My only real vice is coffee. I mean, sure I drink and occasionally smoke, but not to the point that I would call it a "vice". But coffee ... oh, coffee ... how you steal my heart. I NEED COFFEE. Once, my mother gave me a bag of really nice coffee beans that she had sitting around because she didn't have a grinder. I love grinding my coffee beans, especially high quality, really dark beans. There isn't a color, smell, or texture in the world that makes me happier than freshly ground coffee beans. So all week I grind these beans and drink my normal morning pot of coffee.
This also happened to be at the start of fall, and with the weather changes, I was getting these HORRIBLE headaches. They were practically debilitating. I even went home early one day because I am thinking, I have never had allergies this bad or maybe I am starting to get migraines. And it was around Thursday (this had been going on since the previous weekend) that I thought to look at the front of the bag ... decaf. DECAF! I had been depriving my body of it's caffeine (and large amount of it, I might add) all week. And by this time, the headaches weren't coming as bad. I was weaning myself of the caffeine.
I told my friends that day of my discovery. First, they couldn't believe that I was sooo addicted to caffeine that it had messed me up that badly. They had witnessed my pain! And secondly, they thought it was a bit pathetic. So I had a decision to make. I was off of caffeine. It was out of my system. I could keep drinking decaf and be a healthier person. But then, I had a reality check. I LIKE caffeine. It is my one addiction, and as far as addictions go, it is fairly mild.
But now, I am worried I am forming a new addiction. As for how innocent, that is still up for discussion. I am now on myspace, facebook, blogger, plinky and artbistro. Actively. I know! Oh, and one German facebook that I am not so active on ... I just know someone. Long story. Anyway, I have also discovered the joy of rss feeds. Google Reader! I can follow my blogs, the news ... it is like all the websites I go to .. in ONE PLACE. IT IS AWESOME. But I think that my dependence on the internet is increasing. My need to feel connected may be unhealthy.
I do have the excuse that most of my friends live in a different state and it is a great way to keep in touch with them! I know. It's lame.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Hi, my name is Tina from Connecticut.
I like to think that I am not a "mean girl". Mostly because I think that they give all girls a bad name and I can't stand being around them. You know the kind of girl I am talking about. The ones who make catty comments on what someone is wearing or how attractive they are and generally have the attitude of thinking they are better than everyone else. I wasn't really popular in high school, so I think there is a very specific attitude and lifestyle that I associate with "mean girls". And I do realize that I myself become judgmental (a symptom of a mean girl) when I decide that a girl is in fact a "mean girl". But honestly, everyone judges to some degree so I forgive myself.
There are a few friends that I have though, that really bring the mean girl out in me. My worst offense of being a mean girl was at a concert in Atlanta. We went to go see this indie band no one had heard of and at the last minute this British pop star decides she wants to do an after show at the same venue. It was really annoying because the bands didn't exactly jive and you knew EXACTLY who was there to see which band. It was like following Nine Inch Nails with Miley Cyrus, only with fewer opportunities for pedophilia. Anyway, I was a little drunk and annoyed that all these preppy kids were in the audience and there was this kid (and he was a kid, like 18 probably) standing in front of me in a white polo, bleached hair spiked up, and his COLLAR POPPED. This was in the height of the popping the collar frenzy. Now, I was with a friend who is the WORST at turning me into a mean girl. I won't name names. So I say to my friend, "I dare you to tell that kid his collar is up." She looks at me with wild eyes of inspiration and taps him on the shoulder. Whispers something in his ear, and then gives me THE look. It is worth mentioning that this friend is very pretty and generally, guys bend to her will. I can't help but bust up laughing. So, the poor kid actually puts his collar down after lamely trying to explain that it is on purpose. I felt bad. Even drunk and annoyed as I was, I knew we were making this poor kid feel so uncomfortable. Collar guy moves away from us. So later, the show is over and we walk across the street to Kroger, killing time until we are sober enough to drive back to SC and we whip around this corner and a few aisles away we see collar guy. And, in all my drunken wisdom, I yell, "Hey, look! It's collar guy!" And I get pulled down the aisle by my friend, laughing hysterically.
Now, don't get me wrong. It was really funny at the time. But I realize that I was being EXACTLY the kind of person that I HATE. And I am not proud of myself for acting that way. I do, however, maintain one mean girl caveat that I hold onto and cherish.
