Well, it's been over a month since I've blogged. Okay, over a month since I've posted a blog. I've been having all sorts of thoughts and paragraphs floating around in my head but I just haven't bothered to put pen to paper. Or fingers to keys, as it is. The main reason being I haven't felt like I had anything positive I really wanted to relate and there are some things I want to say but not put on the internet. Tack on assistant coaching a varsity high school softball team, playing on three teams myself (thankfully only on Sundays), work, Girlie's school, trying to cram as much time with my "AD"diction before he left, there just hasn't much time left to type my antics and/or musings. And, also, I haven't FELT the necessary pull I used to when I wrote before. Yeah, yeah, a crappy excuse. A writer writes, no matter what. I KNOW this. However, when you sit at the keyboard, the cursor mockingly blinking while your brain cells scramble to latch on to something, ANYTHING, so you can write, and you still come up with nothing worthwhile, it's time to take a step back. I have to deal with the blockers, get rid of the trash and obstacles so I can get myself back on track. That has to do with more than just being able to write again.
I'd love to blame the muse, who I'm sure has changed tropical islands without leaving a forwarding address, but it's not all her fault. How can I expect someone to show on a regular basis now when she wasn't there before? No, I can't blame the muse when there are other factors going on in my life right now that clearly overshadow her continued absence. I'm not going to get into the underlying reasons, though I really wish I could. However, as I said, there are just some things I don't want floating around in cyberspace.
Things with Girlie are fine. Things with work are fine. Things with the "AD"diction are fine, though he's been in DC for nine days and has about four more weeks to go before getting back home. Sadly, he didn't bring his laptop with him because the hotel where he's staying wanted to charge $12 a day for internet use!! WTH!? So, no Skype for us. However, we still email, text, and talk every day. So far, I'm managing fairly well. I'm not promising that as the weeks progress. My co-worker has already told me if I start acting like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, she's moving her desk to the other side of the office. LOL! I'm not promising anything. I would never make a good military wife, though I know I'm a strong enough person to deal with certain situations.
I just need to find my "sparkle" again. It's almost like the enthusiasm I felt for life in general is being sucked out until there's nothing but anger, resentment, frustration simmering beneath the surface because of outside situations which so severely affect me. It's sad. It makes me sad. And what's worse, it doesn't have to be that way. However, I don't have control over other people's actions or decisions, even though I really wish I did. It sure would alleviate a lot of stress on my part! In the meantime, I need to continue to separate myself as much as I can from the situation and not make it my problem. Easier said than done, especially when I see what the outcome will be.
Prayers will be continued. Hopefully, in His infinite wisdom, He'll grant me patience and guide my actions to benefit those involved in a positive way and on His path. It's said the faith of a mustard seed can move mountains. I'm holding onto that belief, trusting in the power of prayer and looking forward to the day when things will once again be right in my world. I would have said "normal" but, as you know, things are never "normal" in my world. I just want my version of "normal" back.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
I'm No Suzy Sunshine
When I first started this blog, I looked at it as an opportunity to dust off that writing part of my brain and turn out the welcome mat for my always absent muse. I was excited about having the freedom to express myself and get back into the habit of putting words to paper. I remember the thrill of barely keeping up with the thoughts, the seemingly never-ending enthusiasm when I first started to pay attention to the voices in my head. I miss those days.
My intention with blogging was to share funny, amusing, possibly even inspiring little tidbits to create smiles, have a "feel good" moment, and even out-loud laughs. I wasn't going to get personal (and I still don't plan on getting that personal; this is, after all, the internet and there are all sorts of crazy ass people out there!) or dreary or preachy or negative (which is still on the NO, list). However, it dawned on me that life is NOT all smiles and laughs and good times, as much as I wished it otherwise. Don't worry, I'm not going to start all of my blogs with "It was a dark and stormy night." I realized, though, that a balance of both good and bad is a necessity in all works of life. Why not express that in my blog?
