recently, i've been re-watching Friends and reliving what it was like to wonder about the future and be good-scared about the possibilities that can happen; knowing that even though i may not like my life circumstances, everything will turn out for the best. of course, i end up feeling a little bit restless, feeling like i should be doing more with my life, and also feeling like I ought to be living more, like putting more quality into my life. i don't know if that means that I ought to travel more or pursue other careers or go back to school or even just read more. I just know that the way my life is heading right now, i will not remain content for too long. I am approaching that time of year (fall) when I feel the most restless for change and in which season i have experienced the most change in my life.
despite all this, though, i can say that I am currently content. i don't have a hard life. my paychecks pay for my bills. my job is not that hard. and i have the ability to travel and do "luxury" things though more conservatively than i've done in the past.
today, mark and i tried out a new to our area steak restaurant, and had the luxury to eat in the middle of the day because it was our day off. my company didn't have to take out health benefits from this paycheck, so I had the ability to treat us a little bit with this paycheck. we also went out to Culver's and had some dessert after a day of errands, and are about to watch a movie at home. these are not the activities of people in extreme need; we are thankful that we have these days to be able to take off from work, relax and reflect on how wonderful our life is. even though we're living in a half finished house and we may not have the most complete furnishings ever, we are still fortunate and lucky with what we do have. Besides, it's hard to feel downtrodden laughing with each other so often.
Which is why i'm so glad to be living in the time of blogs and facebooks and iphones. i used to have a fear of losing my memories and would need to compulsively write out every moment and thought of my life into a journal, else i would forget something important that I would want to remember in the future. turns out, taking pictures of food or people or signs can impart more meaning than pages in a journal. and the act of compressing my thoughts into little status updates is a fun way for me to share random moments that are seemingly unimportant, but serve to engage long lost loved ones into an aspect of my life that they otherwise couldn't have been a part of.
i'm thankful for my freedoms. for my job. for my iphone. and for my computer. God bless America.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Daydreams
I spent a lot of this morning thinking about random things that I should do, like part time jobs that I needed or think that I should pick up, or how well would I do if I were a fill-in-the-blank? This morning my fill-in-the-blank was a gym worker of one of those mega-gyms, like Lifestyle, or whatever, who worked in the reception area part-time, but was already up to date with CPR and was certified to be a personal trainer, because really, all I had to do was pay for some test, and bam, I was certified. And then, I did such a great job motivating the clients that came in the gym, that they became my clients. The manager liked my work so much that he offered me a full time job there, which was the same as my salary with at my full time job, considering that I kept my clients (kinda like base plus commission). At this point, I had so much time, since I only really had to work for 6 hours, the other two were my lunch and workout, that I didn’t consider that work. So, I was able to get in shape, had enough desk time that I also was able to work on my novel and other writing pursuits in between clients and other jobs, and then had a lot of time to be at home. The trifecta! Value at work, satisfaction with my physical self, and the pursuit of my dreams. What a lovely little day dream that was.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Finding happiness in my happy place
Recently, I was so concerned about being a plagiarizer and also protecting myself from being discouraged in reading ideas or themes or symbolism in another person's work that I've been thinking about, that I cut myself off from reading. Since reading is basically half of my "living" I succussfully cut myself off from living a full life. Or, better stated, I began to live a half life. In doing so, I also cut in half my resources for creativity.
Really, this is all so silly, because it's not that I'm even afraid of plagiarism, as I'm not even tempted to splice huge passages of novels and claim them as my own. It's more like I feel the need to have an original and unique story, that despite what other writers have said about how a writer's life experiences and perspectives automatically create a unique perspective on a theme or story, I still feel that mine should be utterly unique. That my terms and worlds need to stand alone, and cannot be referential in any way. Stupid, I know, but that's just my crazy brain thinking crazy things.
I know that themes have been done before. Heck, look at the plethora of vampire/werewolf/faerie tales that have been created, each with their own particular twist of the respective lore. And, as a reader, I never feel like I'm being gypped rereading a similar experience because the stories are always different. (Kind of like work gossip, which usually involves the same people and circumstances, but never gets boring.)
I realize that I'm being hard on myself but what I stupid thing to punish myself over. If reading makes me happy, I ought to be reading. That is my first love (in the literary sense). The writing is just an extension of that, and the one in which most people would recognize as a "paying" occupation. But, oh what I wouldn't give for a world that recognized worth in paying citizens to read. What a wonderful world that would be.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Procrastinating
I spent the last hour waiting to think about what to write, breaking a cardinal rule of mine: don't wait to be inspired to write, but start writing so I can get inspired. Clearly, I was just staring off into space and wasting time, rather than kicking my butt into gear and focus on the pen and paper in front of me to get something down on writing. Today, I just didn't feel like writing, and was instead feeling inadequate, tired, lazy, whatever, but I definitely didn't feel like being productive, and so I just chalk it up to not setting myself up for success to allow a better set of circumstance so that I could write. I didn't get a good night's rest, I didn't set the coffeemaker in advance, I slept in...whatever the cause, I knew better than to break my routine, and so sabotaged any morning productivity I could have had.
As I was conscious of my own procrastination, I kept encountering all these ad campaigns that perpetuate the idea of "not having time" to do anything and continue to sell a miracle product that allows you to do whatever-it-is effectively in 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 90 seconds, whatever. I couldn't help thinking of the irony; that here I was wasting a perfectly good hour, and knowing that I am pointedly ignoring my pen and paper, and here were all these gadgets, pills, systems, and workout techniques that will help me in my overburdened, no time to spare lifestyle. No one ever talks about not having a routine or ritual built in to one's life, and instead of putting the blame and responsibility where it belongs (on the person choosing not to improve his or her life), people would instead prefer to hide behind this "Time" culprit. "Time" has become this magical super-enemy out to sabotage every good intention a person would like to achieve. "Time" along with some of its other minions, like, "Slow Metabolism" and "Getting older" like to spread mischief, discord, and chaos in a person's otherwise neat and orderly plans. Really? Does the current modern population not have enough time, or are we just too embarrassed or deluded to acknowledge that we are either incapable of or refuse to create action plans in our life that will help us reach our goals? Are we so "unselfish" that we "put others before ourselves" and let our bodies, goals, dreams fall by the wayside so that "others" can succeed? Who really deep down believes that? Because what I see day to day, both in the general public (to which I am unfortunate enough to encounter each and every day) and in the media, are people who allow life to happen to them, rather than be in control of their own life choices. It's like all this talk about "Time" is more like a symptom and not the real root cause that may hinder a person from achieving their goals.
I'm gonna be honest, the way the current "healthcare" system is with the FDA and the pharmaceutical companies turning doctors into prescription Pez dispensers, it's obvious that this society is used to being medicated for its symptoms and hiding or ignoring the true root cause of a person's dis-ease/illness/problem. However, this topic is a whole blog on its own, and there are several "natural health" sites that rant about this everyday.
Now, the root cause that has allowed someone from fulfilling their goals may be numerous, from fear of failure or too much pride to ask somoeone for help. But, the bottom line that seems to address many of these problems seems to be to write down goals, and then an action plan to achieve those goals. Keep writing and revising those goals until they are very simple and actionable and can be a priority, actionable item that one can do each day. That's the basic principle behind all of those organizational gurus out there. They simplify one's life and streamline all the essential things into an actionable to-do list. Because really, how can anyone achieve one's goals when one don't even know what it is one wants to do with one's life?
Ben Franklin used to carry his mission statement and philosophy with him wherever he went, which he kept in a little notebook that also contained various to-do lists that would help him achieve his goals. Of course, in the modern context, his system is what we call the Franklin system, and is best known through the Franklin Covey company. (By the way, I really like their mission statement: "We enable greatness.") Now, this is the point in which most people drop off, because again, they would be foiled by that "Time" nemesis, as in, "I don't have time to write down my goals, wonk wonk." But really, what is more important than prioritizing one's life? What could possibly be more important than that? And really, it doesn't take long. Even as little as five minutes of sitting down and scribbling on an index card or restaurant napkin will help to focus one's thoughts. And yes, writing things down is critical. I don't just say that because it's my preference, or that I'm a writer, or that I have a freakishly photographic memory that is helped when I add kinesthetic memory to it. When a person writes things down, it's like they own a piece of it, and this sense of ownership might just tip the balance of motivating him to achieve his goals. And, if he writes down his goals on an index card that he can carry with him and which becomes a constant reminder of those goals, then maybe, just maybe, he'll have a realistic timeline of one day achieving those goals.
Speaking of Franklin Covey, I think it's marvelous that I spent like $200+ investing in a system that I don't even use anymore. However, I understood the value of that daily system, and have since replaced it with a zip up portfolio from Levenger which I use as both a wallet and an agenda. I kind of rigged it up myself buying random accessories, but I knew what kinds would be useful and practical for me because of my experience with my Franklin planner.
