Sunday, January 2, 2011
The sun rose quickly today, painting the horizon with a layer of strawberry foam, like what forms on the top of homemade jam, and layered like that, the deepest red next to the horizon, the lightest pink toward the sky. The sweetness didn't last long, as soon as the sun itself was over the horizon it was sharp and metallic, a knife cutting through the morning, silver white and intense, almost threatening. And I still feel soft and sleepy, so I guess that makes me the bread, because the heat of it is what made me get reluctantly out of bed. I'm going to have to remember to either close the blinds, or sleep facing the other way.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
celebrate
Saturday, January 1, 2011
I watched the sun lift inch by inch above the sea this morning, and saw as the fog kissed the waves, rolling to shore wrapped in them, an infant swaddled, then gently released on the land as the waves unrolled. It would have felt spooky and mysterious, the way it did two nights ago when it was so dark I got claustrophobic under the open sky. But the sun was there to turn the cloud to glitter and the sensation of a joyous birth reflected off the sparks—it reminded me to celebrate all these perfect days of sensations.
I watched the sun lift inch by inch above the sea this morning, and saw as the fog kissed the waves, rolling to shore wrapped in them, an infant swaddled, then gently released on the land as the waves unrolled. It would have felt spooky and mysterious, the way it did two nights ago when it was so dark I got claustrophobic under the open sky. But the sun was there to turn the cloud to glitter and the sensation of a joyous birth reflected off the sparks—it reminded me to celebrate all these perfect days of sensations.
Sunrises and such.
Happy New Year! I have decided to revive an old writing drill to kick start the new year and re connect with my most successful writing routine. For about 6 years at the beginning of the last decade, I made an effort to write every day from about 4:30 A.M. ending at sunrise every day, with a description of the sunrise and an attempt to tie that to something in my subconscious memory. Most of the people who read this blog have been part of this exercise. To keep the practice focused not on astrology but on writing, my "rule" is that I don't post the sunrise on the day I write it, giving myself a day to review and edit.
I wrote one this morning, and spent some time reviewing notes from 2002-2004 when I was contemplating a publishing project called Lake Shore Lit. The project died with my mother, my focus so distorted that I knew it couldn't be successful without concerted effort and concentration that I couldn't sustain. So I let it drop. Then epublishing hit and I see that had I taken on the project, the struggle would have been excessive.
Each time I get involved in something like that, I am reminded that it is the writing that matters, not the game of publication. But without publication, the writing is a silent scream, a masterpiece left in the closet.
It's time to be seen, and heard and read. Come along with me.
I wrote one this morning, and spent some time reviewing notes from 2002-2004 when I was contemplating a publishing project called Lake Shore Lit. The project died with my mother, my focus so distorted that I knew it couldn't be successful without concerted effort and concentration that I couldn't sustain. So I let it drop. Then epublishing hit and I see that had I taken on the project, the struggle would have been excessive.
Each time I get involved in something like that, I am reminded that it is the writing that matters, not the game of publication. But without publication, the writing is a silent scream, a masterpiece left in the closet.
It's time to be seen, and heard and read. Come along with me.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Focus
Anyone who knows me knows me to generally be the kind of person who gets hold of something and then chews it up until all the flavor is gone and its completely "handled." The problem is that i can't stay in any one subject area for very long without getting bored. So I'll hit writing hard for months at a time, then disappear from the writing world, reappearing at bar meetings and taking on pro bono clients and proving that yes, i still can change the world! This characteristic makes both law and fiction good options for me simply because the facts always change. Maybe not the rules or language or laws, but the facts always have new twists.
Overlap is hell though. If you are the "last client" on my desk before the creative writing monster grabs hold, I resist finishing your work, not because it is hard or I don't want to, it is just that my focus has already moved on.
This week is the last week of October, so NaNoWriMo starts Monday... which is a creative sprint for 50,000 new words of fiction. I really like Nano months, because they fit my personality.
But I really like the two clients on my desk, too, so discipline must set in and i must get their work sent off before the week ends. And hope they are satisfied and happy so when writing loses its tartness in a couple of months, I'll have work to come back to.
And what I have really lost my taste for is virtual worlds, so if that is where you've found me in the past, you might want to go to twitter or facebook or even... gasp... email! Who knows if that will light back up for me? Some things i guess we just outgrow.
Overlap is hell though. If you are the "last client" on my desk before the creative writing monster grabs hold, I resist finishing your work, not because it is hard or I don't want to, it is just that my focus has already moved on.
This week is the last week of October, so NaNoWriMo starts Monday... which is a creative sprint for 50,000 new words of fiction. I really like Nano months, because they fit my personality.
But I really like the two clients on my desk, too, so discipline must set in and i must get their work sent off before the week ends. And hope they are satisfied and happy so when writing loses its tartness in a couple of months, I'll have work to come back to.
And what I have really lost my taste for is virtual worlds, so if that is where you've found me in the past, you might want to go to twitter or facebook or even... gasp... email! Who knows if that will light back up for me? Some things i guess we just outgrow.
