throwing it all away

I' have been thinking since Christmas about doing one of those cleanses. Ya know, where you drink some wierd lemon juice and maple syrup concoction for 10 days and things come out of you that you didn't know existed. It's suppose to detoxify you, which to me sounds pretty wonderful.

Well, after yesterday, I no longer need to cleanse, my body did it on it's own. I woke up at 5am and threw up. Yummy your saying, but just imagine that I kept violently retching for 7 hours. That was fun. All I have to say is that I have the most amazing sister-in-law who did two trips to the store for me to get gingerale and my doctor's prescription. I would have died without her, seriously there were times I was wishing to just pass out and let the vultures come. I'm better now, but sore, sore, sore and still sleeping like it's my job. I've slept for about 14 hours today and it's just 1:20 pm so far. I predict I'll take about 3 more naps today. I'm telling you, whatever this thing is, it knocks you on you back and won't let you up.



it never ends, happy (late) birthdays to d.h. and j.s.

Well, I've done it again and again, missed two more birthdays. However, I think, and hope, that the cards made it on time.

D.H. had her lovely birthday on the 27th. We're getting old, but she's got a new boy she's really digging and I hope it works out for her. I miss her lots and lots.

Happy Birthday D.H.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

J.S.'s last initial is a new one. She got married this summer and guess what, I still haven't sent her her present. Yep, left it on the dining room table when I went to her wedding this summer and everytime I go to the post office, I seem to forget that I also need to mail her present. I double suck for her. She's a rock-n-roll friend in that she reads this blog regularly, emails me and forgives my lackluster, or lack of, responses, calls me and leaves messages and when I don't even return those calls, she sends me a letter. Who rocks more than her?

Happy Birthday J.S.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



a little white or none at all

I'm having a bit of trouble with my fiction writing class. The trouble I'm having is with the fiction part of it. I didn't realize until I tried that fiction writing feels so false to me, so much like a lie. And I never lie, never. Seriously. I barely even embelish. I add my own thoughts to things, but those are still truths, my truths.

And so the lying aspect of it all is leaving a bad taste in my mouth and false words on the page. It just doesn't feel authentic, don't seem real. Our teacher tells us to add details. Details make us believe. That's all good and true, but if I can't really SEE it then I can't find those details and it all seems such an imposter of real life.

The thing is is that I love reading fiction and I'm fascinated at how authors just make stuff up. It may come down to the fact that I just can't lie on the page. I can't James Frey my way out of it.

And that's really all I have to say about that.



colds and letters

The thing about winter is the inevitable cold. I love the cold. I hate the cold. The cold I love comes from the air and makes you put on sweaters, drink tea and read books. The cold I hate makes your throat sore, nose run and body ache. It's just a love/ hate thing.

Today I got a the 2nd real, handwritten letter from a friend in two weeks. There is something about real letters that can knock colds on their faces. Your body stops aching for the 2 minutes you read your friends words and you don't notice that your bare feet are freezing on the stone steps near the mailbox.

I tear through real mail. I skim it looking for stories and excitement then have to go back and reread. I made a little pledge to myself to try and possibly write a letter to a friend a week. Yeah, and I also said that I would write for my writing class everyday. Cold or no cold, some things never change.



it's not so easy everybody

Have you ever read a novel or short story and been like, "Whatever, I could totally have written that"? Yeah, turns out, you can't. It's not that easy. We made a semi-commitment in our writing class to sit and write each day for 10 to 15 minutes. I've done it for three days, skipping one, and today, I made it for a straight 5 minutes. And I'm not trying to write anything, I'm just trying to take some random ideas, writing prompts and just go. It's not so easy everybody. I'm just sayin'.



save me from myself

In one of my favorite movies, Sabrina (the 90’s version), Sabrina’s French mentor tells her that, “Illusions are dangerous people.” I was about 17 when I first saw that movie and somehow that line has stayed with me, resonating and resounding itself when my mind goes wondering.

Last night I dreamt about my illusion. I dreamt that he was getting married. I sat there on the sidelines watching demurely, smiling and nodding on the outside while on the inside I was screaming. I was putting on the brave face. It seems I’m always putting on the brave face. Somehow, though, the wedding didn’t happen. The illusion and the girl walked down the isle, but then something between them happened and the wedding just kind of fizzled. There were more dream like weirdnesses like swimming through gasoline (what?), but I was happy and I just waited. I waited for him like I did the first time we talked for hours, waited for him quietly while inside I was screaming.

I’m tired of waiting and this thing I feel for an illusion, I can only imagine it’s extremely dangerous.



happy birthday kusa

Kusa Jane, my littlist cousin. She's getting older by the year. Ha ha. For reals, she's going to do great things this year; take the GREs, go to grad. school, and become more fabulous all around. She rocks my face off and I'm so happy I'm related to her. Happy Birthday KUSA!!!!!!!!!!!!!



happy (belated) birthday b.c.

