write right

If I'm going to really pursue my dream of being a writer, copywriter or novelist, I need to really hone my skillz. Unfortunately, I, like most writers I know, am lazy. And I enjoy being lazy. oh sure when I have a deadline to pursue I get it done, and when I'm getting paid I can do the work, and do it pretty well. It's when it's just for me, or even potentially for something else that I always seem to find time to do something else. I can't seem to sit down and write something good start to finish, I mean I start with some great ideas that just fall flat as I get to the end. I want to be able to stick with it.

I have another problem. when I do write I don't like to show it to other people. I'm afraid of rejection, that they won't think I'm as good as I think I am, that I will pale in comparison to other writers, that the critics (who know nothing) will mock me, and well I'm not ready for any of that. I'm a chicken. how the great authors did it I don't know. granted they were great, but did they know they were great or did they second guess their talent just like me. Do I have the potential to be great or just mediocre?


"The presence alone of Faulkner in our midst makes a great difference in what the writer can and cannot permit himself to do. Nobody wants his mule and wagon stalled on the same track the Dixie Limited is roaring down." – Flannery O’Connor, The Grotesque in Southern Fiction

Water Water everywhere, but not a drop to drink

So I'm not sure who all reads this but if you do, please consider sponsoring me in this year's Skinnyman triathlon. I'm running for Active Water an organization that helps people in Africa get clean water (Blood: Water Mission) and learn how to work the land (Seeds of Hope Int'l). This is my site. check it:

http://www.active.com/donate/activewaterupick/mmskinnywoman

more info to come.

The Final Countdown

As I approach the end of my senior year in college I have to stop and think that it was nothing like I had ever expected. It has been wonderful and I have grown up so much, and learned so much about myself and the world around me that I hardly want to leave. Not so for many of my friends. They are quick to count down the days, some of them have been counting since January. We have just under a month left together and the last thing I want to do is count that away. It saddens me that we have such a tendency to look to the future and ignore the present. Granted, I also hate the reminder that I have 4 papers due in 30 days or less. and Granted, I should be reading Shelley right now but I'm procrastinating because I can't focus on that.

Now, I graduate in May with my friends but also come back in September to finish my second degree in December. So I don't have to go out to the real world yet, I don't have to get a job and I'm not even close to getting married (which more and more of my friends are it seems). But the thought of my closest friends moving on without me is hard. They will have new experiences that I will not have for another half a year. Then there's the thought I have about high school I had a great high school experience and I thought I would be friends with my high school friends for years, but by my sophomore year of college we had drifted apart. I've come to terms with this now, realizing we had too many differences in beliefs to stay friends long and that as we grew stronger in those beliefs or disbeliefs we would eventually separate. and while I don't worry about that issue with the friends I've made at school, I wonder if other things will drive a wedge between us.

My mom says this won't happen, she says I have such better relationships with my friends than she ever had. But still, she doesn't even talk to the maid of honor in her wedding anymore. will I be like that? Will my maid of honor even be someone I went to college with? (especially since I'm nowhere close to marriage) Will I be able to maintain relationships with people as we all move away (some overseas), get married, have kids? People say change is good, that it's natural, that we have phases in our life and people drift in and out. What if I don't want these people to drift out? Can I stop it? I think about how little I talk to the seniors that graduated last year and wonder if I'll go years between talking with my friends from school. I think about maggie and ange and jenny living just 10 minutes walk down in the apartments and how little I see or even speak to them and wonder what will happen when we're 10 hours apart.

I can't help not wanting to count down, wanting instead to try to slow time, to try to live in the moment and enjoy everything, even the academics. (shelley is beckoning) But I wonder if we can, and is that a good mentality? How can I find a balance between slowing down and speeding up? Am I, are we, supposed to? How can I be sure when the end of the year comes I won't be left standing alone, unsure and lost? When high school ended college started. now with college ending, what starts? how does it start? who does it start with? who is there to guide you through it? you're expected to be an adult by now, to figure these things out alone, to pay for everything even when you don't have a job. but how?

Last night I went out for dinner with some of my best friends and we raised our glasses to staying in college as long as we can, and I laughed because I am, but it also made me sad because the rest of them are leaving in a month. and let's be honest, staying in college as long as you can is no fun if your friends aren't there with you.