As I was conscious of my own procrastination, I kept encountering all these ad campaigns that perpetuate the idea of "not having time" to do anything and continue to sell a miracle product that allows you to do whatever-it-is effectively in 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 90 seconds, whatever. I couldn't help thinking of the irony; that here I was wasting a perfectly good hour, and knowing that I am pointedly ignoring my pen and paper, and here were all these gadgets, pills, systems, and workout techniques that will help me in my overburdened, no time to spare lifestyle. No one ever talks about not having a routine or ritual built in to one's life, and instead of putting the blame and responsibility where it belongs (on the person choosing not to improve his or her life), people would instead prefer to hide behind this "Time" culprit. "Time" has become this magical super-enemy out to sabotage every good intention a person would like to achieve. "Time" along with some of its other minions, like, "Slow Metabolism" and "Getting older" like to spread mischief, discord, and chaos in a person's otherwise neat and orderly plans. Really? Does the current modern population not have enough time, or are we just too embarrassed or deluded to acknowledge that we are either incapable of or refuse to create action plans in our life that will help us reach our goals? Are we so "unselfish" that we "put others before ourselves" and let our bodies, goals, dreams fall by the wayside so that "others" can succeed? Who really deep down believes that? Because what I see day to day, both in the general public (to which I am unfortunate enough to encounter each and every day) and in the media, are people who allow life to happen to them, rather than be in control of their own life choices. It's like all this talk about "Time" is more like a symptom and not the real root cause that may hinder a person from achieving their goals.
I'm gonna be honest, the way the current "healthcare" system is with the FDA and the pharmaceutical companies turning doctors into prescription Pez dispensers, it's obvious that this society is used to being medicated for its symptoms and hiding or ignoring the true root cause of a person's dis-ease/illness/problem. However, this topic is a whole blog on its own, and there are several "natural health" sites that rant about this everyday.
Now, the root cause that has allowed someone from fulfilling their goals may be numerous, from fear of failure or too much pride to ask somoeone for help. But, the bottom line that seems to address many of these problems seems to be to write down goals, and then an action plan to achieve those goals. Keep writing and revising those goals until they are very simple and actionable and can be a priority, actionable item that one can do each day. That's the basic principle behind all of those organizational gurus out there. They simplify one's life and streamline all the essential things into an actionable to-do list. Because really, how can anyone achieve one's goals when one don't even know what it is one wants to do with one's life?
Ben Franklin used to carry his mission statement and philosophy with him wherever he went, which he kept in a little notebook that also contained various to-do lists that would help him achieve his goals. Of course, in the modern context, his system is what we call the Franklin system, and is best known through the Franklin Covey company. (By the way, I really like their mission statement: "We enable greatness.") Now, this is the point in which most people drop off, because again, they would be foiled by that "Time" nemesis, as in, "I don't have time to write down my goals, wonk wonk." But really, what is more important than prioritizing one's life? What could possibly be more important than that? And really, it doesn't take long. Even as little as five minutes of sitting down and scribbling on an index card or restaurant napkin will help to focus one's thoughts. And yes, writing things down is critical. I don't just say that because it's my preference, or that I'm a writer, or that I have a freakishly photographic memory that is helped when I add kinesthetic memory to it. When a person writes things down, it's like they own a piece of it, and this sense of ownership might just tip the balance of motivating him to achieve his goals. And, if he writes down his goals on an index card that he can carry with him and which becomes a constant reminder of those goals, then maybe, just maybe, he'll have a realistic timeline of one day achieving those goals.
Speaking of Franklin Covey, I think it's marvelous that I spent like $200+ investing in a system that I don't even use anymore. However, I understood the value of that daily system, and have since replaced it with a zip up portfolio from Levenger which I use as both a wallet and an agenda. I kind of rigged it up myself buying random accessories, but I knew what kinds would be useful and practical for me because of my experience with my Franklin planner.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Knowing
There are times when my curiosity is too great, that I have to pick at something until I know what I want to know. That's how it is with everything that I've become interested in, whether it's the health sites to which I'm addicted or natural makeup or writing and book review sites. Unfortunately, I also have that curiosity about people in general, and though I'm not surprised about the information that I found, it nevertheless has affected my views and feelings about the person. Oh well. I can't really do anything about that, though, since I can't unknow what I've discovered, and God has decided to gift me with an incredible memory, especially visually. When I see something, it's forever burned into my brain for my inner eye to see over and over again.
There are times when I wish I were that guy on the movie Memento who manipulated his own short term memory disorder so that he allowed himself to believe a lie rather than confront the truth that he had already avenged his wife's death. Sometimes, a lie is preferable. But only in the short term. Because I know that if I know the truth of a thing, wouldn't I become better because of the knowing? I hope so. I can't see myself ever being satisfied with an ending that is without resolution, and that's what knowing the truth of a situation is for me. Finding a resolution. Because I can't see anything being resolved when lies are allowed to perpetuate.
There are times when I wish I were that guy on the movie Memento who manipulated his own short term memory disorder so that he allowed himself to believe a lie rather than confront the truth that he had already avenged his wife's death. Sometimes, a lie is preferable. But only in the short term. Because I know that if I know the truth of a thing, wouldn't I become better because of the knowing? I hope so. I can't see myself ever being satisfied with an ending that is without resolution, and that's what knowing the truth of a situation is for me. Finding a resolution. Because I can't see anything being resolved when lies are allowed to perpetuate.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Excuses, Excuses
I know that "no excuses" is one of my life mantras, but I have to be honest, I have not been able to motivate myself to write to save my life. I've bribed myself, bartered, berated, but nothing seems to be working. It's like I have a white noise-fog in my mind; a block where normally I should be able to work around it. I know that I've been thinking of other stories, and it could be that I've just lost interest, but that's not it. Whatever the reason, I just know that I'm not working on it. Almost how I feel now with my body and exercising. I know what I have to do to get the body that I want. At this point, I don't really care. Maybe it's this weird apathy thing that's been plaguing the area recently. I noticed that in some of my customers. Or maybe I just need a vacation and rest from conflict. I get so much of conflict at work, that I don't want to go through the effort of fixing my imaginary character's issues and conflict. Maybe that story isn't the story I should be focusing on, but one I had to get out of my head to be able to write my real story. I don't know. What this all boils down to is a big pile of excuses and pity-partying. I'm not quite at the suck it up and move on phase, but knowing me, I'll get sick of myself in not too long, and be able to bust out a consistent few pages a day again.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
09 June 2009--A Series' End
So, I just finished City of Glass, the last book of the Mortal Instruments Trilogy. I loved reading it, don't get me wrong, but I hate knowing that a story has ended. I need something to look forward to. I'm glad there was a resolution, etcetcetc, but I hate knowing that it's ended. Like Harry Potter. I had a strange feeling of not-quite-disappointment. Maybe, anticlimactic. I'm getting spoiled by Charlaine Harris's books or Laurell K Hamilton's books, where there's no real end in sight. And I'm also thinking about my own stories, and how I may want them drawn out. (And a slight bummer seeing a name of a character that I am using in my own story, although spelled differently, but whatever. It didn't make me feel too bummed, because I finished the book, after all.)
Even though I know the writer needs to have closure or have a different vision of the world, I forget that as a reader I never want that world to end. I was happy about the epilogue though, and delighted that Clare really went out of her way to tie up all the little loose ends.
Even though I know the writer needs to have closure or have a different vision of the world, I forget that as a reader I never want that world to end. I was happy about the epilogue though, and delighted that Clare really went out of her way to tie up all the little loose ends.
Monday, June 8, 2009
08 June 2009--Samsara
waking. closing my eyes because I don't want to be awake. visualizing my day. wishing to be in bed while still in bed. slipping back in that in between stage where I'm dreaming but conscious about it. liking my dreams. Getting up frustrated because those dreams are no where near my reality. i can't even write about them. turn off the coffeemaker. eat breakfast. congratulate myself that I'm eating my food. berate myself because my lunch will probably be processed inedible swill. not thinking about not exercising. eat the food. drink the good coffee. using the notebook and the computer not to write. read. not enjoying the reading because it makes me feel guilty about not writing. feeling not unique. not creative. exercise. realize that i need a few more weeks of exercise before i see any improvement. work. hope not to be called names. hope not to be called out on conference call for something i forgot to do. back home. where there is no progress to the house. no progress towards paying down debt. read. swallow my pride and lack of creativity. read till my eyes can no longer see, and i don't feel too guilty that i don't write. sleep. close my eyes and dream of far off worlds. know that my dreams will fuel another day of muted frustration. not caring.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
26 May 2009--Audiobooks
I love the idea of listening to a book while driving to work. I still remember the wonder I had the first time I listened to an audio book on my over-an-hour commute to work. It was the BBC recording of the Chronicles of Narnia. I thought that the audio book would be distracting or that I would zone out and miss an important plot piece, or dialogue, almost when I skim a page while reading a book, and would need to reread the passage. Ah, but all my fears were needless, considering that I felt like I was watching a movie, but not actually seeing what it was. Enchanted with the experience, I proceeded to listen to finish the Chronicles of Narnia, and graduated to Harry Potter's adventures, and eventually branched out to more voluminous works, such as Jean Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear series, Pillars of the Earth, The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. Those books, and countless others, have helped me overcome the drudgery of a long commute or traffic, and at times have made me want to get in my car and create errands for myself so that I'm able to "read" just a little bit more.
