look at things like a puzzle - including emotional stuff.  It's easier for me to process things if I can have a general grasp of what is surrounding me.  So I like to formulate ideas of why people do things or feel things... I think I've said before, normally it's easy for me to read people.  

And I don't mean that in a bad way.

I just find if you stop for five minutes and lend an ear, chances are people will tell you everything ever about their life.  We're all human.  Humans don't like to think their alone when it comes to emotional issues (*cough* blog *cough*)

Needless to say, I am NOT speaking only from observation.

But I like observation.
It's like playing a life sized game of chess.
Take your Queen out for a spin - lets see where you end up!
And it's not out of spite...
I don't tell people my observations normally, its just for me alone.

Just like not wanting to be the only vulnerable person around, I like to see how I'm not alone on other levels.

So I give a good look see and then I wait

I think the funniest thing is how as humans we all make similar mistakes and as humans we all think that we (personally) are immune to them.

Other things I've noticed is that most times the things we hate in others are directly relate to part of ourselves we dislike.  

Fidgeting <- that is mine, I HATE when people fidget and I'm the first one to start taping my foot. 

Or we dislike people because we feel they have something we want - success, family, keen fashion sense... the ability to tie a cherry stem with their tongue (I still don't believe this can be done - lies!)

...crap-o-la... I don't even know where I'm going with this... it just popped into my head.  I tell you, most of the time I don't write down things that just "POP" into my head.  It's just safer that way.  Trust me, someone might lose an eye - especially with how sharp my tongue can be... but it's just one of those things I think about.

I know that might seem like a false statement, but I DO in fact have a journal and in there - the secrets - OH THE SECRETS!  Naw... that's just another lie, like the cherry stems thing.  I don't write down anything too terrible unless I plan on burning it ceremonially on Hogs Back in the presents of a Druid Priest.

And I don't know any Druid Priests

So here is just a simple update on my otherwise repetitive life:

  • I am 54 pages into my story - I think it will end around 120, which is decent for a first draft.
  • I am preparing my attic to be a pseudo green house so I can grow my lovely garden without the cats eating the seedlings... (if I had a do over - never would I have taken in 3 cats - EVER)
  • Tomorrow, for the first time since the calendar turned to 2009 I will have my hair cut and dyed (finally I can go out in public again with out a hat!)
  • The husband, who doesn't understand my shoe thing, asked me out of the blue today why I don't own polka dotted shoes... and the suggested I get some.  (The end is nigh!)
  • I've had a realization that I may need to eat some fatty foods, this came to me when I found myself spooning cold gravy into my mouth... and you know what?  I wish I had some more... it was sooooooo yummmy..... 
  • and finally - I need to stop downing a full pot of coffee at 10pm - because when I do I find that I sit on blogger listing things, just random things, that really hold no importance to the world... 

May your observation on me be kind... and please keep in consideration that's and I'm unbalanced even the good days - yes, I think it gives me that extra little umph in life!

I'm going to go now - but I'll leave you with a little something that is cute!


Isn't he cute?!
He's 23 weeks old (he was 5 months on the 12th), 30" long and weights 20lbs...
By the time he's 3 he'll be taller than me... 



Here is my final gift to you... and yes, that IS Mr. Belding in the beginning!

Monday, March 23, 2009

Who will run the Frog Hospital?

I normally tie my life into music and lyrics, I think it goes back to  that year as a child my sister and I decided that somewhere out in this great big world, there is a town that does, in fact, break into song.

We serenaded the rest of our family for a week, breaking into dance routines and harmonizing about putting the groceries away or cleaning up after the dog in the back yard.  Yes, we knew that Rodgers and Hammerstein had nothing to worry about - but when you combined our great love of singing normal conversations added with our 5 years of tap lessons it made for an exciting time putting the eggs in the fridge. 

And yes, the rest of the family would just sigh after each number and go about their business.  Pretending it had never happened in the first place and hoping that there wouldn't be a repeat... poor family... 

That is why I lean on music
It is one of my greatest loves
Secretly I still wish and hope there is a land I can go to and just sing all the time.
Life would be easier to digest in song

OK - maybe it wouldn't but it would make me happy! (Fred Astaire how I miss you)

So that's part of why I do that - my made up land of musical bliss - but tonight I'm going to stray to my next love... 

Classical lit is where part of my heart is and will always be.  Alexander Dumas, Gustav Flaubert, Anton Chekhov, they are all some of my great loves.  Tragic events twisting and changing the world of one person.

Beautiful.  Sardonic.  Disturbing.  Perfection.

Modern lit came to me later.  Bukowski.  Kerouac.  Burroughs.  Miller...  The drunk tank of Bukowski, the adventure of Kerouac, the experimental aspects of Burroughs and the risque nature of Miller.  
Capote, Rand, Vonnegut, Steinbeck are others I love... I could do this all night.
Start from the Bible and make my way to JK Rowlings... I love reading.  I love stories.  I love getting lost in a world that is not my own and seeing where it take me, how it moves me, how it changes me.  

And you know what, it can be anything from Dante's Inferno to a novel by Nora Roberts - I just love the written word.  I will not discriminate against it.  No matter the form.  James Elroy was the featured author in the last playboy - I'm the one that read the articles... there had to be one of us now didn't there?

But in the end... that brings me to Lorrie Moore the author who wrote "Who will run the Frog Hospital?"

Its a narrative piece about a character named Berie Carr.  It's her life in present time and back when she was a kid.  Moore intermingles the two stories seamlessly, when you get to each part you want to know more in each prospective.    I could always relate to Berie Carr, even with all of her eccentric oddities.  
The story starts out about her and her husband, attempting to get pregnant and having the hardest time doing so.  Then it flips back to her meeting up with her best friend from her childhood.  She takes you on a story about their last summer together, when a ton of things go wrong and works it's way back to present day.  
I think that I liked it so much because it's a memory.  Fitting the past into your present isn't always that neat and comfy. 

Sadly, I don't own this book.  I realized after I started writing this that I had borrowed it from someone I no longer talk to.  I own Lorrie Moore's "Birds of America" which is a compilation of short stories that are just as good. 
But if you ever get a chance to pick it up, Lorrie Moore, "Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?" I say go for it.

Here is a quick excerpt - 

"...WHEN I WAS a child, I tried hard for a time to split my voice. I wanted to make chords, to splinter my throat into harmonies—floreted as a field, which is how I saw it. It seemed like something one should be able to do. With concentration and a muscular push of air, I felt, I might be able to people myself, unleash the crowd in my voice box, give birth, set free all the moods and nuances, all the lovely and mystical inhabitants of my mind's speech. Afternoons, by myself, I would go beyond the garden and the currant bushes, past the lavender-crowned chives and slender asparagus, past the sunflowers knocked bent by deer or an unseasonal frost, past the gully grass to the meadow far behind our house. Or I'd go down the road to the empty lot near the Naval Reserve where in winter the village plow and dump truck unloaded snow and where in summer sometimes the boys played ball. I would look out upon the wildflowers, the mulch of swamp and leaves, the spring moss greening on the rocks, or the boulderous mountains of street-black snow, whatever season it happened to be—my mittens clotted with ice, or my hands grimy with marsh mud—and from the back of my larynx I'd send part of my voice out toward the horizon and part of it straight up toward the sky. There must have been pain in me. I wanted to howl and fly and break apart..."

