Okay, I am beginning to see the value of doing the morning pages ACCURATELY, as in not making them public or even reading them yourself for months afterwards. I suppose many of the things that actually congest my brain are things that I need to keep private, so eventually I may take the plunge and do them the way they are supposed to be done.
It is snowing, HARD. It's a total blizzard. We went to Target to get pre-blizzard groceries and right as we walked in I saw a mother opening up a bottle of some cola-colored soda and dumping it into her about-3-year old's SIPPY CUP. I don't know why I am surprised by this anymore, but of course, the 3 year old was having a tantrum.
My thoughts on this: sometimes kids need to have tantrums. They NEED to see that no matter how much they scream and cry and freak out, sometimes the answer is NO. I am guilty of getting annoyed by screaming children, hell I've had several of my own do it and I know it's uncomfortable for everyone, but at the same time, I've had the bakery lady ask if I wanted cookies for them while they were being spazzy, and while I of course thanked her for the offer, I had to say NO, as their behavior was ROTTEN and there was no way in hell I was rewarding it with a cookie. I've had Quentin tell me he hated me (and he's only 4) and of course it hurts, but my response has always been, DOESN'T MATTER, YOU STILL GOTTA LISTEN TO ME. . . .
Fucking cola in a sippy cup.
I bet the dentist visits are SUPER fun for this kid, that is of course, if he even gets brought there. . . .
ugh.
Also: I got a facebook request from someone that I absolutely will not confirm, even if I live until I"m 130. Ick. I just typed out this rambling, non-sensical rant about WHY and then re-read it and deleted it. I really try not to be a rude person or be hateful or spiteful because I don't want to carry all that toxicity around with me, but when this came around, the only thought I had was the one my brother was going to write to some high school a-hole that repeatedly kept requesting his friendship: DID YOU FORGET THAT I HATE YOU? I mean really. Do I have to be that blunt?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Morning Pages at 1244pm.
Yeah, I've been lax lately. We had a major birthday party and I worked all day on Saturday and really, it has taken me this long to physically recover, but I have a lot to say.
I dreamed about Slumdog Millionaire and then having twin girls and then CONVERSING WITH OCTO-MOM at Page Snyder Drug in Olivia. My dreams are extremely crazy every night now, without fail.
I liked the Oscars but there are a few complaints: The format was not right. The former winners being involved was nice, but don't have them up there EGO-STROKING for 30 goddamned minutes when all we want to know is who won, maybe even see CLIPS OF THE PERFORMANCES to relate with each nominee? I was so uncomfortable by the best actor award that I had to kick a box, rattle a bag of goldfish, and chew loudly to drown out the audio of this business. Just having the former winners announce the nominees would have been sufficient. And that bit from Michael Douglas about Frank Langhella's performance causing all previous ones to fade away? That's a hell of a thing to say when you're about 3 feet away from Anthony Hopkins, WHO ALSO PLAYED NIXON, NOT VERY LONG AGO?!?!?!?! Please. That was just rude.
Kate Winslet, while always a brilliant actress, was not very well-versed up there. How disappointing.
The business about Sean Penn: this has been discussed on several other blogs. I like him, I have always liked him. He is obviously a hot head and probably very unstable and crazy (like all of the best actors) but he's got the right idea. People always freak out about LIBERAL HOLLYWOOD. It's always been this way! I think many of the freak-outs over gay rights and terrorism and anything else the conservatives think we're soft on stem from peoples' fear and constant need to SEPARATE human beings from each other. Until we are able to see everyone else out there as an equal, as someone we can relate to, this business is going to keep going on. Why is it easier for people, especially mothers, to compartmentalize people according to their differences, when we know what it's like to hold innocence, literally, in our arms? Can we not apply this love to all of humanity?
I dreamed about Slumdog Millionaire and then having twin girls and then CONVERSING WITH OCTO-MOM at Page Snyder Drug in Olivia. My dreams are extremely crazy every night now, without fail.
I liked the Oscars but there are a few complaints: The format was not right. The former winners being involved was nice, but don't have them up there EGO-STROKING for 30 goddamned minutes when all we want to know is who won, maybe even see CLIPS OF THE PERFORMANCES to relate with each nominee? I was so uncomfortable by the best actor award that I had to kick a box, rattle a bag of goldfish, and chew loudly to drown out the audio of this business. Just having the former winners announce the nominees would have been sufficient. And that bit from Michael Douglas about Frank Langhella's performance causing all previous ones to fade away? That's a hell of a thing to say when you're about 3 feet away from Anthony Hopkins, WHO ALSO PLAYED NIXON, NOT VERY LONG AGO?!?!?!?! Please. That was just rude.
Kate Winslet, while always a brilliant actress, was not very well-versed up there. How disappointing.
