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Blog started in Jan 2005: 1st entries for Write in Every Genre. Then the REAL ME begins |
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It Hurts When I Stop Talking Sometime in Fall of 1998, when a visit from Dad was infrequent, and primarily at the mercy of his 88 Toyota making the 50 mile journey, I was being treated to lunch. The restaurant was my choice, I think. Sisley Italian Kitchen at the Town Center mall was somewhere my dad had not yet tried, so that was my pick. Either I was being treated to the luxury of lunch and adult conversation without my husband and 5 year old son in tow, or that's just how the moment has lodged in my memory. The more I think about it, they probably were there, but enjoying the Italian food too much to bother interrupting. Daddy and his lady friend at the time, Anne, came up together and made a day of it with me and the family. We were eating together and talking about some of my scripts, stories, coverages, poems and other creative attempts that really were not seeing the light of day. I think I'd just finished a group reading of The Artist's Way and was in a terribly frenetic mood over my writing. I think I'd just given them an entire rundown on a speculative Star Trek script. My Dad asked me point blank, “Why don’t you write it?? Anne agreed. It sure sounded like I wanted to write it. Why wasn't I writing seriously? It's what I'd set out to do when earning my college degree in Broadcasting many years earlier. Heck, I should, I agreed non-verbally. “I will.” But, I didn’t. Blogs can be wild, unpredictable storehouses of moments, tangents, creative dervishes, if you will. I'm getting a firmer handle on my creative cycle. My mental compost heap (which is a catch phrase from Natalie Goldman or Julia Cameron - I can't think which, right now) finally seems to be allowing a fairly regular seepage of by-products. That may be a gross analogy, but I give myself credit to categorize my work in raw terms. It proves that I'm not so much the procrastinating perfectionist that I once was. Still, I always seem to need prompts and motivation. Being a self-starter is the next step. My attempt to keep up in the Write in Every Genre Contest at the beginning of the year seemed like a perfect point to launch the blog. |
| This month, and probably last month too, the bus riding experience has been more disquieting. (Insert grumpy cat picture here) I'm not saying it's un-doable; been doing it for a good while now. And the bright side is that next week will be Spring break, so the bus going down my hill will be less impacted during those days. In today's case, I was more annoyed by a nagging adult rider than I was by the standing-room only lack of space. There are at least two schools in a one to two mile radius of the beginning of my route, and so at the same time many are going to work, or getting out to shop for necessities, a large number of passengers are older teens getting off at the high school. One stop before the teens all disembark, at the same stop I first get on the bus, a middle-aged woman complained loudly that seniors were having to stand while a teen or two sat entrenched in front-area seats. I do not begrudge her voicing her displeasure -- once. Problem was, even after a few seniors were given seats, she kept ranting the rest of the way down the hill, maybe nearly 4 minutes total (even as they exited), and essentially while there was still a teen in her sight. She believed no one had taught them to respect elders. She wasn't being a very good example herself, but I know she didn't even realize how she sounded -- righteous, but cursing in a disgusted kind of way, "shit" at the end of most statements. I see the kids going to High School. I respect them for that. I see them on a bus line that does not get enough coverage. They have to cram themselves on like sardines. I'm not sure adults are doing enough to earn these "kids" respect. I want the grouches who think they know better (and that enemy is sometimes me), to try to imagine being a teen in today's world. We regulate when they start drinking quite a bit later than the rest of the world. We no longer provide buses to school strictly for students, nor do we provide drivers education. When you do get a license it will be a long time before you can take people safely in a car or be able to afford it. We rationalize that these steps have made the roads safer, but we are doing harm to rites of passage and the confidence one once was able to build from those. We may even be destroying my generation's ability to have the family we remember being part of. Unraveling the safety net of community. What examples of respect to we give the next generation? |