Friday, October 22, 2010
I'm heading off on another trip this weekend, a little business, a little fun, in Sacramento. I don't think I've been to Sacramento before, other than a fly through, so I look forward to the adventure.
The next two months will rival my traditional summer travel spree though, with 4 more trips before the end of the year, and of course two major holidatys. Add that I want to have a birthday party for my spouse this year, and our traditional Christmas Eve Eve party, and then the events other people have, and you'll understand my nerves.
But in true form, I'll add to them all. I'll do Nanowrimo, and I've committed to finishing up the nagging files on my desk that I actually assumed would be finished this time last year.
And I still have three doctors to deal with… two are just doing those nasty tests people my age do, and one is a six month follow up from the tests I did last winter with the cardiologist. We are all determined, despite awful hereditary stuff, that I will not have cardiological issues! It really is all preventative at this point. Well, I never said I wasn't a control freak.
Today I took Scout on the "long" walk we do, about 4 miles I think. Last week when we tried it, she fell down in the street and had a seizure. It didn't last long, but signals a change in her disease… she's never had one when she was actually active before, they generally hit her in the middle of the night. She had two more short ones in the next 24 hour period, but has been fine since then. No issues today, and now she's resting. She will be ten years old in December… it makes me pay attention.
What I noticed on the way was that the trees are actually dropping some leaves this fall. Not beautiful, they mostly go from green to brown, but remind me of past vibrant falls, mostly the ones in Michigan. There used to be one maple by the Y where I played tennis a couple times a week that turned the most gorgeous shades of gold that I looked forward to it all year. It also signaled the end of nice weather, when that Maple's trees were gone, winter set in, and the long dark season is not part of living there that I miss.
It is hot this morning in Texas, but not by Texas standards. The pollen is debilitating, but the humidity has lifted, and for now, the trade off is acceptable. Just one more pill!
Full moon this week… I'll add photos of last month's harvest moon at the beach. Not great photography, but a great memory.
The next two months will rival my traditional summer travel spree though, with 4 more trips before the end of the year, and of course two major holidatys. Add that I want to have a birthday party for my spouse this year, and our traditional Christmas Eve Eve party, and then the events other people have, and you'll understand my nerves.
But in true form, I'll add to them all. I'll do Nanowrimo, and I've committed to finishing up the nagging files on my desk that I actually assumed would be finished this time last year.
And I still have three doctors to deal with… two are just doing those nasty tests people my age do, and one is a six month follow up from the tests I did last winter with the cardiologist. We are all determined, despite awful hereditary stuff, that I will not have cardiological issues! It really is all preventative at this point. Well, I never said I wasn't a control freak.
Today I took Scout on the "long" walk we do, about 4 miles I think. Last week when we tried it, she fell down in the street and had a seizure. It didn't last long, but signals a change in her disease… she's never had one when she was actually active before, they generally hit her in the middle of the night. She had two more short ones in the next 24 hour period, but has been fine since then. No issues today, and now she's resting. She will be ten years old in December… it makes me pay attention.
What I noticed on the way was that the trees are actually dropping some leaves this fall. Not beautiful, they mostly go from green to brown, but remind me of past vibrant falls, mostly the ones in Michigan. There used to be one maple by the Y where I played tennis a couple times a week that turned the most gorgeous shades of gold that I looked forward to it all year. It also signaled the end of nice weather, when that Maple's trees were gone, winter set in, and the long dark season is not part of living there that I miss.
It is hot this morning in Texas, but not by Texas standards. The pollen is debilitating, but the humidity has lifted, and for now, the trade off is acceptable. Just one more pill!
Full moon this week… I'll add photos of last month's harvest moon at the beach. Not great photography, but a great memory.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Make new friends, but keep the old…
That's the first line of a song we learned in Brownies, many years ago, and sang it in a round. The other line to the simple ditty: one is silver and the other gold.
I've not been a good friend over the years. In fact, my life is divided into segments in my mind when I was involved in one thing or another and it was always accompanied by one or two people who were special. Then I'd leave the project, leave the community and completely fall out of touch. For years, I tried to keep up with Holiday cards, or email, or an occasional phone call. Now, I find myself lurking on Facebook pages or twitter accounts, wanting to know what is going on with the people I have cared about, but apparently not enough to actually invest time in them.
So as summer turns to fall, I have decided to try some new things. One of those things will be the reconnection project. I don't anticipate that I will renew and revitalize all the relationships I've left behind, but I do think I can make some connections with the people, who like me, didn't mean to fall out of touch so much, but rather fell into the rhythm of the life they were living in each moment.
I don't have regrets about living. I just don't want people to feel forgotten.
I'll try to keep up a report.
Today, I wrote a letter to an old friend I used to write with, chat with daily. A good man, kind, compassionate, thoughtful. I know I won't ever fall back into the daily connection routine, but there is no reason to be miserly with my words. I know he will be happy to hear from me.
Some of the connections won't be happy, and I won't hear replies. I am promising myself not to take it personally. How many times have I done the same?
If our friends are the measure of our treasury, then I've accumulated a fortune. I just have to figure out now how much of it I've spent.
