Recovery.

Ok, so, I'll admit. Yesterday was a bad day. And not for any one, particular reason, but simply because I was feeling sorry for myself. I think I should be entitled to a day like that every now and then. A day where I won't judge myself for having a couple beers, while snuggling with my pug and crying. Ok, fine, pass judgment. I know I am. But, today is a new day, and I will continue to push forward through this mess.
As it is, I have already been a considerably better adult. Doing laundry, taking care of the pug, getting some homework accomplished. Despite this, I still feel an innate pull back to sadness. This is unexpected. I have spent the large majority of my life not being sad about things that require it. Childhood trauma made me numb to many of the things that could break other people. In fact, to this point, I thought that after the death of my mother nothing could really make me sad again.
It is with these feelings that I am trying to redefine, as I said yesterday. I am trying to make goals, however small they may seem to others, and push myself to accomplish them. I have found two short story competitions that I'm going to enter. I'm entering them, not because I think I'll win, or even because I think I'm that great of a writer, but because I love to write, and feel like I have things to say. Plus, you have to start somewhere, and I think this will motivated me to polish some of my writing.

Nothing, Nothing, Tra la la

As i'm sure you've all noticed, I am suffering from severe writer retardation. Not block, because I am able to write, but it all becomes this... MUSH. There is no other word for it. I'll start off at a fairly good pace, and then it all dissolves into nothingness, totally off point and going nowhere. Ah, well. It may have something to do with life stress and being out of town all the time. I need to "recharge my batteries". Not really sure when I'll get a chance to do that... heading up to MD on Thursday for the 4th of July weekend.
I'm sure at some point my brain will come back, and I'll have coherent things to offer you.
For now, amoung all the deaths this past week, I leave you with the lovely image of Farrah to ogle. She ought to take your mind off the fact that I haven't said anything at all quite nicely. Yes.

How I Adore Words...

So, all the time driving this past weekend gave me an absurd amount of time to think, completely alone. Now, I'm one who likes her alone time any way, I always think better when I'm alone, and writing in silence is usually when I get into my best groove, so one can imagine that giving me 18+ hours alone in a car would result in some creative ideas.

I had a few ideas for some short fiction stories -- something I haven't written in a while. These came late night Friday while crossing the Bay Bridge Tunnel, using the dark, choppy, eerily moonlit waters for inspiration. I had other ideas about turning parts of my life into short stories - fictionalizing them a bit. Then more ideas about art projects I could start. While I can't for the life of me draw or paint, I like to think that I am graphically and creatively minded. Captain added to my enthusiasm with some great ideas about "the crew". I feel that with everything going on in my life, my creative outlets are becoming more important. I find myself singing more than just my usual girlie rock -- pulling out some opera and belting along. I need to get some new strings for the guitar -- I haven't played in such a long time.

One of the ideas I had I'm pretty excited about, and will probably be the one I work on first. It involves books, words, coffee and a little bit of my insanity. I'm not really sure how long it will take me, because I'm not sure exactly how I want to do it, but it should be a short afternoon "craft" type project.

I've also noticed that when I sit down to do my "real" writing, it is coming much easier. I'm not laboring over every word and nuance as much. While I am going back and editing/changing I feel that I'm doing far less of that, and far more of who I am. It's a really good feeling.

Truer Words...

One of the frustrating things about writing is that I will have the best ideas when I am not in a position to write something down, and then I'll forget about it later. Sometimes I feel like these nuggets that get away from me are the very reason why I get stuck. If I could just hang on to these tidbits my writing would be increasingly more productive, although this could just be lie I'm telling myself to make up for the fact that I have been sucking at writing anything decent lately. Just this morning I had a thought and managed to get it on my notepad in my cell phone -- prompting me to consider the need for a tape recorder, however lame that may be. It's much faster and more convenient to speak the words, even if it is only a thought or a fragment, then it is to carry around the essentials for writing.

As anyone who is a writer knows, you can't force yourself to write well, and once you try it's all over. Inspiration comes at 2am when the rest of the world is sleeping, or in moments that others view as difficult or ugly, but we as writers view as inspiring and true. That is what kind of writer I feel that I am (or that I want to be) -- a truth writer. And not to say that everything I write is real, but I want there to be an element that people can read and think "I know exactly how that feels". I want to capture the moments that seem mundane and make them memorable. I want to help people realize the intricacy of everyday life, the beauty that emerges from the pain and the depths to which they themselves are capable of discovering.

Weekend

ok, loves.

I've been way too in my head the last few days, and haven't posted anything for fear of word vomiting all over my blog. I think I'm together enough (at least at the moment) to hash out some sort of semi-coherent statements.