| Well, if my title for this entry doesn't raise some eyebrows, I suppose my topic (or rant) probably will. I'm trying to process a slight rejection. Someone bowed-out from reviewing a new interactive I wrote. I accept that I don't really know the person to whom I made the request. And I had a slight feeling after selecting the reviewer that maybe something involving some sex wasn't what that reviewer would normally look into. I also admit that I would not normally allow myself to express adult romance, but lately I have wanted to test my ability to do so. When I was younger, and not long out of high school, I was glad to have the absolute freedom to read works considered indecent. Anis Nin was probably about as salacious an author that I ever sought out. I believe while I was still in high school I read James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. And in college, I was asked to consider The Handmaid's Tale, and I was introduced into a clearer understanding of what motivated the leads of Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie. Now realize, most of my forays into what is deemed indecent in literature were from a former century. How sad is that? Back to the interactive. Maybe it's just silly to have an interactive that utilizes the current frenzy over XFactor creation, 1D. So? I had enough to put forth four chapters. Is the premise beyond reason? Should it keep me from writing it? Or keep me from discovering if any other authors want to add? I have read items that are clear that they involve graphic content. I did not want mine to fall into that category. I felt my disclaimer was clear: I imagine the start of this story to be taking place a little more than a year after One Direction "breaks up." I won't dictate what caused the break up, or detail what has happened to relationships presently rumored for each of the five men of the group. Those areas might be interesting to explore, so feel free. There's scores of teeny-bop feels and What Ifs already in existence, but for this, if we can place motivations in an adult context, think: the demands of fame, and exploring self worth, attachment, freedom of expression -- those insights make for the tastiest soup. The first entry I somewhat randomly timed as 11/12/18. Which would place the oldest 1D member at nearly 27 years old. It's always nice to keep the same verb tense (past), and having started in first-person perspective, that would be nice to keep too. But I find myself flexible and more forgiving of mis-steps in the interactive format -- that way everyone's true voice can be heard. Do keep all sexual encounters from becoming violently graphic -- the rating is Adult, which allows for cursing, a range of sensual tastes, and expression of adult emotion, but I will take action to remove or request alteration to entries that veer into violent sex, or for whatever reason, gore. Thank you for understanding. Honestly, I thought I was being awfully "square" to lay down the law about how to be adult, but not mean. So what I really want to have here is a better understanding of the concept of inappropriate. In the moment, I know I was stunned. Was I inviting others into something inappropriate? Perhaps I gave an awkward explanation when I mentioned "teeny-bop feels" in the disclaimer at all. For that reason, it is now stricken from the disclaimer. It's taken me another half-day to raise the thought that perhaps my potential reviewer completely misinterpreted (i.e., never heard mentioned before) teeny bop feels, so I suppose that guessing game could have been a part of the problem. A feels has nothing less than half a dozen entries in the urban dictionary, and is not predatory or related to groping, as in "coping a feel." That sounds antiquated even to me. I'm glad I listen to younger folks chat. What Ifs and Feels are a real internet activity in which the raw expression of desires from a young sea of girls daily fills You Tube channels and Tumblr blogs in formats that are more difficult to censor or block as inappropriate. How ironic. No one can really verify those are being created solely by prepubescent females, but it seems likely. This is why I mentioned the phenomenon in the disclaimer -- I was not advocating them, or saying their efforts needed to be stepped up. So, I thought I'd created some layers of protection from criticism: 1) I suggest in the basic description that the Chapters really are in that category, but have been uncovered seventy years later. 2) Even though the members of One Direction are all adult males at present, they are marketed as a Boy Band, (somehow appropriate in name for a raving fandom of non-adults), so I start the story at a future date. 3) I ask for contributors to provide motivation in an adult context; and the examples given are: the demands of fame, exploring self worth, attachment, and freedom of expression. I do not suggest that chapters of the story will be sexual encounters with under-age concert goers or subscribers to Tiger Beat poster magazine, or Target store, iTunes and age 10 - 17 record label consumers. Can some people really not read a sexual experience described in words -- is the problem that basic? It's just verboten? In today's world, a person would have to not listen to radio, TV, nor the internet to avoid innuendo at the very least. And by Jr. High, cursing is prevalent on school grounds and on the streets around school yards. How long will innocence last really in such an environment? And knowing this, should I exorcize my own creative faculty and train it to not tempt any further? Bull. I will get over this. Perhaps the next item from me will delve into other actions that exist, but are blocked from people's minds altogether. |
