My friend in Seattle, MK, blogs. A lot. And VERY well. She is obviously dedicated to her "weigh out" as she calls it, and her experience in opening herself to possibility. Check out her blog at MyWeighOut http://mkweighout.blogspot.com
You won't regret it. She is a wonderful inspiration to me. THANK YOU!
As for my sad little blog project, I know I've been beyond remiss in posting. And I am sorry. Not so much to anyone who might want to read it, but to me, for not keeping it up. College has kicked my ass in many ways, but I DID get a 4.0 for the fall semester. However, getting well into spring term, it occurs to me that while academic success is important and admirable, over-focus on academics is the same as over-focus on anything-- the rest of my life falls WAY off kilter.
Although my family has been intimating this to me for weeks, my moment of realization came when taking my French mid-term last week. I was unprepared. While I am doing well in that class, it is the only one I don't have an A in. Normally, that would precipitate a huge cram session and stress. Instead, I decided to spend the time I needed on my writing classes, knowing full well I was shortchanging my French studies, because I am a writer.
I don't yet know what my mid-term grade in French was, but I am sure it was sub-par by my standards. Interestingly, I am okay with that. I was so tired and strung out, completely aware of all I wasn't doing in my non-academic life, that I HAD to let go of the 4.0 dream. Who knows, I may still redeem it, but I am not worrying over it too much.
Along with all the other changes I've been making, embracing my European sensibilities is long overdue. So about a month ago, I started to do so. I haven't had Absinthe yet, but I'll get there.
This week is my spring break from college. My daughter still has school daily, which means I am up at 5:30 each morning, but my husband and I have enjoyed our time with each other this week thus far, especially last evening. Last night, the hubster and I worked together to make a lovely french meal: Omelettes with fresh veggies, sauteed potatoes, tender asparagus, a nice reisling and chocolate cake. Bon Temps Roulez pour Mardi Gras! Yum.
That meal is indicative of HOW I WANT TO LIVE. The ingredients weren't fancy- peppers, mushrooms, eggs, and cheeses combined to make a wonderful plate principal and the wine was a lovely partner to it and the asparagus (I think a pieceporter michelsberg would work well too). The cake was from a box mix in the interest of time, but it was moist and the hubby iced it for me. The love and care we took in cooking, even in the midst of our daughter and her friend watching the funny, but loud Hot Fuzz! in the living room felt just right, and having the hubster help out with real sincerity was a special treat.
We'd planned to have a family game night, but our daughter was into her art, so we put 300 into the dvd player and snuggled up on the couch together. Wonderful. Every evening should be so special.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
College Papers, New Friends & Broadway Dreamin'
The weekend was supposed to be a two day hedonistic bacchanal of one dollar movie rentals, soda and chips... Yes, I know that calling cheapo movies and Coca Cola bacchanalia is a crime of pedestrian proportion... But it was the best I could do...
Instead, I had one evening of junking out to Leap Year and watching enormous storm clouds roll in. I had two more movies to watch (like I said, hedonistic), but the hubster needed my help in preparing a paper for school. Admittedly, I spent most of the day Saturday procrastinating. I didn't want to read over sixty pages of research materials just so I could edit a paper.
So, The Lives Of Pippa Lee went in the dvd player around four p.m.- which unfortunately was about the time the texts started flowing from my daughter, who was with my parents for the weekend. It is unfortunate that I had to pause the film about five times to answer the kiddo, because it is a lovely little character piece, and I was surprised to find Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder in it. I also love that Alan Arkin is enjoying a major career resurgence.
The hubster and I planned to watch The Book of Eli Saturday night after 11:30, but I was in such a funk, we decided to postpone it to Sunday at 10:00 a.m. We should have been at church then, but we knew we had a lot of work to do on that paper... In retrospect, that was a mistake. I knew he had a lot of work to do. What I didn't know was that he'd misunderstood the assignment. From 12:30 Sunday afternoon until 11:00 Sunday night, he/we worked. (With many interruptions for texts from the kiddo, my mother, hubster's friends, visitors...) I fell into bed midnight Sunday with my head swimming. We were back at it at 7:30 a.m. Monday. We printed the final draft with a mere twenty minutes until it was due.
After that, I brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and headed to my parents' to pick up the kiddo. Thank God for Starbucks Venti Chai Latte (7 pumps, non-fat, light ice). It's a two plus hour round trip, plus a good hour of visiting. I don't mind that, but the hubby had an old friend coming into town. I had not met her and really wanted to do so. So, I loaded the kid in the car and sped back home. I was rumpled, unwashed and hot (no a/c in the car) and a bit intimidated to be meeting this woman my husband has known for over twenty years.