My friend Lindy and I decide one night that we can pinpoint people, right upon meeting them, that we won't get along with. Again, judgmental yes, but, most people probably think that of people with facial tattoos, and I just happen to feel that way about people that have their initials embroidered into everything they own (and it is probably polka dotted and pink at the same time). I am a bit more open minded these days, and wouldn't rule these people out this way, but I still like to think of them as Tina from Connecticut. We decided that the most boring person we could imagine would probably be named Tina and would definitely be from Connecticut. (Now, before you go crazy and start defending Connecticut, I have since met very nice people from there and changed my position, but at the time I knew no one interesting from the state and couldn't think of any great contributions to society from them.)
But this, again, is where it gets kind of bad. So, when we meet someone that we think of as a Tina from Connecticut, the verbal cue is to say, "Hey! You remind me so much of my friend Tina from Connecticut!" And the other one would agree or disagree saying something like, "Oh, no, she looks nothing like Tina!" or "OH my GOSH! You are so right!". And the person, who we already have decided we won't like, is none the wiser. Yep. It is mean and petty and cruel. And I am ... sorta ... not proud of it. We didn't actually use it very often, once or twice, maybe. But we still laugh at the theory of Tina from Connecticut. I suppose this is my way of coming clean. Admitting my sins and absolving myself of the guilt. Sort of makes me wish I was Catholic...
There are a few friends that I have though, that really bring the mean girl out in me. My worst offense of being a mean girl was at a concert in Atlanta. We went to go see this indie band no one had heard of and at the last minute this British pop star decides she wants to do an after show at the same venue. It was really annoying because the bands didn't exactly jive and you knew EXACTLY who was there to see which band. It was like following Nine Inch Nails with Miley Cyrus, only with fewer opportunities for pedophilia. Anyway, I was a little drunk and annoyed that all these preppy kids were in the audience and there was this kid (and he was a kid, like 18 probably) standing in front of me in a white polo, bleached hair spiked up, and his COLLAR POPPED. This was in the height of the popping the collar frenzy. Now, I was with a friend who is the WORST at turning me into a mean girl. I won't name names. So I say to my friend, "I dare you to tell that kid his collar is up." She looks at me with wild eyes of inspiration and taps him on the shoulder. Whispers something in his ear, and then gives me THE look. It is worth mentioning that this friend is very pretty and generally, guys bend to her will. I can't help but bust up laughing. So, the poor kid actually puts his collar down after lamely trying to explain that it is on purpose. I felt bad. Even drunk and annoyed as I was, I knew we were making this poor kid feel so uncomfortable. Collar guy moves away from us. So later, the show is over and we walk across the street to Kroger, killing time until we are sober enough to drive back to SC and we whip around this corner and a few aisles away we see collar guy. And, in all my drunken wisdom, I yell, "Hey, look! It's collar guy!" And I get pulled down the aisle by my friend, laughing hysterically.
Now, don't get me wrong. It was really funny at the time. But I realize that I was being EXACTLY the kind of person that I HATE. And I am not proud of myself for acting that way. I do, however, maintain one mean girl caveat that I hold onto and cherish.
My friend Lindy and I decide one night that we can pinpoint people, right upon meeting them, that we won't get along with. Again, judgmental yes, but, most people probably think that of people with facial tattoos, and I just happen to feel that way about people that have their initials embroidered into everything they own (and it is probably polka dotted and pink at the same time). I am a bit more open minded these days, and wouldn't rule these people out this way, but I still like to think of them as Tina from Connecticut. We decided that the most boring person we could imagine would probably be named Tina and would definitely be from Connecticut. (Now, before you go crazy and start defending Connecticut, I have since met very nice people from there and changed my position, but at the time I knew no one interesting from the state and couldn't think of any great contributions to society from them.)
But this, again, is where it gets kind of bad. So, when we meet someone that we think of as a Tina from Connecticut, the verbal cue is to say, "Hey! You remind me so much of my friend Tina from Connecticut!" And the other one would agree or disagree saying something like, "Oh, no, she looks nothing like Tina!" or "OH my GOSH! You are so right!". And the person, who we already have decided we won't like, is none the wiser. Yep. It is mean and petty and cruel. And I am ... sorta ... not proud of it. We didn't actually use it very often, once or twice, maybe. But we still laugh at the theory of Tina from Connecticut. I suppose this is my way of coming clean. Admitting my sins and absolving myself of the guilt. Sort of makes me wish I was Catholic...
Friday, March 6, 2009
Talking heads and why I am a villain.