I've not been a good friend over the years. In fact, my life is divided into segments in my mind when I was involved in one thing or another and it was always accompanied by one or two people who were special. Then I'd leave the project, leave the community and completely fall out of touch. For years, I tried to keep up with Holiday cards, or email, or an occasional phone call. Now, I find myself lurking on Facebook pages or twitter accounts, wanting to know what is going on with the people I have cared about, but apparently not enough to actually invest time in them.
So as summer turns to fall, I have decided to try some new things. One of those things will be the reconnection project. I don't anticipate that I will renew and revitalize all the relationships I've left behind, but I do think I can make some connections with the people, who like me, didn't mean to fall out of touch so much, but rather fell into the rhythm of the life they were living in each moment.
I don't have regrets about living. I just don't want people to feel forgotten.
I'll try to keep up a report.
Today, I wrote a letter to an old friend I used to write with, chat with daily. A good man, kind, compassionate, thoughtful. I know I won't ever fall back into the daily connection routine, but there is no reason to be miserly with my words. I know he will be happy to hear from me.
Some of the connections won't be happy, and I won't hear replies. I am promising myself not to take it personally. How many times have I done the same?
If our friends are the measure of our treasury, then I've accumulated a fortune. I just have to figure out now how much of it I've spent.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Travel Weary
As summer winds down, I can finally take a breath, and when I do it is the humity of Houston I breathe in, at last. Two weeks in Michigan, a week in California and what feels like every weekend since April in Galveston have taken a toll on my writing and my need for routine. (When the plane landed last night and they opened the door, the heat was so intense that it rushed to the back of the plane like a fireball, or a puppy who couldn't wait to leap on us to welcome us home.)
But why, when I crave routine so much, do I find it so boring?!
Up at dawn this morning, yoga and journalling complete, the choices now are the book, the files, the ever present files or the gym. I've convinced myself that competition is good for me, so I'll enter some fiction contests again, and am picking out 5k's to train for. I know, 5k isn't much of a goal, but it is a good start, and manageable, the way a short story can be when compared to a novel.
Or there is coffee. None in the house, and the call of starbucks is getting stronger each moment...
And having fallen in love with both California and Michigan again, it is important that I distract myself with something, or the longing will, as falling in love has taught me over and over, turn to depression, then an attempt to fix it, and ultimately, loss. I'm finished with all that for now.
But why, when I crave routine so much, do I find it so boring?!
Up at dawn this morning, yoga and journalling complete, the choices now are the book, the files, the ever present files or the gym. I've convinced myself that competition is good for me, so I'll enter some fiction contests again, and am picking out 5k's to train for. I know, 5k isn't much of a goal, but it is a good start, and manageable, the way a short story can be when compared to a novel.
Or there is coffee. None in the house, and the call of starbucks is getting stronger each moment...
And having fallen in love with both California and Michigan again, it is important that I distract myself with something, or the longing will, as falling in love has taught me over and over, turn to depression, then an attempt to fix it, and ultimately, loss. I'm finished with all that for now.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Love Beads
Grandma wore bright plastic to town on Friday nights,
Poppy beads, she called them
I could pull them apart with little fingers,
Snap them in, and out, with ease.
Unbreakable, those beads.
Later I passed hippie beads from neck to neck
as we chanted peace and love to one another,
and hung them in streams in doorways,
clicking open as we walked through
and showered back down.
Now I wear two bracelets.
On one wrist, hard pink plastic,
held together with elastic
etched with symbols of romance.
It stretches and adapts.
And on the other, my husband's pearls.
Silk thread weaves through the golden clasp
Elegant against the creamy luster
To work, it must turn all the way around
before it slips in smoothly with a click,
The silk knots around each pearl
Have grown old and I'm not careful.
It weakens with age and breaks.
The pearls drop, bounce and scatter.
Together we look for them, and count,
some have rolled beneath the sofa.
Some clear across the room.
We retrieve what we can find.
Don't worry, he tells me.
They can be restrung.
Poppy beads, she called them
I could pull them apart with little fingers,
Snap them in, and out, with ease.
Unbreakable, those beads.
Later I passed hippie beads from neck to neck
as we chanted peace and love to one another,
and hung them in streams in doorways,
clicking open as we walked through
and showered back down.
Now I wear two bracelets.
On one wrist, hard pink plastic,
held together with elastic
etched with symbols of romance.
It stretches and adapts.
And on the other, my husband's pearls.
Silk thread weaves through the golden clasp
Elegant against the creamy luster
To work, it must turn all the way around
before it slips in smoothly with a click,
The silk knots around each pearl
Have grown old and I'm not careful.
It weakens with age and breaks.
The pearls drop, bounce and scatter.
Together we look for them, and count,
some have rolled beneath the sofa.
Some clear across the room.
We retrieve what we can find.
Don't worry, he tells me.
They can be restrung.
Lilacs
Lilacs
Their scent perfumes my memory,
Purple, pink and white,
Full beards of the branches
Droop heavy
They bloom only a week or two
So abundant
Armfuls cut from the stems
Leave plenty
I crush the star shaped blossoms
Like damp tears against my cheek
They leave me longing
For home.