And that's what it boils down to... this is MY blog. I'm going to write what I want, whatever I'm feeling, whatever's on my mind. I'm human (contrary to some opinions). I feel a gamut of emotions. Not that I swing from one extreme to another in a manner of minutes, nor am I moody by nature. But I do feel. And I feel strongly, deeply, passionately. If you are lucky enough to be allowed past the barriers, you'll get the full blast. And you'll also get unconditional love, loyalty, trust, friendship. I don't allow that many past the numerous walls.
So, I decided I wasn't going to be fair to myself if I tried to toss out jokes, anecdotes, Angisms all of the time. No one is ever a full-time Suzy Sunshine. As much as I love to have fun, tease, crack jokes, I can't be that way 24/7. It's insane to think anyone could. Not to mention tremendous pressure to keep up the pretense. And anyone who knows me will KNOW I don't keep up appearances, don't pretend to be something I'm not. I am who I am. No apologies. Granted, there are things I need to work on, improve, try to do differently and I'm aware of (most) of them. However, with me, what you see is what you get. You know where you stand with me, no matter what. I like you, I don't like you. I agree, I disagree. I try not to be judgmental, but I also have my opinions and try to live by certain standards. I try to do the right thing and maintain a certain morality. Don't get me wrong. I am in no way a saint, nor would I ever be mistaken for a nun. However, I do have a set of rules established by myself to live my life in which I try to follow as much as I can.
Please, don't take what I'm saying as being preachy, pious, or holier-than-thou. I am far from perfect and will be the first to tell you when I make a mistake, which happens more often than not. Trust me, crow doesn't taste better with salt. :) I am what I am, faults and all, and I accept myself. I try to be optimistic and find the good in people and situations. And I'll be the first to dig deep into myself to look for answers, offer a personal critique, search for reasons behind the "whys" of situations and life. There are no pretenses with me. Which, ironically, could be more of a closeness allowed than I first thought. You can't get more personal than whittling away the smoke and mirrors. I'm sharing myself in a bare bones fashion, no "man behind the curtain" pretext.
WYSIWYG. It doesn't get any plainer than that. I am who I am. Approval is not asked for, nor is it needed. Being true to yourself, being able to look within and see the warts and all and still manage to find something to smile about, is a great thing. No matter the seriousness of what I blog, I'll still manage to find humor in something and comment in kind. And when I click "publish post" I'll know what I've written is as honest as I can get. I believe what I've posted.
Among the numerous adjectives I've been called in my life, the one I found to mean the most, the one that I feel gives the best description of who I am, is genuine. Genuine is real. Solid. Honest. It encompasses many other positive words, such as loyal, friendly, truthful, loving, giving, positive. To me, being called genuine is the epitome of a compliment. So I'll strive to live up to that ideal with my blogs. You may not always get a laugh, but you will get honesty. If nothing else, at least I'll be measuring up to my own standards.
Since this is my blog, I've decided bottom the line is I'm going to be honest. That's usually the norm with me anyway, so why not have that in my writing? I'm going to voice my opinions, how I feel, my thoughts and not apologize for any of them. I wouldn't be fair to anyone, especially myself, if I tried to plaster on the Suzy Sunshine smile all the time. However, I expect Suzy Sunshine to be present for the majority of my blogs. After all, I'm the type of person who likes to laugh and joke and doesn't do "serious" well. Given the option, I'll always choose laughter over tears. :)
My intention with blogging was to share funny, amusing, possibly even inspiring little tidbits to create smiles, have a "feel good" moment, and even out-loud laughs. I wasn't going to get personal (and I still don't plan on getting that personal; this is, after all, the internet and there are all sorts of crazy ass people out there!) or dreary or preachy or negative (which is still on the NO, list). However, it dawned on me that life is NOT all smiles and laughs and good times, as much as I wished it otherwise. Don't worry, I'm not going to start all of my blogs with "It was a dark and stormy night." I realized, though, that a balance of both good and bad is a necessity in all works of life. Why not express that in my blog?
And that's what it boils down to... this is MY blog. I'm going to write what I want, whatever I'm feeling, whatever's on my mind. I'm human (contrary to some opinions). I feel a gamut of emotions. Not that I swing from one extreme to another in a manner of minutes, nor am I moody by nature. But I do feel. And I feel strongly, deeply, passionately. If you are lucky enough to be allowed past the barriers, you'll get the full blast. And you'll also get unconditional love, loyalty, trust, friendship. I don't allow that many past the numerous walls.