Of course, through this, I have discovered that books that were otherwise unreadable in print, I can tolerate, and even grow to love, while listening to it as an audio book. For example, Eragon, The Thirteenth Tale and The Fountainhead are all great books that I am proud to have read, but I would never have finished them if it weren't for audio books.
I guess I've been thinking about my audio book discovery since it was around this time two years ago when I pushed The Magician's Nephew into my car's CD player and was introduced to a whole new dimension of reading. And maybe it's because I've really enjoyed my last few "reads". Either way, I've renewed my love for audio books, and am conscious about the types of books that I will choose, namely, that I need to strengthen my nonfiction base. I really enjoyed Eat Pray Love, as an audio book, and I think I'll be able to read more nonfiction books this way rather than the traditional paperback or hardcover. I'm happy to say that I'm currently listening to In Defense of Food (and enjoying it immensely!) and hope to enjoy more nonfiction books this way. I really liked reading Gladwell's Blink, and I wonder now if he has any of his other books on CD.
Though I will never get over the idea that I am reading a book while driving, the one thing I miss out on is the tactile sensation of reading: the textures of the pages and cover, the smell of the paper, and the unconscious indicator of the story's pace as the pages in my right hand slowly thin out. So, I will never replace traditional books with their convenience counterparts of audio books or ebooks, but they definitely have their place/role in my life.
Of course, through this, I have discovered that books that were otherwise unreadable in print, I can tolerate, and even grow to love, while listening to it as an audio book. For example, Eragon, The Thirteenth Tale and The Fountainhead are all great books that I am proud to have read, but I would never have finished them if it weren't for audio books.
I guess I've been thinking about my audio book discovery since it was around this time two years ago when I pushed The Magician's Nephew into my car's CD player and was introduced to a whole new dimension of reading. And maybe it's because I've really enjoyed my last few "reads". Either way, I've renewed my love for audio books, and am conscious about the types of books that I will choose, namely, that I need to strengthen my nonfiction base. I really enjoyed Eat Pray Love, as an audio book, and I think I'll be able to read more nonfiction books this way rather than the traditional paperback or hardcover. I'm happy to say that I'm currently listening to In Defense of Food (and enjoying it immensely!) and hope to enjoy more nonfiction books this way. I really liked reading Gladwell's Blink, and I wonder now if he has any of his other books on CD.
Though I will never get over the idea that I am reading a book while driving, the one thing I miss out on is the tactile sensation of reading: the textures of the pages and cover, the smell of the paper, and the unconscious indicator of the story's pace as the pages in my right hand slowly thin out. So, I will never replace traditional books with their convenience counterparts of audio books or ebooks, but they definitely have their place/role in my life.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
21 May 2009--Morning Thoughts on The Novel
Well, I thought that I would have a setback yesterday because I had myself a little pity party when I found out that my bank accounts were overdrawn. I think too much emphasis is placed on “being good” and keeping a healthy bank account. Don’t get me wrong, I want to ensure that my bank account is used responsibly, of course, but I mean it’s gotten to the point that one mistake that happens to everyone can nearly destroy me and question my moral integrity, my intelligence, my overall ability to do anything good and right in this world. I mean, I can talk about it in a distant way, but good grief, did I slump REALLY low yesterday. To the point where I was crippled, my mind numb, and questioning how I could ever aspire to be a professional, fulltime writer when I couldn’t even support myself with a regular full time job, and I would have to be a really great writer like those celebrity writers, not the ones who pound away at the computer and despite showing up and paying homage to the muse, they are still overlooked and unrecognized and unpaid, but what does that matter because they’re doing what they love, and it’s not about the money anyway, is it? Well, even though I agree with that wholeheartedly, that it’s not about the money, and that I enjoy writing as a hobby, realistically speaking, I will need money eventually if I am to be able to follow through on my plan for being this “professional writer”, and considering that yesterday I felt so stupid, why should I even bother because I won’t ever be a celebrity writer, not that I want the celebrity-recognition but I would like the paycheck or fraction of the paycheck as that status can command, and being that status is what I need to do this fulltime, so why even bother at all since I’m not good enough to even be thinking about that level of income. The whole morning went on and on like that in the midst of looking for other jobs that I can take on part-time, because at least I was “doing something.” It was a never-ending dizzying circle that kept spiraling down in this odd samsaric kind of way.
Thankfully, during my pre-ordained break, (after I punched out a paragraph-cum-poem neatly entitle “sucking at life”) I checked out facebook, and after a few encouraging words from my cousin Richelle, I was ready to get over myself and write again. Sure, it wasn’t all that easy, since I was on the technical plotting stage since I reached a point in my scene writing that I didn’t know where I was to get anywhere, but I ended up forcing myself to write till 10pm writing a fully developed plot summary (I hate the term outline, it’s too structured and yet also too sparse) that I can use to refer to and flesh out since I basically wrote them as self-encapsulating scene/paragraphs that still needs descriptions, dialogue, etc. But at least this way, I was able to see in miniature the novel develop scene per scene and if at the end of the scene, I knew more about the characters and if there were changes as compared to the beginning of that scene. There were few areas where I thought it may have dragged, which is good seeing it in miniature so I didn’t have to waste hours on writing that scene fully, only to discover that I needed to fill it in with a foreshadowing or another character, or whatever. Plus, seeing this thing to the end, and forcing myself to write with a specific time challenge I was able to create transitions and scenarios that flowed one to the other without thinking about it because I was just trying to see to the end. Kind of like skimming a novel to skip to the end and see what will happen. Except with writing. It was a weird feeling, but I didn’t have time to think about it because I was too busy writing. It makes sense to me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
20 May 2009--Against the Whelming Flood
This morning didn't start off too hot. Well, I shouldn't say that. It started out well enough: I woke up at 9am, made coffee, opened my laptop and prepared to have an inspiring day of just all out writing to make (and exceed) my pre-ordained 4 pages of morning writing that will serve to flesh out my novel. Thinking about that, I realize that I shouldn't say "flesh out" since that implies that I have at least a skeleton of a novel, you know, from start to finish. I think what I have is more like an embryo of the novel, although, seeing that I have over 30 pages written, I'm not so much proud of that writing anymore. I may have only written 30 pages of background but not the actual story. But I need to stop writing around the actual problem.
The actual problem, is that when I opened my laptop, and spent a few minutes clicking through Google's "special day in history icon" that I can never resist reading about (today it was about the fully preserved fossil of Darwinius Maxillae, or something like that), I decided to round out my procrastinative endeavors and check out all the other mundane things in my life, including bank accounts and bills. Wouldn't you know it, but I stupidly forgot about an EFT (a new bill, I might add, so I definitely wasn't expecting it) that put my bank account into the negative. Mark's going to love that. On top of all that, I checked my other bank account, which I use solely for tracking my own personal expenses (I only keep $20 in there from paycheck to paycheck), and instead of the $0 balance that I thought I had since I put $3 in there yesterday, it turned out that my account was -$30 as of Monday, and the teller didn't bother to tell me that when I put a measly $3 in. How frustrating! Of course, when I encounter a financial obstacle, my solution has always been to take a few calming breaths and then promptly apply online to whatever job I can find. This time, I searched Monster.com and Indy Star to see what results I would find. Wouldn't you know it, there were part-time offerings for Verizon, so I decided to apply there again. Of course, I am conscious that the likelihood of getting a callback is basically nil. But, I always have to feel like I'm being an active participant of my life, and the action helps to soothe me and open a channel to God, saying that ok, I've done my part, what next? And the what next is inevitably God telling me that I need to be a better Steward of my resources and to know more for next time, but know that He still loves me, and that I'm not the complete failure that I think I am.