Their scent perfumes my memory,
Purple, pink and white,
Full beards of the branches
Droop heavy
They bloom only a week or two
So abundant
Armfuls cut from the stems
Leave plenty
I crush the star shaped blossoms
Like damp tears against my cheek
They leave me longing
For home.
poem "what love is"
Come dance with me on cloudspray
Splash froth at my ankles
Let your bare feet sink into the mist,
Soaking in the steam of passion
And leave the world below behind
Come test this featherbed,
pillowed against the azure dawn
Let's taste the nectar, ignite the lightning,
and dissolve into each other, floating,
so light that we become the sky,
Then tie a silken rope swing to the stars;
I'll push you first, then you push me,
with each thrust flying higher,
We will wonder at the colors
that tint the clouds at sunrise,
but close our blinds at night.
Splash froth at my ankles
Let your bare feet sink into the mist,
Soaking in the steam of passion
And leave the world below behind
Come test this featherbed,
pillowed against the azure dawn
Let's taste the nectar, ignite the lightning,
and dissolve into each other, floating,
so light that we become the sky,
Then tie a silken rope swing to the stars;
I'll push you first, then you push me,
with each thrust flying higher,
We will wonder at the colors
that tint the clouds at sunrise,
but close our blinds at night.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Poem in your pocket day
I am not a poet, though I've always wished I was. This month, being poetry month, I've actually written a few. But they tell me today is Poem in your Pocket day. And that means print one and carry it with you.
I know Keats is a little overdone, and love poems may seem trite. But this is the one I thought of first when I heard about PIYP day, and so I felt the need to honor that.
When You are Old
When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
William Butler Yeats
and a draft.
Lilacs
Their scent perfumes my memory,
Purple, pink and white,
Full beards of the branches
Droop heavy
They bloom only a week or two
So abundant
Armfuls cut from the stems
Leave plenty
I crush the star shaped blossoms
Like damp tears against my cheek
They leave me longing
For home.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
a quote from my jr. league days
"Never spend your life's work doing something that ultimately does not count."
Tomorrow,I will remember this.
Tomorrow,I will remember this.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
just because i want this poem in my blog
Cuando yo muera quiero tus manos en mis ojos;
When I die, I want your hands on my eyes;
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears to still hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish full-flowered:
so that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song.
Pablo Neruda
When I die, I want your hands on my eyes;
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears to still hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish full-flowered:
so that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song.
Pablo Neruda
Monday, March 29, 2010
Dolphin's Delight?
or, what would you name a house on the island?
Finally signed a contract on the beach house to be. It has been a long road, and tested all my common business sense. This was the 5th property we've bid on since January, and were within 20K of the last one on Wednesday. We were set to increase our offer to a level that *should* have been accepted, but for some reason, i just couldn't get excited, and asked the realtor to show me what else there was. She had only two properties we'd not seen, one that literally came on the market Thursday morning, one over the weekend.
Maybe it was instinct, but I asked to see them. The new listing was first, and though out of the price range we were hoping to stay in, it was perfect. Not really perfect.. perfect for us. The kicker was the third story office with windows all around, and a view so clear we can see the island curve. Add to that the building specs which met Florida code, (much better than Texas) and the price per square foot at nearly $40 below the least expensive one we found...
Spouse was out of the country, but flew in exhausted Friday morning. The day was beautiful though and we drove with the top down. As we turned west at the seawall and followed the Gulf to the realtor's office, we watched the water. Out a few hundred feet from shore, a pod of dolphins frolicked in the waves. I've seen dolphins a lot, but only a few times from the land. They always make me feel happy.
We were at the house by 9:30, and made a full price offer by 11. He says it was the stars in my eyes, but I know he loves it too. Now to sweet talk the loan officer...
Closing April 26. ;)
Finally signed a contract on the beach house to be. It has been a long road, and tested all my common business sense. This was the 5th property we've bid on since January, and were within 20K of the last one on Wednesday. We were set to increase our offer to a level that *should* have been accepted, but for some reason, i just couldn't get excited, and asked the realtor to show me what else there was. She had only two properties we'd not seen, one that literally came on the market Thursday morning, one over the weekend.
Maybe it was instinct, but I asked to see them. The new listing was first, and though out of the price range we were hoping to stay in, it was perfect. Not really perfect.. perfect for us. The kicker was the third story office with windows all around, and a view so clear we can see the island curve. Add to that the building specs which met Florida code, (much better than Texas) and the price per square foot at nearly $40 below the least expensive one we found...
Spouse was out of the country, but flew in exhausted Friday morning. The day was beautiful though and we drove with the top down. As we turned west at the seawall and followed the Gulf to the realtor's office, we watched the water. Out a few hundred feet from shore, a pod of dolphins frolicked in the waves. I've seen dolphins a lot, but only a few times from the land. They always make me feel happy.
We were at the house by 9:30, and made a full price offer by 11. He says it was the stars in my eyes, but I know he loves it too. Now to sweet talk the loan officer...
Closing April 26. ;)
Monday, January 18, 2010
profile subjectes
Read some advice about Twitter tonight that suggests that one should be focused and actually post about the things she is focused on. But I'm a scavenger, always scouring others words for the one that makes me stop and reflect. Wouldn't it be funny to be always retweeting someone's quips because I like the words? Embarrassing.