I know for a fact that I am not the only person that talks to themselves in the car. I admit this to people fairly often, because I am not ashamed, and mostly people tell me that they do it too. Those of us that are this kind of crazy (I won't name names) have, up until recently, been shamed into silence when we reach a stop light or sign lest the person in the car next to us think we are totally insane. But then along came hands free cell phones and AHHHHHHHhhhhhhh, big sigh of relief, we don't look crazy anymore! Well, we do, but people don't bat an eye anymore at someone who appears to be talking to themselves.
The thing is, I am not crazy, I just think better out loud. And I don't live by myself anymore so the car is really the only opportunity I have to think things through. It is like therapy for me. I replay conversations that have gone badly, I practice tough conversations that are ahead, and I figure out the best way to phrase stuff that would otherwise sound mean. Because I tend to sound mean. I have come to terms with that. My mother used to say to me, "You should look in the mirror when you say things sometimes". She said that a lot actually. Because, although I think I am just being truthful, or frank. I, apparently, am being mean.
The positive thing here is that these "practice sessions" of mine, help keep be from coming across this way. Because I have come to grips with the fact that I am a mean person. I REALLY ALMOST NEVER TRY TO BE! That is the worst part. If only the world knew how nice I was. Sigh. I like to think that if I am mad at you, you know it. But apparently, you **know** it even when I don't.
I used to be friends with this girl who got away with being an asshole all the time. She could say things in the most adorable way ... things like, "You have such a messed up face!" but then she would giggle and bat her eyelashes and everyone just thought it was adorable. How the hell do people get away with that?!? I wish someone would let me in on it, because when I bat my eyelashes I just get asked if there is something in my eye and they tell me it serves me right because I am a big fat meanie face.
So, I guess if you are ever talking to me, and I say something mean ... tell me I need more practice or hand me a mirror or something. I don't take offense. I get it, I am doomed to be a villain. I don't like puppies or kittens, I am mean without trying, and I don't get the baby thing. See ... villain.
The thing is, I am not crazy, I just think better out loud. And I don't live by myself anymore so the car is really the only opportunity I have to think things through. It is like therapy for me. I replay conversations that have gone badly, I practice tough conversations that are ahead, and I figure out the best way to phrase stuff that would otherwise sound mean. Because I tend to sound mean. I have come to terms with that. My mother used to say to me, "You should look in the mirror when you say things sometimes". She said that a lot actually. Because, although I think I am just being truthful, or frank. I, apparently, am being mean.
The positive thing here is that these "practice sessions" of mine, help keep be from coming across this way. Because I have come to grips with the fact that I am a mean person. I REALLY ALMOST NEVER TRY TO BE! That is the worst part. If only the world knew how nice I was. Sigh. I like to think that if I am mad at you, you know it. But apparently, you **know** it even when I don't.
I used to be friends with this girl who got away with being an asshole all the time. She could say things in the most adorable way ... things like, "You have such a messed up face!" but then she would giggle and bat her eyelashes and everyone just thought it was adorable. How the hell do people get away with that?!? I wish someone would let me in on it, because when I bat my eyelashes I just get asked if there is something in my eye and they tell me it serves me right because I am a big fat meanie face.
So, I guess if you are ever talking to me, and I say something mean ... tell me I need more practice or hand me a mirror or something. I don't take offense. I get it, I am doomed to be a villain. I don't like puppies or kittens, I am mean without trying, and I don't get the baby thing. See ... villain.
Barely there blogger
Christy and Jennie really are the bestest friends. They inspire me to do awesome stuff like keep up with my blogging (now if I could just get them to join twitter ... hint hint). But, as I am becoming increasingly obsessed with blogging, I am being continuously let down by blogger. I think the problem is that I have gotten incredibly spoiled by facebook and how versatile it is in it's ability to take over my life. So here is my ideas for how blogger could improve in that department.
1a. Make it easier to view my comments that people have left.
2b. Email me when someone posts a new blog that I am following.
3c. Make comments more conversational by having an actual thread (and inform me when people post on that thread)
That is really all. Anyone else have any ideas?
1a. Make it easier to view my comments that people have left.
2b. Email me when someone posts a new blog that I am following.
