Too Much. Of What, I’m Not Sure

Each morning this week, I’ve woken up with a sore throat. By the time I have to hit the gym, it’s usually gone. Today it was not.

As I type this, my eyes are streaming with tears, and my tonsils are bright red and I feel like I’m swallowing razor blades. I still went to the gym though. I put in decent effort, but every single exercise made me want to burst into tears because I was feeling so lousy, and then feeling sorry for myself.

I’ll go tomorrow too. Just because I have to see the week through. Because I am committed to this bikini idea, and to being the best I can be. But I feel like caca.

Writing time today was replaced with nap time, and I can only hope that I can make use of having to miss choir practice tonight. I have zero energy though, and I feel like an absolute baby.

Perhaps you really aren’t interested in reading my whining?

I’ve become addicted to Violet Blue. I so enjoy her blog Tiny Nibbles, and I’m about to start reading one of her many books. She’s a personal hero of sorts. Between her blog, and Dooce, I have enough fuel for my own fire, and when you also consider that I’m not being drained by the demands of a day job, I’m in great form. If only I could get better at feeling well, and at writing.

Writer friends, how do you stay nimble? What are your tips and tricks for keeping up the flow? I have a head filled with ideas, but the execution seems a little daunting sometimes.

Perhaps another round of ginger lemon tea and my girlfriend’s homemade chicken soup will fix me.

Deboning my Duck

I rented Julie and Julia the other night, and it made me want to do two things:

1. Eat a lot of food cooked in a lot of butter

2. Write here

The movie was cute, but I would have rather watched the Meryl Streep action than the whiny narcissistic blogging girl. In true narcissistic fashion, it made me wonder if I am as narcissistic as this girl, consumed with her musings and driving her husband right out of the house. Then I realized that I haven’t written here in a very long time, and I have no husband. Legal documents may dictate otherwise, but the only ring on my hand is my feisty Nana’s wedding band which I wear proudly on my middle finger.

Here’s what’s happening in Schnooville:

1. I’ve given up on 9-5 forever. Seriously. I mean it. This last stint was the straw that broke this obnoxious, proud, ego-maniacal lion’s back once and for all. I am hell bent on being the boss of me, and am fortunate enough to be in such a position

2. I’m doing a lot of research about one of my favourite topics – sex. There is A LOT of crap out there, written by pathetic jerks looking to make a buck by proclaiming themselves master lovers. I’m sorry for everyone who is buying into this shite.

3. I’m creating an alter-ego. I almost spelled that “altar” and I think there is some significance to such a type o. This is to facilitate my new adventures as a writer and professional master lover. Ha! Just kidding. Sort of.

4. My relationship is awesome. Not perfect, but settling into this awesome place where I don’t have to worry so much about my relationship. I can just kind of be in it, and enjoy it.

5. Anxiety seems to be vastly diminished. I’m sure this is directly linked to my lack of 9-5 job. I really don’t know what I was thinking, trying to go back to that world. I kept telling myself “this time it will be different”, but like all bad pairings, the outcome was the same.

6. I am convinced that my lack of writing here has my mother convinced that something is wrong with me. Mom, nothing is wrong. Everything is actually amazing. You should know by now (my teenage years being the finest example) that I write more when I’m unsettled, anxious, depressed and/or frustrated. I guess it’s like venting.

7. Every female friend I have is now either a mom, or about to be a mom. I’m thinking through this list, and yep. All of ’em. The closest I have to my own “last unicorn” status is my girlfriend who is a step-mom. Amazingly, all maternal yearnings have been subdued by the recent focus on my writing. I am birthing a new career, I guess. I was actually marveling about this today, but then I ended up minding my pal’s five-month-old little dude and I think I have an achy ovary now. I think I’m reassured that my maternal cravings still exist somewhere.

8. Every morning I wake up happy, but realize I desperately, desperately need a bigger bed. Seriously. It’s actually ridiculous now. Am considering moonlighting as an exotic dancer, because I’m fairly convinced I could buy a larger bed after two nights of work. Ha. Kidding. Sort of.