I got to listen to Mary Karr read from Lit last week. I enjoyed her presentation a lot... and part of it was her Texan-isms, about which I wrote when I first moved to Texas... more of the plethora of essays and stories that are in my personal slush pile, unpublished and un posted with yet another breakdown of websites. The one she added to my collection of colorful phrases: "Signing doctor to your signature when you can't write prescriptions is like being a General in the Salvation Army." She recommended that writers watch for metaphor like this in everyday speech, and with northern jealousy, I realized how much more color there is in the south, in so many respects.
My profile says, mom, lawyer, writer and virtual world personality. See above re expansion on writing thoughts.
Law, well. I still believe that my clients confidences include not telling anyone they have a lawyer, especially if it's me. Not getting much from me on this, perhaps I should take that reference down. But .. I work alone most of the time, and most of the time I don't even come across lawyers in opposition. But I LIKE lawyers. Might come from having gone to law school when the men exponentially outnumbered the women... but I still find lawyers to be great friends. So I'll leave it in. And break rules. Heh.
I'm debating my scavenger role in life as well, as we contemplate buying a condo on the beach in Galveston. I can't decide if it is a negative, particularly in light of the tragedy in Haiti... doesn't it make more sense to send more aid? Or positive... Galveston needs investments to recover.
But this is a longtime dream, to fight saltwater spray on windows that I can open and leave that way if i choose. Couple the sad real estate market with the last hurricane and you find a depressed buyers market for a resource that there will not be more of. We would keep it for the time when we are ready to sever ties with suburban real estate, and not yet ready to sever ties with the children we've launched into this part of the world.
And I've got a terrible case of land lust. I've quenched it the last couple of years with virtual land in Second Life, but this is not a lust that knows satisfaction.
I got to listen to Mary Karr read from Lit last week. I enjoyed her presentation a lot... and part of it was her Texan-isms, about which I wrote when I first moved to Texas... more of the plethora of essays and stories that are in my personal slush pile, unpublished and un posted with yet another breakdown of websites. The one she added to my collection of colorful phrases: "Signing doctor to your signature when you can't write prescriptions is like being a General in the Salvation Army." She recommended that writers watch for metaphor like this in everyday speech, and with northern jealousy, I realized how much more color there is in the south, in so many respects.
My profile says, mom, lawyer, writer and virtual world personality. See above re expansion on writing thoughts.
Law, well. I still believe that my clients confidences include not telling anyone they have a lawyer, especially if it's me. Not getting much from me on this, perhaps I should take that reference down. But .. I work alone most of the time, and most of the time I don't even come across lawyers in opposition. But I LIKE lawyers. Might come from having gone to law school when the men exponentially outnumbered the women... but I still find lawyers to be great friends. So I'll leave it in. And break rules. Heh.
I'm debating my scavenger role in life as well, as we contemplate buying a condo on the beach in Galveston. I can't decide if it is a negative, particularly in light of the tragedy in Haiti... doesn't it make more sense to send more aid? Or positive... Galveston needs investments to recover.
But this is a longtime dream, to fight saltwater spray on windows that I can open and leave that way if i choose. Couple the sad real estate market with the last hurricane and you find a depressed buyers market for a resource that there will not be more of. We would keep it for the time when we are ready to sever ties with suburban real estate, and not yet ready to sever ties with the children we've launched into this part of the world.
And I've got a terrible case of land lust. I've quenched it the last couple of years with virtual land in Second Life, but this is not a lust that knows satisfaction.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
harbored
All day I work at my computer or sometimes other places in my house and mentally collect bits of things I think might be something I could write about. And then I don't write until so very late that remembering anything is hard. Today would have been the same, but I only slept about three hours last night and ended up falling asleep for a while and now my state of consciousness is a bit upset. So here I am.
I remember I wanted to write about Grace Hopper. You may not know who Grace Hopper is, in the front of your brain, but if I tell you it is better to ask forgiveness than permission, you will know who she is. Or debugging computers. Or my favorite of late,"a ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what a ship is built for."
Sometimes I feel like a ship. Or the harbor. I think if I wanted to focus on that phrase I could write a whole essay about being a harbor. This week for example, my husband is in Cuba. Nice, yes. And I'm home. Agoraphobic a little bit, and sort of challenging myself to see if I can get through the week without leaving the house. Hunker down with my writing, my work, and let my sons run what errands need to be run.... there is a kind of magnetism to the idea. Showering and bras, optional. (Not really, sadly, both would drive me insane to go without.)
But my daughter wants to meet up and write on Wednesday. I've signed up for a law class on Friday. And the week I had laid out in my head to be so productive and ... quiet... seems to be slipping away.
But it's only a week. I'm reading Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked, and the characters in the book are faced with 15 or 20 years of life which they feel has slipped away from them. I am glad I don't feel like them, but then I'm only half way through the book, so I don't know if I will keep that sentiment. Here is a description I bookmarked, thinking when I did so that I wanted to collect quotes describing the sea. It is delightful to find one that is original: "The sea was hurling itself at the beach over and over again, like a nasty and particularly stupid pit bull..." Charming, yes?