The business about Sean Penn: this has been discussed on several other blogs. I like him, I have always liked him. He is obviously a hot head and probably very unstable and crazy (like all of the best actors) but he's got the right idea. People always freak out about LIBERAL HOLLYWOOD. It's always been this way! I think many of the freak-outs over gay rights and terrorism and anything else the conservatives think we're soft on stem from peoples' fear and constant need to SEPARATE human beings from each other. Until we are able to see everyone else out there as an equal, as someone we can relate to, this business is going to keep going on. Why is it easier for people, especially mothers, to compartmentalize people according to their differences, when we know what it's like to hold innocence, literally, in our arms? Can we not apply this love to all of humanity?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Morning Pages February 21
These have to be quick, as I have to work in one hour.
It snowed all night last night and it looks like December again. Under all the snow is the ice from the melting last week that froze again. I am grateful to have not fallen on my can going to and from the car last night. Hopefully this will keep all the people in their houses and away from Starbucks this morning. I don't particularly relish a busy morning today. I have a 7.5 hour shift on my feet and I am praying it will be an easy one. What I really want to do is stay here with my family and get things ready for the birthday party tomorrow. As it is, we'll be rushing around the day of, as usual because of uncoordinated work schedules and bad planning.
I dreamed this morning something really awful. I dreamed that my father committed suicide upstairs in our house, MY house right now, on the bed, and I was here with my mom and brother and my kids and I had to tell everyone. The thing is, I didn't know what happened to him, I just knew that he was dead, and when I left him up there, somehow he had turned into a huge, man-shaped mound of MEAT. As in, hamburger or something. In the dream I came downstairs crying and sobbing and I couldn't get my words out and I kept telling my mom that I didn't want to be the one, I didn't want to have to say it. . . .
Quentin asked me yesterday why dead people are put in graveyards, and I tried to answer him honestly without getting too detailed. I'm sure this sparked the crazy thoughts in my head. . . .
yeee.
It snowed all night last night and it looks like December again. Under all the snow is the ice from the melting last week that froze again. I am grateful to have not fallen on my can going to and from the car last night. Hopefully this will keep all the people in their houses and away from Starbucks this morning. I don't particularly relish a busy morning today. I have a 7.5 hour shift on my feet and I am praying it will be an easy one. What I really want to do is stay here with my family and get things ready for the birthday party tomorrow. As it is, we'll be rushing around the day of, as usual because of uncoordinated work schedules and bad planning.
I dreamed this morning something really awful. I dreamed that my father committed suicide upstairs in our house, MY house right now, on the bed, and I was here with my mom and brother and my kids and I had to tell everyone. The thing is, I didn't know what happened to him, I just knew that he was dead, and when I left him up there, somehow he had turned into a huge, man-shaped mound of MEAT. As in, hamburger or something. In the dream I came downstairs crying and sobbing and I couldn't get my words out and I kept telling my mom that I didn't want to be the one, I didn't want to have to say it. . . .
Quentin asked me yesterday why dead people are put in graveyards, and I tried to answer him honestly without getting too detailed. I'm sure this sparked the crazy thoughts in my head. . . .
yeee.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Morning Pages February 20
I realize that I am defecting from what the real morning pages are supposed to be, as explained in the book. Technically these are not supposed to be public works, I myself am not even supposed to re-read them for at least a few months. But there are other things in the book (artist dates, weekly tasks, lists, etc.) that I am also supposed to be doing that I am not actually going to be able to do for a while, just because I don't have the time, so these adaptations of the morning pages are more preliminary exercises than that actual assignments. Just so that's out of the way.
I do feel better having done these, every day this week so far, so it's a step in the right direction.
Something else I really enjoy about The Artist's Way is the way the author is so supportive of anyone who thinks they might have a creative side that they'd like to develop. One characteristic that I find absolutely despicable is artist elitism. Many of the most talented and creative people I know have also been the most down-to-earth, the most humble, and the most approachable people I know. There have been others who were the opposite. I legitimately believe that everyone is creative in some way, even if they don't know it, even if they deny it. The whole artist persona is ridiculous, if you ask me. Everyone creates SOMETHING, whether or not the New York Times gives it a positive review. Whether or not it's alternative, underground, or ART HOUSE quality is completely pointless. Someone made it, it exists, and somewhere out there, someone will enjoy it or think about it or be inspired by it.
Jesus, how else could something like St. Elmo's Fire stand the test of time?
Last night I dreamed about John Locke. He was everywhere I went. I was in some sort of lock-in, maybe for college somewhere? He was there RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Then I was back in high school at BOLD, there was some sporting event going on, and he was there too. Along with this, I dreamed that a sister of a friend gave birth to 7 babies (septuplets?) and they were all girls. John Locke was there during that too, while we were all looking at the babies and admiring them.
I wonder if I am getting obsessed with Lost to the point of having John Locke be the physical manifestation of Jesus, as is my theory of him on the show? Not actually Jesus, but a Christ-like character who suffers and saves everyone. It's very strange.
The truck is done, hopefully in good shape for a long, long time to come. We have to pick it up this morning. I was getting uneasy about having to be housebound another day, especially when we have a birthday party coming up on Sunday which I have yet to shop for. The cost of all this turned out to be like $200 less than what they told me over the phone: bonus.
I do feel better having done these, every day this week so far, so it's a step in the right direction.