| Finally rented The Perks of Being a Wallflower. When the story hit it's final climax, I was devastated and in tears. My crying made my teenage daughter cry, and since we're not mindreaders, I'm not sure what she was thinking, and she probably doesn't know every level of what I was feeling. But I did get up from my seat and cuddle up next to her until the movie was over about ten minutes later. I would not have been able to keep my composure in a crowded movie theatre either. My daughter is still so young, but I know she identifies with the struggle. I should be devastated to guess she's felt even a fraction of what the characters in the story have. Fitting in at school is her biggest hurdle. The movie's take-away may be that it is everyone's. When will her anxiety give way to what I keep pushing? The goal is to return to school. How will that happen? She's got some of her own plans. She's so independent that her solution is to circumvent family limitations, the idea of fitting in, everything most everyone else accepts as the norm, and the path all must follow, despite the embarrassment and pain endured. In a very simple way, I am in awe of her genius. |
| I'm doing a better job of reaching out, in order to get some steam going for my writing practice. Now, I just need to duplicate that urgency in several other areas of my life. You know, the parts of life that most people connect with reality and and paying the bills and such. I think the problem is, I don't much prefer the real responsibilities. Honestly, who does? |
| When I miss certain people in my life, certain intimate exchanges, or just the common lunch invitation, I wonder how much of it is me, and how much of it is their circumstances? Rarely do I get the time (or make the time) to call a friend, or visit. They don't make the effort either. Part of me wishes so deeply to be young, without attachment, or several years older, and perhaps less deep in with responsibilities. Some mix of those two ideals. What I could accomplish back at twenty if I had the context of my current appreciation for so many things. What I will do with the time left to me, and what I might have managed so much better if my twenty year old self saved at all times and consistently for the future. I do have gratitude for all I've accumulated, all I have accomplished, but so often now I know that I have not put nearly enough effort toward getting close and staying close to more people. Sure, the temporary joy of accumulating connections in social media should have been a clue that I was craving this, but it has a dark side too. You realize how little you really live in the world as a playmate with others anymore. The world, now, is not at all my neighbors, even though that's what the safe boundaries were when I was a child. It is not the nearby park that I might wander into. Sometimes I am too busy writing things to have others read and question, yet I berate myself for not writing often enough, with enough purpose, or lacking monetary return. Tonight, I did start a story -- character study really -- that explores the demands of a young empath. Her path dictated by the rocky misunderstanding of how the talent can help her, and what it means in becoming close. Some people will dampen her empathic ability, and it will keep her sane, but a kind of drunk numb. But as a twenty something, she is also charged by some encounters (most encounters) and it is the most powerful she ever feels. Her decision will be whether she can manage without becoming a monster. I've titled it, Heartsleeve Ciara, and for once I'm letting a character have tatoos and be much less constricted than I have been in my life. This could be an interesting lesson. |
| My experience of images, normal sounds made scary , anything that happens in the mind before I am fully awake; eyes closed or open, are like a personal and penetrating video monitor in my head. For the first time, I've realized that when I have watched any horror movie on television, my experience is more penetrating and long-lasting. My best example was the early morning "can't sleep" moments after watching Carrie home alone as a young teen. When I stepped out of my bedroom into the dark hallway to get to mom, I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and heavy in my chest. That just made my terror worse. So what is it that makes the experience in the theater, perhaps stronger reaction at the moment, but less likely to freak later? Trying to help my daughter, a young teen, get over her self-imposed anxiety (having watched a Grudge movie yesterday at a friends' house) and then not being able to deal with her room environment last night. Now this morning needing to relax after being awakened because my snoring apparently sounds like the Grudge creature (Huh? bet my shamble is pretty close too -- heheh.) But I wouldn't know because I don't watch a great number of the horror movies out there? So, why is she? |