I just think it's funny to see that one aspect, one little moment in time can reduce me from hopeful and inspired-ready to self-abusive and unforgiving. Just wait until I want to market my novels for publishing. I should fashion my self-flagellate whips now. And a shadow box to display all of my rejection notices. Wouldn't that make me feel like I'm being an active participant in my own destiny?
At any rate, here is my morning writing, reduced from four pages of a rough draft for the novel to a semi-paragraph, almost poetical litany of how much I suck:
I wish I had beautiful things to say. But I don’t .
I wish I were the eloquent queen, the girl of your dreams, your fiery seductress swirling liquid ruin with your dessert. But I am none of those things.
I am the master of backpedaling; of being the quick wit five-minutes-too-late, the $30 cup of coffee because I couldn’t figure out if I had $2 or $3 left in my bank account. I am the too early to be fashionably late, too late to be punctual. I am the "if only I could have" safety of my golden years. The “after” in the aftermath; a flashforward gone wrong. The secret tears that everyone sees. The ongoing caps lock that confounds case sensitive logins. The coffee brewed with not enough water. Not enough. There.
The actual problem, is that when I opened my laptop, and spent a few minutes clicking through Google's "special day in history icon" that I can never resist reading about (today it was about the fully preserved fossil of Darwinius Maxillae, or something like that), I decided to round out my procrastinative endeavors and check out all the other mundane things in my life, including bank accounts and bills. Wouldn't you know it, but I stupidly forgot about an EFT (a new bill, I might add, so I definitely wasn't expecting it) that put my bank account into the negative. Mark's going to love that. On top of all that, I checked my other bank account, which I use solely for tracking my own personal expenses (I only keep $20 in there from paycheck to paycheck), and instead of the $0 balance that I thought I had since I put $3 in there yesterday, it turned out that my account was -$30 as of Monday, and the teller didn't bother to tell me that when I put a measly $3 in. How frustrating! Of course, when I encounter a financial obstacle, my solution has always been to take a few calming breaths and then promptly apply online to whatever job I can find. This time, I searched Monster.com and Indy Star to see what results I would find. Wouldn't you know it, there were part-time offerings for Verizon, so I decided to apply there again. Of course, I am conscious that the likelihood of getting a callback is basically nil. But, I always have to feel like I'm being an active participant of my life, and the action helps to soothe me and open a channel to God, saying that ok, I've done my part, what next? And the what next is inevitably God telling me that I need to be a better Steward of my resources and to know more for next time, but know that He still loves me, and that I'm not the complete failure that I think I am.
I just think it's funny to see that one aspect, one little moment in time can reduce me from hopeful and inspired-ready to self-abusive and unforgiving. Just wait until I want to market my novels for publishing. I should fashion my self-flagellate whips now. And a shadow box to display all of my rejection notices. Wouldn't that make me feel like I'm being an active participant in my own destiny?
At any rate, here is my morning writing, reduced from four pages of a rough draft for the novel to a semi-paragraph, almost poetical litany of how much I suck:
I wish I had beautiful things to say. But I don’t .
I wish I were the eloquent queen, the girl of your dreams, your fiery seductress swirling liquid ruin with your dessert. But I am none of those things.
I am the master of backpedaling; of being the quick wit five-minutes-too-late, the $30 cup of coffee because I couldn’t figure out if I had $2 or $3 left in my bank account. I am the too early to be fashionably late, too late to be punctual. I am the "if only I could have" safety of my golden years. The “after” in the aftermath; a flashforward gone wrong. The secret tears that everyone sees. The ongoing caps lock that confounds case sensitive logins. The coffee brewed with not enough water. Not enough. There.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
13 May 2009--Thoughts on Reader's block
I wanted to write about some of the books that I've been reading, but the only books that I've been reading with a consistent frequency is The Heretics of Dune and the writing books that I've borrowed from the library. The Heretics of Dune has been constant only because it's in my car and I'm listening to it via audio books. I know this because I had the brand new hardcover re-release a few weeks ago, and barely read past the first few chapters. I'm experiencing a weird sense of detachment from reading fiction, only because I get hang ups with it whenever I try to write. Like, I need to rest from it almost, so that my subconscious can digest whatever it is that I read, and that I won't feel conscious about it as I'm writing. It gets to the point at times that I waver between feeling like a plagiarist or feeling like a hack. So, since I don't want to be discouraged from writing anymore than I already get, my short term solution has been to stop reading. I know, that's weird, but I don't devour books nor have the shaky addiction to devour books like I used to. In fact, I think I may have replaced my addiction to reading with more junk food eating. I'm not entirely sure, but I have noticed that my need for eating junk food has increased noticeably since I've stopped reading regularly. Well, I don't want to seem like I'm not reading at all, since I did go through like 6 nonfiction books, and I am currently trying to read Extremely loud and Incredibly close. I just wish that I weren't so "all or nothing" about these things, but I do want to do everything possible to encourage my writing, even if it means cutting myself off from books I love to read (fantasy). I think a lot of times, my trips to the library help me to assuage my inability to buy things, and so I end up borrowing stacks of books, dozens at a time only to end up not reading them or maybe only one or two of them. Who knows. Oh, and I feel like I'm slowly going insane because when I do get to write, I end up not leaving my world entirely, and end up feeling flaky all day during my day job where I'm forced to talk to lots of people. Which is why I hope to find another day job which will encourage me towards my dream of being a full time writer, if for nothing else, so I don't feel like I'm losing my mind and spiraling towards a dissociative disorder.
Monday, April 27, 2009
27 April 2009--Hack
"Our reading--and enjoyment of art, film, music or the web--is nourishment. We need to feed our imaginations." Kate Mosse
Thank you for that reminder. Now I just need to get over myself and write.
I've been so afraid recently (and if I'm honest, this trend has happened continually for at least four years) of being a hack and "plagiarizing" that I've stifled my imaginations for too long. Sure, it's discouraging that I'll not make a profitable career in writing, maybe not in years or ever. But I do know that I'm enjoying the writing and creative process, so why stop now? When have I ever let over thinking stop me from doing something that I knew to be right? Actually, I should say, I didn't even have to think through to conclusions on decisions that I knew were right. I didn't have to think to go to Word of Life, the best year of my life. Or, Cedarville, where I met Mark. Or, transferring to Virginia, where I fell in love with literature and reading again, and realized that there was more to life than being prodded like cattle from one class to another. Funny how I felt more anonymous at Cedarville than I did at a huge school like JMU.
I definitely didn't have to think about getting married to Mark on Maui or worry that we didn't have a job in Ohio. I just didn't think about it. I honestly knew that everything would work out and I would be happy with the result.
Through all these things, there was a certain amount of work involved, like ensuring that applications were turned in on time, researching the right place and time for a wedding, making phone calls to rentals in Cedarville. But, they were just part of the process and I took them for granted because there was no doubt in my mind that I would engage in that activity. It's just that the few things that are occupying my time now, namely this house-building and writing is encountering greater work, a greater process, but at the same time, these activities result in a larger end or gain.
The writing to me is an end in itself. Like being able to be married with a month's preparation. The reward was Maui and a transferrable job. The reward now will be living in a completed house with little to no debt and a published novel. Being published is not the goal. Writing is. Being published would be the reward, or fruit of these labors. And in a weird way, a means to an end, because practicality dictates that I need money to pay the bills. The ideal would be that I could quit my day job and write full time. But, truthfully, I am beginning to understand that I would write anyways, and again, should get over myself, and apply the same fervor of getting a second job (working 20 hours a week) on top of my own 40-50 hours towards writing. What more can I accomplish with 4-5 hours a day of writing! Ideally, I would want to do this everyday, but I know that I will need to rest and refresh from time to time.
Thank you for that reminder. Now I just need to get over myself and write.
I've been so afraid recently (and if I'm honest, this trend has happened continually for at least four years) of being a hack and "plagiarizing" that I've stifled my imaginations for too long. Sure, it's discouraging that I'll not make a profitable career in writing, maybe not in years or ever. But I do know that I'm enjoying the writing and creative process, so why stop now? When have I ever let over thinking stop me from doing something that I knew to be right? Actually, I should say, I didn't even have to think through to conclusions on decisions that I knew were right. I didn't have to think to go to Word of Life, the best year of my life. Or, Cedarville, where I met Mark. Or, transferring to Virginia, where I fell in love with literature and reading again, and realized that there was more to life than being prodded like cattle from one class to another. Funny how I felt more anonymous at Cedarville than I did at a huge school like JMU.
I definitely didn't have to think about getting married to Mark on Maui or worry that we didn't have a job in Ohio. I just didn't think about it. I honestly knew that everything would work out and I would be happy with the result.