So, I decided I wasn't going to be fair to myself if I tried to toss out jokes, anecdotes, Angisms all of the time. No one is ever a full-time Suzy Sunshine. As much as I love to have fun, tease, crack jokes, I can't be that way 24/7. It's insane to think anyone could. Not to mention tremendous pressure to keep up the pretense. And anyone who knows me will KNOW I don't keep up appearances, don't pretend to be something I'm not. I am who I am. No apologies. Granted, there are things I need to work on, improve, try to do differently and I'm aware of (most) of them. However, with me, what you see is what you get. You know where you stand with me, no matter what. I like you, I don't like you. I agree, I disagree. I try not to be judgmental, but I also have my opinions and try to live by certain standards. I try to do the right thing and maintain a certain morality. Don't get me wrong. I am in no way a saint, nor would I ever be mistaken for a nun. However, I do have a set of rules established by myself to live my life in which I try to follow as much as I can.
Please, don't take what I'm saying as being preachy, pious, or holier-than-thou. I am far from perfect and will be the first to tell you when I make a mistake, which happens more often than not. Trust me, crow doesn't taste better with salt. :) I am what I am, faults and all, and I accept myself. I try to be optimistic and find the good in people and situations. And I'll be the first to dig deep into myself to look for answers, offer a personal critique, search for reasons behind the "whys" of situations and life. There are no pretenses with me. Which, ironically, could be more of a closeness allowed than I first thought. You can't get more personal than whittling away the smoke and mirrors. I'm sharing myself in a bare bones fashion, no "man behind the curtain" pretext.
WYSIWYG. It doesn't get any plainer than that. I am who I am. Approval is not asked for, nor is it needed. Being true to yourself, being able to look within and see the warts and all and still manage to find something to smile about, is a great thing. No matter the seriousness of what I blog, I'll still manage to find humor in something and comment in kind. And when I click "publish post" I'll know what I've written is as honest as I can get. I believe what I've posted.
Among the numerous adjectives I've been called in my life, the one I found to mean the most, the one that I feel gives the best description of who I am, is genuine. Genuine is real. Solid. Honest. It encompasses many other positive words, such as loyal, friendly, truthful, loving, giving, positive. To me, being called genuine is the epitome of a compliment. So I'll strive to live up to that ideal with my blogs. You may not always get a laugh, but you will get honesty. If nothing else, at least I'll be measuring up to my own standards.
Since this is my blog, I've decided bottom the line is I'm going to be honest. That's usually the norm with me anyway, so why not have that in my writing? I'm going to voice my opinions, how I feel, my thoughts and not apologize for any of them. I wouldn't be fair to anyone, especially myself, if I tried to plaster on the Suzy Sunshine smile all the time. However, I expect Suzy Sunshine to be present for the majority of my blogs. After all, I'm the type of person who likes to laugh and joke and doesn't do "serious" well. Given the option, I'll always choose laughter over tears. :)
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tuesday Wearing a Monday Suit
I'm still learning the format for my blogging site. Too bad I don't have more ideas to utilize a lot of the options. Yet. But don't worry! *insert maniacal laugh* I'm sure I will get post happy with pictures and links and maybe even videos. Right now, though, the brain cells are not cooperating with various suggestions for topics, so we're just winging it. Then again, stream of consciousness seems to be a trademark for Robin Williams. Maybe I could borrow his muse since mine's still in the hammock on the beach.
It's been a few minutes and no great epiphany. The light bulb is burned out. So, instead of wonderful words of wisdom, here are some random thoughts I've had this morning when I've had time to think:
Dear Progresso Soup: Your chicken corn chowder is extremely runny. Worse than someone with a bad head cold.
Dear Campbells: Although I usually enjoy your soups and the variety you offer, I can tell you I will never buy your Harvest Select some-kind-of tube-noodle-with-beans-and-carrots-and-tomatoes-and-of-course-an-over-abundance-of-nasty-celery again. The only reason why I even choked it down today was "hangry" pains and with it being a Tuesday dressed in a Monday suit, my co-workers are stressed enough without having to worry about my stomach causing me to be like the girl from the Exorcist.
