Right to Write???

Have I mentioned that I hate internet communication? Because, I do. I think it has the potential for such veiled evil. I’m not even talking about dangerous child predator or stolen identity stuff.
No,
I am talking about a level of unprecedented self-involvement that has come to characterize this generation.
I am talking about forfeiting intimacy with a few in exchange for fandom from the many.
I am talking about misconceptions, misdirections, etc, etc, etc.

Why then, did I start a blog?

It is a fair question, especially from those with whom I have ferociously debated the concept. In a nutshell, I created August Angst because Kelly told me to. As a good friend she told me that I wasn’t a writer if I wasn’t writing and a blog might just give me the accountability that I needed.

I looked down my nose at the idea for a few weeks and then had a come to Jesus with myself.
 “Here is the thing,
I have to write to be a writer.
I don’t write when no one is looking.
I have no time for any submitting work.
Somethings gonna have to give.”

So, I decided to start a blog.

It would be my craft practice. Not a diary. Not therapy. Not something that would take the place of mature and direct communication with those with whom I am in relationship. And until yesterday I felt pretty good about having reached those goals.

But here is the only problem. I don’t know that I have the capacity to write something that isn’t in some way therapeutic. As much as I love to peruse the thesaurus and diagram sentences, at the end of the day writing is always therapy. And that is probably why a few weeks ago when I was feeling fragile, I decided to write about dates from last year.

I did not jump into that writing lightly. I thought about each person who had been gracious enough to pay for my meals, movies and museums and I considered whether they might ever be privy to this little NON-DIARY. It didn’t seem like they would (though I certainly knew there was a chance) so I proceeded with my snarky commentary—knowing that it revealed more about me than each of them.

Yesterday I found out that those little snarky comments had been discovered by at least one of my blog-characters.

And I mean, in all fairness to myself, I have yet to reveal anything horribly tragic about anybody. And I haven’t broken trust with anyone with whom I remain in relationship. But, I still feel like someone should stick my nose in a corner and make me think about what I have done.

It isn’t that I think my words have crippled anyone, in fact I have been assured this is not the case. But I can’t seem to shake that golden rule flippin’ around in my head, so I have to wonder what might happen for me if I came upon this post :

“Tips # 7-15 as learned from the overly dramatic blog-writer”.

7. Don’t be a weirdo 8. Brush your hair 9. Shut up for a half-second 10. What is with all the obnoxious laughing ? 11. Stop interrogating 12. Ever heard of a tweezer? 13. Get some speech therapy for that disgusting smack of yours 14. Try not being the loudest person in the restaurant 15. Don’t be a DB and journal about this date online, like some kind of reject seventh grader

It wouldn’t ruin my life.
I’d probably laugh at a clever line or two.
I might even show a friend in a rare moment of unfrazzled maturity
But,
On my worst and most insecure day, I suspect I would remember one of these clever retorts and cry into my pillow.

So, what ‘s a Golden Rule Honoring, Storytelling girl to do?

I think I’ll start by watching The Social Network this coming weekend . Looks dark, disturbing and philosophically similar to myself when it comes to some of these world-wide venues for communication.

Hoping to be back next week,
until then going to let the angel and devil on each of my shoulders duke it out for the win.

Sleep Tight?

People, something has gone awry. I don’t mean to belabor the point, but I think it might have to do with this last birthday. Back in July, as far as one could tell, I was a healthy, vibrant, woman with her whole life ahead of her. Now, just 2 months later, I seem to be in a state of rapid decline.

Two weeks ago, as many of you are well aware, I retched for the first time in 16 years and then spent the evening getting out of bed every 2 hours to lie toilet-side “just in case”. This week I awoke (from an otherwise precious slumber) writhing and screaming out in pain due to a rare and terrifying charley horse. The last, and only other time, that I have experienced a charley horse I was twirling my megaphone and hanging with friends in the choir hallway at BHS circa 1998.

So, in light of this odd return of old afflictions, I felt it best to get myself logged on to the Wikipedia for a little information and reassurance that I was not exhibiting the signs of any horrific and incurable disease. In hind sight, this was not my best decision.

Here is what I found out:

Vomit: may result from many causes, ranging from gastritis or poisoning to brain tumors or elevated intracranial pressure

Charley Horse: Common among pregnant women and the elderly.