Next weekend I'll be heading to Bmore for Twenty's birthday. WOO CHA. I'm really excited to head back and hang out with a couple of my favorite people on the whole planet. We've got plans to hear Maya Angelou speak at U Balt, Hit up Brewer's Art and head to DC for Sticky Fingers -- and that is just the start. I'm pretty sure we plan to relive some college moments with body shots -- yes, body shots -- and other such debauchery. I'll be sure to keep you posted on that excitement.

Looking forward to the weekend, as I have no real plans other than heading to Howl at The Moon this evening. It's rainy and gross so I'll probably be staying indoors avoiding all the cleaning my townhouse desperately needs.

Snippit

More from the book -- still from the beginning, I'm not really ready to post some of the more intimate parts of my life. Obviously, I will have to get over that soon.
Please, also, keep in mind that this is rough. Rough, rough, rough. No editing. I am trying to give people an idea of where I come from without it being too lengthy. I definitely plan on expanding on this -- but as a snapshot, this is what I've got. I considered posting a longer piece, but this is still my baby, and again I'm not ready to put too much out there!
Here it goes --

As a child I never thought there was anything extraordinary about my life. My parents were still married, I had two sisters, two dogs, two cats, nice house… none of these things seemed remarkable. I was a happy child, and given opportunities that until I was an adult, I did not appreciate. My Parents met in high school and married young. My father, who was in the Marines, moved my mother and himself to California, away from their native New Jersey. It was here they birthed 3 lovely daughters. The oldest being Michelle, then myself, then Ann. After kids, my parents decided they wanted to be closer to family and so we moved back to the east coast. A small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a blip of farmlands and beaches, where I spent a large part of my adolescence. It is the same as every small town America you see in the movies: partially segregated, wholly religious, and mostly redneck. I went to church on the weekends, played in the middle and high school band, and played capture the flag with my friends from youth group.

Seeing this snaphot of my life, one might begin to wonder what it is that I could offer. Growing up in a white middle class life doesn’t generally afford the kind of drama required for lifetime movies or heart wrenching memoirs. This is where I tell you that things are not always what they seem. As cliché as that is, I suppose there is a reason for it. And so, dear reader, I begin to divulge the details of my life.

Umm...

Despite my down and dreary rain-days, I am still riding on my high of finally being able to make a decision. I realize that this isn't a huge accomplishment to some people, but when you've been a slacker for as long as I have, it's the small things that really count. As ridiculous as this sounds I feel like I'm starting over. I'm leaving all my bullshit, all my excuses and just going for something I want. Who knew it would feel so liberating?

In talking with The Hub about it (as I must, even though it is ultimately my decision I figure I should consult the person who will have to deal most with my insanity) he is ridiculously supportive. There is no hesitation on his part when it comes to this decision. I have more insecurities about it than he does, which I suppose is good. In talking to my friend Rar about the situation he has made a couple good points. First, I'm probably not as big of a slacker as I think I am and Second, Other people almost always have more faith in you than you do in yourself. Both of these I believe are true, and so I will soldier on until I actually start doing something that makes me feel accomplished.

Looking forward to going to a gallery/bar crawl tomorrow night -- it's in the Arts District here (dubbed NoDa) and I've wanted to check one out since we moved, and am finally getting the motivation to do so.

Motivation

I am seriously motivated at the moment. I don't know what happened to cause this, but I'm running with it!

I know that at many points you've listened (or read, rather) to me deliberate over what it is that I want to do. Well, friends, I think I'm finally taking a step in the right direction! I went to the local CC to check some things out, and I will be starting there part time in the fall. They have a program that works directly with UNC, so as long as I don't suck and keep my GPA up (which shouldn't be an issue) I'll be able to just transition right over. I think I've decided on an English major with a minor in Women's and Gender Studies, then going on to get my Masters in English (linguistics? not sure of that specification, yet) and possibly a graduate certificate in Women's Studies. YAY FOR DECISION MAKING. Now, we'll see how many times this changes, but I actually feel really confident about the English thing. Journalism is not quite the track I want to be on, although I wouldn't rule out doing something in that field in the future. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but to me it seems that English is a bit more flexible of a field to have a degree in. I do think I'd eventually like to teach college, but I also think that working for an NPO (like the HRC) would be something right up my alley. Who knows. Actually finding a job would be a long way off!

Okay, I can't lie to you and say it's all happy. I am actually scared shitless. Really. But I feel good about the decisions I am making for myself. I am not focused so much on "what if", and am happy to be doing something for me. While this might delay other life goals a little bit, I think that ultimately this is what is going to make me feel happy and secure.

So, cheers to me for making a decision.

Lets see how many times I change my mind :)