Dear Lady Who Just Called Me: No, I really don't need to be on the phone with you for thirty minutes hearing all about the surgery you had twenty years ago, or how your grandchild likes to eat dirt, or even about your husband's bowel issues. Especially since you called me to "get directions."
Dear 300 + lb Lady in the Elevator: NO, wearing a mini skirt, boots and a midriff shirt does NOT make you look sexy! Cover yourself up. Not to mention, it's cold outside!
Dear Cold Weather: I know you haven't been here long, and it IS January, but it's time for you to go.
Dear Beer: Why do you have to taste so yummy and give me empty calories?
Dear House, Laundry, Dishes, etc.: Why can't you clean yourself?
Dear Crazy Man in the Honda This Morning: Recklessly zigzagging through rush hour traffic, sucks to be you. Guess you shouldn't have zagged in front of that cop!
Dear Logan's Steakhouse: When will you start delivering?
Dear Fat Sucking Fairy: You passed my house again.
Dear Pinterest.com: I think I might need an intervention.
Dear Karma: Thank you! There are, however, a couple of people you've missed.
Dear Tuesday in a Monday Suit: I know you'll be back again. Just in case you didn't know, you suck.
Dear Four O'Clock: Hurry up, please.
Dear Groceries: Please go buy yourselves and put yourselves away.
Dear Nasty Crud: You are no longer wanted. Please leave everyone alone.
Dear Robin Williams' Muse: Thanks for the brief visit, even though I think it was a stand-in for his REAL muse.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Last Friday of 2011
Here it is, the last Friday of 2011. You would think I'd be writing profound words of wisdom, insight and helpful tips for the New Year. I'd be filling my blog with quotes from Ghandi and Mother Teresa, foretelling of changes and personal growth I plan to make in 2012.
I'm hungry so I'm not feeling it. As a matter of fact, I'm not thinking very clearly because I'm hungry. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't believe in becoming a better person, being gentler to the Earth, doing kind deeds to others. I do. I just don't believe in making resolutions any more. Except for the resolution to not make any new resolutions. And eating.
So, instead of spouting platitudes and citing inspiring sayings (my brain cells are just too tired to try to come up with any and I'm feeling too lazy to do a search), I'm going to write about something near and dear to me: food. Granted, food is the main topic because my stomach is rather rudely reminding me that coffee and tortilla chips do NOT make a good breakfast. I thought it was good at the time. Apparently not.
I am the perfect example for the Southernism "hangry," which is when someone becomes angry because they're hungry. Yep, that would be me. A huge serving of mad with a side of cranky, seasoned with a growl and a frown. To loosely paraphrase Patrick Henry, "Give me food or give me a gun." Picture the SNL Gap Girls skit, when Chris Farley is at the table with all of the food in front of him and he bellows, "Leave me alone! I'm starving!"
I really think "I was STARVING" could be used as a legitimate defense in court. "You see, Your Honor, I smacked him (or you can insert your action of choice) because I was STARVING." Perfectly viable!! It could also be considered a trigger for temporary ADD with me. Don't expect to have my full attention if you have a conversation with me, let alone say something and think I'm focusing 100% on what you say. My interpretation would be: food, I'm really hungry, what am I in the mood to eat, *insert random word spoken by the other person*, I could really go for a cheeseburger right now, do I smell pickles?, *insert random word spoken by the other person*, food, food, grumble, growl, food, food, GIVE ME FOOD!
My list of favorite things to eat could be used as the tail for a kite the size of Kansas. I like food. I have and will never be mistaken for one of those women who just orders salad and only takes a couple of bites. If I tried to do that, my stomach would reach up and give me a couple of bitch slaps and tell me NOT to try that again. I think my stomach might be part gangster, part Mafia, part unidentified beast. I've always had a healthy appetite and imagine I'll be the cranky and cantankerous old lady in the nursing home, spitting out the gruel and demanding REAL food! I know I'd probably go ninja and Chuck Norris on someone with my walker. Then, in addition to the daily stool softener pills, I'd be forced to take "behavior modification" medication with my liquid diet (Hmmm... I guess the only perk to being on a liquid diet would be the beer).