It is just one of those stories that has always stuck with me, even though I can't really tell you why.  I love her style of writing and the honesty of the characters.

Honesty... hmm... 

Everyone has a story
What's yours?

Sleep well

~good night...

(and please, enjoy a little Rita Hayworth before you leave...)

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Welcome to my kickass life! NINJA!

My life, mostly, is just something I take a day at a time.  I've always been early, but I've never really been much of a planner.  Don't get me wrong, I have goals - I have direction, I just don't normally have a map drawn out of how I'm going to get there.

They say that every journey starts with the first step, but they say a lot of things now don't they?  They say shit that just pisses me off or that makes me lose track of what's really important.  So, honestly, I don't know why I ever pay a moments attention to "them" in the first place.  It's just a waste of time... 

But inadvertently, I will bend my ear to hear what is being said, cliche after cliche - advice after advice, in the mere hope that I do get something from it, something that gives me that extra push to move forwards with whatever plans I have laid out for that moment.  And most times I do.  I'm one of those people that can find something in nothing, this tends to get me in trouble - sometimes looking for the silver lining really isn't what you should be wasting your time on.  Sometimes you need to just keep going because even the silver lining of a certain situation is really just nothing good at all.

When I read a book or listen to a song I tend to do that there too... meaning I disassemble the words looking for the intent.  I love to read between the lines for emotions... 

Probably because I'm so emotion.

I can't sleep.  
It's driving me mad...
I don't want to watch TV
I want to read but my book is in my bedroom and the husband is asleep and if I open the door he won't be any longer...

So here I am.

Looking for my own intent.  
Reading between my own lines.  
Assembling, disassembling and then reassembling. 

Whatever, right?
Seriously!  No one should let me run amok verbally when I'm delusional from sleep deprivation - drivel... Pure and simple... 

Moving on to el musico (that's made up spanish for "the music" - fancy!)

So there is this band.  They are called Supersuckers.  Ever hear of them?
They've been around since the late 80's and they, my friends, are awesome.

I had the chance to see them a few years ago when I saw Social Distortion for the first time. (how I love Social D - had me a wicked crush on Mike Ness for many a moon and now I have roses he threw at me... yes.  Hit me in the face.)

But the Supersuckers opened for them.

They have a lot of songs - how can they not? 1988 was a long time ago.
A few that always get stuck in my head are as follows:

and there are many others too, but that is a good place to start.  
And then there are the covers!  HA!  
I think I read somewhere that they "proclaimed" themselves the "greatest rock band ever" - no Jesus, but we all can't be Lennon now can we...

My Kickass Life I heard for the first time in forever last night.  It was intermingling in the background of conversation as I listened to my friend tell me their likes and dislikes of the recent BSG finale (what a sad day Friday was...)

And the song goes like this:

...got a show tonight, it's gonna pay my rent, and what I got left over, baby it's all been spent.  But there's no cover charge for me.  I'm in the band.  I'm the man with the goldtop in my hand.

It's my kickass life
It's my kickass life
It's my kickass life
No matter how good it gets
It could always get better...

Eddie Spaghetti, donning a cowboy hat and Elvis glasses, is the lead singer and let me just say the band is awesome live.  They're fun, they're music is fun.  It is an adventure and you know how I love me some adventure!

...another honey to have, another mile to go, so let's go.  Let the punks be punks, so I can play that rock 'n roll.  You know that through it all, I can see through the smoke and the lights, it's all bullshit baby, but I do it night after night

It's my kickass life
It's my kickass life
It's my kickass life
No matter how good it gets
It could always get better...

I take life too seriously
It makes it less kickass when I'm over analyzing the hums and haws
and to be honest - I do have a kickass life
but just like they said... it could always get better!  

If you don't believe that you're awesome, then why should anyone else?  Let me tell you, it was easier spreading the awesomeness when I was in one of the bands - but hey - still awesome! 

What the hell am I waiting for?  A freakin' invitation for the mayor of Awesome-ville?!


Sadly, I couldn't find a youtube clip of My Kickass Life - which is a dreadful shame - but if you follow the links above you can watch a few of their other video's and their website is filled with tons of downloads.

This is "Born with a Tail" - which is also very much fun.  

And now... I'm going to attempt sleep again... but the husband spilled garlic butter sauce on the rug so every time I close my eyes I want a salad... 

Now please, go enjoy your kickass life!  Go look in the mirror and remind yourself just how freakin' awesome you are and then spread it around a little.

There are too many morons out there that us awesome folk need to work a little harder to shine through!  But we're worth it!   Yes we are!!

Yeah, yeah... I know, I know... time for sleepy sleep before I start my "confidence is key" speech!  I'll save that one for later in the week!

Right now... mama needs a sandwich!

Good night darlin'!
Sweet dream!  And remember!
No matter how good it gets... it can always get better!

~The End

Thursday, March 19, 2009

And when you get stuck...

When is it the right time to stop saying and start doing?

I don't know if any time is the right time for anything.  Most days of my life I do what I will and just move forward.  In that light is just very easy to get lost - lost in the shuffle, lost in a moment - before you know what's happening it's months down the road, even when those memories feel like they were just yesterday.  You can see yourself just reaching out and touching them - but they're gone, long gone.  And like a piece of paper on a gust of wind you watch it all move away from you.  Another defining moment lost in a shuffle of time.

I've spent more time out of my house the last week or so.  
That sounds weird.  Like I'm agoraphobia or something... 
What I mean is I actually went out and saw some friends - and it was nice.
Catching up... doing the "I haven't seen you in ages" dance...
My favorite is the "so what's new?" question that is always answered with a firm "nothing.  how about you?"

I love my son.  He's all I talk about.  I feel bad.  I can see their eyes glaze over as I talk about, well, baby stuff... 

There have been moments in my life that after they happen I look myself in the mirror and say out loud, "Remember this.  Remember this moment."  Because I can be flighty and like I said - I tend to live life by the moment, not thinking that far ahead.  I've never been the ten year plan kinda gal.  That's just too far away.
Too much can change in this world to say - In ten years I'll... 
Yeah, I'll be ten years older.

Right now is one of those moments.  Remember when you have a new child all you do is talk about that child even when that voice in your head is screaming for you to shut up... you really just can't.

But still, I want to go out more
To see people
I think it's healthy - I think it's smart

but then when I come back to my bubble its just this over processing of nothing moments... 
Yes, yes - worry wart.  The end.

