(I wrote this draft and never posted it. It’s like a time capsule!)
____
I shouldn’t be writing this post.
I should be doing some homework, or (holy hell) cleaning my long-suffering house, doing the laundry, or perhaps even sleeping. I’m not. Instead, I’m piling one more thing on the plate. I’m signing up for Nablopomo and committing to a blog post a day for the month.
I’ve updated my blog three times in the last ten months. One post didn’t even count really - I posted a paper I wrote for school because I wrote it scary-fast and it got an A. I’ve just fallen out of the blogging habit. Full-time work, (more than) full-time school, a renewed attempt to read fifty-two books again this year, and just the regular old schmeg of life have taken up any bits of free time I might have been able to scrape together for writing.
Despite the toll this takes on my social life and my “fun” time, I don’t regret a bit of what I’ve taken on. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past year, specifically just how much I’m capable of taking on. I’d never have known how little sleep I can actually function on. I’d never have known I could take two years of school and jam it into sixteen months, and still graduate with a GPA I can be proud of. I will never be able to say “I don’t have time” or “I don’t have the energy” for something small. If I want to get done, it can in fact get done. I am capable of as much as I set my mind to.
It hasn’t always been pretty. I’ve had a lot of blessings to help get me where I am. I have a stellar husband who puts up with the less-than-stellar moments of temper; the disastrous house and strange mealtimes; the wife who sometimes runs on caffeine, catnaps, and sheer force of will. I still have friends who love me, even though (as it’s been pointed out) I’ve seen them about a handful of times since the beginning of the year. I’ve been forgiven over and over for skipping basically an entire year of Wednesday night family dinners that were my idea in the first place (I love you Missy! Sorrryyyy!)
Now all of this insanity is coming to an end. December 11th, I send in the last paper of the last class of my Bachelor in English. I will have the piece of paper, and (for a little while) I will have a WHOLE lot of time on my hands. More time than I’ve had since I was twenty years old. I’ll be able to ring in the New Year without the lingering dread of class starting on the 3rd (just after the departure of the last holiday hangover!) I’ll be able to lay on the couch when the snow is piling up and read the latest Ken Follett without an ounce of guilt, knowing I should be reading chapter three of some Gods-forsaken textbook about operant conditioning. It will be a little like breaking free of the Skinner box and the damned little button, actually!
So… what the hell am I going to do with myself?!
PLAY!! PLAY PLAY PLAY!!!
I’m going to finally finish the stained glass fireplace screen I promised my in-laws two years ago. I’m going to read books because they’re awesome, and not because they’re assigned. I’m going to edit the three books in pitiful draft form that have languished in my hard-drive, and work on new projects! I’m going to finally learn how to knit (Really knit. Not BS knitting like I do now, than ends in tears and stubs of scarves.) I’m going to sleep in until noon on weekends, wake up, eat Cheerios, then take a power nap directly after, rousing only to snuggle with Indiana and stick my tongue out at Eddie.
It won’t be all fun and games (although, there will be a lot of fun AND games). I’ll still be “studying”. The GRE and the MTEL (if I don’t take them before graduation) will be right around the corner. I’ll be hunting for a grad program, and jumping right back into the fray. But it won’t be the hell-ride my undergrad has been. Hopefully, anyway.
So here’s to big dreams about “life on the outside.” Dreams filled with stained glass, good books, hand-knitted slippers, writing, editing and long, glorious naps on the couch.
We went to see The Town this weekend with friends, and I have to say, I originally had no desire to see the movie, and therefore no expectations. The movie blew me away! I definitely recommend it.
If you haven’t seen the trailer on this one, it centers on the tumultuous reality of Charlestown’s biggest business - bank robbery. Described by the movie as a business passed down “from father to son,” the plot follows the exploits of one such family business member, a robber played by Ben Affleck.
It’s fair to mention that anything Ben Affleck came out with after Jersey Girl and Gigli pretty much earned my unmitigated contempt. I had refused to see The Town on the principle that it looked like Reindeer Games but done in nun suits for comedic effect. But friends were going, and I love seeing my friends, so off we went. I came out liking Ben just a little bit more than before the lights went down.