Through all these things, there was a certain amount of work involved, like ensuring that applications were turned in on time, researching the right place and time for a wedding, making phone calls to rentals in Cedarville. But, they were just part of the process and I took them for granted because there was no doubt in my mind that I would engage in that activity. It's just that the few things that are occupying my time now, namely this house-building and writing is encountering greater work, a greater process, but at the same time, these activities result in a larger end or gain.
The writing to me is an end in itself. Like being able to be married with a month's preparation. The reward was Maui and a transferrable job. The reward now will be living in a completed house with little to no debt and a published novel. Being published is not the goal. Writing is. Being published would be the reward, or fruit of these labors. And in a weird way, a means to an end, because practicality dictates that I need money to pay the bills. The ideal would be that I could quit my day job and write full time. But, truthfully, I am beginning to understand that I would write anyways, and again, should get over myself, and apply the same fervor of getting a second job (working 20 hours a week) on top of my own 40-50 hours towards writing. What more can I accomplish with 4-5 hours a day of writing! Ideally, I would want to do this everyday, but I know that I will need to rest and refresh from time to time.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
19 April 2009--The Story's in the Telling
I've been at my desk, at my computer, for roughly 6 hours now. I've typed out a character analysis for the protagonist, and kept getting distracted with some details, but thankfully, I was able to rein in the research bug that may get me off the novel-writing altogether. For the majority of the time, I was typing out one of the first ever scenes that I've envisioned for this story, and let me tell you, what I thought was a scene actually has three or maybe even four distinct parts, and I barely finished two of them. And really, that's what writing a novel is all about. Writing it scene by scene.
*Sigh*
Writing may be what I love doing, but it's still work. I physically want to write, but right now for example, I am really burned out. My eyes are wigging out, my shoulders are tense (massage please!) and no matter how much I snack, I'm still hungry. Hopefully Mark will be home soon with some Wendy's chili and plain baked potato.
I just still can't believe that on this first run through, where I've already scribbled down the basic idea of the scene and I just needed to flesh it out as I transcribe it onto computer form, I barely am halfway through. I'm not even at the "meat" of what this scene is about. I had a little flash of my future, and in it I see my novel becoming an unwieldy 400-page beast. And not because I have a lot to say. Well, I do, but it's more like I am too long-winded and ramble on unnecessarily. Even now, when I'm too burnt out and Mark actually did just come home, and I really should stop typing, I'm typing and being wordy.
I'm heartened that I will be able to finish this novel of mine. Not specifically soon, of course, but that I will finish it. I had a revelation this afternoon that when my addiction to writing exceeded that of my reading, I knew that this was already a done deal for me. It's already written. I just don't know how long I will need to write it.
Here's to the official day one of breathing flesh onto the bones of the story.
*Sigh*
Writing may be what I love doing, but it's still work. I physically want to write, but right now for example, I am really burned out. My eyes are wigging out, my shoulders are tense (massage please!) and no matter how much I snack, I'm still hungry. Hopefully Mark will be home soon with some Wendy's chili and plain baked potato.
I just still can't believe that on this first run through, where I've already scribbled down the basic idea of the scene and I just needed to flesh it out as I transcribe it onto computer form, I barely am halfway through. I'm not even at the "meat" of what this scene is about. I had a little flash of my future, and in it I see my novel becoming an unwieldy 400-page beast. And not because I have a lot to say. Well, I do, but it's more like I am too long-winded and ramble on unnecessarily. Even now, when I'm too burnt out and Mark actually did just come home, and I really should stop typing, I'm typing and being wordy.
I'm heartened that I will be able to finish this novel of mine. Not specifically soon, of course, but that I will finish it. I had a revelation this afternoon that when my addiction to writing exceeded that of my reading, I knew that this was already a done deal for me. It's already written. I just don't know how long I will need to write it.
Here's to the official day one of breathing flesh onto the bones of the story.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
14 April 2009--Dead Poet's Society As I've Never Seen It
One of my associates at work is also a high school English and Drama teacher for Anderson High School. This past week, she brought in a couple of essays, which were a pastiche of the worst sentences from actual essays submitted by her students. The objective of these essays was to analyze specific characters from the movies, Dead Poet’s Society and Beauty and the Beast (the Disney animated version). Oh boy. After reading those essays, I wept, both from convulsing, hysterical laughter and from the knowledge that these students are the future of this country. God, save us all.
Without further ado, here are my favorite snippets. I tried to be as faithful to the grammatical errors as possible. Thank you Tiffany, for making my day, week, month, and for making me grateful that I chose not to be a teacher.
“In the movie Dead Poets Society everybody doesn’t think for them selves.”
“The Poets Society club was of campus in a cage that was across the stream.”
“…because he all about negative things.”
“Him being at Welton is at stake.”
“Todd felt like he couldn’t live up to his brother’s standers.”
“Todd rely say anything unless someone was talking to him.”
“Other people reaction to Todd probably was to engorge him.”
“His name is Mr. Keating and the tells them to “to Seize Of The Moment” so the start to do that then he join a group call “Dead Poets Society”.
[By far, the most egregious error, considering the movie pivots around that climactic “Carpe Diem!…Seize the Day!” moment.]
“The Walton School doesn’t want them to do that because Todd best friend die, and supposable Mr. Keating is the to blame so they get ride of him.”
“The change will be permanent because he’s dead now.” [hahaha!]
“He is away talking and teaching how to seize the day and do make you life extrondaly.” [what??]
I could continue, but those had to be the highlights of my reading pleasure. I could also put some snippets of my favorites from the Beauty and the Beast essay, but I brought it back to my store before making any notes from it. I do, however, remember that the first line said that the movie took place somewhere in France sometime in the past somewhere, and that another line said that it took place in a village in “Fracne” but I can’t seem to remember past that since I could barely read it, I was laughing so hard.
My life is so humdrum boring at times, with my repetitive retail environment rife with petty complaints and squabbles, that I’ve been able to see the joy in these random little snippets. Either that, or my perceptions have gotten warped over the years that I see everything around me in an ironic sense.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
11 April 2009--Reawakened
Well, the need for a reawakened life has laid heavily upon me for a while now. I don't know if it's just aftershocks from the "New Year, new you" mentality, or realizing that this year is the last year in my 20's. Or maybe it's thinking about Easter and the resurrection and the impact of what Christ did for me: I have a new life because Jesus Christ died for my sins, rose from the dead, reigns as Lord, and poured his spirit in me so that I'm continually becoming like Christ.
I guess that it's in this spirit of change and newness that I would like to acknowledge that I've committed myself to take care of this body that God gave me. And like anything else in life I just need to prioritize my schedule to make physical maintenance on par with the mental and spiritual. An old proverb states that "all things are difficult before they are easy." I want to get to the point where the idea of incorporating exercise and training into a routine becomes easy, like "making time" to take a shower or brush my teeth. Those things are a non-negotiable for me; exercise and proper nutrition ought to be a given as well.
So, bottom line: 45 minutes on the treadmill, 3 miles, 250-300calories burned=reborn. 2 days down, 28 more to go.
I guess that it's in this spirit of change and newness that I would like to acknowledge that I've committed myself to take care of this body that God gave me. And like anything else in life I just need to prioritize my schedule to make physical maintenance on par with the mental and spiritual. An old proverb states that "all things are difficult before they are easy." I want to get to the point where the idea of incorporating exercise and training into a routine becomes easy, like "making time" to take a shower or brush my teeth. Those things are a non-negotiable for me; exercise and proper nutrition ought to be a given as well.
So, bottom line: 45 minutes on the treadmill, 3 miles, 250-300calories burned=reborn. 2 days down, 28 more to go.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
09 April 2009--The Ghosts of a Story
I think I sort of view my characters as those ghosts in Ghost Town. Rick Gervais is the only one who can see or hear these ghosts, so they take advantage of that by clamoring to him so that he may be able to take care of their unfinished business, and they can go to their final rest. Funny movie, by the way.
Now that I've finally begun to truly write, it's as if I have all these people talking to me and I'm trying to write down all these images and words that they give me as fast as I can Unfortunately, I don't know where these snippets are going. I don't know which character goes with which story and what unfinished business they have that I need to fix (or facilitate in the fixing). What's worse is I don't know if any of this storytelling is related to the one I'm working on. I'm just trying to get all those voices out and on paper, so at least they can breathe a little bit, and in doing so, I hope to be able to follow the one voice that I so desperately want to, and be able to finish her story, since it's the most compelling (to me, of course). I'm still developing the discipline of sitting down with the one project and developing those characters and rounding out their roles and where they will fit in my current project.