3c. Make comments more conversational by having an actual thread (and inform me when people post on that thread)
That is really all. Anyone else have any ideas?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
I hate Andy Rooney
I'm sorry but I do. He is the worst kind of old person. If you ask my friend Christy, old people are adorable and she loves them and "Oh isn't he cute" ... NO. Christy can have her old people. Except Andy Rooney because he just needs to be stopped. WHY does he still have a column. I wish I could have a nationally syndicated column about the random crap that comes into my head. Yesterday his column was about swimsuits ... or wait ... was it about suits? I don't know because he meanders between the two subjects and just goes on and on and on in a way that doesn't even make sense, much less have a point. And then he says he wishes he could be alive when they finally get rid of tops on woman's swimsuits. Way to be an asshole Andy Rooney.
The story, I think, is meant to be cute and anecdotal about how far swimsuits have come since this ancient man was a kid when men wore a full body swimsuit. But then he starts talking about a dress suit that he bought with two pairs of trousers. And he closes with how the girl who lived next door was a better swimmer than the boys. Like this is unbelievable. Way to be an asshole Andy Rooney.
One of the other memorable columns of Andy's that comes to mind was about fruit. And how it is expensive. That's it. Like 800 words on expensive fruit. Like you don't have more money than God you old bastard.
I just think maybe it is time for him to retire. He is not making any profound, or even unprofound statements or ideas. Just a meandering mind. It's like someone gives him a noun and he just thinks about it and writes it all down. I am going to write an Andy Rooney column. Just to prove that anyone can do it.
I choose my topic: Coffee.
I like coffee. I have been drinking coffee since I was a young child. Some people say that coffee stunts growth, but I guess it doesn't do that too badly because I am six feet tall. It's strange how myths about the things we eat are thought to be true. It seems like every day a new study comes out about whether or not coffee is good for you. I don't think it is too bad. I drink a lot of coffee and it hasn't hurt me yet.
Coffee is expensive. I would say it is a luxury item. Of course, there are lots of different kinds of coffee and some is more expensive than others. I tend to buy middle of the road coffee. Not too expensive, but not bottom of the barrel. Some people swear by Starbucks. I have never been a huge fan of Starbucks. I think it is overpriced.
Did you know that coffee is not grown in America? We import all of our coffee from other countries. Africa and South America are common places to get coffee from. I suppose it is the hot climate that makes those places good for growing coffee. I also like a french roast. But I am not sure if coffee is grown in France, or just roasted there. I wonder about that.
One thing I will say about the quality of my coffee is that I prefer to grind my own beans. Some people think this is a hassle but I just keep my grinder on my counter and it isn't too bad. In the morning I get up and grind my beans and start my coffee.
Some people drink their coffee black. My friend Jennie drinks her coffee black. I did, once upon a time. But then I decided that like a little bit of cream. I think this is a luxury also. I choose to enjoy my coffee this way however, and find I enjoy it more. We should get to enjoy a few luxuries in life.
THE END.
Don't believe me that this reads EXACTLY like an Andy Rooney column? Check it:
http://www.tmsfeatures.com/columns/humor/andy-rooney/25554359.html?articleURL=http://rss.tmsfeatures.com/websvc-bin/rss_story_read.cgi?resid=200902251800TMS_____AROONEY__ctnxo-a_20090227
The story, I think, is meant to be cute and anecdotal about how far swimsuits have come since this ancient man was a kid when men wore a full body swimsuit. But then he starts talking about a dress suit that he bought with two pairs of trousers. And he closes with how the girl who lived next door was a better swimmer than the boys. Like this is unbelievable. Way to be an asshole Andy Rooney.
One of the other memorable columns of Andy's that comes to mind was about fruit. And how it is expensive. That's it. Like 800 words on expensive fruit. Like you don't have more money than God you old bastard.
I just think maybe it is time for him to retire. He is not making any profound, or even unprofound statements or ideas. Just a meandering mind. It's like someone gives him a noun and he just thinks about it and writes it all down. I am going to write an Andy Rooney column. Just to prove that anyone can do it.
I choose my topic: Coffee.
I like coffee. I have been drinking coffee since I was a young child. Some people say that coffee stunts growth, but I guess it doesn't do that too badly because I am six feet tall. It's strange how myths about the things we eat are thought to be true. It seems like every day a new study comes out about whether or not coffee is good for you. I don't think it is too bad. I drink a lot of coffee and it hasn't hurt me yet.
Coffee is expensive. I would say it is a luxury item. Of course, there are lots of different kinds of coffee and some is more expensive than others. I tend to buy middle of the road coffee. Not too expensive, but not bottom of the barrel. Some people swear by Starbucks. I have never been a huge fan of Starbucks. I think it is overpriced.