The acting turned out to be really good. It was a chance for Affleck to bank (no pun intended) on his pretty-boy rom-com cred, while playing a morally questionable character with a smart mouth and an even smarter accent. That was the best part of the acting for me; they didn’t make all the Bahhstonians sound like they wuhh frum freggin’ Maine, ked! They sounded like honest-to-God, School of Hard Knocks Bostonians who dropped the f-bomb like spitting out a hot coal. Think about it, re-watch Mystic River and tell me anyone ever gets the Boston Accent right in that movie once. The mother, at the end, makes me want to crawl under a Red Sox blanket AND DIE THERE, the accent is so wrong. The closest anyone has come was Leo in The Departed, and even that had moments where you were waiting for it to slip. “Y’gonna cut me up ‘n feed me t’duh POOAH?” Remember that line? Barely held onto it, Leo. You managed it, but only by so much.
The action was well balanced with the dramatic story line, and there were enough bullets and Michael Bay-approved explosions to keep the hubs and boyfriends happy.
All in all, it was a good night out, and I recommend it!
We all knew it was going to happen. I forgot to do my blog post last night, and so today (you lucky people) there will be two!
I’m playing catch-up a lot this week. I haven’t written anything new in a long time, and haven’t really had the time to edit any of my first drafts. This week, however, the fancy caught me to start re-writing the draft from my first Nano novel, written back in 2007, forced into one premature revision, and left in the digital top drawer forever after. A few friends were so kind as to read it and provide critical notes for me, make comments, and very honestly tell me what works, what doesn’t. I am so grateful for this, because it’s given me the juice to work on a draft that has languished in drafty purgatory for far too long.
Unfortunately, writing often moves in unexpectedly and sucks up time, especially time meant to be devoted to finishing up my classes. So here I am, on Saturday afternoon, trying to scream through The Inferno (not optimal, I assure you) and catch up on responses that were due ohhhhh on Wednesday. To be sure, it’s a tall order, and something had to slip. Of course it was the blog challenge! I don’t even remember falling asleep last night. There was a book in my hand, and then there was blackness, and the 1am arrival of Ed, finally tired enough to sleep. I WISH I could stay up that late without serious ramifications!
There’s something to be said for the type of pressure I’m putting myself under with classes, work, and writing. As mentioned in previous posts, I’ve learned I am capable of taking on a lot. I work faster, work smarter, and ultimately shine under pressure, and I’m very grateful for it. It does make me lean towards procrastination, but I think it’s okay, because the thrill of the battle against time brings out something good.
I’m editing something I wrote a long time ago, and sending bits and pieces to my sister for affirmations and assurances that I’m not a hack writer (it comes with the territory). As examined quite frankly by Jonathan Franzen’s (ex?) girlfriend, Kathryn Chetkovich, part of putting ourselves on paper when not meant for a college essay or a job application (though these are sometimes fiction in their own way) involves bearing a dreadful, wringing jealousy for anyone who takes words and turns them into beauty. Chetkovich’s take on prose envy, not to mention her observations on the deadly intricacies of relationships between women, is completely spot on. Any writer who doesn’t admit it is just trying to save face. I freely admit it. I have prose envy! I’ll bellow it from the top of my building, if it will amuse you. (Maybe just out the window if you don’t mind much, because the ladder up to our roof is just plain scary.)
When I consider authors of whose work I am most poisonously envious, two come to mind: Vladimir Nobokov, and Toni Morrison. If you haven’t read Lolita or Sula, close this window, stop reading this tepid crap, and go pick them up. You can’t truly understand what I mean unless you’ve experienced them. Nobokov takes one of the ugliest of possible human relationships, and with graceful prose and uncanny insight into the human condition, creates something darkly beautiful. It’s the same beauty we see in the blasted landscapes of warzones, but it is breathtaking nonetheless.