| I spent part of this week revisiting an entry I made last year. One in which I clarified some strong attributes that give my life purpose.Those attributes, which I'd like to see more in my life are: Compassion, Appreciation, and Justice. When I feel strongly about something, it is due to one or more of these qualities being served. Now I think I will add one more. One which I think will help me be attuned more to making the first three truly valued. Bravery. I need to be brave and tackle some situations in life as a braver person. I need to step outside of the comfort zone that has been conditioned upon me by numerous influences, and instead march forward in the pursuit of Compassion, Appreciation and Justice from the view of my own experiences and needs. Ideas have been imposed on me, rote rules, and I do not know if those in my life that controlled through fear realized,or just never felt strongly enough to be guided by loving principles? At the retirement of a co-worker who always seemed joyous and treated all of us as very precious, I listened as she held me in a warm embrace. She said something I'd never heard from her before, and yet it was so clear that it was meant for me, she said, "You keep soldiering on." She repeated it in several different ways. It surprised me, because it was describing something of how she'd come to see me every day -- something in the way I show up. Maybe she was telling me I am already brave. A brave soldier? Maybe courage is the only description most have for someone who has a noticeable disability, but shows up for work anyway. But that explanation would be trite, and that is one thing I know Ruby is not.Sincerity has to be her middle name. So instead, I will definitely take in what she said to me, but only as I felt it. Warm and wonderful. That's the type of bravery I need to use. Being brave enough to feel and act compassionately. Brave in every attempt to appreciate life's challenges and appreciate the people who'll help get us through some of them. Bravely forward-thinking so as to see Justice done in the world and for the world. And brave enough to let people know on a daily basis, through my writing or in all the things I say and do, what it is I value. Even if it is not lofty everyday, like that, being brave enough to explore areas of my creativity that I've previously blocked myself from expressing. |
| I even told myself just over a year ago that I must revisit my feelings on the topic of leading the children's ministry at my church. And I do not think it is a coincidence that it was my search for the entry on my touchstone values (which is the adjacent entry) that made me see that call to action again. If you are here reading too -- help me out by going to those entries and listen if I bring it all up again as beautifully strong as I did then. It was like hearing a calling. I can see that now. |
| I keep forgetting that a fresh movie, or a live performance can really kick start the creative faculties of my brain. I never would have imagined You Tube would become one of my new "go to" places to get a fix. The good that I've learned is the performance I admire need not take a big chunk out of my day. It doesn't need to be a whole movie date. Yesterday, I could only catch the last half-hour of the Academy Awards telecast. And in that amount of time, I got to take in the embellishments to the Dolby Theatre, giving a lift to the designer in me. I got to witness a stumble Jennifer Lawrence took trying to ascend the steps, and commiserated with her the slight embarrassment. I saw the emotion overcome Daniel Day-Lewis as he was handed the Best Actor statuette from Meryl Streep. And sat amazed as he recovered through humor and sincerity and deliver an eloquent speech that included recognizing his wife Rebecca for all that she endures when he embodies a character for months at a time. The point is, I wasn't interested so much in who won, but the moments that unfold in the context of an awards show. The same is often true when I write, because somehow I write strong moments, but I am still learning to fit my moments into a good structure. And it often stops me from writing in the first place if I don't have a pre-formed structure in mind. I joked with my daughter that Ed Sheeran must be thankful for Lego bricks or he couldn't have written his lyrics to Lego House the way we know them -- I said, he'd have to substitute Lincoln Logs, or something. Of course, she still thought Lincoln Logs fit in the context of his song just fine anyway, despite my jest. Well, even this entry is a little jumbled, but I'll like it the way it is for now. |
| I found a pretty item on sale and bought it, mostly because I was getting a good deal. I further decided I could ask my spouse to give it to me on Valentine's Day. Now, I feel selfish, even though my instinct was wise. [I like my gift choice, and he only had to set the time on it and remember to give it to me]. The day is nearly over and I haven't finalized anything solid for him. That's not say I haven't thought about what I should do (at least since Tuesday), nor what I've done in thought and action (a theme and photos I took around town to fit the theme) -- but no completed card. Now wondering if I can do something similar but as a cover for on-line site, or something. I know, I'm a scattered mess. Guess I'm in love, huh? |
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