I woke up this morning thinking of her and her name and how it's all starting to fit together. I had the fleeting thought of trying to figure out the opening pages of the book, and then realized I benefitted more with knowing about the last half of the book before the first half. I have a sketch of the second half, but it's still so very rough. It really is at the point where it needs to be thrown into the computer, and then cull whatever is not in lines with the universe I've created. The cullings will of course exist somewhere. I think I'll make a file folder or bulletin board with them "pinned" on. Pin. That reminds me of that movie agent in the movie, Bolt.
I still have homework to do tonight. I have left her family a mystery to her, and I realize that as the maniacal god of this universe, I should at least know about her family. I find that at times it's hard to separate being in close connection with that character and directing the action. Again, something I'm learning. Yay for me and all my learnings.
Now that I've finally begun to truly write, it's as if I have all these people talking to me and I'm trying to write down all these images and words that they give me as fast as I can Unfortunately, I don't know where these snippets are going. I don't know which character goes with which story and what unfinished business they have that I need to fix (or facilitate in the fixing). What's worse is I don't know if any of this storytelling is related to the one I'm working on. I'm just trying to get all those voices out and on paper, so at least they can breathe a little bit, and in doing so, I hope to be able to follow the one voice that I so desperately want to, and be able to finish her story, since it's the most compelling (to me, of course). I'm still developing the discipline of sitting down with the one project and developing those characters and rounding out their roles and where they will fit in my current project.
I woke up this morning thinking of her and her name and how it's all starting to fit together. I had the fleeting thought of trying to figure out the opening pages of the book, and then realized I benefitted more with knowing about the last half of the book before the first half. I have a sketch of the second half, but it's still so very rough. It really is at the point where it needs to be thrown into the computer, and then cull whatever is not in lines with the universe I've created. The cullings will of course exist somewhere. I think I'll make a file folder or bulletin board with them "pinned" on. Pin. That reminds me of that movie agent in the movie, Bolt.
I still have homework to do tonight. I have left her family a mystery to her, and I realize that as the maniacal god of this universe, I should at least know about her family. I find that at times it's hard to separate being in close connection with that character and directing the action. Again, something I'm learning. Yay for me and all my learnings.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
08 April 2009--Journaling, or the Importance of Capturing the Now
I think the act of journaling allows snippets of experiences to take a breather and lay dormant in the experiencer's subconscious, waiting to be fitted into or filtered out of, the conscious life. The snippets that have become incorporated will take their place (however small) in the centralized "life's mission statement or philosophy." This hard-wiring may take months or years to distill, but the result is no less impactful than the Damascus road experience was for Saul of Tarsus. These little snippets still have the impact to change one's philosophy, hard-wiring, and/or views of the world. And I feel like I get inspiration from rereading how these little snippets have impacted my life years ago, and see how it changed me in the moment of the happening, and I also get that thrill of seeing where I am now, and see if that snippet really was as life changing as I hoped it would be. At the very least, rereading some of my journals, as I did this morning, I was very much inspired by what I read to pursue writing even more. I felt an even closer tie to the old me because I know that at the present, I am closer now more than ever to my goal of writing.
Snippets to me are those names, quotations, music, memory, random research, any of those fleeting things that have no relevance to the real world or to life-as-I-know-it-now, but strike an internal chord of sympathy or empathy to the subject matter. Most of the time, I just think it's intriguing and just needs to be captured, and then not thought about again. For, to me, they are more useful after they have found their meaning in my life in my own way in my own time.
I wonder sometimes that being in such a social workplace has helped me to bridge the gap between external and internal worlds; or maybe, just helped me to observe social interactions and envision people in their "everyday" and not just their "special occasion" face.
I also think that's why I have such a hard time with blogs. My first tactile (and therefore comforting) expression has always been writing, pen to paper (versus drawing, music, dance, etc). I'm still part of the scribbler generation, and have come to terms with my messiness and incoherence--broken free of the staid and constrained ways of thinking that expresses itself in really neat handwriting. What first started as small, whispered, scurried thoughts are now huge scratches along the page of my current notebook/pad/palimpsest where I can barely read my own writing. Oh, and arrows. Lots of arrows drawn in and around the page. I guess what I'm trying to say is that as I've become more aware of myself and my need and right to express myself (which would be through writing/journaling), the writing itself has become more free and easy and relaxed. I've recognized that I can be casual with myself and how I treat my thoughts and not be so formal in the words that I choose, not be so guarded. Who is going to chide me for thinking my own thoughts in my own journal anyway? I know I can be my worst critic, but that's mainly for things I do or should have done better, and not for the actual expression of thought. And I think that obstacle, and the recognition and removal of it, has opened up my creativity even more so that I have been able to transition between journaling and describing and dreaming to really working on my writing and move to the place where I am comfortable with dictating the lives of characters and write a novel.
But, I've discovered another obstacle in my resurging desire to whip myself back into shape and develop the discipline to sit in front of my computer and write: I get creativity blocks in which the primordial soup of not quite formed thoughts cannot find shape, life or breath onto the computer screen. Which is why I've decided to renew my blogging presence. For practice.
So, I have made peace with my computer, and therefore blogging, in this way: that I will continue to scribble on my preferred writing receptacle of the moment, and then transcribe it to a blog form whenever I feel like it. This process will hopefully be the baby steps that I need to bridge the gap of creativity between the mind and computer. Ideally, I will be able to write and develop ideas on the computer, too, so as to centralize all of the rabbit trails that my mind, and therefore characters and plot, eventually rambles upon.
Plus, it appeals to my need for duplicates or triplicates. I don't know where that anxiety comes from, which could probably be a post all on its own. I'm sure it's rooted in my childhood somewhere, a sense of loss or rootlessness because we moved so frequently, that I had to create these soothing mechanisms so that I'll know that I've left an impression somewhere and that I have a piece of the moment with me and a piece of me in the moment. But that's just a knee-jerk observation. I could be totally off-base.
Snippets to me are those names, quotations, music, memory, random research, any of those fleeting things that have no relevance to the real world or to life-as-I-know-it-now, but strike an internal chord of sympathy or empathy to the subject matter. Most of the time, I just think it's intriguing and just needs to be captured, and then not thought about again. For, to me, they are more useful after they have found their meaning in my life in my own way in my own time.
I wonder sometimes that being in such a social workplace has helped me to bridge the gap between external and internal worlds; or maybe, just helped me to observe social interactions and envision people in their "everyday" and not just their "special occasion" face.
I also think that's why I have such a hard time with blogs. My first tactile (and therefore comforting) expression has always been writing, pen to paper (versus drawing, music, dance, etc). I'm still part of the scribbler generation, and have come to terms with my messiness and incoherence--broken free of the staid and constrained ways of thinking that expresses itself in really neat handwriting. What first started as small, whispered, scurried thoughts are now huge scratches along the page of my current notebook/pad/palimpsest where I can barely read my own writing. Oh, and arrows. Lots of arrows drawn in and around the page. I guess what I'm trying to say is that as I've become more aware of myself and my need and right to express myself (which would be through writing/journaling), the writing itself has become more free and easy and relaxed. I've recognized that I can be casual with myself and how I treat my thoughts and not be so formal in the words that I choose, not be so guarded. Who is going to chide me for thinking my own thoughts in my own journal anyway? I know I can be my worst critic, but that's mainly for things I do or should have done better, and not for the actual expression of thought. And I think that obstacle, and the recognition and removal of it, has opened up my creativity even more so that I have been able to transition between journaling and describing and dreaming to really working on my writing and move to the place where I am comfortable with dictating the lives of characters and write a novel.
But, I've discovered another obstacle in my resurging desire to whip myself back into shape and develop the discipline to sit in front of my computer and write: I get creativity blocks in which the primordial soup of not quite formed thoughts cannot find shape, life or breath onto the computer screen. Which is why I've decided to renew my blogging presence. For practice.
So, I have made peace with my computer, and therefore blogging, in this way: that I will continue to scribble on my preferred writing receptacle of the moment, and then transcribe it to a blog form whenever I feel like it. This process will hopefully be the baby steps that I need to bridge the gap of creativity between the mind and computer. Ideally, I will be able to write and develop ideas on the computer, too, so as to centralize all of the rabbit trails that my mind, and therefore characters and plot, eventually rambles upon.
Plus, it appeals to my need for duplicates or triplicates. I don't know where that anxiety comes from, which could probably be a post all on its own. I'm sure it's rooted in my childhood somewhere, a sense of loss or rootlessness because we moved so frequently, that I had to create these soothing mechanisms so that I'll know that I've left an impression somewhere and that I have a piece of the moment with me and a piece of me in the moment. But that's just a knee-jerk observation. I could be totally off-base.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
07 April 2009--Mark's 32nd Birthday!
What a beautiful day God gave to Mark for his birthday!
We still have lots to do, but we've already cut his birthday cake so that we can eat it throughout the day. For the rest of the day, we've planned on going to IHOP for biscuits and gravy, and have a Pizza King dinner. All the basic things for a growing boy!