Song of the moment: I need you now, Lady Antebellum

Koulourakias

Easter is coming and that means Lamb, Kouloura (Easter bread) and Koulourakia (Greek Cookies)
Even though today is Palm Sunday and not technically Easter, it is Jordan's birthday so mom is making Lamb for dinner and Koulourakia for desert. This year Greek Easter happens to fall on the same day as Easter for everyone else. Now we don't celebrate Greek Easter as much as I would like, or as much as we did when I was little, but that's because we aren't Orthodox. Mom went to Greek School when she was little and church here and there, but her mother was an Irish Catholic so that was where they went most. Now, we're protestant and our Easter has a different focus than just tradition. But I still love the traditions, the food, fun and family time (especially the food). But thinking about how important these things are to me makes me realize how much more important the real meaning of Easter is. The thing that gets lost in the tradition, and even in the Modern Era in general. The celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Christos Anesti! (Christ is Risen) Alithos Anesti! (He is risen indeed) is the typical Greek Orthodox greeting Easter Sunday, and also the only time you will hear my grandfather say those words. This is hard for me as I love him so much but our views are so different. and so I cling to traditions because I remember a simpler time with him, when I was too young to talk about religion. Not that I would ever reject my faith or that I don't believe and want to share it, but sometimes with the people you love it's so difficult. But I miss him, and I miss my nana. she's gone now, but he's still around, just hours away which makes it hard to stay in touch and hard to talk to about the big things when you don't want to have a fight, so I like to remember when I was young enough to know what I believed in and take joy in Easter for the right reasons without having to deal with grown-up issues of "religion." That's part of why I'm so happy to have all this food today. Jordan and I just got home and it's his birthday so it's just our family celebrating the truth and tradition of this holiday.

boys. girls. cooties.

When did we decide we wanted to catch cooties instead of run away and vaccinate ourselves from them? I don't know that I ever fully understood any of that. I was the girl next door who played baseball and basketball and tackled the boys in football. I thought cooties were stupid and I didn't understand why my girlfriends got all grossed out when a boy touched them, or why they thought my friendship with Garrett Anderson was so weird. Maybe that's why I never got acclimated to the cootie catching stage.

I think too, that's why I identify with Peter Pan. He doesn't believe in cooties, he just thinks Wendy is wonderful, and wants her to be with him forever and tell him stories and love him...even though he's not capable of ever loving her back. That's where I differ from Peter. I would be great at loving someone back. So I guess there, I'm more like Wendy. I don't want to grow up, but I know I have to, and part of me really wants to be a mother someday. That's about where my similarities with Wendy end. I would much rather be out with Peter fighting pirates and indians than stuck in the kitchen while the boys have all the fun. I don't fit with Peter because I'm not a boy, and I can't stand to be Wendy, the "angel in the home." I don't fit in any mold. People say that's a good thing, they make movies and write books in which the hero is this unique person who never compromises their beliefs and triumphs over all the negative people and events in his life because of that. In real life? Those Unique people are trampled on and pressed to fit in a mold their friends and family understand.

Personally, I love who I am. I love to cook and bake and I like to keep things orderly (most of the time). I love people, and I have a tendency to be very protective over my closest friends and family. I love little kids, and sometimes I'm most blissfully happy when I'm babysitting or playing with my cousins.(Wendy, right?) and I mean, I like boys, I think boys are wonderful, they just don't seem to have a similar opinion of me. I'm still the athlete, I'd rather watch Syracuse Basketball than the Bachelor any night and I tend to hide my true feelings from all but a few very close friends and my family. I love camping, in a tent, with a kayak in the middle of nowhere. I love to have long meaningful conversations with people, and just sit and listen to music and read poetry and drink tea/coffee/good beer with good friends. I love the rain and the way it makes me feel new and the way it inspires me to write.

I don't like the color pink (though I'm told it looks good on me) and I'm told I shouldn't be so opposed to it because that isn't feminine. I've been called a "boy" or "too much like a boy" by my friends and I haven't been on a date, in well...6 years. (and even then, it wasn't a great date) But then I'm not sure I agree with them on what's girly, or even if what's "girly" is the way I should act.