With Morrison, it’s often the subtle tones of her work, rather than any specific phrase or technique. She sees her characters as they are, leaving out the twinges of judgment that pervade other novels. Morrison understands that no guidance is required in our understanding of those around us; her role is to create a person whose existence is unquestionable, even if we are limited to experiencing them through the page. That unsettling realism never fails to give me chills. To possess that insight, and to express it with such a facility, is truly a gift to be envied.
This experience of wounding admiration isn’t limited to books. A particular line in a song will make me long to have written it. Two that come to mind are What Sarah Said by Ben Gibbard of Deathcab for Cutie, and Your Cloud by Tori Amos (my very first musical love). It’s hard to pick favorites, but these two songs get me every single time. (Incidentally, Tori Amos once described Joni Mitchell’s A Case of You as one of the top ten songs she wishes she’d written.)
The upside of that jealous grip of the heart, at least how I choose to accept it, is how it opens you up to what moves you deeply, and makes you more ambitious in your own expression. Taking chances in your prose often leads you to turns of phrase, metaphors and imagery you may not have tried to reach without that slightly competitive itch all writers suffer from. Then you can enjoy the moment where something of your own making brings on that catch in the breath, and something original and beautiful is born.
Some of you might remember last Thanksgiving or thereabouts, Eddie and I got into World of Warcraft. “Got into” might be a rather weak term for it. People “get into” a television series or a great book. What happened to us can more accurately be described as getting addicted to pixilated drugs.
Meet Emberlina. She’s my caster. (Level 80 Dual-spec shadow priestess, in case you’re interested.)
WoW starts off fairly innocently. Like any business-minded drug dealer, Blizzard gives away free 10-day trials like they had an expiration date approaching. Then it’s ten days of “Oh look! Ha! I just shot a fireball!” and “Ooh. He’s level ??. He must be STRONG. But… I think he’s a Hordie.” Then the Hordie pats your head and it subsequently explodes. But you laugh, because hey what the heck! This is fun! You run through the wilderness as a ghost a few times, hunting for your own dead sack of flesh so you can resurrect and go get thrummed some more.
Fifteen hours later, you smell like crap, you’re eating chips because they’re the only thing you can reach without taking off the headset, and you feel more like this:
Here’s the thing. Much like with the inevitable hangover, do you learn your lesson? Nooo. You get three hours of sleep, in which you see only damage points and spell-casting dancing around on your eyelids. It’s like having the nerdy bedspins. Then you get up, reach for the chips and the headset, and off you go again, a slave to the level treadmill.
I played until about April when I hit level 80. Raiding wasn’t really my bag, and I was getting a miniscule amount of sleep. I sort of dropped out of WoW once the school year started back up again (luckily for my GPA). But just like any old addiction, something small can draw you back, like catching a whiff of smoke from a freshly lit cigarette. Such is the case with WoW.
Someone poked their head into Ed’s office the other day and shared this gem with us
I’ve watched it three times, and I keep humming the damned catchy tune, and I find myself wondering where my headset is, and if I can remember my Blizzard log-in.
To make matters worse, a new expansion comes out in a month or so! What’s a nerdy girl to do!! I’ll tell you what, if you don’t hear from me for a while after Cataclysm hits the shelves, do me a favor and send me a pizza. Otherwise I might starve.
and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” - Harvey MacKay
In Lowell, art is the axis around which the entire city revolves. Our very motto reflects this devotion to the humanities: Art is the handmade of human good. Lowell owes its revival in large part to the artists who centered their life and work here over the past twenty years, and helped to foster a sense of community and vitality in the city. Art can be isolating however, with many hours spent in concentration on one’s craft. This is even more the case for artists who make a living by their work, who invest late nights and early mornings running a business while developing ideas and working on projects for commissions, gallery inclusions, and community outreach. In a city built on art, much of the time the artists are behind the scenes. While this is an act of supreme love and dedication to one’s craft, it needs to be recognized and celebrated by the community!