On the Bad List: Mushrooms, oysters, sushi, flaming hot peppers that would singe eyebrows, tequila aka to-kill-ya (trust me on this one!). No. No, no, no. That's pretty much the list of Do Not Like. I do reserve the right to add more at a later date.
Sadly, as much as I love to eat, I don't consider myself a "great" cook. Gordon Ramsey I am not, with the exception of the attitude! Don't get me wrong. I CAN cook. A lot of times it's quick and simple things from a box or bag merely because of the lack of time and energy. There are occasions I'll make something from scratch (where in the hell did that phrase come from to mean homemade??) and make elaborate dishes. I actually don't mind doing that and wish I felt like doing that more often. Ultimately I wish I had an in-home chef, but we all know that will never happen! LOL!
Now you have a better understanding of the absolute necessity of The Snack Drawer. Yes, it is capitalized. It is that important. The Snack Drawer helps appease the growling beast and keep the hangry away; it provides a sense of comfort and security (mainly for others); it keeps me (and my co-workers) happy. As I like to say, a much happier Ang makes the world a better place. Food + Ang = Happy Ang, which also = everyone else breathing a sigh of relief! :)
In 2012, I'll continue to eat. I'll continue to eat Ang-sized portions. I'll maintain my Snack Drawer (with help from my friends at times). I'll do my best to keep the grumbling beast from unleashing the hangry. And I'll enjoy my food. :) These aren't resolutions, just statements of fact.
Ahhh.... Almost as if it was a sacrificial offering so they could live, my co-workers have brought me lunch. Gee, I didn't think I was being snarly and snippy. Oh well. My chicken parmigiana sandwich has arrived. *nom nom nom* :) Happy eating!
I'm hungry so I'm not feeling it. As a matter of fact, I'm not thinking very clearly because I'm hungry. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't believe in becoming a better person, being gentler to the Earth, doing kind deeds to others. I do. I just don't believe in making resolutions any more. Except for the resolution to not make any new resolutions. And eating.
So, instead of spouting platitudes and citing inspiring sayings (my brain cells are just too tired to try to come up with any and I'm feeling too lazy to do a search), I'm going to write about something near and dear to me: food. Granted, food is the main topic because my stomach is rather rudely reminding me that coffee and tortilla chips do NOT make a good breakfast. I thought it was good at the time. Apparently not.
I am the perfect example for the Southernism "hangry," which is when someone becomes angry because they're hungry. Yep, that would be me. A huge serving of mad with a side of cranky, seasoned with a growl and a frown. To loosely paraphrase Patrick Henry, "Give me food or give me a gun." Picture the SNL Gap Girls skit, when Chris Farley is at the table with all of the food in front of him and he bellows, "Leave me alone! I'm starving!"
I really think "I was STARVING" could be used as a legitimate defense in court. "You see, Your Honor, I smacked him (or you can insert your action of choice) because I was STARVING." Perfectly viable!! It could also be considered a trigger for temporary ADD with me. Don't expect to have my full attention if you have a conversation with me, let alone say something and think I'm focusing 100% on what you say. My interpretation would be: food, I'm really hungry, what am I in the mood to eat, *insert random word spoken by the other person*, I could really go for a cheeseburger right now, do I smell pickles?, *insert random word spoken by the other person*, food, food, grumble, growl, food, food, GIVE ME FOOD!
My list of favorite things to eat could be used as the tail for a kite the size of Kansas. I like food. I have and will never be mistaken for one of those women who just orders salad and only takes a couple of bites. If I tried to do that, my stomach would reach up and give me a couple of bitch slaps and tell me NOT to try that again. I think my stomach might be part gangster, part Mafia, part unidentified beast. I've always had a healthy appetite and imagine I'll be the cranky and cantankerous old lady in the nursing home, spitting out the gruel and demanding REAL food! I know I'd probably go ninja and Chuck Norris on someone with my walker. Then, in addition to the daily stool softener pills, I'd be forced to take "behavior modification" medication with my liquid diet (Hmmm... I guess the only perk to being on a liquid diet would be the beer).