Something else I really enjoy about The Artist's Way is the way the author is so supportive of anyone who thinks they might have a creative side that they'd like to develop. One characteristic that I find absolutely despicable is artist elitism. Many of the most talented and creative people I know have also been the most down-to-earth, the most humble, and the most approachable people I know. There have been others who were the opposite. I legitimately believe that everyone is creative in some way, even if they don't know it, even if they deny it. The whole artist persona is ridiculous, if you ask me. Everyone creates SOMETHING, whether or not the New York Times gives it a positive review. Whether or not it's alternative, underground, or ART HOUSE quality is completely pointless. Someone made it, it exists, and somewhere out there, someone will enjoy it or think about it or be inspired by it.
Jesus, how else could something like St. Elmo's Fire stand the test of time?
Last night I dreamed about John Locke. He was everywhere I went. I was in some sort of lock-in, maybe for college somewhere? He was there RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Then I was back in high school at BOLD, there was some sporting event going on, and he was there too. Along with this, I dreamed that a sister of a friend gave birth to 7 babies (septuplets?) and they were all girls. John Locke was there during that too, while we were all looking at the babies and admiring them.
I wonder if I am getting obsessed with Lost to the point of having John Locke be the physical manifestation of Jesus, as is my theory of him on the show? Not actually Jesus, but a Christ-like character who suffers and saves everyone. It's very strange.
The truck is done, hopefully in good shape for a long, long time to come. We have to pick it up this morning. I was getting uneasy about having to be housebound another day, especially when we have a birthday party coming up on Sunday which I have yet to shop for. The cost of all this turned out to be like $200 less than what they told me over the phone: bonus.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Morning Pages February 19
Self Involved Syndrome (otherwise known as Facebook):
I admit I screw around on it way more than is healthy. I see what my friends are doing. I play mob wars. I look at peoples' photos and see everyone's beautiful children. I don't think there is anything wrong with this. When Matt told me about SIS I said, "What the hell else was anyone going to do during this horrible shit-fuck winter?" I mean really? If we could just be outside, in nice weather, like 45 degrees, with sun and no wind, our days would be a lot different.
Which brings me to the main idea. . . this whole winter has seriously been the most difficult few months I think I have ever lived. I think many people feel this way. Peoples' jobs are wavering. People are frantic about money. The cold in Minnesota has been worse than ever, longer than ever, and shows no sign of letting up. Random people of all ages are dropping dead here and there. It's kind of alarming. The week of my dad's death in Olivia, February 1997, 2 other people died within 3 days of my dad. In a town that small, it was actually really eerie and disturbing. This same thing happened about 2 weeks ago; the winter has not been good. I don't really know what to think about all this unpleasantness, other than maybe it's a test of everyone's faith and sanity. My obliviousness toward money has always gotten me through financially wary times, I kind of make a point not to buy into everyone's constant blathering about the sky falling and just try to live my life. The kids help; they live their lives each day without a care in the world, and watching them and being with them calms me (most days). I hopefully can teach them to care about money, politics, kindness, and responsibility a little at a time, but for right now, they don't need to know about unemployment, crime, a bad economy, and pessimism. The coldness has definitely bothered me; I am actually grateful some nights to get to go to work simply for a place to go to be able to leave the house and breathe outside air. I think the anticipation of watching 24 and Lost each week also helps, an event to look forward to is actually a wonderful thing when you're stuck inside and getting tired of Baby Einstein and documentaries about whales.
The baby, too, is an event to look forward to. Little kicking machine some days. A new member of the family. I try to focus on the positive, the good things, and pretty much ignore the negative. I know this is not mature. I can barely even bring myself to pick up a newspaper because there is nothing joyful in them anymore. The metro state section seriously makes me shudder in horror every time I see it. I don't want to know about all the child abuse, wife abuse, cheating the elderly out their retirements, and assaults on the disabled that happen. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT. Part of me wants to someday get out there, get involved in social services just to be able to try to fix things or help in some way to make the system better and to help other people any way I can, but if it will make me bitter, disgruntled, and jaded, maybe I'm better off just enjoying my own life in my own bubble, with happiness and Pitfall and Frogger and my beautiful, innocent babies.
I admit I screw around on it way more than is healthy. I see what my friends are doing. I play mob wars. I look at peoples' photos and see everyone's beautiful children. I don't think there is anything wrong with this. When Matt told me about SIS I said, "What the hell else was anyone going to do during this horrible shit-fuck winter?" I mean really? If we could just be outside, in nice weather, like 45 degrees, with sun and no wind, our days would be a lot different.