In an effort to bring the artists of Lowell front and center, take the temperature of the local arts and culture industry, and connect consumers to the city’s creative force, Suzzanne Cromwell of the Lowell Film Collaborative has developed the Lowell Creative Economy Census. Not only is it a great way to offer the community a comprehensive report on the creative scene in Lowell, it will connect the artist community as a whole with opportunities to share and sell their work, “by providing a quick “one stop shop” for consumers to connect to Lowell’s creative industry.” (cultureiscool.org)
Suzzanne is a prominent supporter of the arts in Lowell, and through the Lowell Film Collaborative has brought education, awareness and fun to our local scene. Hardly a week goes by where the LFC isn’t hosting an event, planning a film series, or reviewing a new film or festival. Suzzanne is the embodiment of what the arts scene is to Lowell, and she brings her knowledge of film and her enthusiasm for community involvement to us every day. Plus, bumping into Suz around town is basically guaranteed to make your day. You’ve never met a more cheerful gal in all your life!
As with any census, the success of the initiative hinges on the participation of the whole community. Artists are encouraged to provide their information and feedback through a centralized site, which will be aggregated and used (in totally non-evil, privacy-friendly ways) to connect the artist to the community, and the community to the artist!
As if recognition and community awareness weren’t incentive enough, Suzzanne has also coordinated a kick-off event for the initiative. The evening meet-up will host tummy-tempting refreshments, and a chance to network, get out of the workshop (or studio or writing room or darkroom) and visit with other members of the creative community that make Lowell a special and incredible place for all of us. So, if you’re an artist, or just want to hug an artist for making our home so awesome, drop in!
Creative Economy Census “Kick-off” Event
Thursday, October 14 @ 6:30 p.m.
Brew’d Awakening Coffeehaus
67 Market Street, Lowell
If you are a creative professional in Lowell, please take the time to fill out the survey, and connect with the community you serve. Lowell wouldn’t be the special city it is without your talent and your devotion!
I’ve come to like my developing habit of self-challenges. A few years ago, I challenged myself, as a New Year’s resolution, to read a book a week. It seriously changed the way I live my day-to-day life. I turned off the television, and never really turned it back on.
Recently, I was thinking about some of the poems and other pieces of literature I love that I’ve committed to memory over the years. A few of Shakespeare’s sonnets, Frost’s “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.” There are many where a hazy recollection exists, just waiting to be solidified with a bit of practice.
Recently on a car ride, I thought of a line from Hamlet’s soliloquy in Act III, and started trying to see if I could piece together the rest of the monologue. I mostly had it, but it was all jumbled, parts were missing. So I decided, what the hell! I’ll see if I can commit it to memory. Before I went to bed that night, I read through it line by line, trying to get a few more pieces in the right order each time. While doing some boring office stuff the next day, I returned to the exercise, rattling it off in my head to see if I could get all the way through it without any mistakes. By the end of my little task, I had it.
So I gave the idea some thought, and I think I’m committed to the idea of another self-challenge. I’d like to commit the sonnets to memory within a year. It’s goofy, the sort of stupid-human-trick quality caper that has little use and marginal appeal. But I like it! There’s 154, so putting down one every day or so, with a little margin for laziness and other projects, shouldn’t be too difficult. I figure, I’ve memorized the lyrics to every song in my iPod, so 154 snippets of information shouldn’t be a huge issue. Much like song lyrics, I’ll benefit from a dedicated rhyme scheme, pattern of syllables and stresses.
Maybe I’ll keep a checklist of the ones I’ve “completed” and test myself for retention. What do we think of this? Crazy? Dumb? Exciting?
….Anyone want to do it with me?
Wait for it… waiiiittt forrr ittt. ::::cue the crickets::::
When we decided to get a cat a few years ago, I had the typical daydreams: A little fluffy creature to sleep in my lap on the couch, snuggle on cold winter mornings in bed, and occasionally play a rousing game of “chase the ribbon.”
What we got… was Jaws.
