Monday, January 25, 2010

She dreams in color, she dreams in red

My muse is in full swing tonight. I'm full of ideas for writing, creating, doing. I've decided to take a cooking class this spring and maybe a Japanese class or two this summer. I will bake a chocolate souffle and Coq Au Vin before 2010 ends. And I will write at least 4,000 words every week.

And I'm going to start keeping a video diary. Something to record my world in real time. I had a good idea for a random bit of writing, nothing for a story really, just a random passing thought of prettiness, but the idea of sitting down and pounding it out and making it work when it would only ever be that paragraph, was just too much. Part of it is that I'm tired-- I've been getting 4-6 hours a night compared to my preferred 8-10, and while my mind is bursting with ideas, ideas are easy; writing is work. Rewarding work, good-for-something work, but tonight, my lazy thoughts would rather drift to the page in demonstrative sentences.

I'm all out of poetry, folks. For the moment anyway.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

A disorganized mind makes for a disorganized life

I'm falling behind on everything- friends, obligations, work, writing. It's all beginning to unravel. Still, I have this ridiculous optimism that if I just buckle down and work hard enough, keep a list and check things off, I'll be fine soon enough.

Beginning with grading. I've spent the last two days cleaning and shopping and preparing for a couple of upcoming visits, beginning with my friend this coming weekend and culminating in my sisters and mom coming to spend the night and see Wicked in February.

But right now, the grading is behind. I really need to finish this stuff by Wednesday... NEED to.

I wish I could do work but on my own time table... then again, look how that's worked out for me on the book. Maybe instead everything of any importance should have someone keeping up with me, checking in on me, telling me that I won't get paid if I don't finish this chapter or that scene. Not a secretary, because I'd just be having her move all of my appointments, haha -- but a real life novel writing boss, who believes in me and keeps me motivated.

But that's not the way this works.

I have decided one thing today: Get a planner and USE IT.

I'm with CoCo

Watched Conan O'Brien's last show. Still watching actually, as Will Ferrell sings him out.

I am so impressed with the candor, honesty, but above all, integrity O'Brien went out with. I'll be looking for his speech online and posting it once I find it. Classy.

He was always my very favorite talk-show host of the late night or any other variety, could make me laugh until I cry sometimes; I'm just a sucker for that off-the-cuff quirky humor. And if I'm completely honest, I had quite the crush on him. A good sense of humor is sexy. ;)

We'll miss you, Mr. O'Brien. Here's hoping we won't have to for long and you ink that rumored deal with FOX.

Monday, January 18, 2010

I Look for Ghosts

Note: I looked for more information on the history of this poem, titled, Margaret's Affliction" and upon its writing, his sister was alive. It was written for a woman searching for her son. Hence the anger, desperation that bleeds through the courtly lines. Still. Imagine revisiting these words after the death of his beloved sister... that frustration would be more personal.

I think Wordsworth was probably thinking of his sister when he wrote

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That ever there was intercourse
Between the living and the dead.

And I think he was angry. I think he felt lied to; maybe he'd heard others say they'd seen the ghost of a loved one. Maybe he'd read of hauntings or sightings, the kind of thing that serves to titillate or inspire fear until you lose someone. He had crossed a line, and it changed everything.

Sometimes, I look for ghosts. I don't actually expect to see any, but there has been a moment or two that I've looked for my Grandpa Beasley, a mechanic with the soul of a writer. Or the boy who was hit by a car when I was 6 -- I still wonder about him. I am a Christian and I believe our souls go somewhere when we die, so that's another reason I don't think I'll ever see these ghosts: my grandfather's hands, laid large on the table to reiterate a point or a boy on a bicycle, transparent and eternally six.

But still. Sometimes. Late at night or very early in the gray morning, I look for ghosts.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Of pity parties, being honest, and neurotic thoughts

First, here's the state of me today: I've been watching movies all day and feeling sorry for myself. What I really want is some good chocolate. And honestly, I'm so sore from starting this new workout that I literally can't raise my hands higher than my head.

Also. You know how they say that anyone that begins with "Honestly" or "To be completely honest" is most likely about to lie to you? Well. I say that and I'm not lying. I use it for emphasis, when I'm worried someone won't understand how important what I'm saying is.

Watching Adaptation, and his neurotic thoughts are so... familiar? Haha. Writers are freaks. But it's all good.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

I'm missing the montage

You know those moments in the movie when the heroine has this huge epiphany that something has to change or happen, so she's exercising, writing, reading, cleaning, or just overall bettering herself? It's always set to something fast and happy, an "I can do this" feeling to the beat. And the months of hard work, sweat, and toil are combined into about 2 minutes worth of smiles, back thumps, and skippy music.

It's montage time, and I can't hear the music anymore. I want a two-minute speed up where I lose the weight, write the novel and completely organize and clean my house in a matter of 2-3 minutes all to... how about "Jump" by Madonna? That's about a fresh start...

The truth is, there are no montages in real life. It's every day boredom and pushing yourself when the last thing you want to do is pick up a barbell or sit down to a white computer screen. Why do I dread the writing? By my own admission, I love to write, but writing a novel, taking on a project, that requires discipline. I can't just get a random weird idea and run with it for a paragraph or two, then post it on my xanga and sit back and relax; these characters need to grow and change, the pace has to be tight, the dialogue realistic. And, oh, yeah, I should vaguely know where they're going.

Discipline. It's the key to any success, small or big. And it's more than hard work, it's an attitude of commitment; a choice to do what needs to be done, even when it doesn't feel that great.

So. That's my New Year's res. To jump in and become a part of the montage. To be disciplined and stick with the 4-6 month plan and build these dreams, block by block, into reality.

Did you make any?