We will also have a movie marathon somewhere in there, just so we have something to watch while we stuff our face with heart-stopping food. No worries, though. We plan on unearthing our treadmill (finally!) and having a little workout setup either in one of our spare rooms or the basement. But, that sort of thing we'll do tomorrow, because today is Mark's birthday, and he has deemed that he doesn't have to work at all during his birthday, and I am in whole-hearted support! Yay for birthdays!
Monday, April 6, 2009
06 Apri 2009--Rainy days
I love days like this. Being able to be at home and have a reason to be lazy. The thing is, I don't even feel like I am lazy. Working all the time with no regular schedule and varying work shifts, I feel that my body physically needs these planned convalescences. And so it is, that I was able to spend such a relaxing yet productive day with Mark, on the eve of his birthday. I like that I've been able to wait on him and give him some pampering and attention (on his terms, as I've discovered that his version of being spoiled and pampered differs from mine). Right now, we're recovering from a "dinner" of junk food and soda, and I just put a marble fudge swirl cake in the oven so that tomorrow, on his actual birthday, he'll have a day's supply of cake throughout the entire day. No waiting necessary.
The one thing I hate is the gnawing feeling that I can't shake from the back of my mind; the one that wonders if the store is okay and if I set my store team up for success. I hate that kind of worry, especially because it is so needless. Of course, I want to be able to run a successful business, and I want to work to the best of my ability. But, at the end of the day, as long as the store is physically standing, and all the employees are alive and well, my worry is very much extraneous. In fact, it's awfully self-centered of me to have to worry, especially since the business model of this store is basically set up as a turnkey operation: insert any other leadership member, and the business runs itself. But, I guess that's the price of being a store manager for someone like me. I am overburdened with a healthy portion of responsibility, accountability and guilt. I blame my parents.
So, at least I've acknowledged my unhealthy attachment to my work. Now, I need to balance that out with my real life--to be present with my husband, who's birthday it will officially be in less than a minute.
The one thing I hate is the gnawing feeling that I can't shake from the back of my mind; the one that wonders if the store is okay and if I set my store team up for success. I hate that kind of worry, especially because it is so needless. Of course, I want to be able to run a successful business, and I want to work to the best of my ability. But, at the end of the day, as long as the store is physically standing, and all the employees are alive and well, my worry is very much extraneous. In fact, it's awfully self-centered of me to have to worry, especially since the business model of this store is basically set up as a turnkey operation: insert any other leadership member, and the business runs itself. But, I guess that's the price of being a store manager for someone like me. I am overburdened with a healthy portion of responsibility, accountability and guilt. I blame my parents.
So, at least I've acknowledged my unhealthy attachment to my work. Now, I need to balance that out with my real life--to be present with my husband, who's birthday it will officially be in less than a minute.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
05 April 2009--Are you listening?
I was reminded today at church that God uses imperfect people to fulfill his plan and bring glory to himself. I've heard this over and over again. But what I don't hear on a regular basis is the continuation of that logic. Why does God choose us? If he can use anyone, why us, and why in this way? Thanks to Elijah, God has given me an example that I can carry with me as a reminder throughout my life.
As 1 Kings 18 shows us, God listens to us. He hears all of our cries, big and small, and answers appropriately. With the backdrop of "Who's the God?" with Baal prophets on one side (450-850 strong) and Elijah on the other side, a contest of wills plays out where the goal is to simply find out who is God, and in the knowing, why don't we follow him? After a whole day of the Baal prophets beseeching gods that don't exist, goaded by Elijah's sarcastic comments and needling, by the way, the prophets had to concede that their sacrifice was not being acknowledged, and needed to swallow the full ramifications of what that might mean. More so, what it would mean if Elijah's sacrifice was accepted.
Well, after a full day of sarcasm streaming from Elijah (among my favorites: "maybe he's asleep, and needs to be awaked"), he asks the people to come near him, repairing the altar of the Lord that was broken (imagine the implications loaded into that simple phrase?). He then prepares his sacrifice to the Lord, the full details being in verses 31-35. And then, Elijah prays that the Lord will hear him because he is the Lord's servant.
I can just imagine the kind of buildup that Elijah was giving at this point in the evening. He had been teasing and deriding the prophets all day, pointing out the fact that their "gods" weren't listening, because those gods simply didn't exist. Right now, he must be feeling like he better bring all the big words he was slinging. And I'm not criticizing Elijah's insecurities. I think I like him better because of them. I liked seeing that Elijah was selfish and insecure. It made him real to me today like he never was before when I'd read and studied this passage in the past. Before he was holy and righteous, true, and was God's vessel, and of course, God would answer him. This rereading, though, Elijah is still God's vessel, but I see his selfishness and insecurities and God answers his prayer anyway--with an all-consuming fire that leaves no doubt about who the true God is. All of these actions show that God is listening. But then, I've also understood this as a given. The real lesson for me comes next.
In the next chapter, it talks about the next piece of the loop: am I listening? I never realized the significance of Elijah running to the king's palace, seeing that Ahab and Jezebel's regime was still in place, proceeds to run for his life south toward Horeb. I didn't realize that he would have felt disappointed, disillusioned and alone even after such great miracles as he had seen and experienced. So, after 40 days of wandering, he found himself at Mt. Horeb, ready to hide out in a cave for the rest of his life, because he was over it all, and ready to quit. Of course, God wasn't finished with him.
God followed him into that cave, and asked why he was there. Elijah's response? He was tired of seeing all the injustices of the world, and how people like Ahab and Jezebel are still in power, and are unaffected by anything, but God's people are left to be picked off and killed. I can sympathize with him on that one, given today's social and political climate. He was tired and lonely, and was done. God's answer? "Come here."
What a great phrase. My favorite image is that of a parent with a child who tells that child to "come here" not because the parent thinks that the child can't hear him/her if the child is more than two feet away, but because the parent wants the child to truly listen and understand the important things that he/she wants to tell that child. Likewise, there needs to be a sense of attention and submission to God's authority.
So, at this point, God told Elijah to stand before the Lord, because the Lord will pass by. Interestingly, Elijah stays in the cave through wind, earthquake and fire. But, when he heard that still, small voice, Elijah went out. He didn't feel God's presence until he heard that still small voice. (Again, I can only imagine the kind of implications loaded in that popular verse that can speak volumes about authority and leadership alone.)
God asks him the same question as before, and Elijah answered as before, except this time, Elijah was ready to listen to God's response. Now, God can tell him that Elijah's not done yet and needs to anoint kings to execute the judgment that was necessary, and anoint Elisha, Elijah's successor. Even though Elijah felt alone, he really wasn't. God needed to show him that he had protected a remnant of 7000 whose faith never wavered. Elijah ran away, went into a cave, but God pursued him. Even with other people that he could have used, God went after Elijah. Even though it may have been easier to start from scratch, he went after Elijah. I know that I would have given up on Elijah (how often do I want to do that with peope in my own life?).
God can shake up the world to show his power, but he's not after a shaken up world. He is after our heart condition. He wants us to listen so that he can lead us, encourage us, enlighten us, and yes, sometimes, maybe even many times, rebuke us. But through it all, he wants us to listen so that we know that he loves us still. This is the glory of God.
As 1 Kings 18 shows us, God listens to us. He hears all of our cries, big and small, and answers appropriately. With the backdrop of "Who's the God?" with Baal prophets on one side (450-850 strong) and Elijah on the other side, a contest of wills plays out where the goal is to simply find out who is God, and in the knowing, why don't we follow him? After a whole day of the Baal prophets beseeching gods that don't exist, goaded by Elijah's sarcastic comments and needling, by the way, the prophets had to concede that their sacrifice was not being acknowledged, and needed to swallow the full ramifications of what that might mean. More so, what it would mean if Elijah's sacrifice was accepted.
Well, after a full day of sarcasm streaming from Elijah (among my favorites: "maybe he's asleep, and needs to be awaked"), he asks the people to come near him, repairing the altar of the Lord that was broken (imagine the implications loaded into that simple phrase?). He then prepares his sacrifice to the Lord, the full details being in verses 31-35. And then, Elijah prays that the Lord will hear him because he is the Lord's servant.
I can just imagine the kind of buildup that Elijah was giving at this point in the evening. He had been teasing and deriding the prophets all day, pointing out the fact that their "gods" weren't listening, because those gods simply didn't exist. Right now, he must be feeling like he better bring all the big words he was slinging. And I'm not criticizing Elijah's insecurities. I think I like him better because of them. I liked seeing that Elijah was selfish and insecure. It made him real to me today like he never was before when I'd read and studied this passage in the past. Before he was holy and righteous, true, and was God's vessel, and of course, God would answer him. This rereading, though, Elijah is still God's vessel, but I see his selfishness and insecurities and God answers his prayer anyway--with an all-consuming fire that leaves no doubt about who the true God is. All of these actions show that God is listening. But then, I've also understood this as a given. The real lesson for me comes next.