This should have been my first indication that the “cat” we got was not what it said on the tin.
Isn’t she precious?
My furry landshark still lives up to her name every day. She strikes at any moment (typically from under the bed), and circles her territory looking for opportunities to sneak up on an unsuspecting victim and -
PLAY! PLAY FETCH! PLAY KILL THE MONSTERFEET! PLAY PLAY PLAY!
Our cat has a problem, in that she’s not a cat. We think she got mislabeled at the factory. She’s a dog, for sure. She can outfetch, outbeg, and outkeep-away any Labrador retriever you’d care to put in her path. She’ll then ride that Labrador like a circus pony, and send it away with a therapist bill.
I’m not sure how it happened, but our cat needs to go to Play-play-play A.A. My day goes a little like this:
Are you awake? It’s two a.m. Not getting out of bed? No problem, I’ve got a ball with feathers on it. Very low-impact early morning workout. Throw! Okay… :::run run run::: Now, again.
Hey are you in the bathroom? I’m waving! Can you see me waving? Under the door? Hey. HEY! Okay, now throw me a Q-tip. I can make due.
Ooh! You’re in the closet? Cool. I seee you. I’m behind the door. See me? Through the little crack? I seeeeeee you. :::BAT!::: Tag, you’re it!!! Aww too slow. It’s 7:30 a.m. Still not bringing your A-game. What’s up with that?!
Are you getting up off the couch? Perfect! Here, drag the string around for me. C’mon DRAG! Man, it’s like I have to do all the work!
It’s gotten to the point where shifting position on the couch means she snaps awake, leaps from her bed, falls over dead in front of you and cries, like you’re killing her with your lack of enthusiasm. This happens… about thirty times a day.
We tried “auto-play”. There was one contraption strapped to the door that fluttered a ribbon around on a motorized belt. Jaws decided it was more fun if the ribbon was detached from the device. Greater range. There was another toy that swiped a stick through the air, with a ball and feathers on the end. The base is now a paperweight, but the stick (denuded of its once glorious plumage) is still her favorite. She drags it around the house with her like Linus’ blanket.
No, I’m not watching baseball. If I’m ever watching baseball, it’s fair to assume I’m a pod person and you should run. The invasion is afoot.
Eddie’s mom was kind enough to get us a season pass to the Merrimack Repertory Theatre as an early Christmas gift. We live walking distance to the theatre, so it’s a great night out on the town for us, and this was a gorgeous night for the walk to the show. The first show of the MRT season this year is the Reduced Shakespeare Company’sThe Complete World of Sports. (See how I did that? With the “play” theme? That’s why I get the big bucks. I’m going to make it through this month yet.)
RSC’s shows are always awesome (we’ve seen The History of the World (Abridged) in the past) and this was no exception. The guys covered everything from baseball and soccer, to cheese rolling, golf, and even some sports they made up just for the hell of it. The show was brilliant, enjoyable even for someone like me, who wouldn’t know it were football season if the guys in the IT department weren’t taking bets on it. The humor is intelligent and fast-paced, and per usual they got the crowd roaring even when they were riffing on local politics and sports. (They picked on the Spinners, and made it out alive. That alone tells you how good these guys are!)
And of course they had a heckler! She was dealt with masterfully. She wasn’t about to let the guys pick on Scott Brown (needless to say, she was the lone voice crying in the wilderness. Sorry lady). They let her have her fun, mostly so “Austin” (the intellectual whom, by their own admission, bears a more than passing resemblance to Al Franken) could call her a “Feisty yankee dame” and get a few more miles out of the joke. There was actually quite a few audience participation moments… mostly planned. It goes without saying, Ed and I were very happy to have balcony seats and leave the fifteen minutes to those who ordered their tickets earlier than yesterday at lunch! We’re fairly sure one of the guys was either a plant, or just a total ham, as he was almost a little too comfortable getting on stage and into the action. (There were big hand gestures involved.)