Did you know that coffee is not grown in America? We import all of our coffee from other countries. Africa and South America are common places to get coffee from. I suppose it is the hot climate that makes those places good for growing coffee. I also like a french roast. But I am not sure if coffee is grown in France, or just roasted there. I wonder about that.
One thing I will say about the quality of my coffee is that I prefer to grind my own beans. Some people think this is a hassle but I just keep my grinder on my counter and it isn't too bad. In the morning I get up and grind my beans and start my coffee.
Some people drink their coffee black. My friend Jennie drinks her coffee black. I did, once upon a time. But then I decided that like a little bit of cream. I think this is a luxury also. I choose to enjoy my coffee this way however, and find I enjoy it more. We should get to enjoy a few luxuries in life.
THE END.
Don't believe me that this reads EXACTLY like an Andy Rooney column? Check it:
http://www.tmsfeatures.com/columns/humor/andy-rooney/25554359.html?articleURL=http://rss.tmsfeatures.com/websvc-bin/rss_story_read.cgi?resid=200902251800TMS_____AROONEY__ctnxo-a_20090227
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Revolution and Socialism
I have had several conversations lately regarding how weak America has become in regards to prosecuting the rich and powerful. For instance, the governments refusal to call people out for shit that went down during the Bush presidency. (Come on, we all know it was shady and illegal things happened). Another instance being Bernie Madoff's allowance to keep his Park Avenue Penthouse which is worth something like $6 million. Sure, a black kid steals a candy bar and we send him to maximum security, but this old, rich white guy steals billions of dollars, and we let him maintain his lifestyle.
I am aware that these opinions make me somewhat socialist (there is a lot more that makes me somewhat socialist, so the title doesn't bother me). Somehow though, this line of thinking brought me to the idea for a completely hypothetical and dangerous social experiment. What if you gave all the fifth graders in America a semi-automatic rifle and a laptop. The question is, how many kids would use the guns to gain power, stage a revolution, or commit evil, and how many kids would simply blog about it. Now, I realize that this is ridiculous and let me repeat: ABSOLUTELY HYPOTHETICAL. I do not advocate ANYONE, particularly children, having guns. But, it would make an interesting sci-fi plot for a book or a movie or a short story ... maybe I will write a short story. Doubt it.
My point to all of it is, that in America, we don't go to the streets anymore when we are upset about something. We sit, cozy in our rooms, and blog about the failure's of America. We get upset to ourselves and on twitter. But, much like no one reading this blog, it becomes a case of a tree falling in the forest with no one there to hear it. If a blogger gets upset and no one reads it ... is the blogger truly dissenting? Of course the answer in this case is yes, but, the crux is that it doesn't matter.
So, where is the heartbeat of our nation? Where does it lie? In the media? In the distant and confused politicians in Washington? The truth is, that the average American has the ability to be more vocal and be heard more than ever before. After all, 30 years ago it would have been up to a newspaper reporting something happening in the midwest for anyone in Washington to hear it. And now our President carries a blackberry. So maybe blogging is the answer. Maybe we don't have to stand, hand in hand, getting battered by police to make a statement anymore. It just seems so sterile. I was raised in a blue collar environment where real work got done once your hands got dirty. But, if the internet and blogging has changed anything about America it is that we are no longer a blue collar world. Even mechanics hook computers up to cars to fix them now. The internet machine has taken over our lives, our minds and our work.
The only questions left to answer are these: Is our dependency socially, politically and economically on computers and its systems begging for some apocalyptic doom? Will there be a day when all the computers turn off and we are left standing without our third arm and half our brain?
Even as I am writing this, I realize that none of these are original thoughts and that they have been posed and partly answered by minds much greater than my own. But I think they are important to consider. If for nothing else than because we need to remain aware of how different our lives are than people who lived 10, 20, 50 and hundreds of years before us. We also need to remember that there are still many people on this planet, in this age, who live NOTHING like the way we live. And when we hesitate to question the authority that governs this nation and it's wealth, we need to remember that as some of the luckiest people in the world, we have a duty to hold these people accountable. You don't have to choose the gun or the laptop, they have become the same. Just as Bernie Madoff-with-the-money FAILED miserably at his job and should be held responsible for that, we should be held responsible as constituents, as shareholders, and as Americans. We are part of a democracy and have to do our part and speak up.