On the Bad List: Mushrooms, oysters, sushi, flaming hot peppers that would singe eyebrows, tequila aka to-kill-ya (trust me on this one!). No. No, no, no. That's pretty much the list of Do Not Like. I do reserve the right to add more at a later date.
Sadly, as much as I love to eat, I don't consider myself a "great" cook. Gordon Ramsey I am not, with the exception of the attitude! Don't get me wrong. I CAN cook. A lot of times it's quick and simple things from a box or bag merely because of the lack of time and energy. There are occasions I'll make something from scratch (where in the hell did that phrase come from to mean homemade??) and make elaborate dishes. I actually don't mind doing that and wish I felt like doing that more often. Ultimately I wish I had an in-home chef, but we all know that will never happen! LOL!
Now you have a better understanding of the absolute necessity of The Snack Drawer. Yes, it is capitalized. It is that important. The Snack Drawer helps appease the growling beast and keep the hangry away; it provides a sense of comfort and security (mainly for others); it keeps me (and my co-workers) happy. As I like to say, a much happier Ang makes the world a better place. Food + Ang = Happy Ang, which also = everyone else breathing a sigh of relief! :)
In 2012, I'll continue to eat. I'll continue to eat Ang-sized portions. I'll maintain my Snack Drawer (with help from my friends at times). I'll do my best to keep the grumbling beast from unleashing the hangry. And I'll enjoy my food. :) These aren't resolutions, just statements of fact.
Ahhh.... Almost as if it was a sacrificial offering so they could live, my co-workers have brought me lunch. Gee, I didn't think I was being snarly and snippy. Oh well. My chicken parmigiana sandwich has arrived. *nom nom nom* :) Happy eating!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Let the Antics Begin!
Since this is my maiden voyage, I'm not sure where this blog will go. I'm just going to let my fingers do the walking and the final destination will be a surprise. I imagine I'll cover a gamut of topics, including family, work, personal things, inane tidbits, life in general. Since I try not to be a serious person (all of the time), I can guarantee most of my ramblings will be laced with truthful humor and fun poked at myself and others. Just remember, if I'm picking on you, I like you. I've written "personal essays" before, posted long-winded paragraphs about my thoughts, feelings, various points-of-view, related silly antics, but one of my real loves will always be writing fiction.
When people say, "You just can't make that shit up!" I say, "Yeah, I can." Although my fiction muse has been on hiatus (personally, I think she's in a drunken stupor on some tropical island, shacked up with the pool boy, the lucky wench!) for a number of years. On the rare occasion she'd send a postcard or even call, I'd pretend not to be home so I wouldn't have to deal with her. You see, when the muse comes calling and I respond, her whacked out ideas become cemented in my brain. So much so that a jackhammer souped up by Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would barely nudge them. Those thoughts, ideas... the characters, the dialogue... They will not leave me alone. Once they're in my head, they stay, worse than a nasty booger you just can't flick from your finger. NOT that I have nasty boogers wedged in the gray matter. I like to joke (that should not be a surprise to anyone!) and say I have plenty of voices in my head, thanks. I don't need "Madam Muse" adding even more.
I'm not what people would call a "flowery" writer. Which goes right along with my personality - I don't hold back & tend to give you my opinion even if you don't want it. Sugarcoating is for candy. I don't (and won't) give you paragraph after paragraph of how purple the flower petal is. To me, that's crap. A waste of time and a nose-thumb at the reader's intelligence. Some description is necessary, yes, and it's good to give a sense of the environment and details to establish surroundings. However, in my opinion (be it ever so humble) it is the writer's job to allow readers to think and create visualizations themselves. The writer coaches. The reader makes the play. The better a writer is at allowing readers freedom in perception, the more a reader will become attached to the story. When that happens, the reader becomes a fan.
*putting my Writer's Soapbox away*
In truth, I've missed my muse. I've missed the people in my head vying for attention, demanding their story be told. I've missed the feeling of fingers flying across the keys, yet always a few steps behind the conversation. I've missed the words, the entire creative process, the combined feeling of accomplishment and sadness when a story is finished and "the end" is typed.