If you get a chance to see these guys before they head on to their next stop, I highly recommend it. Time is off the essence, however, as they’ve only got two shows left. The first show starts, well.. now. Sorry for the short notice. But you’ll have one more crack at it tomorrow. The Sunday matinee runs tomorrow, October 3rd, 2pm at the Merrimack Repertory Theatre, 50 E. Merrimack Street in Lowell.
The rest of the Rep’s season promises to be as wonderful as always. Tickets to the next offering, Four Places, are on sale now at the MRT website. Support local theatre and plan a great date night out!
I should be doing some homework, or (holy hell) cleaning my long-suffering house, doing the laundry, or perhaps even sleeping. I’m not. Instead, I’m piling one more thing on the plate. I’m signing up for Nablopomo and committing to a blog post a day for the month.
I’ve updated my blog three times in the last ten months. One post didn’t even count really - I posted a paper I wrote for school because I wrote it scary-fast and it got an A. I’ve just fallen out of the blogging habit. Full-time work, (more than) full-time school, a renewed attempt to read fifty-two books again this year, and just the regular old schmeg of life have taken up any bits of free time I might have been able to scrape together for writing.
Despite the toll this takes on my social life and my “fun” time, I don’t regret a bit of what I’ve taken on. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past year, specifically just how much I’m capable of taking on. I’d never have known how little sleep I can actually function on. I’d never have known I could take two years of school and jam it into sixteen months, and still graduate with a GPA I can be proud of. I will never be able to say “I don’t have time” or “I don’t have the energy” for something small. If I want to get done, it can in fact get done. I am capable of as much as I set my mind to.
It hasn’t always been pretty. I’ve had a lot of blessings to help get me where I am. I have a stellar husband who puts up with the less-than-stellar moments of temper; the disastrous house and strange mealtimes; the wife who sometimes runs on caffeine, catnaps, and sheer force of will. I still have friends who love me, even though (as it’s been pointed out) I’ve seen them about a handful of times since the beginning of the year. I’ve been forgiven over and over for skipping basically an entire year of Wednesday night family dinners that were my idea in the first place (I love you Missy! Sorrryyyy!)
Now all of this insanity is coming to an end. December 11th, I send in the last paper of the last class of my Bachelor in English. I will have the piece of paper, and (for a little while) I will have a WHOLE lot of time on my hands. More time than I’ve had since I was twenty years old. I’ll be able to ring in the New Year without the lingering dread of class starting on the 3rd (just after the departure of the last holiday hangover!) I’ll be able to lay on the couch when the snow is piling up and read the latest Ken Follett without an ounce of guilt, knowing I should be reading chapter three of some Gods-forsaken textbook about operant conditioning. It will be a little like breaking free of the Skinner box and the damned little button, actually!
So… what the hell am I going to do with myself?!
PLAY!! PLAY PLAY PLAY!!!
I’m going to finally finish the stained glass fireplace screen I promised my in-laws two years ago. I’m going to read books because they’re awesome, and not because they’re assigned. I’m going to edit the three books in pitiful draft form that have languished in my hard-drive, and work on new projects! I’m going to finally learn how to knit (Really knit. Not BS knitting like I do now, than ends in tears and stubs of scarves.) I’m going to sleep in until noon on weekends, wake up, eat Cheerios, then take a power nap directly after, rousing only to snuggle with Indiana and stick my tongue out at Eddie.
It won’t be all fun and games (although, there will be a lot of fun AND games). I’ll still be “studying”. The GRE and the MTEL (if I don’t take them before graduation) will be right around the corner. I’ll be hunting for a grad program, and jumping right back into the fray. But it won’t be the hell-ride my undergrad has been. Hopefully, anyway.
So here’s to big dreams about “life on the outside.” Dreams filled with stained glass, good books, hand-knitted slippers, writing, editing and long, glorious naps on the couch.
I’m a writer, artist and degenerate internet addict. I have a day job only to keep the lights on and the internet working. I’m not always PG, but I’m always A+ (not to mention humble.) Please do not try to make me think before coffee. It will only end in tears.