Oh what a tangled web we weave... Sir Walter Scott, how he knew what I'm thinking... 

I really do think that life is just a simple thing - the only problem we have is that we just need to remember to breathe.  We need to remember that its not a race and we need to remember that it is also not a contest.  We need to remember to stop thinking about it and just live it.

I had a teacher once, a sociology professor to be more specific, and she was amazing.  The first day of class she had us do the around the room thing that I hate so much.  At the end of the room she stood in front of us and listed who she was, the fact that she had 2 PhDs, was a medical doctor, had like 4 masters and I think 1 or 2 BAs in something.  And we all just sat there with our chins on our laps and she said, "But you know what?  I was born just like you and I'm gonna die - just like you.   So does it matter?"

Does it?

We do things that define ourselves every day without realizing it, and then there are those moments that we do things IN ORDER to define ourselves.  Career, family, how we dress, what we eat... and it just makes me think... 

What do you want to be remembered as?

I would like to be remembered as a writer.  A nice person that was there when someone needed me.  A good mom... 

But then, with the writer part, I think about the 6.7 BILLION people on this planet and I think about how I like to go to this little antique store that has a wonderful old book collection in their basement and buy random books from people I've never heard of... I love to read those books.  Forgotten in time.  Lost.

I remember seeing one that was written by a woman, but it was from the late 1800's and instead of her name it said "Written by the wife of..."

So that got me into buying these books - they wanted to be writers too.  That's what they wanted to be remember as and here we are, not knowing their names.

I have this one little red book that I bought like that.  It's all water laden and warped that I love to read from time to time... its all old pulp stories from the 1930's.  I love the vernacular of that time... the old slang is just quaint in the present day but I just wonder if people really did say things like "Chicago Overcoat" (which is a coffin)... 

I want to write something that makes people think.  Really think.  But then I can't... I don't know where to start.

And that's what happens when you define yourself sometimes - you don't know when it's the right time to start things because you've pigeonholed yourself by creating a definition of what you feel you should or should not be or accomplish.

...you've got to get yourself together, you've got stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it.  You say that later will be better, now you're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it..."

I've taken a week off from writing my story.  I'm going to go work on that for a little bit, even though I should probably get some sleep.  No more stuck... 

And yes - I'll sleep when I'm dead.

...and if the night runs over, and the day won't last, and if your way should falter along this stony pass, it's just a moment.  This time will pass...

~Good Night

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

the long, lonely night

I sit alone in the dark, night after night.
I lay on my couch and watch the television - Asian cinema seems to be where my heart is these days.
And the heroic music plays gently in the background as I lose myself in the story
or just lose myself all together
The cats jump on my feet as I dance alone in the dark
they ruin things 
it's their job
and my job is to get mad and boot them off the couch

and the dance continues just like the night before

I listen so desperately to the baby monitor hoping not to hear a sound
but with each moment praying that a sound will be made
because until I hear that noise, I can't sleep - not even a wink
but when it comes, I grunt and drag my ass up a flight and a half of stairs
bottle in hand

and the music keeps playing
serenading me in my nightly quest to find the rhythm I seek out so much.

My mind roams too much
and I swear some more
praying and hoping that tonight will be the end 
but knowing the transition, while almost complete, isn't - not just yet

And the dance continues

And the movie plays on

And the words keep coming 

And the nights are so long

And I know I can take it even though I'm sure I'm done

And the dance continues, and I am still alone

People tell me it will calm down.  I know, I'm not that naive.  But when you're surround by the fallout you can feel nothing more than weak and breakable
And when I look back, I'm sure it will all be fine
but until then
I'll watch my movies, pretend the walls lead to nothings and know that at some point I will sleep.

Because when I don't...

the dance continues... the movie plays on... the words keep on coming... I have to be strong... and I want this change more than I can verbalize... but I want more, so much more than anyone can even understand... and when I feel whole again, not this tiny small thing that has no hope, I will smile

the music will stop

my brain will be mute

and the words... the words... they will turn into something new

I have to go dance alone in the dark to the cinematic score that is now this moment of my life... and you have to go to sleep

good night.

Happy day!

I never realize how hard it is to do fun baby time stuff until I've only gotten 2 hours of sleep and the coffee only seems to make me even more tired.

Here's hoping Thursday is better.

I hope everyone has a fun and safe day today!

May your beer be cold and your day be green!

Monday, March 16, 2009

Will you be my hero?

In the summer of 1994 I was 18 years old.
A million years ago when I knew nothing, but is still one of my favorite summers, ever. 

I worked at a "living" historical museum just outside of Akron Ohio, that is part of the Western Reserve Historical Society as a historical interpreter - aka... a tour guide to all the families that had dragged their small unknowing children to enjoy an educational day listening to an 18 year old girl tell them things like, "The house was built in 1845 by a man named Goldsmith. You can see his signature through the house in the decorative wood work spread through out the house."

Small children love that.  Especially when it's summer vacation... 

Needless to say, we had a LOT of down time. Which gave me the chance to meet some of the most wonderful people in those 3 months.  People whom honestly, changed my life.  That was the summer I learned about yoga, how to cook and bake, how some people can't tell the difference between a "working" museum and the Amish and a little band from England called The Jam.

At this museum there are/were craftsmen that worked there to help make the outside world see what life might have actually been like back in 1845. A potter, a candlestick maker, a baker,  a blacksmith and a glass blower.

To this day I am friends with the blacksmith,  (I've known him since I was 7. My family is really into history, I used to volunteer there before I worked there) But the glass blower - Mike, I knew him only for those 3 whole months of my life and he was just a really cool cat. Sounds cheesy, but it's the truth - probably one of the coolest people I ever had the chance to meet in my short life.

In his off time - and with a seasonal job there is a lot of that - he was an artist. I had the chance to see some of his work once, to say it was amazing would be putting it mildly. He was and probably still is, a very talented glass artisan and he is the man that started me on the musical path I've been on, well, since that summer.  

"Ever hear of a band called The Jam?"
"Pearl Jam?"  (once again - 1994)  He laughed.
"Here... borrow this."  (He handed me "In the City" on cassette)

An English Rock band that is sometimes married with the Punk, new wave and the revival MOD movements, the Jam rocked the airwaves from 1977 - 1982 and they have written some of my favorite song - "The Modern World," "Eaton Rifles," "Sound from the Street," and most of all "Just who is this 5 o'clock hero?"

I wish I had thanked Mike for lending me that cassette, for The Jam molded me into who I am and in many ways they are the reason I dove head first into early punk music... (nothing was or is like 1977), but I never went back to work there.  The "real" job I took that fall wasn't kind about me working the summer as historical interpreter, or anything - for that matter - that took me away from it.  (but that's another story)

But from that summer I got to take away a lot of fun memories and, The Jam.  So here they are.

