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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. |
| Alright, well Tuesday was only seven and a half hours ago. Can I help it that my sinus medication knocked me out at 6:30 p.m., and while I did not sleep through to this morning, I did opt for a blanket and spouse cuddling on the couch -- which, nicely, kept the computers in the other room unattended for at least forty minutes. So, blogs can also be the place where you make your daily excuses for not writing or progressing in other projects you had in mind, but didn't have a burning desire to complete that day anyway. |
| Just getting out of bed in the morning...I wonder how many average people struggle day-to-day just to drag one's own body from the bed. How easy it becomes to let one's entire body barely respond. Instead of the future most imagined, with technology and industrial advancements before that, in which our hard work of surviving is replaced by convenience and more leisurely pursuits, we have immobilized ourselves.Some days I feel we've allowed the pendulum to swing too wide. Contentment and pleasure should not become the enemy, but I do feel like my drive to work around the house is the highest -- and I'd still categorize myself as lazy. |
| Actors on acting -- ones I've been impressed with in that forum lately -- Bryan Cranston, Hugh Jackman and Bradley Cooper. The one I heard most recently was Bryan Cranston's simple assessment. An actor's job is not to get a job when auditioning. -- instead, the actor needs to give the performance they came to do, and walk away; releasing all other desire to control the outcome. He said that was a perspective shifter for him. A wonderful perspective shift for any of us in any profession, really. |
I have had a desire to write a poem for about two months. I'm being bold in admitting it is related to the significance of the song "Moments" sung popularly by One Direction and penned by Ed Sheeran. The space it opens in my psyche may be in the same realm as their millions of young fans, or, as I secretly hope, it only brings similar things to mind for a much smaller percentage of those innocent hearts. As my daughter explained to me early on, the song is touching upon dealing with suicide, not just having one more day in a relationship. She's the one who told me that Trying to be good to myself and give my body the recommended eight hours' sleep. The things your friends and loved ones can interject into your mind with their words -- sometimes it builds frightening possibilities. Building blocks the subconscious use for fun, or worse. This morning, I awoke with a gruesome thought and needed some air, some water, some writing time...and so I ended up getting at least some impressions down to further craft my prose-y poem inspired by Moments. The result is
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| Broken Music is the title to Sting's autobiography published a decade ago. I requested it at the library around the time I pre-ordered his latest album. The album, The Last Ship seems like an extension to his life-experience book. I am only forty pages into the autobiography, but he has presented the introduction of people in his circle with literary restraint allowing for much ground to be covered in a short span. I can admire that, and even aspire to it -- I know I throw too many words. I need to craft a mantra from Longfellow's advice on simplicity. Strike that -- I need to craft nothing, Longfellow's quote is already simplicity itself, stating: “In character, in manner, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity.” Sting also intrigues me with his ability and fascination with deconstructing music from a young age. Plus, he speaks of it like an outside observer, in essence, deconstructing and describing his own actions of deconstructing. I feel like my own young life was filled with attentive moments like his. Moments that others might relate as a child bored or lonely. Of course, were they present to truly observe the fixations he or I would be engaged in as children, I think they'd glimpse the play of very active imaginations. |
| Ten minutes. Pulling something random off the bookshelf -- alright, not exactly random, I was thinking about a topic, so gravitated to Mihaly Csikszentmihaly's Flow I checked the index, first, seeing if the topic of "purpose" was there. It was not, and I might have stopped there. Then I saw that Madeline L'Engle's name was mentioned once in the final chapter on page 144.Her statement being paraphrased didn't fit my need either, but it did make me glance up to the chapter name, "Love of Fate." So I took a few more minutes to read the first three pages for that chapter. Surprised to find the life philosophies of Socrates, Buddhism and Jonas Salk all mentioned within the same span of a few pages. And a little better enlightened in the way to frame purpose. |
A few playful "writer's sandbox" ideas, brought about by all the current updates on WDC  Well, rebus building with Emoticons already blown by there not being an "eye." What else don't I know around here? ...Plenty. Hmm, maybe a fancy letter  will do?   ing how , what , where and why things work around here.Also had an insight in the Sliders management tool that I can keep lists of words and play with multiple lists -- could be very handy for songwriting or for the Poem Store. Well, truth is I've worked hard today and tonight and I've gotten  ....So, I think I can count this as a blog entry (even though it feels only slightly more inspired than a grocery list). |