Which brings me to the main idea. . . this whole winter has seriously been the most difficult few months I think I have ever lived. I think many people feel this way. Peoples' jobs are wavering. People are frantic about money. The cold in Minnesota has been worse than ever, longer than ever, and shows no sign of letting up. Random people of all ages are dropping dead here and there. It's kind of alarming. The week of my dad's death in Olivia, February 1997, 2 other people died within 3 days of my dad. In a town that small, it was actually really eerie and disturbing. This same thing happened about 2 weeks ago; the winter has not been good. I don't really know what to think about all this unpleasantness, other than maybe it's a test of everyone's faith and sanity. My obliviousness toward money has always gotten me through financially wary times, I kind of make a point not to buy into everyone's constant blathering about the sky falling and just try to live my life. The kids help; they live their lives each day without a care in the world, and watching them and being with them calms me (most days). I hopefully can teach them to care about money, politics, kindness, and responsibility a little at a time, but for right now, they don't need to know about unemployment, crime, a bad economy, and pessimism. The coldness has definitely bothered me; I am actually grateful some nights to get to go to work simply for a place to go to be able to leave the house and breathe outside air. I think the anticipation of watching 24 and Lost each week also helps, an event to look forward to is actually a wonderful thing when you're stuck inside and getting tired of Baby Einstein and documentaries about whales.
The baby, too, is an event to look forward to. Little kicking machine some days. A new member of the family. I try to focus on the positive, the good things, and pretty much ignore the negative. I know this is not mature. I can barely even bring myself to pick up a newspaper because there is nothing joyful in them anymore. The metro state section seriously makes me shudder in horror every time I see it. I don't want to know about all the child abuse, wife abuse, cheating the elderly out their retirements, and assaults on the disabled that happen. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT. Part of me wants to someday get out there, get involved in social services just to be able to try to fix things or help in some way to make the system better and to help other people any way I can, but if it will make me bitter, disgruntled, and jaded, maybe I'm better off just enjoying my own life in my own bubble, with happiness and Pitfall and Frogger and my beautiful, innocent babies.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Afternoon Pages
Yeah, I missed out on the a.m. pages this morning. The universe or God knew I'd have bigger fish to fry. . .
The truck decided not to start as we left preschool today. The ignition mechanism just wouldn't catch on anything, although it did turn the car on. But it couldn't turn the car OFF, and wouldn't turn it over to start, so I had to just leave it there and have Leah come and get us. We had a great time singing 1-2 buckle my shoe about 20 times. . . amazingly the kids had a really fun time being allowed in the front seat for the first time, ever.
Hmmm. What else?
Drama from yesterday got resolved. I hate being upset with anyone, especially Matt. I apologized for yelling and being overly rude and blunt, all is well again. I have to work tonight, which normally I don't look forward to, especially on Wednesday nights when LOST is on, but sometimes the free coffee and ability to rifle through the donation bucket at work really is exciting. I had a piece of coffee cake yesterday that was seriously as hard as a brick. Gross. Somehow, the Edina drive-through manages to always have nice items, NOT rock-hard. I wonder what their secret is?
I am at a point right now where I am torn between trying to write, or at least get motivated to write, and trying to get all my stuff done for ICEA. I never, ever thought I would be interested in the medical field, least of all anything nurse-related, but seriously, everything I read for my certification ENTHRALLS me. I could seriously read it all day, make my charts, little study guides, etc. and really, genuinely love it. I have considered many times that it would be a little bit more sensible for me to maybe direct this toward an RN degree, or something similar, but I only have interest in maternity and newborns. The second I would have to look at some old grannie's GOUT or goddamned liver spots I would be out of there.
"Sorry, I guess it's just time for you to die. . . we'll see you later. I have a very important placenta to check on. Bye!"
The truck decided not to start as we left preschool today. The ignition mechanism just wouldn't catch on anything, although it did turn the car on. But it couldn't turn the car OFF, and wouldn't turn it over to start, so I had to just leave it there and have Leah come and get us. We had a great time singing 1-2 buckle my shoe about 20 times. . . amazingly the kids had a really fun time being allowed in the front seat for the first time, ever.
Hmmm. What else?
Drama from yesterday got resolved. I hate being upset with anyone, especially Matt. I apologized for yelling and being overly rude and blunt, all is well again. I have to work tonight, which normally I don't look forward to, especially on Wednesday nights when LOST is on, but sometimes the free coffee and ability to rifle through the donation bucket at work really is exciting. I had a piece of coffee cake yesterday that was seriously as hard as a brick. Gross. Somehow, the Edina drive-through manages to always have nice items, NOT rock-hard. I wonder what their secret is?
I am at a point right now where I am torn between trying to write, or at least get motivated to write, and trying to get all my stuff done for ICEA. I never, ever thought I would be interested in the medical field, least of all anything nurse-related, but seriously, everything I read for my certification ENTHRALLS me. I could seriously read it all day, make my charts, little study guides, etc. and really, genuinely love it. I have considered many times that it would be a little bit more sensible for me to maybe direct this toward an RN degree, or something similar, but I only have interest in maternity and newborns. The second I would have to look at some old grannie's GOUT or goddamned liver spots I would be out of there.
"Sorry, I guess it's just time for you to die. . . we'll see you later. I have a very important placenta to check on. Bye!"
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Morning Pages written in foulness.
Ugh. I have nothing positive right now.
I am in the middle of a selfish fit of disdain over disrespect that was done yesterday.
To purge it from my mind, I can either rehash it all over again (Matt was gone for 9 hours snowboarding and didn't give me any idea when he would be home which of course led me to believe he'd fallen and snapped his spine in half) or try to move on to something else.