...Hello darlin' - I'm home again covered in shit and aches and pains too knackered to think so give me time to come round just gimme the living room beat to the TV sound...

"Just who is this 5 o'clock hero" is an ode to all of us little people who aren't getting bail outs from the government. And while the song topped the charts in 1982, this pretty much how everyone I know feels today.  

Reused, recycled and rejected.

Over worked, under paid, and really under appreciated. We get up at the break of dawn, break our backs to live this "American dream" that isn't anything more than repetition - the job is like some sort of residual haunting in our own life. In the few moments you find to breathe or even think the only thoughts you want to have are pushed out by evil thoughts that are just as repetitive, and they sing "When is it my turn?  When will I get a break?" in our heads to whatever tune you can conjure up.

...My hard earned dough goes in bills and the larder and that Prince Philip tells us we gotta work harder! It seems a constant struggle just to exist scrimping and saving and crossing of lists...

And then every time you pick up the local rag all you see is that, just when you feel it can do nothing but get better, things are still falling so short you're not sure if this pay check to pay check life is one you can deal with any more - like you really have a choice. 
But you get through, what else is there to do? 

And then the juggling ensues on a whole new level.

...From this window I've seen the whole world pass from dawn to dusk I've heard the last laugh laughed I've seen enough tears to wash away this street I've heard wedding bells chime and a funeral march when as one life finishes another one starts...

and being expendable doesn't help at all.

I'm a big nerd when it comes to tech, I love it, gadgets and everything alike - but the growth of things that make our lives "less complicated" just seem to complicate things more for our 5 o'clock heroes. No one can afforded to hire Mary from down the street but they have deals with cisco and Intel and whomever else will tell them with this magical box you no longer need a receptionist.

There is $28k you just saved - not to mention bonuses, raises and insurance.  Who really needs insurance any more.  Yes, it is a luxury - not a privilege.  

...Alright then love so I'll be off now It's back to the lunchbox and worker/management rows there's gotta be more to this old life then this scrimping and saving and crossing of lists...

So who really is this working class, 5 o'clock hero? And when will we get our breaks in life? You keep your nose clean and show up on time but that's when they realize they have you - because you'll work because you have ethics and not because you wanted more - even if you deserve it.

You get passed up on raises and promotion and then suddenly look back and realize your so tired of taking it and taking it and taking it some more. But you just feel lost.

We are being broken one soul at a time like a new mare on a horse ranch. After a while we'll just let anyone ride us as long as we know someone will give us a cube a sugar from time to time.

Just who is this 5 o'clock hero?  
And when will they come to save us?
Is it you?  Surely it is not me... 

I am nobodies hero...

All of our hopes are looking to one man in a big white house - he impressed me with his AIG suppression - here's hoping that he really is the hero we all need.

So thank you Mike and thank you The Jam for saying something that, sadly, still rings true nearly 30 years later.

I dedicate this song to all of you working class 5 o'clock heroes - may this be your year.  May it be the year you finally get the break you deserve.

But for now, sweet dreams and good night.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

I'm not crying in my wheaties today! WOOHOO!

My psycho break down is over, for now... you know, until the next time my instability floats to the surface causing me to lose my mind and come here to tell you all about it.  If only you discouraged me from doing this - naaaaw!  Where would the fun in that be?  Anyway, I feel since I read all of your lovely words I should reciprocate with words of my own.

It's like a slow torture isn't it?  But you don't even know because it's all convoluted into pretty nothings!  Oh how I jest with you... 

So here I am.  I blew off some steam last night and then paid for it today.  Yes, baby hangovers are not good.  But it was still worth it.  And my little kid wasn't that bad... I mean, it would have been nice to be able to eat dinner AT the restaurant, but hey - that's just crazy talk.  I should be happy I got to go out in the first place now shouldn't I?  And I should be elated that we found the little guy some sweet Batman swimming trunks!  

You know - cup half full kinda crap!  Not half stupid (which seems to be my M.O.)

Another happy turn of events is that I booked a vacation for us yesterday.  Sadly the child won't be with us.  It makes me nervous... I've only been away from him for 24 hours once in the past 5 months...  And we will be gone from a Friday night to the following Tuesday... I'm trying not to think about it.  I need the vacation like a college student needs to sell his plasma for beer money... 

No.  It doesn't make sense to me either.

I'm also going to start running again this week.  I'm always much more stable when I'm working out.  I think it's the chemicals and all of that crap.  I just need to find a place to run - I don't want to run around here, by the home, I'd much rather run someplace that I don't have 15 sets of neighboring eyes on me.

Neighbors are nice.  But I'm still not used to them.  All of our past neighbors weren't that nice.  Hell, one of them would call our landlord monthly to complain about us.  It was nice... fanfare!  JOY!

Anyway, I think I need to do the health kick thing for a bit.  Cleanse the soul.  How long do you think I can make it without coffee?  I've proven I can go weeks without beer... but coffee?  That might just be suicide in the making.  (smoking I'm not worried about.  I gave it up cold turkey for el bambino so I can do that again)

Don't worry.  I'm sure I'll be here and tell you ALL about it!
I'm going to start Monday.  
I'll start slow.
Cut out the night time coffee - keep the "get my ass moving" coffee.

Then run after work.  If I do that 3 days a week.  
Maybe I'll smile when I'm sober!

Oh, wait.  I forgot.  Wrinkles... smiling is bad!  


I have 6 more episodes of Doctor Who to watch and then I need to find out when BSG is on since my stupid ass DVR didn't tape it yesterday... See, machines ARE taking over the world and ruining my TV viewing... 

Thanks for reading

Thursday, March 12, 2009

you may be right

Sorry about that world...

Find a moment of sobriety and next thing I know a middle age man is handing me a pile of papers that shouldn't have my name on the.

and it begins again... 

...you may be right.  I may be crazy.   But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for.  Turn out the light, don't try to save.  You may be wrong, but for all I know you may be right...

I'm going out tomorrow night.  Time to blow off some steam and to get the craziness back to a respectable level.  I should be honest with myself about things, I should be honest in general.  What is it that's driving me to all of this and if I am honest it is simple.  I'm scared.  I'm just really scared right now.

the dreams make sense again... 

So much has changed in the past year that in this whirlwind that is my life I keep finding myself lost.  Yes, I have moments of clarity and yes, I know it will turn out fine - but standing in the eye of the storm I'm just damn scared I'll be blown over or blow away. 
When things took the turn they did 8 years ago and I found myself on a new plane of life I looked at that change square in the face and I took it because I had no choice.  I tried to let that side of me that keeps things so tightly wound go, but its just so ingrained in my existence.  That is my security.

That is exactly where my mundane routines come from.  
My security blanket.  
And here I am, a new mom with the knowledge that even after all of this change that has already occurred soon there will be more.