| This will be a bit of journalism, couched within the sensations I am feeling after a day of service and self-care. I have felt this year to be one of the most difficult of my life -- that, without any obvious tragedy, just attentiveness to the struggles...and willingness for self-discovery as the vehicle out of the sorrow. Journalism as I want to document: 1) Last night I felt dissatisfaction as a media consumer on the manipulation that channel 2 in Los Angeles showed reporting the release of a suspect in the stabbing death of a L.A. Dodgers fan in San Francisco -- but also frustrated the next morning when I really could not adequately express my feeling about it to my extra logical husband. I think that, lately, I have just been sensitive to the decline of media. For more than a decade, I've worked in a less than challenging, but highly stressful hourly job in the advertising department of The Los Angeles Times. 2) My wanting to develop a spiritual curriculum (for youth), and expand upon the collaborative writing experience (with adults) that I helped facilitate at the end of July. And moreso, wanting my writing to be what I do. So the positives I am feeling right now are important to document: I had both a twenty minute chakra clearing by a practitioner who provided me with surprisingly accurate words of encouragement, and muscle massage by a separate practitioner. I truly feel clear about a great number of things. Things I have allowed myself to be blocked and numb from for several years. I felt energy stretch and struggle within me -- at times I felt senses a little heightened, and a slight internal queeziness. I even thought to equate the feeling to being Silly Putty stretched for a few moments while the chrystal cleansing was being performed. The results are the most important. I am focused, typing with purpose and accuracy -- interestingly, my spelling is off, but the phonetics of the word I mean are not (so my usual perfestionism is also a bit cleared, although my desire to return later and fix are not)! My eyes feel bright, and I am on a path of Search that has me looking into "The Fourth Estate" "Peace Journalism" "How can I obtain a degree in peace journalism?" [reminding myself of the conversation Rev. Kris had with me in August about training in non-violent communication] "Rotary Peace Fellowships" "Peace Studies Bradford University (UK)" "The Department of Peace" "The Peace Alliance" (missed a Sept 21st L.A. gathering) " [As I am editing, I find that the things worded ambiguously, or that are less positive, or that I am reluctant to say, cause me to slow -- but if I erase that part and write clearer truth, the speed returns.] Amazing really, as I do not remember having that clear an experience -- actually sensing a narrowing of the creative channel or straight-out writer's block. This is not perfectly clear, but it documents what I want for right now. |
 doesn't turn me on like it used to. Writing goals are on a low boil too. I gave a couple solid days of enthusiasm to the WDC Birthday celebration. Beyond that, the blog has been dormant as long as it was last, I can't seem to get inspired again to complete a poem, but at least when I force myself, I find I can still string words together. Recently I've given some thought, but little activity to de-cluttering and organizing  . This, at least, would be dancing in the ballroom of Reality.I think I keep imagining that if I can just improve my connection with the things I have and love, then it will get easier to call more to me. More friends, more sharing and prosperous feelings and opportunities. But first, to become what I seek. |
| It is very easy to allow the blog to be empty once the updater shows the last time an entry was made is "one month ago." -- Except it's really a month plus a week. So because I find it inaccurate, I'm aware enough (or pissed enough) now to notice. My media diet often influences whether my writing mechanism is well-oiled enough for an entry. Two different media had an impact. An article in the L.A. Times on a poet running a Poem Store at the Hollywood Farmers Market. That click in my head of, "Hey, I could do that," added to what I've gotten to see this week has finally nourished me enough. Rented Jack the Giant Slayer early in the week, got to attend a preview of the Steve Jobs biopic on Wednesday, and enjoyed the Jackie Robinson/Branch Rickey story, 42 just last night. I think Jobs had the most impact. The next couple days I was paying more attention to areas in my life where I might be perceived as being stuck or even failing. I was questioning how involved in building my life I could improve, and creatively making plans. It provided a spark of hope gift wrapped in the depiction of an era which I easily remember being part. I realize the emotional clamor of my prior blog entry, and actually being busy giving a workshop the last weekend in July are the culprits really. It not that bull talk in my head that I'm not a fast enough, productive enough writer. I am enough -- however my am shows up week to week. I don't shape shift or become a different species. I am me and I show up. 'Nuf said. |
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