You Want Me To Do WHAT?

I am pretty stubborn, but that doesn't mean that the right person can't easily persuade me. In fact, as one of my many contradictions, I can be easily persuaded, sometimes. This has led to some crazy stuff in my life; a few things I regret and a few things that I turned out loving. One of the things that I OFTEN got talked into and NEVER ended up loving surround all things Amy. One of my best and oldest friends.

Amy. We've been friends since freshman year of college and are still good friends. She's one of those that it doesn't matter how long or how far life takes us, we will simply be friends always. When I lived with her the year after my divorce, she would often drag my butt off the couch to go hiking. Now. Hiking sounds awfully tame, right? No. Amy is...let's go with a little crazy, shall we? God love the woman, but she is an adventure junkie. And if you know ANYTHING about me at all, it's that I, um, am not. A good adventure to me consists of finding a new city I've never been to and going shopping. Or, you know, a badly reviewed movie. But my lovely friend routinely takes trips where the sole goal is to do something crazy. Like going to a different continent simply to hike something tall and scary. For fun. For vacation. Crazy, right? So, hiking to her isn't "hiking". It's HIKING. With a little rock climbing thrown in just because. So, you know, tantamount to hell, for me. Adventure girl, though, always thought she was going easy on me. But the hikes she took me on left me weeping and wishing I was in a comfy dentist chair having root canal instead.

So I called her a few weeks ago to start tossing around ideas for a girls weekend this fall. Since she used to live in San Francisco and I've never been, I brought that up as a suggestion for our trip. She mentioned that if we ended up there, there was a "small" bike tour we could take to Fisherman's Wharf. You know, just a mere 15ish miles. Ha! I can't remember, recently, laughing so hard. I told her as much, reminded her that the last time I had been on a bike was my senior year in high school and suggested that MAYBE we don't do activities that involve things that pre-date our 20 year friendship...But she was persistent, gosh darn it. And I had afternoon hikes flashing through my mind. Scary afternoon hikes. And decided that maybe I should push for Chicago...I hear the shopping is lovely there and I'm really not in the mood to ACTUALLY leave my heart in San Francisco.

In celebration of MY kind of outdoor activity, my town's summer festival is this weekend. It's something I look forward to EVERY year. A song for the festivities!

(summertime, the sundays)

Here It Is. The Beginning.

I did it. I hired a babysitter (because paying someone somehow makes it real in my mind!) to watch Sammy twice a week while I go park my butt in an uncomfy chair somewhere with wifi and write. Yesterday was my first day. And it went well. Two hours and all files are cleaned up and de-duplicated (what is the word I want?). Hundreds of words written, including a start to a short story about a woman getting over her self consciousness of writing in public. I found it cathartic. Also, my love of Glen was all but solidified. It turns out he's very good to write to! So I took stock in my goals, set a few more and dove in head first. Here's how my afternoon went.

Pre-leaving: packed up my laptop, my ipod, my phone, my flash drive and a pad of paper and pen.

Getting there: pick up a yummy fruit smoothie, set up on a table with back to everyone else, facing outside to watch the thunderstorm SLOWLY roll in. (sidenote: bad idea. Hated back facing the cafe. Choose better next time!)

Working: email opened, ipod on, twitter open, clean files

Not Working: email opened, twitter opened...

I found it helpful to have music, but I have to make sure the volume is low because I have a bad habit of singing out loud if it's up too much. I also found it helpful to have my email open, but not anything else. I didn't love my back to everyone else in the cafe (and it was really busy yesterday!) because I felt like everyone was staring over my shoulder to see what I was working on. I know they WEREN'T, but still. Felt that way.

I organized my notes for my book. I still really love it, so that's good. I got scared last fall and abandoned it, so I was happy to see what I do have is still strong. My goal is to have a workable first few chapters to submit to an agent by September. Lofty? Hell yeah. But needed. I'm feeling a very now or never sense of urgency. Maybe because I lose my Sammy free time come fall. I also wrote the beginnings of two short stories, one which I may turn into something longer and one of which is not as strong, but can be strong.

The drawbacks to this is that I'm a very organic writer. I've never been disciplined with certain times - even in college when I HAD to be. So, while I'll still try to write while I can every day, having actually hours set aside to write is...different. For me. And the guilt. I'm leaving my responsibility - Sammy - in order to go write. And have no guarantee that I will get ANYTHING for it. So it may be a giant waste of money. Which, I think, speaks to my erroneous belief that my career is less than. So I will deal and push through.

I know the guilt is why it took me this long to do this, but I'm so glad I finally got over it and took that leap. It did wonders for my mind. My goals. My frame of reference. If you want to be a writer, you need to write. Go figure.


(hysteria, muse)

I Just Had No Idea

Thanks to my friend, Loralee, I tivo'd VH1's You're Cut Off this week. Holy train wreck! The premise is simple. Nine VERY privileged "princesses", whose shopping is out of control, get cut off from their way of life by their families. They are taken to a regular house in LA in order to work and overcome their prejudices and entitlements. Much drama ensues.

One of these women (wow, that word does not seem right for them!) sincerely annoyed me. She married her privilege and now has a young daughter. When she was describing her life, she mentioned that she has a nanny and house keeper because she "doesn't do diapers nor get up in the middle of the night to feed, so we went the bottle route so I could sleep". YIKES. Just...yikes.

Now, I am the FIRST to admit that I don't do night duty at our house. I never really did. Isaac took over night feedings and changings before we were out of the hospital. However, my reason is at least medicinally sound and not JUST laziness...but this woman just did not care. And seemed to me that she honestly did not care about her daughter. That she is a thing to her, and not one that is valued higher than her other purchases.

I get frustrated. I get annoyed. I get anxious to get this toddler time over with. I get tripped up by my own mothering more often than not. I try not to judge other mothers because I honestly believe that most of them are doing the best they can do. But her attitude? I felt very, very sorry for her little girl. I felt sorry for what she'll grow up around and just hope she can escape it somehow.


(a fine frenzy, stood up - one of my new ABSOLUTE favorite songs)

How Things Could Be

Sometimes I wish...

...that we were the kind of people to remember fun, meaningful anniversaries (like move dates or the day we met, etc) and put candles on a cake to mark the event. Just because.

...I wasn't afraid to just grab life and take what I want, critics be damned.

...I could just find the random class I want to take and not be burdened by things like schedules or money or time or laziness.

...the internet wasn't such a lovely distraction to other things I should be doing.

...dropping hints and lusting toward things from afar meant anything to my practical and wise husband. Instead, he is level headed and I buy things for myself. It works, but I worry that I don't have anything "special" to hang onto should the worst happen...

...that inspiration and family and friends all beckoned toward Portland. A happy commune, in my favorite place.

...I had friends in high places to help guide my career.

...my fantasy life in New York was reality. And that my magazine writing career had actually materialized.

...that a day full of chips and soda was really good for you.

...my brain turned off. Just for a little bit.


(don't leave me this way, the communards)