I'm a cow. I'm horrible. I'm the worst friend ever. Know that tomorrow I am going to Target to replinish my supple of belated birthday cards, and yes, I stockpile them. Know also, that B.C.'s card is on it's way to her as I type, well almost.

B.C. rocks my face off even though I haven't laid eyes upon her in about 3 years and she lives and hour away from me. We're going to have to rectify this situation soon. I think she needs to travel on over to Richmond and we should go have tea at the Jefferson seeing that it's the new thing I do. So, B.C., when are you free?

Happy Birthday B.C.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



i need a new writing book

I started a fiction writing class today. I’ve never written fiction before and so I decided to challenge myself, see if I could learn a thing, or twelve.

I came home after work and nestled in my bed preparing to read a little before class. Instead, I fell asleep and when my napping alarm began to wake me up I begged the world to stop and let me just sleep, close out the fact that I have paid to take a class. But, I grudgingly roused and readied. I was rifling through some papers looking for my “emergency” card, which the course requires when I had this feeling that I just didn’t want to go. Nerves and possibility were combining into a familiar feeling that lies dormant in me until provoked, the feeling of failure. And I hadn’t even stepped out the door.

It wasn’t scary. The teacher is a writer who lives locally. She’s gone gray early, but embraced it. “I’ll be like you,” I thought as I sat beside her. She wore all black. “So cliché,” I thought as well. She spoke softly with pauses that impregnated the room. But, when she brought out examples by Barbara Kingsolver and Amy Tan I knew I could make it in this class. It’s not that I think I can write like them, I can’t, but the fact that we are basing our learning on popular, attainable writers has me reaching for my pen and my pocketbook. Tomorrow, I’m going in search of writing book!



it’s high time

Sometime in my early childhood on my first family trip to England my mother took me to high tea at Harrods. I’m sure we dressed up and thought we were prim and proper and perfect. I remember being dazzled by the tiers of treats, the clotted cream and the milk in the warm tea. I’m positive I loved it. Then, I bit down on a scone, smothered in cream and jam I’m sure, and out came a tooth. That’s right, I lost at tooth at high tea at Harrods. It’s a milestone I’ll not soon forget and today it all came rushing back to me.

We headed to the Jefferson for our 3:15 teatime. It was my sister-in-law, her mother, and my very soon to be five year-old niece. We walked around and gawked at the chandeliers, the stained glass, the staircase used in Gone With The Wind. Needless to say, we settled in quickly and felt quite fancy. My niece was the reason for the occasion. Her birthday beckons from only a few days away and tea at the Jefferson had kept her up at nights in anticipation. She loved the three tiers of finger sandwiches, cakes, chocolate covered strawberries, Madelines, scones, clotted cream, jam, and our very own individual teapots. She ate the sweets first having only a bit of a cucumber sandwich late in the affair. She was quiet and shy throughout, an opposite personality for her. I think she was a bit overwhelmed, the feeling of grandeur being so new. . She settled in though and walking around with her mother after our tummies were full of Enlgish goodness she said, “I don’t want to go. Can we stay here.” We think she was ready to move in. I understand, high tea can have strange effects on young girls.



in which i write when i should be sleeping

Silence comes sometimes when you don’t expect it. Sometimes it comes dropping slow, sometimes it comes running up behind you. I’ve been reading a lot lately and the silence is not something I expected. I’ve been thinking about trees lately how they stand so symbolically for life. Imagine the redwoods in California and all the history they’ve surmounted, how the world has changed and all they know is roots and leaves, undressing and dressing again.



getting back

Remember in middle school when the phone was second only to your best friend because it was the vehicle on which the friendship thrived? Then, recall when mail in college was a once a weekly trek with breath held for a piece of communication from a actual distant friend? This was all, of course, before email really hit it big.

I've been neglectful lately, actually for awhile. I've left emails unanswered, not returned phone calls, and not written thank you notes promptly. I've been a recluse lately. It started in the fall with what I'd like to call "the Funk" (but there is no George Clinton in my house) and I shelled up in my home declining or avoiding invitations to see to outside world, converse with near friends or strangers, or even see a movie. Well, it sort of settled on me. I like the way it fits. And even though George Clinton came and took a good portion of "the Funk" away, I still am more inclined to avoid the outings and hole up like a scared little puppy.

I've been reading a book about two authors and their friendship through graduate school and beyond. One friend laments again and again of her fear of being alone and never finding love. She dreds and tries to repel lonliness. I don't identify with her. At all. I love my friends. I love my family, in fact, have just spent a weekend laughing so hard with them that my stomach muscles are sore, but I don't get the loneliness feeling. Sure, sometimes I get bored and sick of myself and when I see couples I get a little jealous, but overall, I kinda dig what I do each day. And the strange thing is that I have more of a problem with how this is percieved than really how I feel about it.