The something else (s): my kids are growing up. I don't like the Backyardigans. I hate the winter this year. I love atari games, especially Pitfall. I love guitar hero. I adore Quentin Tarantino. I am always hungry. I waste much of the (meager) money I make on fun things like books and treats for the kids. I love geography and making maps and flags with the kids. I can't wait for spring and summer. I think Olivia was an okay to grow up. People think my kids either look only like me or look nothing like me. My family has had some strange drama over the last 5 years, which I stay out of. I love to read. I love babies and pregnant women. I could talk all day to women about their labor experiences. I love medical procedures and technology, especially obstetrical ones.
That's all I have.
I am in the middle of a selfish fit of disdain over disrespect that was done yesterday.
To purge it from my mind, I can either rehash it all over again (Matt was gone for 9 hours snowboarding and didn't give me any idea when he would be home which of course led me to believe he'd fallen and snapped his spine in half) or try to move on to something else.
The something else (s): my kids are growing up. I don't like the Backyardigans. I hate the winter this year. I love atari games, especially Pitfall. I love guitar hero. I adore Quentin Tarantino. I am always hungry. I waste much of the (meager) money I make on fun things like books and treats for the kids. I love geography and making maps and flags with the kids. I can't wait for spring and summer. I think Olivia was an okay to grow up. People think my kids either look only like me or look nothing like me. My family has had some strange drama over the last 5 years, which I stay out of. I love to read. I love babies and pregnant women. I could talk all day to women about their labor experiences. I love medical procedures and technology, especially obstetrical ones.
That's all I have.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Morning Pages February 16
Not as trippingly off the tongue today. . .
Baby woke up multiple times, peed her entire crib. Difficult to get back to sleep so brain is stalled.
Dreamed about someone from NWA again, which is common. This time he was playing with my kids, had all my perfume bottles on a bed. Very strange.
I am oscillating back and forth about my spirituality. I would like to join a church and actually attend some services here and there but my work schedule kind of makes this impossible. I would be okay going Catholic, Methodist, or UCC, all of which I have links to presently, but this would require me getting Sundays off or at least Sunday mornings or Saturday nights, and with the way everyone's hours have been axed, I can't take that risk right now if we want to maintain health insurance. Until I am able to formally join a place or at least show up every now and then, I will have to take pleasure in my own personal private spirituality, which is fine. It gives me hope and is great for optimism.
I truly feel that Guitar Hero, although only a game and not actual musicianship, has a purpose and value in society. Plus it's very, very fun.
Someone I work with and I have been having conversations on the myth of Minnesota Nice. My thought on this is that it does exist, just mostly not in the metro area. When I think of Minneapolis and St. Paul, especially the college educated, yuppy areas, I only think of isolation and sometimes awkward discomfort. I don't really like this whole line of reasoning, because it makes me sad that it's kind of negative, but it seems like many times people either don't have any personality, or don't wish to share it with random other people who may or may not have an impact on their daily lives (i.e. customer service individuals, teachers, nurses, mechanics, etc.) The horribly long winter does not aid this situation at all. People get kind of foul from it. It's part of my whole issue with the loss of humanity that has occurred in the last 10 years. It's upsetting and puzzling. I blame the parents who just quit teaching their children to be kind and respectful.
If I could go anywhere right now I would take everyone to Kona and rent out 4 condos at the Casa de Emdeko. 2 weeks, minimum. The sun and the waves and the smell of plumerias are things that everyone should experience. My son would love looking for eels and urchin anenomes. My older daughter would pick flowers all day and smell them all. The baby would toddle all over, back and forth and probably try to dive into the water. We would eat macadamia-crusted mahi mahi at Huggo's for dinner, have greasy McDonald's lunches, and get cinnamon rolls the size of bowling balls at Lava Java every morning for breakfast. Matt would get his beloved canned coffees from the convenience mart outside the casa and have a great time looking for geckos and big leaves with Bubby. If I was in my right mind and cared at all for my inner sanity, I would literally do this.
Today.
Baby woke up multiple times, peed her entire crib. Difficult to get back to sleep so brain is stalled.
Dreamed about someone from NWA again, which is common. This time he was playing with my kids, had all my perfume bottles on a bed. Very strange.
I am oscillating back and forth about my spirituality. I would like to join a church and actually attend some services here and there but my work schedule kind of makes this impossible. I would be okay going Catholic, Methodist, or UCC, all of which I have links to presently, but this would require me getting Sundays off or at least Sunday mornings or Saturday nights, and with the way everyone's hours have been axed, I can't take that risk right now if we want to maintain health insurance. Until I am able to formally join a place or at least show up every now and then, I will have to take pleasure in my own personal private spirituality, which is fine. It gives me hope and is great for optimism.
I truly feel that Guitar Hero, although only a game and not actual musicianship, has a purpose and value in society. Plus it's very, very fun.