As I was walking up the driveway to the front door, I paused. I took a deep breath, smoothed my very rumpled hair and shirt and decided that I would just be me. I let go of any preconceptions I had (and I did have some), put a smile on and walked in the door...
To meet a woman who was nothing like I had supposed. I don't really know who I thought she'd be, but it wasn't the warm, witty, intelligent person I was privileged to meet. We were talking Shakespeare within two minutes, then moved on to college (we both attend (ed) the same one), both sing, love the arts and so many other interests. It was not kismet, but it was a wonderful, pleasant evening after a most hectic two days.
I feel I've made a new friend. For those who know me at all, you know how difficult that is for me. It was wonderful to let go and just enjoy. Thank you Chandler & M.K. It was grand!
After M.K. left, I found several thoughts coalescing into a desire. Air fares are pretty low right now if you shop smart- Al Pacino is reprising his role as Shylock in Merchant Of Venice on Broadway this fall- I am a theater minor in school and can get student priced tickets... You can see where I'm going with this, right?
Well, I don't think I'll see Pacino since they don't move to Broadway until October 9, but I have NEVER BEEN TO NYC. How can a theatre buff like me have managed that? If I can get amazingly lucky on airfare, I found a hostel-style hotel online- Candy- for $99 a night near Manhattan! I am dreaming of Labor Day weekend in NYC... I'd love to hear any tips from anyone who's traveled there recently, especially with regard to student tickets for Broadway shows.
Oh, and if you were wondering...
Leap Year: As predicted by me, it was a yawn. I wish it were otherwise because I love Amy Adams. BUT- somehow this film made Ireland look DRAB!!! Don't waste your time.
The Lives of Pippa Lee: I read about this first when it had limited theatrical release. The article I read (in either Elle or Marie Claire) lodged the project in my brain, so I was charmed to find it in my local redbox. As I said earlier, I couldn't watch it uninterrupted and I think my opinion of the film would be even better upon a second viewing. Robin Wright's stillness as Pippa is just beautiful.
The Book of Eli: My little brother suggested this when it was in theatrical release. He said I'd love it. I did like it a great deal, but was not inspired to love. I was a bit disappointed that I could see most of the plot coming from a mile away (not counting the delicious twist of what is really on the pages of "the book" in question), but found Denzel Washington more compelling than expected. I admit to often not enjoying Mr. Washington as much as others, although his performance in "The Inside Man" was wonderful as well. Here, beyond the first thirty seconds, you forget Mr. Washington completely- he is Eli.
Comments are always welcome. :) Catch you later...
Instead, I had one evening of junking out to Leap Year and watching enormous storm clouds roll in. I had two more movies to watch (like I said, hedonistic), but the hubster needed my help in preparing a paper for school. Admittedly, I spent most of the day Saturday procrastinating. I didn't want to read over sixty pages of research materials just so I could edit a paper.
So, The Lives Of Pippa Lee went in the dvd player around four p.m.- which unfortunately was about the time the texts started flowing from my daughter, who was with my parents for the weekend. It is unfortunate that I had to pause the film about five times to answer the kiddo, because it is a lovely little character piece, and I was surprised to find Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder in it. I also love that Alan Arkin is enjoying a major career resurgence.
The hubster and I planned to watch The Book of Eli Saturday night after 11:30, but I was in such a funk, we decided to postpone it to Sunday at 10:00 a.m. We should have been at church then, but we knew we had a lot of work to do on that paper... In retrospect, that was a mistake. I knew he had a lot of work to do. What I didn't know was that he'd misunderstood the assignment. From 12:30 Sunday afternoon until 11:00 Sunday night, he/we worked. (With many interruptions for texts from the kiddo, my mother, hubster's friends, visitors...) I fell into bed midnight Sunday with my head swimming. We were back at it at 7:30 a.m. Monday. We printed the final draft with a mere twenty minutes until it was due.
After that, I brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and headed to my parents' to pick up the kiddo. Thank God for Starbucks Venti Chai Latte (7 pumps, non-fat, light ice). It's a two plus hour round trip, plus a good hour of visiting. I don't mind that, but the hubby had an old friend coming into town. I had not met her and really wanted to do so. So, I loaded the kid in the car and sped back home. I was rumpled, unwashed and hot (no a/c in the car) and a bit intimidated to be meeting this woman my husband has known for over twenty years.