So, at first glance, I am either poisoned, tumored, pregnant or speedily headed down dementia drive; however you look at it, the forecast does not seem great. Then to add insult to injury, I am watching the Colbert Report yesterday and I hear that Abercombie and Fitch has had to close down due to one of the many bed-bug infestations currently ransacking our nation. Please don’t misunderstand, because I will, of course, not be in the least affected by any amount of change in the A & F chain. But, I am pretty sure, and by that I mean 100% certain, that if the professionals at a store of that caliber cannot adequately extinguish these little blood-sucking creepers then they are definitely what one might call “all up in” my little couch-bed.

And if nausea, calf-seizing, and night-time crawlers are allowed to persist, one must wonder if there are any good nights of rest in my future. But there is one ray of hope for a restful night to come-- I could go out on another date with the guy whose name and occupation I can never remember, because if memory serves, I almost fell asleep during the one 15 minute conversation that we forced our way through before watching the movie that we had previously agreed upon.  That would supply me a wink or two guaranteed.

So, as a parting gift to all you sleepy-heads out there, I will leave you with Tips # 3, 4, and 5 as learned on my date with (insert snore sound here).

3. Do not choose to go to a movie on a first date…there is no time to get to know this stranger with whom you have agreed to spend an evening.

4. A the end of your time together—love connection or not-- Do not send your date, with little more than a “peace out”, into a dark alley to find her parked car, alone. If you cannot be bothered to walk her to her vehicle, at least get in the habit of providing rape whistles as a parting gift. It is just a polite gesture.

5. And most importantly, do not use the precious conversation time that you do have discussing, much less arguing, the history of traffic on interstate  35. In fact, just to be safe, let’s just say the history of any major highway thoroughfare, should be avoided at this stage in the relationship. Save your civic deliberations for an occasion when you can really give it the time that it deserves. For pre-movie banter, try sticking with info about family, hobbies and jobs. That should be a treat for anyone hoping to get to know you better.

And as a simple bedtime treat for all you faithful readers, I leave you with this little cup of warm milk.


Until next time,

Good Night, Sleep Tight…

Poetry

This past weekend was a sad anniversary for our country:

Remembering what it is like to fear,

What is like to grieve,

What it is like to hate and to be hated.

But this coming weekend is a holy time for many people in the world.

A time of repentance and of reflection and of course-correction.

A time of humility and of confession and of mercy.

And this is one of my favorite (and shortest, and only) Holy Day poems.

Yom Kippur

Liora calls to say I'm sorry,

and I forgive her;

This is the greatest poetry that I know.

May your week be full of grace and love and forgiveness...

Slamming Doors and Ralphing

Tonight, I had a new experience. For the first time in my life I had to have friends drive me home after puking in the single-stall bathroom of a local bar. The story would probably be sexier for some of you if it involved even the least inkling of tawdry behavior but true to form I was actually there with a church group after a fairly mature day of cleaning, conversing and celebrating labor day with my neighmly (neighbor-family). I suppose the immature decision of the day was convincing myself that 5 mini-brownies pretty much equal the size of two normal brownies and let the record show, I have, on many occasions, eaten 2 brownies without any noticeable recourse from my body. But, I hear the only constant is change. So maybe I am just turning into the type of girl who can’t handle her chocolate.

OR maybe I am just turning into the type of girl who saves her blog writing until the very end of the weekend only to find that the end of the weekend always get highjacked by something else—on this particular occasion, it just happens to be vomit. So I promised some more tips in this next post and I want to be a woman of my word, unfortunately, for now the tips are going to have to be quick and dirty. Here goes:

Tip 2 as learned from my date with the musician.

Do NOT slam a door in your date’s face. I know it seems self-evident but if you are rusty enough I suppose it isn’t. My 1st date with the musician was great. No complaints. But on date 2 he started talking a lot of music jargon and became so enraptured with the musical set on the outdoor stage that he hardly noticed me follow him inside to throw my trash away. I was inches away from a broken nose and he was moments away from being placed in the “friend zone”. It all kind of makes me nauseous just thinking about it. No wait, that seems to be the brownies again.

My apologies for having written such a disgusting post, but you gotta write what you know--Ya know? Here's hoping this a one time occurence!