In the next chapter, it talks about the next piece of the loop: am I listening? I never realized the significance of Elijah running to the king's palace, seeing that Ahab and Jezebel's regime was still in place, proceeds to run for his life south toward Horeb. I didn't realize that he would have felt disappointed, disillusioned and alone even after such great miracles as he had seen and experienced. So, after 40 days of wandering, he found himself at Mt. Horeb, ready to hide out in a cave for the rest of his life, because he was over it all, and ready to quit. Of course, God wasn't finished with him.
God followed him into that cave, and asked why he was there. Elijah's response? He was tired of seeing all the injustices of the world, and how people like Ahab and Jezebel are still in power, and are unaffected by anything, but God's people are left to be picked off and killed. I can sympathize with him on that one, given today's social and political climate. He was tired and lonely, and was done. God's answer? "Come here."
What a great phrase. My favorite image is that of a parent with a child who tells that child to "come here" not because the parent thinks that the child can't hear him/her if the child is more than two feet away, but because the parent wants the child to truly listen and understand the important things that he/she wants to tell that child. Likewise, there needs to be a sense of attention and submission to God's authority.
So, at this point, God told Elijah to stand before the Lord, because the Lord will pass by. Interestingly, Elijah stays in the cave through wind, earthquake and fire. But, when he heard that still, small voice, Elijah went out. He didn't feel God's presence until he heard that still small voice. (Again, I can only imagine the kind of implications loaded in that popular verse that can speak volumes about authority and leadership alone.)
God asks him the same question as before, and Elijah answered as before, except this time, Elijah was ready to listen to God's response. Now, God can tell him that Elijah's not done yet and needs to anoint kings to execute the judgment that was necessary, and anoint Elisha, Elijah's successor. Even though Elijah felt alone, he really wasn't. God needed to show him that he had protected a remnant of 7000 whose faith never wavered. Elijah ran away, went into a cave, but God pursued him. Even with other people that he could have used, God went after Elijah. Even though it may have been easier to start from scratch, he went after Elijah. I know that I would have given up on Elijah (how often do I want to do that with peope in my own life?).
God can shake up the world to show his power, but he's not after a shaken up world. He is after our heart condition. He wants us to listen so that he can lead us, encourage us, enlighten us, and yes, sometimes, maybe even many times, rebuke us. But through it all, he wants us to listen so that we know that he loves us still. This is the glory of God.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
02 April 2009--My Life's Playlist
Considering how much I hate being in touch with emotions and have a hard time expressing them, i find it rather hilarious that I am most inspired by emo music as a stimulant to writing. I don't know half of the songs that play when I write, I just know that Dashboard Confessional plays prominently in my playlist (well, it kind of has to, since that's the station to which I set my Pandora Internet radio).
On another note, Lahiri continues to astound me with her command of prose. Her writing is both inspiring and intimidating. It's almost like she is writing the story of my life, but at the same time, after reading some of her stories, I am overwhelmed with the feeling that anything that I can contribute to the writing world would be like trying to build a cathedral with popsicle sticks, in the shadow of Notre Dame (or whichever architecture fills you with awe).
It definitely makes it harder to focus on my writing, being distracted with maor feelings of inferiority. But, I keep telling myself that my concern is only about my writing, my world, and not how it will compare to other people's.
On another note, Lahiri continues to astound me with her command of prose. Her writing is both inspiring and intimidating. It's almost like she is writing the story of my life, but at the same time, after reading some of her stories, I am overwhelmed with the feeling that anything that I can contribute to the writing world would be like trying to build a cathedral with popsicle sticks, in the shadow of Notre Dame (or whichever architecture fills you with awe).
It definitely makes it harder to focus on my writing, being distracted with maor feelings of inferiority. But, I keep telling myself that my concern is only about my writing, my world, and not how it will compare to other people's.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
01 April 2009--April Fool's Day!
Well, this morning didn't turn out as well as I would have hoped. First of all, I was still on the couch, which was disorienting in and of itself. And then I realized that I stayed there because I was feeling a bit queasy/nauseated last night, which was odd, since I couldn't recall eating anything for dinner, until I remembered my unholy craving for Taco Bell in the afternoon, and the really long day of no sleep. All these factors, I think, led to my general feelings of wanting to slither into a hole and die. The only thing stopping me, though, was my greater physiological need for coffee. Everything else can wait, including impending death, until I had that ohso important first cup. After setting the coffeemaker, and ensuring that it made the proper sounds, I finished my morning ablutions, and after perfecting my cup of coffee (too much sugar, so I needed to keep sipping room out of my cup so I could slowly siphon more coffee into it to balance it out), I ended up staring out of my living room's picture window for the next hour. I couldn't focus on anything this morning. My whole world revolved around my rumbly tumbly and what I could do to make it feel better. So, no reading or writing for me today. I did have a little bit of fun updating my facebook status to say that I was pregnant. I didn't think anyone would have taken it seriously, but within 5 minutes, I got a flurry of comments on that status, ranging from hilarity to little disappointments. Oh well. I think next year, I should mention that I need to sell my home or something.
Tomorrow, I will endeavor to feel better so that I can be more productive, literary wise. After all, that is my goal in life, not my current day job.
Tomorrow, I will endeavor to feel better so that I can be more productive, literary wise. After all, that is my goal in life, not my current day job.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
March 31, 2009--A new dawn
Books I've borrowed for this week:
Untamed, PC and Kristin Cast
Dreams Made Flesh, Anne Bishop
Trickster's Choice, Tamora Piearce
Trickster's Queen, Tamora Piearce
Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan (revisiting this one)
Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri
Kushiel's Scion, Jacqueline Carey
I barely slept again. I kind of passed out around 11:30pm and woke up around 2:30am and promptly played on my laptop since Mark so kindly ordered an internet connection for us once again, and I've been very deprived of the ease and convenience of internet-at-home for a LONG time. I know 5 months really isn't a long time, but for someone like me, it is. I paid all of my current bills, caught up on email, heck even updated my facebook and myspace pages. It's funny: I've revisited some of the comments that I left people on their FB walls, and realized that in hindsight, leaving comments pre-dawn seems to be the work of a crazy person. Oh well.
After my internet productivity, I was still wide awake (at 5:20am), so naturally, I hunkered down to finish Untamed, since I'd been reading snippets of that book while waiting for my coffee drinks to be completed at my local bookstore. I know I should probably look deeper into the root cause of my insomnia, but really, I'm all right with it, and since I was just following the rhythms of my body, would it not be right to say that I was just listening to what my body needed? Only logical, I think.
Well, I need to feel a little useful again since I am helping Mark transport his computer here after he gets home from work (imagine pulling in a full day's work starting at 5 or 6am--yikes!), so I should probably take a quick nap. I can't believe I've been awake for almost 12 hours (it's just turnng 2pm). Thank goodness for days off and late work days (I close tomorrow, woohoo!).
Untamed, PC and Kristin Cast
Dreams Made Flesh, Anne Bishop
Trickster's Choice, Tamora Piearce
Trickster's Queen, Tamora Piearce
Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan (revisiting this one)
Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri
Kushiel's Scion, Jacqueline Carey
I barely slept again. I kind of passed out around 11:30pm and woke up around 2:30am and promptly played on my laptop since Mark so kindly ordered an internet connection for us once again, and I've been very deprived of the ease and convenience of internet-at-home for a LONG time. I know 5 months really isn't a long time, but for someone like me, it is. I paid all of my current bills, caught up on email, heck even updated my facebook and myspace pages. It's funny: I've revisited some of the comments that I left people on their FB walls, and realized that in hindsight, leaving comments pre-dawn seems to be the work of a crazy person. Oh well.
After my internet productivity, I was still wide awake (at 5:20am), so naturally, I hunkered down to finish Untamed, since I'd been reading snippets of that book while waiting for my coffee drinks to be completed at my local bookstore. I know I should probably look deeper into the root cause of my insomnia, but really, I'm all right with it, and since I was just following the rhythms of my body, would it not be right to say that I was just listening to what my body needed? Only logical, I think.
Well, I need to feel a little useful again since I am helping Mark transport his computer here after he gets home from work (imagine pulling in a full day's work starting at 5 or 6am--yikes!), so I should probably take a quick nap. I can't believe I've been awake for almost 12 hours (it's just turnng 2pm). Thank goodness for days off and late work days (I close tomorrow, woohoo!).
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