Someone I work with and I have been having conversations on the myth of Minnesota Nice. My thought on this is that it does exist, just mostly not in the metro area. When I think of Minneapolis and St. Paul, especially the college educated, yuppy areas, I only think of isolation and sometimes awkward discomfort. I don't really like this whole line of reasoning, because it makes me sad that it's kind of negative, but it seems like many times people either don't have any personality, or don't wish to share it with random other people who may or may not have an impact on their daily lives (i.e. customer service individuals, teachers, nurses, mechanics, etc.) The horribly long winter does not aid this situation at all. People get kind of foul from it. It's part of my whole issue with the loss of humanity that has occurred in the last 10 years. It's upsetting and puzzling. I blame the parents who just quit teaching their children to be kind and respectful.
If I could go anywhere right now I would take everyone to Kona and rent out 4 condos at the Casa de Emdeko. 2 weeks, minimum. The sun and the waves and the smell of plumerias are things that everyone should experience. My son would love looking for eels and urchin anenomes. My older daughter would pick flowers all day and smell them all. The baby would toddle all over, back and forth and probably try to dive into the water. We would eat macadamia-crusted mahi mahi at Huggo's for dinner, have greasy McDonald's lunches, and get cinnamon rolls the size of bowling balls at Lava Java every morning for breakfast. Matt would get his beloved canned coffees from the convenience mart outside the casa and have a great time looking for geckos and big leaves with Bubby. If I was in my right mind and cared at all for my inner sanity, I would literally do this.
Today.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The Morning Pages on February 15
I have been reading The Artist's Way for the last few days. One of the suggestions she gives is to do The Morning Pages to unblock your creativity, just writing 3 pages of whatever every morning, no exceptions. I figured I would try this, as usually the first thing I do in the morning is to get the stupid computer out and check facebook, which is not terribly creative or helpful for the creative process. I don't think I'll get to 3 pages of BLOG, but nonetheless, I am here, trying.
This will probably be more like a completely ridiculous 25 random things about me sort of thing, but I guess since it's my head and my blog, I am all right with randomness.
I really, really would like to write more. Last spring, when the kids sort of had a regular routine going on (that involved all 3 of them napping at the same time for at least 2 hours) I would write on the kitchen counter top. I got maybe 80 or 100 pages down for a story that I started out with in the fall of 2003 for a screenplay for one of my classes at the U. This was the screenplay class that the wonderfully (foul) presumptuous PETER GREG also attended, but we won't get into that right now. There are entries on my media blog about him and his pompous ass and how he thought Sex and the City was better that The Sopranos (MORTAL SIN for a film scholar) and the inadequacy of TEMPLE OF DOOM (MORTAL SIN in my mind) so I've covered THOSE bases plenty. My screenplay was quite fun to work on and I was very proud of it; it was about my horrible time at NWA and was titled DML day. It got really good reactions, Peter Greg even kept his condescending comments to minimum, which was surprising.
Anyway. This screenplay got hashed out into the beginnings of a mini novel last spring, and some of what I wrote, I actually thought was good. There are parts that stump me and parts I know are NOT good, but I mostly enjoyed doing it. I got to a point where I would try to go on with it but couldn't; I guess you could say I was blocked. With all the kids and baby-having going on around here, this now is on a major back burner, so I'm not stressed out about it, but it's something I think about a lot.
My favorite place to go and try to UN-block was Betsy's Back Porch Coffee shop right off Diamond lake road, which I'm told has now shut down due to, well, the stupid economy. How very sad indeed.
Maybe after I finish reading the rest of Artist's Way I will have some new ideas on how to get around whatever was slowing me down before. I suppose there is an inner paranoia of ever even finishing the stupid thing as it would eventually force me to share it with someone. . . then setting myself up for what I remember was the most mortifying moment EVER in getting back something I wrote that I thought was good. . .
War films class in fall of 2002. I wrote what I thought was a kick ass paper on The Grand Illusion and Paths of Glory (2 of the best war films EVER, if you ask me) for Dr. Silberman. I had registered for the class late, and the only seat left was for graduate credit. The computer let me take it event though I was NOT a grad student, so I figured it should be fine. Turns out, all the undergrads had the TA correct their papers and tests and web CT postings, the Grad students had the actual professor do it. I didn't think the professor was that intimidating until I started reading some of his comments to the Web CT postings and I started to get a little nervous. Silberman was and is the most articulate, OBSESSIVELY knowledgeable film guy I've ever met, but his background is in ENGLISH and ART HISTORY. So it's like the smartest film scholar ever, but someone who has edited books, written books, knows literature, and inner workings of technical crap along with every film ever made. I turned the final paper in that I really worked hard on, did my damndest to be witty and clever on, and hoped for the best. When I got the thing back, of course the grade wasn't on the front it was on the final page, so what I saw at first glance was the entire front page COVERED in red marker.
And this was really only half a pages' work since I didn't have a title page. He commented on the title said it was nice, but I should have included a statement of what my argument would be. He commented on mention of both literature and prose as it was redundant. He commented on a single WORD, I think it was "that" in a sentence, and said it was, "a little awkward." Seriously, there were like 7 things marked up on that front page. This continued throughout the paper. THE WHOLE FRICKING THING. I had never had a professor so seriously do up a paper like that. Most of them even overlooked grammatical errors and just focused on the position of the paper. Not so on this one. I about peed my pants just reading his comments, figuring I was going to fail, or worse yet, have to write it all over again and I don't know, apologize for awkward words. Happily, when I got to the end, he had given me a B+, which was the total surprise of my life.