My son is upstairs playing a mournful melody on his guitar. He learned to play classical guitar in college... something I encouraged right along with bribing him to take literature courses. (I do believe in Liberal Arts.) We've bought so many musical instruments for the four of them over the years, it is nice to hear one. Though the melody makes me feel sad... until his phone rings and I hear him laughing.
Laughter of my children is like a buoy in the harbor.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Farewell Geocities and Ode to the Corporate Wife.
It was ten years ago that I realized that "real" writers had websites, and I knew nothing about them. So I took a class, learned basic html, volunteered to edit for three different ezines, one of which I actually learned from, (and is still in existence) and decided to put my own writing site together. I was deep into writing sunrises then... I think there are 6 years of them in the files and I was committed to posting them. I never posted them the day I wrote them though. I wrote one day, then came back the next day and edited. Between times I'd write the journal entry or essay or story that the sunrise seemed to suggest, so the postings were always a day behind, a little cleaner and a little less random. At least in my mind.
The site was named the same as this blog, and lived on Geocities. Geocities, as a free site anyway, died this week. I pulled all the pages.. now I have two complete folders of web pages, one for my law site, one for the writing, that I really should take the time to upload. But i'm too busy playing around with twitter, facebook, plurk, and these new blogs to actually do something that I SHOULD be doing. I have finally requested the release of the domain name from Martindale for my legal site though, so ... progress?
Speaking of Loose Ends....A friend, in chatting innocently the other day, touched a nerve that I didn't realize was still raw. I hope I didn't let on how unsettled it made me when he referred to my Corporate Wife status. I was a little surprised he honed in on that... I seem to spend less time on that particular aspect of my life now than I ever have. I had also forgotten about the book I was going to write ten years ago, parodying the whole lifestyle. Can't decide if i just got lazy, busy, or swallowed the kool aid.
Determined to find out why that phrase unsettled me in the circumstance, particularly because I sprinkle it into my own conversations with some frequency, I did what any self respecting lazy over achiever does. I googled "corporate wife."
As I suspected, the literature on the topic is dated. The articles I found, mostly dealing with the uber rich breed, didn't reach past 2003, with the most in depth one done in 2000.
Hmm, I mused with myself... I wonder if my research from back then is still on my computer?
Hurray for Spotlight, and Mac :) Another seach of my hard drive and I found that "corporate wife" has been consistently in my subconscious, making its way into two nearly complete short stories, both of which I like (though one of which I clearly was having hormonal spikes as it turned the corner from emotional to erotic in ten pages or less!), one "novelette" and is a recurring theme for the women in my almost finished novel. When I planned the original book, I had NOT intended to include the usual crap... ."have your husband approve what you wear" (really?) but instead some of the more human aspects, which ...well... are funny. Or were to me, in my disrespectful attitude toward everything remotely discriminatory.
Has my attitude hurt my spouses career? Looking at where he is and where he came from, I am pretty sure the answer to that is no. I'm also pretty sure I'm well known among the industry as being outspoken (rude? nah. Sassy, maybe.) and more fun to sit by at a dinner than the usual pretty wife. And I'm lucky, in that we didn't either one ever set out on this road, and have written our own rules along the way. We get by with a healthy dose of "whatever works" tempered by "say yes whenever you can."
And I started thinking about the friend who jarred this memory, and about how he is doing a bit of the gig himself, and about my daughters, and think maybe I should update those files, send out those books, and write one more. I have research from ten years ago... how much fun this will be to go back to my chosen interview candidates and update.
If you think you have something to add... you know how to reach me.
The site was named the same as this blog, and lived on Geocities. Geocities, as a free site anyway, died this week. I pulled all the pages.. now I have two complete folders of web pages, one for my law site, one for the writing, that I really should take the time to upload. But i'm too busy playing around with twitter, facebook, plurk, and these new blogs to actually do something that I SHOULD be doing. I have finally requested the release of the domain name from Martindale for my legal site though, so ... progress?
Speaking of Loose Ends....A friend, in chatting innocently the other day, touched a nerve that I didn't realize was still raw. I hope I didn't let on how unsettled it made me when he referred to my Corporate Wife status. I was a little surprised he honed in on that... I seem to spend less time on that particular aspect of my life now than I ever have. I had also forgotten about the book I was going to write ten years ago, parodying the whole lifestyle. Can't decide if i just got lazy, busy, or swallowed the kool aid.
Determined to find out why that phrase unsettled me in the circumstance, particularly because I sprinkle it into my own conversations with some frequency, I did what any self respecting lazy over achiever does. I googled "corporate wife."
As I suspected, the literature on the topic is dated. The articles I found, mostly dealing with the uber rich breed, didn't reach past 2003, with the most in depth one done in 2000.
Hmm, I mused with myself... I wonder if my research from back then is still on my computer?