I had my ducks in a row and now I can't afford the ducks I wrangled so I just don't know.  I don't know and I don't know how to deal with that so I suppress those feeling and then lash out.  And then I feel so silly and so crazy and while I'm still digesting one thing then another is presented to me and I don't know how to be me or who I am... 

...I've been stranded in a combat zone, I've walked through Bedford Stuy alone, even rode my motorcycle in the rain.  And you told me not to drive, but I made it home alive, so you said that only proves that I'm insane...

I'm at that sad little moment that I want nothing more than to have someone just tell me what to think and who to be.  Because it is simple and it may not truly be me, but its... simple.  I just feel so schizophrenic and the voices in my head keep yelling at me and they are fighting and I just smile and smile and smile some more because I don't want the world to know that it's happening at all.  I don't want that look or the pat on the back or even the hug or a half comment over beer.  I just want to see into the future at what is next, just to know where I'll be and that through the process I'm going to be okay and not fail myself and become something I can't swallow.

...turn out the light, don't try to save me.  You may be wrong, but for all I know you may be right...

I've never done this before.  Not like this...

The whole song doesn't even apply to me - I just like the refrain


The smart side of me knows that nothing will happen that could be that devastating if I just let it go, but how can I do that with the uncertainty... 


I fear failure so much I seem to cause it

you may be wrong but for all I know you may be right...

I need to go breath
I need to go sleep
I need to stop living on coffee and cigarettes

I need some more sobriety, and a teddy bear, and to kiss my son
something to hold me and let me know it will be fine
and to tell me all the things I tell myself every day - I'll be fine
It'll all be just fine


because I really think you may be right (thank you billy joel)

~good night

2 funny stories and another reason I'm bitter...

So my son is 5 months old today, and I love it. I really, really do.

People like to tell me, "Just wait! It gets harder!"

Everything in life is hard, but being his mom is wonderful - even with the crappy parts.

Two nights ago the little monster fell asleep an hour before he was supposed to be fed and put to bed, so I woke his little butt up. Well, he needed to be changed so really it was the cold air of the house that woke him up.

Needless to say, he was not happy with me.

So as he lay there, half naked to the world and crying as to say, "Why mom? Why!!!" he begins to pee and ended up peeing on his ear, in his eye and up his nose all before I managed to grab something to cover him and stop the peeing.

Now he's screaming his brains out and to make it worse, I didn't just cover him, I adjusted him so he was aimed at me - and he finished peeing all over my stomach and pants...

oh my poor little son...

So the next day - he's in much better spirits. We are playing games, his favorites are where I make him fly around the house. After about an hour of this I'm tired so I decided to lay down on the kitchen floor. (its a nice cool surface) and I have him laying on my chest and I'm humming the theme to Indiana Jones and he's giggling with his arms out to the side. I keep shifting from side to side singing and it suddenly occurs to me - "If he spits up right now - hahaha - he's gonna puke all over my neck and face."

And as if the thoughts in my brain shot over to him - he did.
So I laid there laughing as he laid above me with spit up dangling from him mouth...

Yes, both things are gross - but both still make me laugh. And right now I need laughter.


Because I was just served papers about a house I haven't lived in since 2001. And WHY???


And you know what?

I am willing...

Oh how I am...

More baby Einstein please... it's time to fly the kid to the moon...

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

and I give you Till Tuesday...

"Voices Carry" Till Tuesday

It's one of those songs that everybody knows, they even sing along, but most times they don't realize what they are even singing.

The catchy music muddles the words and no one realizes how sad the song is.

"...when I tell him I'm falling in love, why does he say, hush hush, keep it down now voices carry..."

A testament to not speaking the words out loud, because if you do, like a magical spell they may come true.  And some dreams are just better left alone.

"...I try to hard not to get upset, because I know the trouble I'll get.  Oh, he tells me tears are something to hide, and something to fear, and I try to hard to keep it inside so no one can hear.  Hush, hush.  Keep it down now voices carry..."

I once had a guy tell me how sexy he thought this song was.  
He heard the refrain and her breathless voice and came up with his own theory.  
Because if all you hear is her say hush, in a hushed voice... yes, yes... sexy...

"...he said shut up.  he said shut up.  oh god can't you keep it down.  voices carry..."

The older I get the less and less I look at life in a cheery, cheeky light. 
I see things cluttered with shadows that are lined with illusions.  These new negative beliefs have led me to alter how I do some things... 
I never say anything even though I talk all the time, its amazing how easy it is to get people to just talk about themselves and never ask about you.  I honestly can't remember the last time someone asked me how I was doing.

Sounds pathetic doesn't it?

Not really.  
Not when you're the one orchestrating and navigating them to only talk about themselves.

Being boisterous carries a lot of implications, so I like to keep my moments precise.  There are certain expectations to be had when you wrap yourself around a room.  Even when you, yourself, have none.  
People talk so much, so much gossip.  

Gossip is like history - to the winner goes the spoils.

So when things drift my way... dare I ask?  No.  I don't want to be involved.  If you need honest help with something I'll be there, but if you're just looking to perpetuate tart nothings wrapped in a faded jean jacket - I'd much rather be writing, reading or surfing the net.  Plus, I find that life rarely is ever that interesting any more.  So when people talk I tend to drift - I suck in key words to repeat back - and think about other things.

Sounds mean doesn't it?

Like I said, there really isn't much to say.  
People say things change, I don't feel that way.  I think some people do but I think most people find a moment in time that they loved and they hold on to it.

Safety in familiarity.  No one wants to be the blind man in the newly rearranged room.

How many times have you heard someone say, "remember that night?"  and then you watch them try to relive it.  

You can't recreate a spontaneous moment.  
All you can do enjoy that moment when it happens and saver it.  
Swim in it lovingly until you look like a prune.  
But you can never do it again.
Not like the first time.

You see, I love change, it's scary fun and brilliant because in the end you have more than you ever expected.  Memories, life - everything.

I've never needed to find an Everest to climb, I've always just happened upon each mountain by chance and none have bested me yet.

"...in the dark I like to read his mind, but I'm frightened of the things I might find.  Oh there must be something he's thinking of to tear him away..."

People only hear half of what you're saying anyway
and I've grown tried of repeating myself until I'm blue in the face
so I've turned and walked away
What I find interesting these days are not what I used to spout off about - I get giddy because of the history channel has a first look on the mughals or become elated that the military channel has a new special on the sr--71 blackbird...

And I ponder about a world of other things that are all left unsaid... 

He said shut up, and I did
Which worked out famously
Because honestly, I ran out of things to say a long, long while ago


And anyway, the song may carry a sad undertone but the words are true...

"...hush, hush... voices carry..."

Shhhh!  Someone may hear you!  
And no one wants that now do they?

~sweet dreams

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Sometimes dreams aren't worth it...

I started having the dreams again.  The bad dreams... Dreams that Wes Craven makes millions off of.