I don't know if I'll pursue writing as actively as I did before. At least not that type of writing. Right now, I realize I can't allow myself to become consumed by the muse's wiles, to become so ensconced in putting pen to paper (so to speak) I wouldn't be able to do anything else but write. There's a balance I need to find, one I'm not sure I'd be able to manage at this point in my hectic life. I'm committing to blogging, and, as a wise person reminded me of what a wise person once advised them, to write at least fifteen minutes a day. I do know that writing has always been something I enjoyed, something I not only understood and could do very well (some people refer to me as the Spelling Nazi and Grammar Police - I even have a badge!), but also something I felt very passionate about.
Oh, look... it's a postcard from my wayward (and obviously very suntanned) muse. The heifer. Scrawled across the back in large writing: "Wish you were here." Here would be a white beach near crystal blue water, palm trees and an umbrella drink near the hammock. I can do without the umbrella drink. I don't do sweet. I will, however, substitute a beer in the picture instead. Ahhh, yes... much better. Wait... there seems to be something else my muse has written at the bottom of the postcard. "Welcome back."
When people say, "You just can't make that shit up!" I say, "Yeah, I can." Although my fiction muse has been on hiatus (personally, I think she's in a drunken stupor on some tropical island, shacked up with the pool boy, the lucky wench!) for a number of years. On the rare occasion she'd send a postcard or even call, I'd pretend not to be home so I wouldn't have to deal with her. You see, when the muse comes calling and I respond, her whacked out ideas become cemented in my brain. So much so that a jackhammer souped up by Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would barely nudge them. Those thoughts, ideas... the characters, the dialogue... They will not leave me alone. Once they're in my head, they stay, worse than a nasty booger you just can't flick from your finger. NOT that I have nasty boogers wedged in the gray matter. I like to joke (that should not be a surprise to anyone!) and say I have plenty of voices in my head, thanks. I don't need "Madam Muse" adding even more.
I'm not what people would call a "flowery" writer. Which goes right along with my personality - I don't hold back & tend to give you my opinion even if you don't want it. Sugarcoating is for candy. I don't (and won't) give you paragraph after paragraph of how purple the flower petal is. To me, that's crap. A waste of time and a nose-thumb at the reader's intelligence. Some description is necessary, yes, and it's good to give a sense of the environment and details to establish surroundings. However, in my opinion (be it ever so humble) it is the writer's job to allow readers to think and create visualizations themselves. The writer coaches. The reader makes the play. The better a writer is at allowing readers freedom in perception, the more a reader will become attached to the story. When that happens, the reader becomes a fan.
*putting my Writer's Soapbox away*
In truth, I've missed my muse. I've missed the people in my head vying for attention, demanding their story be told. I've missed the feeling of fingers flying across the keys, yet always a few steps behind the conversation. I've missed the words, the entire creative process, the combined feeling of accomplishment and sadness when a story is finished and "the end" is typed.
I don't know if I'll pursue writing as actively as I did before. At least not that type of writing. Right now, I realize I can't allow myself to become consumed by the muse's wiles, to become so ensconced in putting pen to paper (so to speak) I wouldn't be able to do anything else but write. There's a balance I need to find, one I'm not sure I'd be able to manage at this point in my hectic life. I'm committing to blogging, and, as a wise person reminded me of what a wise person once advised them, to write at least fifteen minutes a day. I do know that writing has always been something I enjoyed, something I not only understood and could do very well (some people refer to me as the Spelling Nazi and Grammar Police - I even have a badge!), but also something I felt very passionate about.
Oh, look... it's a postcard from my wayward (and obviously very suntanned) muse. The heifer. Scrawled across the back in large writing: "Wish you were here." Here would be a white beach near crystal blue water, palm trees and an umbrella drink near the hammock. I can do without the umbrella drink. I don't do sweet. I will, however, substitute a beer in the picture instead. Ahhh, yes... much better. Wait... there seems to be something else my muse has written at the bottom of the postcard. "Welcome back."
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