Hurray for Spotlight, and Mac :) Another seach of my hard drive and I found that "corporate wife" has been consistently in my subconscious, making its way into two nearly complete short stories, both of which I like (though one of which I clearly was having hormonal spikes as it turned the corner from emotional to erotic in ten pages or less!), one "novelette" and is a recurring theme for the women in my almost finished novel. When I planned the original book, I had NOT intended to include the usual crap... ."have your husband approve what you wear" (really?) but instead some of the more human aspects, which ...well... are funny. Or were to me, in my disrespectful attitude toward everything remotely discriminatory.
Has my attitude hurt my spouses career? Looking at where he is and where he came from, I am pretty sure the answer to that is no. I'm also pretty sure I'm well known among the industry as being outspoken (rude? nah. Sassy, maybe.) and more fun to sit by at a dinner than the usual pretty wife. And I'm lucky, in that we didn't either one ever set out on this road, and have written our own rules along the way. We get by with a healthy dose of "whatever works" tempered by "say yes whenever you can."
And I started thinking about the friend who jarred this memory, and about how he is doing a bit of the gig himself, and about my daughters, and think maybe I should update those files, send out those books, and write one more. I have research from ten years ago... how much fun this will be to go back to my chosen interview candidates and update.
If you think you have something to add... you know how to reach me.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Gaps
"Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss? Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself. "
From The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai
From The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai
Saturday, March 07, 2009
i should blame stewart
But I suppose that wouldn't do. He did after all, post a pretty sunrise/sunset before he closed me out of his blog. tsk tsk.
But one of my favorite quotes... okay, one of the thosand quotes i have stuck here and there on postit notes, stickies in mac vernacular, is this one:
When you blame others, you give up your power to change. -Douglas Noel Adams
So Stewart is off the hook, as are the rest of the writing group, and the pompous neighbor who had the audacity to die without letting me know.... imagine that! And so are my brothers and my sister and the cyberlaw boys and and and.
Writing became another chore I was fitting in, and the minute it became something to cross off a list was the minute it no longer felt like art, but craft. Now i'm sure there are elements in all writing of both, but the important point is what it FELT like. And when i no longer felt that i was creating, it became just another boring exercise.
So why now?
Because i find myself speaking in poetic quotes, things i've heard and said aloud so i would remember them. I am meeting new people behind the veil of sleep, characters fully considered, fully alive, tempting me like a man who wants me, but doesn't want me to know it.Poems in magazines in drs' offices, repeating like new budding branches. I am again drifting to literary fiction, putting aside the non fiction, the popular novels, even the classics that have kept my attention for the last year. Clean, clear writing, mesmerizing characters, plot i have to think to follow.
it's what i want to be when i grow up.
Do you think it is time yet?
But one of my favorite quotes... okay, one of the thosand quotes i have stuck here and there on postit notes, stickies in mac vernacular, is this one:
When you blame others, you give up your power to change. -Douglas Noel Adams
So Stewart is off the hook, as are the rest of the writing group, and the pompous neighbor who had the audacity to die without letting me know.... imagine that! And so are my brothers and my sister and the cyberlaw boys and and and.
Writing became another chore I was fitting in, and the minute it became something to cross off a list was the minute it no longer felt like art, but craft. Now i'm sure there are elements in all writing of both, but the important point is what it FELT like. And when i no longer felt that i was creating, it became just another boring exercise.
So why now?
Because i find myself speaking in poetic quotes, things i've heard and said aloud so i would remember them. I am meeting new people behind the veil of sleep, characters fully considered, fully alive, tempting me like a man who wants me, but doesn't want me to know it.Poems in magazines in drs' offices, repeating like new budding branches. I am again drifting to literary fiction, putting aside the non fiction, the popular novels, even the classics that have kept my attention for the last year. Clean, clear writing, mesmerizing characters, plot i have to think to follow.
it's what i want to be when i grow up.
Do you think it is time yet?
Sunday, February 17, 2008
poor brad
Where did you go, the person in my mind, the one who can muster up anything from a murder to an orgasm and let me feel the terror, taste the blood, come screaming down the other side? Where buried in the chasms… that's the word I misspelled to lose the Indiana State Spelling Bee…. where are you hiding? Did you take all the words and leave? Did you gather my friends one by one and form a perfect V in the sky as you flew south?
Wait. I am south. Did you go back home?
I dreamed I had sex with Brad Pitt last night. Very bad sex. His penis was tiny, like that of an anatomically correct boy doll, and I think he was as disappointed in me as I was him. After, he didn't run or act shallow, I didn't cover my naked skin, I guess we figured the jig was up (is that the phrase? Why does it sound awkward and what does it mean? I could google it, but if I did I'd be swallowed by the internet and never come back again, so the jig will simply have to be up.) We talked about his condo resort development, named in my dream head Redfield, which I know is a photoshop plug in…. and as I looked out at the mountains from the old farm house (the resort was all booked up of course, I asked him, which one do you own, and he said, with awe in his own voice, all of it. I like thinking of famous rich confident people in terms of their most base parts...like Brad as a young boy who just can't quite believe he is where he is. (Disclaimer, I don't know Brad Pitt, only like about half his movies and really never fantasize about movie stars… I think this dream had more to do with things not being as they appear, don't you?)(Unless you really want to believe that rich famous beautiful men have tiny cocks that look like plastic)
Today, I will take pictures of jasmine, magnolia and azaleas. I'm working on a project and I want all the flowers of the tropics in my files to finish it.