As I was walking up the driveway to the front door, I paused. I took a deep breath, smoothed my very rumpled hair and shirt and decided that I would just be me. I let go of any preconceptions I had (and I did have some), put a smile on and walked in the door...
To meet a woman who was nothing like I had supposed. I don't really know who I thought she'd be, but it wasn't the warm, witty, intelligent person I was privileged to meet. We were talking Shakespeare within two minutes, then moved on to college (we both attend (ed) the same one), both sing, love the arts and so many other interests. It was not kismet, but it was a wonderful, pleasant evening after a most hectic two days.
I feel I've made a new friend. For those who know me at all, you know how difficult that is for me. It was wonderful to let go and just enjoy. Thank you Chandler & M.K. It was grand!
After M.K. left, I found several thoughts coalescing into a desire. Air fares are pretty low right now if you shop smart- Al Pacino is reprising his role as Shylock in Merchant Of Venice on Broadway this fall- I am a theater minor in school and can get student priced tickets... You can see where I'm going with this, right?
Well, I don't think I'll see Pacino since they don't move to Broadway until October 9, but I have NEVER BEEN TO NYC. How can a theatre buff like me have managed that? If I can get amazingly lucky on airfare, I found a hostel-style hotel online- Candy- for $99 a night near Manhattan! I am dreaming of Labor Day weekend in NYC... I'd love to hear any tips from anyone who's traveled there recently, especially with regard to student tickets for Broadway shows.
Oh, and if you were wondering...
Leap Year: As predicted by me, it was a yawn. I wish it were otherwise because I love Amy Adams. BUT- somehow this film made Ireland look DRAB!!! Don't waste your time.
The Lives of Pippa Lee: I read about this first when it had limited theatrical release. The article I read (in either Elle or Marie Claire) lodged the project in my brain, so I was charmed to find it in my local redbox. As I said earlier, I couldn't watch it uninterrupted and I think my opinion of the film would be even better upon a second viewing. Robin Wright's stillness as Pippa is just beautiful.
The Book of Eli: My little brother suggested this when it was in theatrical release. He said I'd love it. I did like it a great deal, but was not inspired to love. I was a bit disappointed that I could see most of the plot coming from a mile away (not counting the delicious twist of what is really on the pages of "the book" in question), but found Denzel Washington more compelling than expected. I admit to often not enjoying Mr. Washington as much as others, although his performance in "The Inside Man" was wonderful as well. Here, beyond the first thirty seconds, you forget Mr. Washington completely- he is Eli.
Comments are always welcome. :) Catch you later...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Welcome & Thank You
Welcome Curious Reader and thank you for finding your way to my blog.
This salutation of course assumes that anyone will care to read this. And with that statement, I have shown you why writing, the "thing" which I have come to realize is the filter through which I process the world, is so damned hard for me.
The act of setting my ideas to paper, whether in prose, poetry or essays, calls a veritable army of insecurities to the fore. Who wants to read anything I would write? I have been wrestling with this particular problem for the last fifteen years.
Three years ago, in one of my favorite locations on earth, Lily Dale, NY- I was meditating and received the following message- "The singer does not sing, the dancer does not dance, the lover does not love, the writer does not write... What are you afraid of?"
I wrote the message in my journal, but hardly needed to. It was burned into my brain. "What are you afraid of?"
I have carried it with me, that question. I have pulled it out, looked it over, tasted and touched it, then sat it back on the shelf of my consciousness.
Intellectually, I understood my conceits about writing (especially journaling and blogging). To write about one's personal experiences and inner life seems an inherently arrogant act. It presupposes that anyone might care. Add to that the usual baggage of the writer: The steamer trunk of fear, containing all the requisite cubbyholes and drawers for the opinions of friends, family, classmates, professors, colleagues, critics... And for the truly blessed; editors and publishers; and you have a pretty decent snapshot of the roadblock that has been sitting between my desire and my actions.
Even I can see it boils down to one point. What if I am not good enough?
I have not overcome that fear. As I sit here now, my mouth is cottony, there is a dull throb in my head and my ears are ringing. My fingers have become cold and my breathing shallow.
What I have done is to acknowledge the fear, and write anyway. In Writer Magazine sometime this spring, March I think, there is a reprint of an article from 1992. In it, the author discusses why people become writers. To paraphrase: Some of us spring from the womb with pen in hand and just start writing. Some of us start writing when we've realized there is nothing else left to do to try to NOT write. (I will provide the proper quotation and credit ASAP.)