They make me hate dreams.  I really hate knowing that some things in my life are so deeply rooted in my brain, I can't even avoid them when I rest.  Especially when I haven't thought of them while I was awake.

But it's not just that.  It's not just, "Oh crap I forgot to pay the mortgage."
They're bad dreams... 
To say that they're disturbing is putting it mildly.  But sadly, I'm kinda used to it - well, at least I was. 

I used to have reoccurring nightmares for years.  And to clarify, by years I mean pretty much my entire life.  That is until a few years back.

I've had two years off and now, here I am again.

It started with the cleaver man.  In my head I suppose I like to add flair to everything, only intensifying the situation.  He was scruffy, even dirty - I know there was dirt under his nails.  He was in my house, by my knives and I was alone.

I'm always alone in the dreams.

And he killed me with the cleaver.
I think I took it in the chest, I woke up as I was fading away.
It really did only hurt for a second, then woozy and warm and it fades... 

I read some where once that if you die in your dreams you will die in real life.  

This isn't true.  

I've died so many times I lost count in my early twenties.
I've been gunned down on a flight of stairs running with a man - he died first - I woke hysterically crying
I've been trapped in the hull of a sinking ship.  The water slipped over my head and my chest burned and then it was quite - so quite...
I've been pushed off a building
Set on fire
You name it - it's probably happened to me in a dream - and I really mean you name it.  I've had a lot of really bad dreams in my life.

When I tell people this they always want to analyze them.
"You're worried about something."
"You're anxious."
"There is something unresolved in your life."

Yes, yes and I'm sure yes.  But why the two years?  Why the break?  Why did I get 2007 and 2008 off?  And to be honest, maybe it was longer... for some reason I want to say it's actually been since 2005...

Another puzzle.

My life as the Sunday "Family Fun" section of the newspaper...

I've been an insomniac for as long as I can remember.  I don't remember a time that I slept more than I do now.  I was always the first awake growing up and the last asleep.
Same thing goes with the dreams.
When I was little I used to have this dream of a man on a horse - the man and the horse were a silhouette.  And they would grab me, ride on top of a grill like place and he would drop me to the fiery depths below. 

I'm sure its all irrelevant
No, I'm not
The only thing I do know is that I would rather just not dream at all
I don't want to get used to this again

I was always taught that death in a dream meant transformation, change in life...

What kind of change is so drastic that I needed to have a dirty man put a cleaver in my chest?

I'll let you know when I figure that out.
Even though I'm pretty sure that I never will, at least thats my conclusion from the last batch of dreams I had.

Now wish me a good night sleep
and pray I don't dream
and if I do, here's hoping for rainbows and unicorns

No, that sounds even scarier than the man with the cleaver...
I'd rather just not dream at all

~Good Night

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Women in comic book movies

I've been reading comic books and graphic novels now for more than half my life.  
I love them and I think that they are over looked in main stream society.

In present times comic books and comic characters have become more accept - we can thank the summer "blockbuster" for that.  From Richard Donner "Superman" in 1978 to Zack Synder's "Watchmen" which opened on Friday - the genre of comics and superheroes are now a money making vehicle in Hollywood, so until the producers of Hollywood ram that genre into the ground and ultimately kill it, we will not be away from comic book heroes any time soon. 

But loving comics and loving comic book movies is the same as being from my generation and loving the Star Wars Saga of the late 70's early 80s and then putting up with Lucas' need to make the "first three" movies while destroying the joy that as part of my childhood.

I find that the translation from book to screen is muddled many a time.  The problem is a simple one.  Movies are made to make money so making a movie that will only cater to the comic book fanboys means the movie will tank - you have no choice but to broaden the horizons of the film letting in a much wider, much more ignorant, part of the audience.

OK - you see the word ignorant and now you think I'm being insulting, but I'm not.  It's just a fact.  It's like those people who told me the 2002 version of Count of Monte Cristo is a good film.  Have you read the book?  No.  Please don't talk to me.  Thank you.  
It's not a bad MOVIE but it's a bad representation of the book - a very watered down and stripped down version of a complex story that can't be contained in 2 hours - even when the acting really wasn't that bad. 

The same applies to comics and film.  Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, (gulp) Super Girl... Fanboys/girls have their opinions.  They've read the books.  They know the facts - and hardcore readers... stand back world!  

But like I said.  I get it.  I see both sides.

What I don't get are females in comic book movies.

Females introduction into comics were that of victims and a sex symbols.  This is not a shocking thing if you think about the fact that, back in the day - and I mean 1920s - 1930s, comic book writers also wrote Pulp Stories.  Or they started in Pulp and moved their way into the comic book field.  
When you look at stories like Nick Burns "Angel Face" which was originally printed in Black Mask in 1937 you see one of the strongest women characters to date and still she was beautiful, and she used her beauty and sexuality to further her cause.  And in the end, when SHE was the one that fingered the bad guys, the police didn't step in until the "bad guys" branded her.  I mean that in the literal sense.  Hot metal burning symbol into her skin.

So when Alan Moore's Watchmen came out in 1986 and he mocked the female superhero with his use of Silk Spectre or even her daughter Miss Jupiter (Silk Spectre II), I liked it.  I like it now.  I think it's truthful of females in comics, especially the time period he was concentrating on. 

But still, can't we have a character like Huntress without making her look like a jackass, hit the big screen?

The husband pointed out to me the stronger women characters in cartoons like "Justice League Unlimited," and he is right.  The writing on that cartoon was wonderful and the women held their own - and even comic book writers in this day and age are writing strong, smart female roles in their books.  Look at Buffy or The Runaways for that matter - but still, it hits the "big screen" and the acting is piss poor and their dialogue is trite.  So people blame the actresses, but its not them.  Even these "no name" actresses I've seen in other roles that they preformed beautifully in.  

So where does it all go wrong?  And when is it our turn?

I love Batman.  I love all of my male superheroes.  (well, not a big fan of the boy in blue, but that's because I don't have a thing for cub scouts) But the use of women in comics, especially comic movies is weak at best.

You can try to blame the writers or the original books, but that won't work.  Fine, you may not like Silk Spectre, but Alan Moore's "V for Vendetta" had a strong female lead - Evey.
You didn't like Queen Gorgo in "300" but Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" had Carrie Kelly and hell, she was 13.

Where are the rolls like that?  Where is that passion? 

Instead we get to watch bare breasted bubbled headed women scream and run or have lots of sex.  I have nothing against a sex scene, if it's important to the story.  
If I want to see porn, I'll watch porn.  

And if they don't get all stupid and naked they whine a LOT. 
"Oh, Peter!  Whenever will you realize I'm more important than all of humanity?"  Oh Mary Jane... please go... do SOMETHING.  (like in the books where she's not a lame ass whiny girl.)

And what does is say about us?  We, the general public, can't enjoy a comic book movie unless some chick gets all dumb?