But When I think about myself and how I view myself, I don't understand why boys aren't interested in pursuing me. And I question if I should change and become that pink wearing, nail polished, bachelor watching girl. Why, when my best guy friends have a formal, I'm not invited, but my other girlfriends are. Dad says, "they want to take girls they want to date"...and why isn't that me? and how come, they aren't just taking girls they want to date, but girls they are "just friends" with and not me? Why I've been single all of my "cootie desiring" life. But I don't want to be that pink girl. It's not me, and if there's one thing I hate, it's being fake. But still I find myself asking, Why?

And I think it boils down to this. I think Cooties are stupid. I know, everyone says that, but do they really mean it? The 7 year old girl that giggles when a boy tries to hold her hand and says "ew he's trying to give me cooties" secretly loves the attention. I was never the girl boys wanted to give their cooties to (with the exception of this one kid who proposed to me in kindergarden and 1st grade...then asked for the ring back so he could give it to someone else in fourth grade. and he was pretty gross. I just took the ring cause i thought he would leave me alone...it didn't work)

But basically I never really understood the whole coy thing, I never understood being all giggly and silly because I never was that way. and maybe that makes me less feminine but I don't think so. I look at the Proverbs 31 woman and i hardly see her as the giggly, pink wearing, bachelor watching type. She's strong, loving, knowledgeable, a strong business woman, witty (i like to think) compassionate, a perfect match to her husband. She's the kind of woman who bakes snacks for the superbowl and then sits down to watch the game, actually understanding what's going on.

The problem? Why men don't see me as that woman yet? why I'm "just a friend"? I think they are still in the cootie catching phase, it's more about the thrill of the chase, the "adventure" as my dad puts it. They're not looking for the girl to settle down with yet, they might think they are, some of them might have even been lucky enough to have found her, but the others are running around trying to hold hands and get a giggle out of a girl. I think a third stage comes later, when they stop believing in cooties, when they are happy to just be with that one person, and aren't trying to catch their cooties or vaccinate themselves against them. but for now, they're in the cootie catching stage. They know I'm not the giggly type (I must give out some "you're going to have to try harder than that to flirt with me" ferimone) and they aren't ready to bother. At least that's what I tell myself. I hope I'm right on some level and not doomed to be single because I don't fit the mold.

I could be wrong on this whole cootie thing, but I'm pretty sure my problems with men can be summed up with this lovely example of my childhood. We were at the zoo on a first grade field trip, and I asked Mark Evans if I could talk to him in private. I brought him over to this little waterfall thing, and I told him I liked him and he ran screaming and hid behind his aunt who asked what was the matter. "She likes me" he said with disgust. "So?" said his aunt smiling at me, I bet she thought I was freaking adorable. "So that's gross! She has cooties!!" needless to say I was rather embarassed. 3 years later, when we played his team in soccer, my team hadn't won a single game, (mark and I had been on the same team the years before) and I bet him that we would win. Well, that game I had to play goalie. I hated goalie. I was always afraid of the big ball hitting me in the head, and of being the reason my team lost. I much prefered to play forward or middie and be the one scoring. But anyways, I played goalie. and here comes mark evans with the ball and saved it! my only save ever! (also I never played goalie after that so I never let them in either) and we won the game. Only game we won all season. take that mark evans. ...but that's how i am, i'm the girl who makes bets i'll kick a boys butt, and follows through. I want a man to love me for that. but I havent found one yet that hasn't run screaming.

I think I'm awesome just how I am, (and humble too) but it gets to be exhausting to be last picked everytime when you know you have the skills to be first pick. (i also have this issue when playing frisbee with boys... i tend to blow them away with my talent...i hope a similar situation occurs when I get married ;) ) You wonder what you're doing wrong, if you look weird or if someone told them something about you... I hope that I can find the right man, who recognizes I'm not a boy, and while I'm a good friend, and love people, I can be an even better lover. Who sees my strengths and weaknesses and isn't repulsed by my cooties, and doesn't care that I'm not giggly and pink. Who loves that I will watch sports with him not to humor him, but because we share an interest in them. I just hope. and wait for the cootie stage to end.