I am going to write a letter to my senator today. I am going to get a few things off of my chest. Sure, he may never read it, but one of his interns will and mine will be a voice that will be tallied and added to the others and it will be heard.
I am aware that these opinions make me somewhat socialist (there is a lot more that makes me somewhat socialist, so the title doesn't bother me). Somehow though, this line of thinking brought me to the idea for a completely hypothetical and dangerous social experiment. What if you gave all the fifth graders in America a semi-automatic rifle and a laptop. The question is, how many kids would use the guns to gain power, stage a revolution, or commit evil, and how many kids would simply blog about it. Now, I realize that this is ridiculous and let me repeat: ABSOLUTELY HYPOTHETICAL. I do not advocate ANYONE, particularly children, having guns. But, it would make an interesting sci-fi plot for a book or a movie or a short story ... maybe I will write a short story. Doubt it.
My point to all of it is, that in America, we don't go to the streets anymore when we are upset about something. We sit, cozy in our rooms, and blog about the failure's of America. We get upset to ourselves and on twitter. But, much like no one reading this blog, it becomes a case of a tree falling in the forest with no one there to hear it. If a blogger gets upset and no one reads it ... is the blogger truly dissenting? Of course the answer in this case is yes, but, the crux is that it doesn't matter.
So, where is the heartbeat of our nation? Where does it lie? In the media? In the distant and confused politicians in Washington? The truth is, that the average American has the ability to be more vocal and be heard more than ever before. After all, 30 years ago it would have been up to a newspaper reporting something happening in the midwest for anyone in Washington to hear it. And now our President carries a blackberry. So maybe blogging is the answer. Maybe we don't have to stand, hand in hand, getting battered by police to make a statement anymore. It just seems so sterile. I was raised in a blue collar environment where real work got done once your hands got dirty. But, if the internet and blogging has changed anything about America it is that we are no longer a blue collar world. Even mechanics hook computers up to cars to fix them now. The internet machine has taken over our lives, our minds and our work.
The only questions left to answer are these: Is our dependency socially, politically and economically on computers and its systems begging for some apocalyptic doom? Will there be a day when all the computers turn off and we are left standing without our third arm and half our brain?
Even as I am writing this, I realize that none of these are original thoughts and that they have been posed and partly answered by minds much greater than my own. But I think they are important to consider. If for nothing else than because we need to remain aware of how different our lives are than people who lived 10, 20, 50 and hundreds of years before us. We also need to remember that there are still many people on this planet, in this age, who live NOTHING like the way we live. And when we hesitate to question the authority that governs this nation and it's wealth, we need to remember that as some of the luckiest people in the world, we have a duty to hold these people accountable. You don't have to choose the gun or the laptop, they have become the same. Just as Bernie Madoff-with-the-money FAILED miserably at his job and should be held responsible for that, we should be held responsible as constituents, as shareholders, and as Americans. We are part of a democracy and have to do our part and speak up.
I am going to write a letter to my senator today. I am going to get a few things off of my chest. Sure, he may never read it, but one of his interns will and mine will be a voice that will be tallied and added to the others and it will be heard.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wow, I suck at writing.
Well, not writing exactly, but I suck at consistency. Perhaps that is how I should put it. So, obviously the training blog went well (see previous post). I did stick with the training, and ran the marathon, and am training for a second one ... so at least I stuck with that part of it. You would think, with all my spare time this blogging thing would be a no brainer. After all, I think to myself all the time that I want to be a writer.
About that. There are three things in particular that inspire me to write (excluding my bff's starting their own blog and mentioning me oh-so-graciously in it). The first: NPR, particularly This American Life. One, I wish Ira Glass were my Uncle. He is the best. Two, the stories are so simple, yet so insightful. I really enjoy that kind of writing, the kind where it is just an everyday story from someones everyday life, but it is super interesting because it is told in some simple yet profound way. And while it seems like it would be such a simple thing to do, I am aware that it is not.
The second thing that inspires me is reading books of essays such as David Sadaris or Sloan Crosley. Their writing is similar to This American Life in a way, it is usually just simple stories from their lives, but they are interesting. I have a deep yearning to be interesting.