"Superman Returns" tanked as did the Ang Lee's "Hulk" in 2003 - maybe it's because Kate Bosworth and Jennifer Connelly left their shirts on.  I mean, 2008 Hulk had hot Brazilian chick.  "Iron Man" had pole dancing stewardesses.

People always say things like, "It was simpler back in the day."
No it wasn't
It just wasn't on film

Nothings really changed in main stream society

And sometimes I don't think it ever will.  Look at the general make up of Corporate America. 

White, male, rich.
It's like "Wall Street" on repeat

I am now getting off of my soapbox...
Have a good night
~The End

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Hypocrisy and food

I just ate a brownie... it was a bad idea... Normally I snack on fruit or even a chocolate bar... but this brownie... ugh, I swear I can feel it's evilness coursing through my veins.

Sometimes I try to convince myself that I should do the "eat only raw food" thing - and then I realize that I like to cook and that I can't make a patty melt if it's not cooked.  And what about bbq sauce?  Or BK's special sauce?  

Or melted brie
sloppy joe
mac n cheese
Pumpkin ravioli in a nutmeg cream sauce?!

(do you see the amount of dairy on the list - I like to believe that I'm fighting the good fight!)

I just couldn't live my life like that... 
I understand it
I even respect it
But I just can't do it

I'll run 3 miles
Drink the drinks
take 200 vitamins
But please don't take away my pseudo ruben - I just might die.

In the end I should just NOT eat these stupid ass brownies.  I know I can't eat premade foods - I know that sounds really lame, but there are a number of places I just can't eat at or I'll just get sick - and it's not the restaurant - its me.  No one else gets sick.  And it's store bought stuff too - I can't even eat prego - which is TOTALLY fine because I like to make pasta sauce.  You should see the tomatoes I picked out to grow out back today.  That is one of those things I'm excited for.  But sometimes, like earlier today I just wish I could go drive thru and grab me a big mac or something like that.  

I had a tofurkey and cheese sandwich on rye with mayo.  ah... it was easier than an egg and tastes better than another pb&j.

But it won't end.  I know this summer, once I have the garden in full swing, I'll start on my "raw foods" kick again.  There is nothing like food you grow in your backyard.  We always had a garden growing up and I have many fond memories of picking a tomato and eating it or sitting under the grapevines and plucking off the grapes... concord grapes - DElicious!

You know, I don't normally mind it.  I don't mind cooking, it relaxes me and I like coming up with new things.  (there is only so much tofu one can eat, even if it is crispy and slathered in bbq sauce) But sometimes I'd just like a meal that sticks to your bones.  I miss beef stroganoff or chicken paprikash.  I've made veggie varieties of these over the years but the husband hates mushrooms (which I'll NEVER understand) and with the whole dairy thing...  

You want to know what the worst day of my life is going to be?  The day my doctor looks at me and says, "Sorry, you can no longer eat dairy."


The only vegan dessert I've ever made that I like better than the non - vegan counterpart is my banana bread.  Can one survive on banana bread alone?


My sister is there.  She got that talk.  She's pretty much vegan.
A friend of mine just learned she's allergic to soy...

People think we should be freaked out about the economy and the fact that the DOW took a nose dive this week... I say we need to figure out this dairy epidemic before someone can't eat cream sauce!

On an up side, if I continue to work out and go vegan I'll be pretty cut... hmm... granted if I have to give up all of that there is NO WAY IN HELL I'm giving up the sauce and my smokes... oh hypocrisy - you look so pretty tonight... 

Pretty enough to eat with just a little dollop of sour cream!

Yes, see what sugar does to me?  
Time to detox!

~good night

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

The bloody Karma of writing

In my quest to bring writing back into my life I've been trying to write whenever I can.  Be it on here or on little scraps of paper or on my laptop in my living room in the middle of the night.

I write best at night.
I do everything best at night.
I'm a night person all the way.  I function better after being awake for a long time.  And when I write I need those ten hours I've put in a day to be laid out before me for me to have something coherent to say.  

I come here to dump.  That's what this place is.  Fleeting thoughts or emotions that I've had stored up that I need to unload.  Someone once commented that this sounds like my diary, and it really is - for the most part.  The journal I keep has much more detailed commentary than I'd ever put on here because I do believe that the word is mightier than the sword.

Anyone can punch you with a fist.  It takes a certain someone to make you bleed with their words.

And words, well, they're tricky.  Like a scored woman they can turn on you in an instant and declare that they're going to ruin your life - and they will.

So when I talk to people, meet people who are scared to share their ideas, I understand.  Even if you're writing about something in a journalistic format - to some degree your soul is intertwined with those words - woven through out that story.  It's you.  Part of you.

The first time someone took one of my ideas and passed it off as their own I was in high school.  Enraged I went after the person.  But it was a he said, she said kinda thing and in high school I had a really bad relationship with the administration of my school and the girl who did the stealing did not.  No one believed me.  

She won money for my idea.

I never spoke of an idea I had again.

For a long time I never would let anyone read my writing.  Not even family.
I just KNEW they were going to take it and run with it.

Now, on here, I don't have those types of fears.  The fact that people are following this blog elates me, and the few friends I know who read it - well I'm a writer - I want to be read.  So I LOVE it.  Even if what they are reading or incoherent thoughts I spew out in the middle of the night.  What we have here, in the realm of "some place fresh" are the rants of a 30+ woman who just went though a life changing event and her coping with the ripples that came off of that event.

So I thank you all for reading.

But to all you assholes out there that steal other people's ideas and pass them off as your own.  I hope you break both of your hands.  

People suck.  

Like I've stated I know a bunch of people who write.  From lyrics to poems to thesis pieces to sports.  I read all of it and if I like it I let that person know.  
Everyone can write.
It's true.
But some people, some people are just plain gifted.
And yes, that can make you jealous or angry that its them and "not you", but what the fuck.

I'm a bit peeved.  I'm not naive.  I've been screwed over a million times and I'll be screwed over a million more - fine.  But it doesn't mean I have to like it even a little bit.

What do you get from it?

I have a few rules I live by:
  Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to
  Don't believe stories you hear about someone until you've gone to the source
  And if you can't look yourself in the face, you're doing something wrong.

I suppose until the day I die the human race will cease to amaze me with how shitty it really is.  

Being a writer should be like being part of some vagabond tribe
You might not live with them
You may never meet them
But when you do you take that one thing you have in common and you support them

To all of you jerks out there that aren't creative enough to come up with your own ideas, so instead you prowl blogs and steal another person's - it's called Karma.

I hope anyone this has happened to keeps writing.  Because while it is unacceptable, you must be doing something right.  Because if you weren't... well they wouldn't have gone after you in the first place.

To anyone that wants or needs support in their writing, feel free to contact me.
And to anyone who is looking to be an asshole - feel free to jump into traffic.