Moral of the Story: Cooties are stupid.

Friends, lovers, or nothing

Oh John boy, I have been let down.
I just finished listening to the new John Mayer album "Battle Studies" and the last 5 songs on the album (starting with his cover of Crossroads) are incredible! But it took suffering through the tech ridden effects, distortions and so so lyrics of the first 6 songs, (and the distortion at the start of Crossroads which I really don't like) to get me there. Now this isn't entirely fair. I got off to a bad start with the album thanks to the first song "Heartbreak Warfare" which I really didn't like at all and that kind of set the tone for the rest of the album. But some of those first 6 had really positive points to them. But they're nothing compared to the last 5. By the end of "Friends, lovers or nothing" I'm reminded why I love John Mayer, but for a while, this was not going to be a good review...
I was going to try to force it into a good review because I had what Dylan's fans did to him when he experimented with the new direction of Rock and Roll...but one of my main issues with Mayer is that he has serious talent as a guitarist, musician and he's a pretty good writer, but sometimes that gets lost in the poppy nature some of his studio work takes on. I guess I was hoping for a more soulful album, a deeper album, and some of the later songs are deeper, but you have to suffer to get there... But I promised not to write anything until I finished listening, and even then, I'm sure some songs will grow on me, and some songs like Assassin have great guitar. Overall I thought it was way too overproduced...and just once I would like to see Mayer reach his full potential with a studio album. So far continuum is my favorite but it is nothing compared to his live work with the trio.

I really just think he fell short of his potential with this album, but every artist is gunna have one mediocre album, mediocre novel, mediocre sculpture, I just hope this album isn't a sign of his new direction because, if so, I don't like where he's headed... maybe more listening will change that, but right now I doubt it. I hope he steps it up on the next album, leaves his pop following behind and follows his heart to the true deep music.

The Life of the Tortured Artist

There is a quality of madness associated with all great artists. They may try to deny it, but there is something within them that allows them to harness their creativity while forcing the rest of humanity to keep its distance. How then can an artist get in touch with humanity to create great works that are representative of the trials and struggles faced everyday by human beings? Perhaps this is why they are referred to as tortured artists. They are fighting against their nature to create a product that will satisfy their nature. It is a constant war with self and with the society they are try to represent and save.
The thing that scares me most is letting that madness free. I have kept a strong hold on the reigns all my life and I fear what will get out or where I will go if I allow that creativity to overrun me. To allow myself to be the empty vessel that the spirit pours into and I pour out. I don't want to loose myself...
But then sometimes I wonder, who would miss me? Who knows me well enough to see that I would be becoming a shell of what I was in order to reach my full potential and isn't that an ironic statement? Who would care? Who would support me? and what is the difference between being true to art and true to my art. Should I as artist fade to the background and let the work stand alone? and can I even do that? and what does that mean for who I am? and is the road of the artist always going to be lonely? Will I ever break down the walls and let humanity in even if it hurts?
I hate these feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, anger, frustration, fear, anxiety, and yet, the dark writer in my rejoices in them, it says to me, "look to those who came before you, those who also dealt with these issues and look what masterpieces came from them, you wanted to get in touch with the dark reality of humanity and here is your chance to write something that means something." But then I wonder if I will ever get back from there...Woolf didn't, Plath didn't, Hemmingway didn't... they were brilliant, tortured artists who left a strong vivid mark on the world, and yet, the world was too much with them, or for them, they could not stand to be here, the dark reality of humanity may have become too much for them...
As I get ready to graduate college I wonder what my mark will be on the world. and I wonder if I'll have to go it alone...I don't have anyone who can look at me and say "something's wrong let's go work it out, i'm here for you no matter what" and yet I am that for so many people, I am already pouring myself out and I can't do it anymore. I'm empty. I'm tortured. and I'm not sure it's making me such a better writer, it's just leaving me in a lot of pain; frustrated and confused. Maybe if I knew that my work, my art mattered to someone, maybe that would make me feel better about it, but I don't know if it does or ever will. What if I'm only tortured and I never become anything better? In my craft or sullen art I find solace but how long will that last, and is it ever enough?