I am in the latter group. I was blessed with a facility for language that allowed me to start reading at age three. This gift also allows me to read very fast. There is no time in my life that I do not remember reading. By age twelve, I was a book addict. Fiction and biographies were my drugs of choice.
My favorite thing in the world at that time? A cold rainy afternoon. I would race home after school so I could snuggle sideways in the blue and white floral armchair in the living room with some monster of a book and two whole hours before dinner. I devoured books. I still do, although I have to take my hits in smaller doses, with a grown up life to tend to. Even now, having to lay aside an unfinished book causes a pang of loss.
Another time, I will fill in the blanks between the flowered chair of my youth and the red leather sofa of now. It is a long and twisty road, full of potholes and garbage. For now, I hope it is enough for you to know that I am full of... fear (In case you were thinking of another "full of" idiom, I would agree with you on that as well.), but I have arranged my life now in such a way that to NOT write is more painful than writing.
I am a student again. In a month, I re-enter academia as a Creative Writing Major. This is part of the plan. If I have to write, then I HAVE TO WRITE. I am an obsessive overachiever when I feel I may fail at something. If I don't write, I will fail, so I must write.
It took me the whole of my life to arrive at this point. There is no turning back.
So, thank you again for reading. I'll keep you posted.
This salutation of course assumes that anyone will care to read this. And with that statement, I have shown you why writing, the "thing" which I have come to realize is the filter through which I process the world, is so damned hard for me.
The act of setting my ideas to paper, whether in prose, poetry or essays, calls a veritable army of insecurities to the fore. Who wants to read anything I would write? I have been wrestling with this particular problem for the last fifteen years.
Three years ago, in one of my favorite locations on earth, Lily Dale, NY- I was meditating and received the following message- "The singer does not sing, the dancer does not dance, the lover does not love, the writer does not write... What are you afraid of?"
I wrote the message in my journal, but hardly needed to. It was burned into my brain. "What are you afraid of?"
I have carried it with me, that question. I have pulled it out, looked it over, tasted and touched it, then sat it back on the shelf of my consciousness.
Intellectually, I understood my conceits about writing (especially journaling and blogging). To write about one's personal experiences and inner life seems an inherently arrogant act. It presupposes that anyone might care. Add to that the usual baggage of the writer: The steamer trunk of fear, containing all the requisite cubbyholes and drawers for the opinions of friends, family, classmates, professors, colleagues, critics... And for the truly blessed; editors and publishers; and you have a pretty decent snapshot of the roadblock that has been sitting between my desire and my actions.
Even I can see it boils down to one point. What if I am not good enough?
I have not overcome that fear. As I sit here now, my mouth is cottony, there is a dull throb in my head and my ears are ringing. My fingers have become cold and my breathing shallow.
What I have done is to acknowledge the fear, and write anyway. In Writer Magazine sometime this spring, March I think, there is a reprint of an article from 1992. In it, the author discusses why people become writers. To paraphrase: Some of us spring from the womb with pen in hand and just start writing. Some of us start writing when we've realized there is nothing else left to do to try to NOT write. (I will provide the proper quotation and credit ASAP.)
I am in the latter group. I was blessed with a facility for language that allowed me to start reading at age three. This gift also allows me to read very fast. There is no time in my life that I do not remember reading. By age twelve, I was a book addict. Fiction and biographies were my drugs of choice.
My favorite thing in the world at that time? A cold rainy afternoon. I would race home after school so I could snuggle sideways in the blue and white floral armchair in the living room with some monster of a book and two whole hours before dinner. I devoured books. I still do, although I have to take my hits in smaller doses, with a grown up life to tend to. Even now, having to lay aside an unfinished book causes a pang of loss.
Another time, I will fill in the blanks between the flowered chair of my youth and the red leather sofa of now. It is a long and twisty road, full of potholes and garbage. For now, I hope it is enough for you to know that I am full of... fear (In case you were thinking of another "full of" idiom, I would agree with you on that as well.), but I have arranged my life now in such a way that to NOT write is more painful than writing.
I am a student again. In a month, I re-enter academia as a Creative Writing Major. This is part of the plan. If I have to write, then I HAVE TO WRITE. I am an obsessive overachiever when I feel I may fail at something. If I don't write, I will fail, so I must write.
It took me the whole of my life to arrive at this point. There is no turning back.
So, thank you again for reading. I'll keep you posted.
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