December 7, 2014

Weed be gone!

I am torn. For as long as I can remember understanding what pot, weed, marijuana, is and used for I have had no inclination to try. In fact I have always wanted to stay away from it because I always respected my mother and her ability to say “I’ve never tried pot.” I don’t know why that meant something to me. Maybe it’s because with all of the social pressure and standing against the stream made me respect her. When I think about it now she probably never had any opportunities due to the fact she was VERY religious and her whole youth was either church or family. So her social circle was pretty fucking small.

As I’ve gotten older (and have mentioned on previous posts) I find my friends to mean more to me than family. I think it stems from wanting what I can’t have. I am notorious for feeling that way. It’s really bad. And now one of my friend who I treasure more than most and means so much to me, used to feel the same about weed as I had. But it appears that this is no longer the case for him. And now I find my own perception faltering.

My husband has said that my opinion changed because my last hold out companion changed his tune and now I have to follow the flock. And… He’s right.

It’s funny to me that I went all through my teenage years being bombarded with warnings of “peer pressure” and never once did I experience it. Not fucking once. Get into my late twenties and I have had another close friend push drugs into me. (I say drugs because that’s what they refer to them as. No joke.)

In the end I find my perspective changing. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I’ve built it up in my head to be something else entirely. Maybe I devoured the anti-drug propaganda so much that it has destroyed every ounce of free will. I don’t know. All I know is… I feel pressured to do something I’ve fought so long not to do. And yes, weed isn’t bad. It’s nowhere near the other harmful things that destroy your mind and body. I get it. Weed is barely a blip in the radar. For me it’s about the principle and obviously they’re failing.

November 24, 2014

I Got Blue Halls and I Need to Deck Them

I cannot wait for Christmas.  It has nothing to do with the usual trappings associated like, presents, candy, holiday pastries, or family.  No.  What I’m looking forward to is decorating.  That has to be one of gayest statements I’ve ever made…  But it’s true.  A few of my favorite parts is throwing up some tinsel, the tree, and all my various Christmassy knick-knacks.  It honestly brings me more joy than it should.

My husband on the other hand… Well, he leans more toward the Grinch than anything else.  He hates every piece of garland strung in our house.  I had originally wanted to decorate at the beginning of November and his response was “You’re trying to kill me. Do you want me to die?”  To this, I say… Yes.  If he gets in the way of my “festive faggottry”, he had better just accept his demise.

In his defense, he told me that the other day he saw a sign advertising for someone that installs Christmas lights and he took the number down.  That’s adorable and completely out of character.  Slowly but surely I’m chipping away at his anti-christmas exterior to reveal the shimmering Christmas bulb beneath.

My husband’s dislike of Christmas stems from the fact that he came from a single parent family.  His dad up and left with his secretary (no joke) and left his mom to fend for herself.  She was in her mid 20’s and stuck with raising and providing for two kids.  That means she was solely responsible for buying gifts and making the season wonderful.  Although there is only so much one woman can do on a bar tenders salary.  So, for him Christmas has always been a stressful event.  He is much too worried about his mother spending way more, in an attempt to make her kids’ Christmas ‘magical.’ The result is his current dislike of the holiday and everything that comes along with this time of year.

I guess I just had a lucky youth.  It probably helped that I am an only child.  Which is probably why I feel the need to give every one of my friends and family a similar styled Christmas.  My husband likes to say that I think I have endless amounts of money. I do, Charlie. Why, why are you trying to burst my bubble of delusion?  (Probably because he’ll be the one paying it off down the road.)

To give you an example of my “money is free” mentality, I went nuts while in London at Mark & Spencer’s.  They had so much nifty Christmas stuff that I ended up buying: an ugly Christmas sweater (I tried to get one for the hubby but he was having none of it), Christmas underwear, socks, and a knitted Santa cap with corresponding knitted beard.  Needless to say, I’m ready for this shit to begin.

November 21, 2014

The Striptease of Writer’s Digest, “Don’t touch the dancers.”

As much as I love Writer’s Digest they are in fact the devil.  Yes.  The dark lord from the pits of hell.  They are very persistent with their e-mails and I find myself opening almost everyone lured by the subject line or the hope of getting published.  Here is the thing, my novel isn’t anywhere near ready, and the ones that are the most enticing are “Get an agent to read your first 10 pages” or “2nd draft critique” or “Query Letter critique.”  Two of them also bill the chance of the agent doing the workshop “might ask for more!” I doubt it ever happens, but could.  It’s mainly a way of selling more of the workshops.

My husband pointed out that they have an amazing business model and they really do.  They are playing on peoples hopes and dreams.  It’s equivalent to “talent” agencies that charge a fee to represent you in the hope to “make it big!”  It’s horrible.  Now I don’t think that Writer’s Digest is at all malicious.  I think they’re truly offering “opportunities” but whether or not it goes anywhere is unlikely.  And that has nothing to do with Writer’s Digest, that’s just the nature of the beast.

I have to keep repeating, everyday, every morning, every minute, to be a writer one needs to WRITE, not sit back and dream of seeing one’s book on a shelf.  That’s not how it works.  It takes time, dedication, and persistence.  Even when confronted with adversity external or (most likely) internal, one pushes past keeping in mind their ultimate goal.  And once that manuscript is gleaming and has so much promise will these offers from Writer’s Digest be worthwhile.  Until that time they are like a stripper to me.  They are pretty and flashy, dancing seductively from a platform with no potential to touch.  Once I put in for a lap dance, maybe the dancer will like me and things will be different.

November 21, 2014

My Cheeks are Burning

I said it a prior post, but for some reason since my trip from London (listen to me, “since” it’s been 4 days) I’ve felt very different.  I don’t know what it is, but I want my life to be different.  I in particular want to be someone else.

When I sit down to define exactly what that is I come up with only a couple items.  For one, I want to be thinner.  Although, the way I’ve been eating the past few days you wouldn’t know that.  I don’t understand the root of my sudden ravenousness, but regardless it needs to stop.  The second is, I want to be published.  This one in particular isn’t as cut and dry.  It takes preparation and planning.  It takes fucking dedication, which as of late hasn’t really been me.  I will find every excuse in the book not to sit down and write.  My reasons get worse when I read my novel and see how much work it needs.  But, even as I say that I don’t even know if that’s a true statement.  For all I know I am building it up in my head to be worse than it is, thus giving me a reason not to do it.  “There is just so much to do.”

I recently purchased Amy Poehler’s novel “Yes Please” in audiobook and have been listening to it.  Just in the preface her words spoke to me like none others I have ever read or heard before.  She talked about how difficult writing is and equated the process to pregnancy.  Her words were much more eloquent whereas mine are not.

I need to stop making excuses.  The only way the thing is going to get done is if I do it.  I just need to write a little bit everyday and before I know it, it’ll be finished.

I want to be a different person.  I want to change everything about me.  I want to burst into flame and arise from the ashes anew.  I can feel my cheeks flushing.