~Good Night

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Write what you know

In life we tend to gravitate towards certain people.  I tend to gravitate towards other writers.  This was never something I just chose to do.  Honestly, this is the first time in my life that I've taken the steps to meet other writers or talk about my writing, but when I look around me - that's who I've been surrounded by all this time.

The Husband writes, my cousins, friends...

It just seemed to happen that way.

Tonight I went to my little monthly writers meeting (this is what triggered these thoughts) and we did the round table norm - introduce yourself, tell everyone what you're working on and if you are brave enough, share an excerpt of that project with the group.

Now, we meet at a restaurant, which is kind of nice.  It's nice having a bar there to have a little something to quell those butterflies in  your belly before you stand up and read.  It's nice to be able to order some food to pick at while everyone else is reading their selections - but on the flip side, it's loud as hell!
I'll order a drink or a cup of coffee - I never order food.  The reason? - the restaurant is expensive and if I'm going to drop $30 on a meal, the husband should be with me to enjoy it too 

So we all introduce ourselves and order then the reading begins - me make it through.  This time was beyond interesting.   Honestly, I'd like to read or hear more about every project that was read aloud (I was not one of those brave souls)  So many ideas.

I won't list them here - they're not mine to list.  As a writer you work so hard at coming up with the prefect idea for a story, a book, that it's scary sharing it because you never know if the guy sitting across from you is a jerk who is not going to come back and just came to steal your idea.

I won't be that jerk.

Hell, once again props to all who spoke up.  I lied and said I wasn't writing anything.
I am.
8 pages a night.
Hoping to have the first draft done by May.

(see I do write other things that don't end up here - yet)

I hope by then I'll be able to read a portion of it to the group.  I know they want to hear.  My prolific nature has sent my writing in many different arenas and most of the people there are much more centered that I am.  
I have new ideas every day.
I jot them down in my little notebook and hope one day I'll come back to them... Like Boris in the Seagull - but unlike Boris, I really don't want to destroy anyone to complete my ideas...

All the worlds out there, all the stories that are still left to be told.
Write what you know.  That's what they all say.  
I think people miss interpret that into a literal sense.  I don't think it means, "You know about engines - that's all you can write about."
I think it means take the experiences from your life and create a person that is part of your soul and then drop that person into a story...  What do you know?  Love.  Loss.  How to balance 3 jobs and 2 kids...  

And even if you hear an idea that sounds similar to yours just remember that you are your own person with your own life experiences - it'll never be the same.

These are things I've told myself a 1000x and these are things I tell people when they write or talk to be about writing.  No one can be you.  So no one can write exactly like you.

I don't know where I'm going with this.
I just liked seeing other people who have that spark, that passion to spin a story.  

Like I stated, I've known a lot of writers, and some of them... not so nice.  Some of them will tell you to give up.


Spinning a web is too wonderful of a thing not to do.  Trapping someone there is too much fun.  But my biggest fear..........

I guess it's the same fear all of us writers have... that no one will like it...

So, little world, please be kind to me.  Let me dance you through lights and shadows, happy and sad moments, and everything in between.
Allow me the chance to tantalize your senses with textured sentences that send shivers down your spine.
Don't be malice
Unjust or unkind
Keep an open mind
Give me that nudge I need
And buy a copy of my book when it's done...

I'll even sign it if you want! ;)

Time to write those 8 pages!
That and I'm super hungry for some reason...

Good night!  Sweet Dreams!

Monday, March 2, 2009

Shoes! Happy, happy shoes!!

My husband once commented to me that he found it very funny how I'll go out of my way to hide my feet.

You see.  I hate feet.  That is the one part the human body I don't care for.  So I guess in a way he's right.

Due to this I have an extensive sock and shoe collection.  The socks rang from the simple workout jobbie that are just below your ankle bone all the way to thigh high tube sock.  You know, the kind that was big in the late 70's early 80's?  They have three rings on the top, blue, red and then blue again.  And those are only my cotton socks I'm talking about, I'm not talking about my vast collection of thigh high fishnets and silk hoes.  My next investment... Cuban Heeled Thigh Highs.  (what are they?  Click here.  Sock Dreams is one of my favorite sites)

But on top of the cotton anklets, knee highs, tight thigh highs and the thigh high fishnet and regular thigh highs there is a massive shoe addiction.

Some people collect action figures, comic books, baseball or football card... stamps... I collect shoes.

When we moved to our new home back in August I took the time to give away some of the shoes I don't wear, at all, any more and I ended up giving away  3 pair of boots and 40+ pairs of shoes.  You might think, "What could she have left?!"  I want to guess, in heels alone, I have close to over 60 pairs.  That is not including my knee high combat boots, knee high dress boots, my red stiletto knee high italian boots or any of my work shoes (hiking, tennis, etc) that, my friends, are my heels. 

Some are in shoe boxes, most are in two very large plastic containers in my sons room (because they didn't fit in the closet in my room.)  My latest obsession are very tall heels.  The tallest pair I've bought recently is close to 5".  I call them my "dirty librarian shoes".  I have black,  orange, pink, red, purple, silver and one or two pairs of ivory colored shoes and I never buy heels under 2.5" because I don't see the point.  (I think 'kid' heels are ugly)

My obsession for shoes wasn't always so.  There was a point I owned maybe 3 whole pairs and none of them were in heel form.  I can't say I miss those days.  How could I?  

Someone once asked me what it was about shoes that I loved them so much, and I think I gave some drivel answer that was extremely obtuse - but here it is.

I think shoes can be the most sexy alluring thing ever.  They make me feel sexy.  And a thousand other things.

Bad day?  Dress nice and slip on a pair of open toe red heels.
Wanna feel sexy?  4" stilettos, velvet top, peep toe that makes your legs look like they're a mile long.
Pissed off?  3.5" wider heels with studded heel.
Going for a more subtle untouchable goddess feel?  3.5" purple satin t-straps, a nice pencil skirt and button down shirt.  

Don't feel comfortable walking in them for long periods of time - get them for the house.  Your husband/boyfriend will thank you for it.

Women spend so much money on lingerie, but forget the subtly of a beautiful pair of patent leather pumps.  Yes, when paired with the right... outfit... they do add a bit of flair - but just put a little make up on, do your hair all nice and just slip on some shoes.  And that's it.
I can't say I don't fall prey to buying lingerie.  I'm sure if I cashed in all of my shoes, socks and lingerie my son could go to Harvard and have a nice chunk left over - but I still think there is something to be said about minimalism.  

Porn makes it so simple and says this is how it should be
I prefer the more subtle route that says, "See these shoes?  How about the stockings with the seem up the back of the leg... bet you wonder where they lead too... bet you're wondering what's under there.  Is there a belt or are they just thigh highs... "

Like I've said.  Sex and food.  Packaging is a big deal.  

And start by buying yourself a really nice pair of shoes.
Rounded toe, patent red mary janes
and a tube of matching red lipstick

~sweet dreams