I guess I am just taken back to that moment anytime I write something and then look at it and wonder how many comments old Silberman would have on it. . . which granted, is no way to live my creative life, but we all have our issues. I suppose the main idea of this rant would be that when I do write something, eventually, I would like it to be something Rob Silberman would not wear his pen out critiquing, even though this would be fiction and something he probably wouldn't even read. Maybe he's my secret inner "censor."
Wow. How illuminating.
This will probably be more like a completely ridiculous 25 random things about me sort of thing, but I guess since it's my head and my blog, I am all right with randomness.
I really, really would like to write more. Last spring, when the kids sort of had a regular routine going on (that involved all 3 of them napping at the same time for at least 2 hours) I would write on the kitchen counter top. I got maybe 80 or 100 pages down for a story that I started out with in the fall of 2003 for a screenplay for one of my classes at the U. This was the screenplay class that the wonderfully (foul) presumptuous PETER GREG also attended, but we won't get into that right now. There are entries on my media blog about him and his pompous ass and how he thought Sex and the City was better that The Sopranos (MORTAL SIN for a film scholar) and the inadequacy of TEMPLE OF DOOM (MORTAL SIN in my mind) so I've covered THOSE bases plenty. My screenplay was quite fun to work on and I was very proud of it; it was about my horrible time at NWA and was titled DML day. It got really good reactions, Peter Greg even kept his condescending comments to minimum, which was surprising.
Anyway. This screenplay got hashed out into the beginnings of a mini novel last spring, and some of what I wrote, I actually thought was good. There are parts that stump me and parts I know are NOT good, but I mostly enjoyed doing it. I got to a point where I would try to go on with it but couldn't; I guess you could say I was blocked. With all the kids and baby-having going on around here, this now is on a major back burner, so I'm not stressed out about it, but it's something I think about a lot.
My favorite place to go and try to UN-block was Betsy's Back Porch Coffee shop right off Diamond lake road, which I'm told has now shut down due to, well, the stupid economy. How very sad indeed.
Maybe after I finish reading the rest of Artist's Way I will have some new ideas on how to get around whatever was slowing me down before. I suppose there is an inner paranoia of ever even finishing the stupid thing as it would eventually force me to share it with someone. . . then setting myself up for what I remember was the most mortifying moment EVER in getting back something I wrote that I thought was good. . .
War films class in fall of 2002. I wrote what I thought was a kick ass paper on The Grand Illusion and Paths of Glory (2 of the best war films EVER, if you ask me) for Dr. Silberman. I had registered for the class late, and the only seat left was for graduate credit. The computer let me take it event though I was NOT a grad student, so I figured it should be fine. Turns out, all the undergrads had the TA correct their papers and tests and web CT postings, the Grad students had the actual professor do it. I didn't think the professor was that intimidating until I started reading some of his comments to the Web CT postings and I started to get a little nervous. Silberman was and is the most articulate, OBSESSIVELY knowledgeable film guy I've ever met, but his background is in ENGLISH and ART HISTORY. So it's like the smartest film scholar ever, but someone who has edited books, written books, knows literature, and inner workings of technical crap along with every film ever made. I turned the final paper in that I really worked hard on, did my damndest to be witty and clever on, and hoped for the best. When I got the thing back, of course the grade wasn't on the front it was on the final page, so what I saw at first glance was the entire front page COVERED in red marker.
And this was really only half a pages' work since I didn't have a title page. He commented on the title said it was nice, but I should have included a statement of what my argument would be. He commented on mention of both literature and prose as it was redundant. He commented on a single WORD, I think it was "that" in a sentence, and said it was, "a little awkward." Seriously, there were like 7 things marked up on that front page. This continued throughout the paper. THE WHOLE FRICKING THING. I had never had a professor so seriously do up a paper like that. Most of them even overlooked grammatical errors and just focused on the position of the paper. Not so on this one. I about peed my pants just reading his comments, figuring I was going to fail, or worse yet, have to write it all over again and I don't know, apologize for awkward words. Happily, when I got to the end, he had given me a B+, which was the total surprise of my life.
I guess I am just taken back to that moment anytime I write something and then look at it and wonder how many comments old Silberman would have on it. . . which granted, is no way to live my creative life, but we all have our issues. I suppose the main idea of this rant would be that when I do write something, eventually, I would like it to be something Rob Silberman would not wear his pen out critiquing, even though this would be fiction and something he probably wouldn't even read. Maybe he's my secret inner "censor."
Wow. How illuminating.
Monday, February 9, 2009
February 9
Today was the day my dad died 12 years ago. It is always unpleasant, this day, but usually I go the whole day through feeling awkward or out of place, not realizing why until I look at a calendar and figure it out. A few times I've felt physically sick without any real reason, and then it dawns on me later that it's this day again. . .