Today I will buy tickets to Madrid. I am meeting my daughter there in April. We will fly into Madrid, then train to Cordoba, and then see Granada, Seville and the coast. I am thinking I will rent a car and we will drive to Lisbon then. Ten days. I do not think I will take my computer. I want to travel light.
The first trip time I took my daughters to Europe was the summer we moved from Michigan to Iowa, the summer I actually started writing, really. It had been a whirlwind career year for my spouse, and a good one for me as well… I broke all my personal income records that year. But we'd been on several Corporate trips, all over the world. For this trip, I sent my boys, 4 and 9, to stay with my mother, and packed the girls up with me (middle school and high school).
It was a trip with all sorts of typical family mishaps… passports late in arriving, missed connections, lost luggage, etc, but by the time we had toured Paris and headed to Toulouse for my spouses meeting, we were relaxed. While he did business, we chose to go to the coast… I was given a rental car. I was actually quite proud of being able to drive in France, and the girls were thrilled with the independence the car gave us. We were even doing well with the foreign road signs, until we got to the tollbooth. The fare was something like ten francs (yes. Well before Euros) and I tried to give the toll taker the coin in my bag with the 10 on it
She refused it. I looked again, yes, it said 10, as did her sign, and tried again. She blew her bangs up in the disgusted way the French have and huffed "not a franc not a franc" over and over. My alert daughter finally figured out that I was trying to pay in Mexican Pesos.
We all love that story, but recognize it has limited appeal and sounds very snobby. So we only tell it in the family. If you are reading this now, does it make you family?
So yes, now it's Euros, and I think I can drive. But do I want to? I do love trains. We'll see. First I have to book the flight.
And before I can go, spring break will be here. I believe I am the only person in the world who does not like all the holidays. I miss routine, I miss work.
Wow, bad sex with Brad, and negative on holidays. I think my inner psyche is shouting "not a franc."
Wait. I am south. Did you go back home?
I dreamed I had sex with Brad Pitt last night. Very bad sex. His penis was tiny, like that of an anatomically correct boy doll, and I think he was as disappointed in me as I was him. After, he didn't run or act shallow, I didn't cover my naked skin, I guess we figured the jig was up (is that the phrase? Why does it sound awkward and what does it mean? I could google it, but if I did I'd be swallowed by the internet and never come back again, so the jig will simply have to be up.) We talked about his condo resort development, named in my dream head Redfield, which I know is a photoshop plug in…. and as I looked out at the mountains from the old farm house (the resort was all booked up of course, I asked him, which one do you own, and he said, with awe in his own voice, all of it. I like thinking of famous rich confident people in terms of their most base parts...like Brad as a young boy who just can't quite believe he is where he is. (Disclaimer, I don't know Brad Pitt, only like about half his movies and really never fantasize about movie stars… I think this dream had more to do with things not being as they appear, don't you?)(Unless you really want to believe that rich famous beautiful men have tiny cocks that look like plastic)
Today, I will take pictures of jasmine, magnolia and azaleas. I'm working on a project and I want all the flowers of the tropics in my files to finish it.
Today I will buy tickets to Madrid. I am meeting my daughter there in April. We will fly into Madrid, then train to Cordoba, and then see Granada, Seville and the coast. I am thinking I will rent a car and we will drive to Lisbon then. Ten days. I do not think I will take my computer. I want to travel light.
The first trip time I took my daughters to Europe was the summer we moved from Michigan to Iowa, the summer I actually started writing, really. It had been a whirlwind career year for my spouse, and a good one for me as well… I broke all my personal income records that year. But we'd been on several Corporate trips, all over the world. For this trip, I sent my boys, 4 and 9, to stay with my mother, and packed the girls up with me (middle school and high school).
It was a trip with all sorts of typical family mishaps… passports late in arriving, missed connections, lost luggage, etc, but by the time we had toured Paris and headed to Toulouse for my spouses meeting, we were relaxed. While he did business, we chose to go to the coast… I was given a rental car. I was actually quite proud of being able to drive in France, and the girls were thrilled with the independence the car gave us. We were even doing well with the foreign road signs, until we got to the tollbooth. The fare was something like ten francs (yes. Well before Euros) and I tried to give the toll taker the coin in my bag with the 10 on it
She refused it. I looked again, yes, it said 10, as did her sign, and tried again. She blew her bangs up in the disgusted way the French have and huffed "not a franc not a franc" over and over. My alert daughter finally figured out that I was trying to pay in Mexican Pesos.
We all love that story, but recognize it has limited appeal and sounds very snobby. So we only tell it in the family. If you are reading this now, does it make you family?
So yes, now it's Euros, and I think I can drive. But do I want to? I do love trains. We'll see. First I have to book the flight.
And before I can go, spring break will be here. I believe I am the only person in the world who does not like all the holidays. I miss routine, I miss work.
Wow, bad sex with Brad, and negative on holidays. I think my inner psyche is shouting "not a franc."
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