I need to get back into the fray, or at least everyone else thinks I need to. But, what if I just want to take a year off? I know I'm not getting younger, but what if I don't care? What is that is just fine with me? Who is going to stop me?



in which i bore you and place lots of commas and ellipses

I hate cleaning. I think you know this. If you don’t then, well welcome, I hate cleaning. In fact, shamefully, I usually put it off until company is coming or my mind just cannot take the upheaval any longer. (There is, of course, something to be said about a physical environment matching the inner workings of one’s mind). But, yesterday, for some strange reason, I got the cleaning bug. I scoured my kitchen, cleaning nooks and crevices, which were so tiny I thought about getting out a Q-tip (notice the word “thought”). And then I moved to the bedroom.

I’ve been aching to redo my bedroom for a while. I hate my carpet, but I can’t get rid of the hideous beast because my complex requires carpet and I refuse to go and buy something that I may not use when and if I do move from here. So, there’s that. Then there is the fact that my bedroom was basically like someone walked into the room and screamed to the furniture, “Up against the wall with your hands in the air,” and the furniture pitifully succumbed. And, so, boredom came creeping in and the first thought I had was, “Move the bed!”

While my bed is technically on wheels, those wheels are at least 50 years old and while “wheeling” it around, one wheel just decided to give up, pack it in and fall off. Thanks for your support, literally. Strangely, too, I haven’t felt any sort of tilt in the bed since then. In my mind I was going to turn the bed an complete 90-degree turn, but in the turning the bed landed catty corner and I thought, “Well, hmm, I kinda like that.” And thus is stayed.

I’m not sure what it is about changing the position of your bed, but I literally feel renewed. Maybe it’s like your bed is your lookout post on the world and when you shift it around a bit you get a different view. Let’s hope this view is better, I’ve had a rough fall. Here’s to winter, a new year and a catty-cornered bed.



the things i’ve wanted

I’ve decided that my passion is writing, probably always has been though I didn’t know it. It took this blog to point it out to me and I’m so very grateful for that. This little bit of Internet space that not very many people visit has changed my life in so many ways. But mainly, it’s opened the door to writing and reading and I couldn’t love that more.

I’ve spent my holiday with friends and family and books. I’ve read more this break than I have in almost 3 months. And you know what, reading rocks my face off. It changes you and challenges you and pushes you and takes you so far away from yourself. I forget this from time to time until I find a book that opens the world of literature up to me again and suddenly every written word is music. Dear Lord I’m cheesy, but that what’s going on in my head right now, some cheese.

Last night, New Year’s Eve, I spent with my long-standing New Year’s Eve date and best friend, PK. We’ve spent New Year’s together since about middle school missing one or two at times because I had a concert or something to go to. She kisses me after midnight on the cheek shortly after she kisses her husband saying, “Someone has to kiss you on New Year’s.” I love her. She has my heart. I can’t wait to love the crap out of her children.

I always treat New Year’s as just another hurdle to cross, a usually disappointing festivity to endure and I choose to not make resolutions on principal. But, last night a girl stopped everyone and had us go around the room and announce our resolutions. I didn’t want to be the party downer exclaiming, “I resolve not to resolve,” and it would have been awkward to announce, “I’d like to make the boy in the next room fall in love with me,” and so I asked for help and the crowd made a resolution for me that I didn’t hear over the clamoring and cheering. It’s OK; I sternly resolve not to resolve anyway.

And on my way home after an hour long traffic delay getting there yesterday and another hour long delay tonight, I saw a shooting star. I saw one three years ago on New Year’s Eve going to the same party. I don’t know, I’m not so much into the stars aligning and fate and all that stuff, but I do think something is telling me something and so I made a wish. One I won’t share, kinda like my resolutions.

I will however do a little review of 2005:
- a new niece was born
- a friend got married
- I bought a digital camera that I don’t really take the pictures I thought I’d take with it and now pine for a better, more expensive Nikon D50
- I bought an iPod shuffle, you may think this is silly to note, it is not to me, I love my shuffle
- I “contributed” to an article in a wedding magazine about my cousin, which ran in February. There are “” there for a reason.
- I spent a family reunion weekend with my cousins which you may think is also lame except I love my cousins more than you love your cousins and it was one of the best weekends in my life.
- I got a massage and facial for the first time. I also got addicted to them and had another one two weeks ago.
- I discovered the Postal Service.
- I went to see David Gray, Paul McCartney and Wicked for FREE, yo!
- I also saw the Indigo Girls and Coldplay, not for free.
- I interviewed a few boys; none made it to the next round. Stupid boys.
- a friend very shyly announced she was getting divorced, a first.
- 4 baby friends were born
- I made friends with a British boy
- I became more fabulous

And the best thing about 2005 was (drum roll)
- I was quoted in the New York Times, baby! I never told you cause they used my real last name even though I asked the reporter if I could give her a fake one (who asks such stupid questions anyway?). It’s not that fabulous except to me it kinda is.

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