The final thing is books on tape. Not any book on tape, but particularly the book Underworld by Tom DeLillo (review here: http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,289625,00.html). I actually only got through the first set of discs for this one, it is a gynormous book. And while it made me start writing my own narrative in my head, often while listening to it, it also made me profoundly depressed (Christy actually had to talk me down from listening to the other half, I really wanted to but was concerned I would become suicidal). I am sure to complete that novel (both the listening as well as the one I began writing in my head while listening) I would need to go live in a shack in the woods for several months with only a typewriter and frozen burrito's and listen to the book over and over and over again. And aside from becoming incredibly fat from burritos, I would either become the unibomber or Virginia Woolf.
The problem with me writing anything LARGE, like a novel, is that I get incredibly overwhelmed by two things. One, is the enormity of the project. I don't do well with long term relationships (outside of my love life that is). The idea of working on one creative project for months or years sounds ... well ... awful. I would get sick of it. Or get interested in something else too quickly. I am ADHD in one area of my life and that is my creativity. Before I have even gathered my materials for one project, I have thought of another, and abandon the first. Rarely do I finish them.
The other bit that overwhelms me is the opening sentence. It is such an incredibly powerful thing and sets the entire tone of the novel. And first sentences live forever and can sometimes outweigh an entire book. After all, who remembers much about Moby Dick besides, "Call me Ishmael" and that there is a whale as a main character? (Here is a list of the 100 greatest first sentences in novels OF ALL TIME ... I think that author is full of themselves and their opinions ... http://www.pantagraph.com/articles/2006/02/04/news/doc43e3e6b004381080724526.txt)
The entire idea of the opening sentence makes me so nervous, that by the time I rewrite it a dozen times, I have forgotten the outline of my entire premise.
By the way, the last opening sentence I wrote for my imagined novel that I will never write is this: She sat down at her typewriter, and stared at the blank wall in front of her.
Bleh.
For more thoughts on opening sentences to novels and whether or not they matter, read this article that I haven't read:
http://www.librarything.com/topic/34068
About that. There are three things in particular that inspire me to write (excluding my bff's starting their own blog and mentioning me oh-so-graciously in it). The first: NPR, particularly This American Life. One, I wish Ira Glass were my Uncle. He is the best. Two, the stories are so simple, yet so insightful. I really enjoy that kind of writing, the kind where it is just an everyday story from someones everyday life, but it is super interesting because it is told in some simple yet profound way. And while it seems like it would be such a simple thing to do, I am aware that it is not.
The second thing that inspires me is reading books of essays such as David Sadaris or Sloan Crosley. Their writing is similar to This American Life in a way, it is usually just simple stories from their lives, but they are interesting. I have a deep yearning to be interesting.
The final thing is books on tape. Not any book on tape, but particularly the book Underworld by Tom DeLillo (review here: http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,289625,00.html). I actually only got through the first set of discs for this one, it is a gynormous book. And while it made me start writing my own narrative in my head, often while listening to it, it also made me profoundly depressed (Christy actually had to talk me down from listening to the other half, I really wanted to but was concerned I would become suicidal). I am sure to complete that novel (both the listening as well as the one I began writing in my head while listening) I would need to go live in a shack in the woods for several months with only a typewriter and frozen burrito's and listen to the book over and over and over again. And aside from becoming incredibly fat from burritos, I would either become the unibomber or Virginia Woolf.
The problem with me writing anything LARGE, like a novel, is that I get incredibly overwhelmed by two things. One, is the enormity of the project. I don't do well with long term relationships (outside of my love life that is). The idea of working on one creative project for months or years sounds ... well ... awful. I would get sick of it. Or get interested in something else too quickly. I am ADHD in one area of my life and that is my creativity. Before I have even gathered my materials for one project, I have thought of another, and abandon the first. Rarely do I finish them.
The other bit that overwhelms me is the opening sentence. It is such an incredibly powerful thing and sets the entire tone of the novel. And first sentences live forever and can sometimes outweigh an entire book. After all, who remembers much about Moby Dick besides, "Call me Ishmael" and that there is a whale as a main character? (Here is a list of the 100 greatest first sentences in novels OF ALL TIME ... I think that author is full of themselves and their opinions ... http://www.pantagraph.com/articles/2006/02/04/news/doc43e3e6b004381080724526.txt)
The entire idea of the opening sentence makes me so nervous, that by the time I rewrite it a dozen times, I have forgotten the outline of my entire premise.
By the way, the last opening sentence I wrote for my imagined novel that I will never write is this: She sat down at her typewriter, and stared at the blank wall in front of her.
Bleh.
For more thoughts on opening sentences to novels and whether or not they matter, read this article that I haven't read:
http://www.librarything.com/topic/34068
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