I won't waste time going over weirdness over his death or my fondest memories of him, but there is one anecdotal thing that bears mentioning. We were just talking about class reunions and Matt said to me, "Was it your dad that totally punched some dude in the face at a class reunion?"
Yes, it was.
To make a long story short, my dad's elementary and junior high bully married someone from my dad's class and showed up with her at their 10 year reunion. My dad ran into him in the men's room and leveled him out onto the sinks.
Purrington grudges are serious business.
I won't waste time going over weirdness over his death or my fondest memories of him, but there is one anecdotal thing that bears mentioning. We were just talking about class reunions and Matt said to me, "Was it your dad that totally punched some dude in the face at a class reunion?"
Yes, it was.
To make a long story short, my dad's elementary and junior high bully married someone from my dad's class and showed up with her at their 10 year reunion. My dad ran into him in the men's room and leveled him out onto the sinks.
Purrington grudges are serious business.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Product Reviews
Just because I thought I'd share my thoughts about a few consumer products. . . .
1. The Monster 1200 Steam Cleaner is actually really cool. I saw the commercial and was very intrigued about dust mites and bed bugs' survival abilities so I broke down and got one. Fabric attachments do come in handy if you ever do steam your cloth furniture, most of the other attachments are unnecessary. There was a deal that allowed you to get a lifetime supply of the sanitizer mix by paying like $20 more (which I didn't take), and since I haven't seen anything comparable at Walgreens yet, this is one regret I have. It goes quickly and they only send one bottle. You of course can just use plain old water, but if you DO get a bedbug infestation, it's nice to have something with a little more. . . kill power.
2. The Magic Bullet makes really good guacamole and smoothies. The juicer is kind of a pain in the ass as it takes a lot of matter to get a very small amount of juice (carrots are not very practical unless you have a garden full) but smoothies are delightful.
3. The smooth away (yes, I finally broke down and bought one) is kind of a dud. You really can only use it if you have hair that is less than 1/4 inch long. I have not tried it on anywhere other than my legs. I get the feeling that it would not be effective elsewhere anyway. If you have female facial hair it might be okay but it leaves your skin very dry so beware of that but for men, forget it, unless they come out with industrial strength diamond sandpaper to slap on the applicator.
Kowalski's had an end cap sale on two new things that I hope is still going on: BANANA NUT CHEERIOS and HONEY KIX. 2 for $5.
Walgreens had some of their Cover Girl makeup on clearance for $2.88. What lovely surprises.
1. The Monster 1200 Steam Cleaner is actually really cool. I saw the commercial and was very intrigued about dust mites and bed bugs' survival abilities so I broke down and got one. Fabric attachments do come in handy if you ever do steam your cloth furniture, most of the other attachments are unnecessary. There was a deal that allowed you to get a lifetime supply of the sanitizer mix by paying like $20 more (which I didn't take), and since I haven't seen anything comparable at Walgreens yet, this is one regret I have. It goes quickly and they only send one bottle. You of course can just use plain old water, but if you DO get a bedbug infestation, it's nice to have something with a little more. . . kill power.
2. The Magic Bullet makes really good guacamole and smoothies. The juicer is kind of a pain in the ass as it takes a lot of matter to get a very small amount of juice (carrots are not very practical unless you have a garden full) but smoothies are delightful.
3. The smooth away (yes, I finally broke down and bought one) is kind of a dud. You really can only use it if you have hair that is less than 1/4 inch long. I have not tried it on anywhere other than my legs. I get the feeling that it would not be effective elsewhere anyway. If you have female facial hair it might be okay but it leaves your skin very dry so beware of that but for men, forget it, unless they come out with industrial strength diamond sandpaper to slap on the applicator.
Kowalski's had an end cap sale on two new things that I hope is still going on: BANANA NUT CHEERIOS and HONEY KIX. 2 for $5.
Walgreens had some of their Cover Girl makeup on clearance for $2.88. What lovely surprises.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Looking up. . .
Although these are not exactly my triumphs, I am still excited that progress is being made SOMEWHERE and this gives me a reason to think optimism is warranted and is making a difference.
1. a friend recently found a roommate after not having one for months and suffering financially because of it.
2. a friend just got accepted into a very cool writing workshop.
3. a friend's art that had been displayed at work got noticed and could potentially make him some bank.
4. our neighbors gave us a free, decent TV.
5. the weather was nice this weekend.
Work has been difficult and long lately, but I am really just grateful for the hours. The good thing about being on my feet for 7 hours at a stretch is that it forces me to eat properly and drink enough water, which I never do when I'm here at home. And I get some moderate exercise.
1. a friend recently found a roommate after not having one for months and suffering financially because of it.
2. a friend just got accepted into a very cool writing workshop.
3. a friend's art that had been displayed at work got noticed and could potentially make him some bank.
4. our neighbors gave us a free, decent TV.
5. the weather was nice this weekend.
Work has been difficult and long lately, but I am really just grateful for the hours. The good thing about being on my feet for 7 hours at a stretch is that it forces me to eat properly and drink enough water, which I never do when I'm here at home. And I get some moderate exercise.
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