9. My dreams are back. Intense, vivid, grabbing me by the throat and shaking me to my sub-basement. Deep dark childhood fears, feelings of insignificance and self-loathing from high school, terrifying scenarios involving total strangers. I blame therapy.

10. Therapy is AWESOME. Despite the unbelievable dreams, I am realizing exactly how to articulate what I need, and want. I’m also able to really relax into my life and my love, knowing how successfully my needs are being satisfied. My life may be non-traditional, but it works really well for me when I stop worrying so much. I am so in love, and feel so loved, and have faith that we really can make this work. I can’t imagine any other reality.

11. I’m back at the gym. I have a really sexy trainer. My goal is to be confidant in a bikini this summer. I haven’t worn a bikini since I was about six because I still have the exact pot belly I had then, and not the sexy Pulp Fiction kind. As I type this, I notice it actually hurts to rest my chin in my hands. Tomorrow should be awesome.

I’d best make more of an effort to write here. I have no idea how many people are still reading this, but I think about you often. Whenever I have a moment in my day that I consider remarkable, I think “That would make a good blog post, I think my readers would like that.” How fucking pretentious of me, no?

The truth is friends, I had my privacy pretty seriously invaded through this blog, and it hurt me more than I realized. Because of people’s narrow thinking, I’ve had to cut some significant parts out of my day-to-day accounts, and I really resented that for a while. Now, I think I’ve come out the other end.

Writing here challenges me to seek out the little bits of magic that happen every day, for the sake of having something to share. Without my regular posting, I felt like the magic dried up a little, but then, watching that kind of cheesy movie, it all clicked. I missed you, and remembered why I fell in love with you in the first place.

So, I’m back. I’m re-focused and ready to make a fresh commitment. If not for the sake of reaching out and examining, I will write more frequently in the hopes that I can squeeze a moderately entertaining chick flick out of this.

Ha. Kidding. Sort of.

The Trouble with Hump Day

Photo by Kyle Andrew (I like to call it "Mid-Wife Crisis")

Another show is put to bed. I worry that I can’t keep everyone happy, and that the reasons I continue to do these shows with little financial return is not enough for the others. There is so much that needs to happen, so little time to focus, and so few free hands.

What happened to the days of wealthy patrons who would sponsor artists so they were free to create? How I would love a simple, casual job that was fun to do so that the rest of my working energy and efforts could be directed at this enterprise we’ve created that means the world to me.

If I can direct this company towards greater growth and opportunity, who will come along for the ride? I sense so much frustration and exhaustion sometimes, and I wonder how much of it is a result of things moving slowly here, or if it’s a product of the general frustration all artists feel in such a difficult time for performers.

Today, I will devote my time to a clear work plan. List-making has always been such an effective tool for laying out the state of things in a clear manner, and for dividing tasks in a way that makes them feel so much less overwhelming.

It’s been a long time since I’ve set personal goals too. I’ve been waiting so long to land, and for the dust to settle, and now that I feel it has (in most ways) I think it’s time to hatch a plan.

My brother completely inspired me today, and his photography is amazing. I’d link to his website, but it isn’t up to date. Here’s a link to a Facebook gallery of his photos.

I’m tempted to really just say “no” to working full-time, and just see what happens.

Universe, I’m blowing on your fuzzy dice!

Reading, Writing…

I have a couple more resolutions. I hope you will permit me this sounding board.

In 2010 I want to read more, and I want to write more, and I want to create a special place where both of those things can happen.

Right now, I’m tucked away on a vinyl couch in Starbucks, looking out on the snow falling at the corner of Church and Shuter. St. Michael’s looks particularly pretty today, and my solution to some serious restlessness was to change up my atmosphere. The music is a bit too loud, but at least it’s good. Ray LaMontagne. Perfect, actually. I love the snow, and I love winter, and I love feeling entirely alone in a room full of people. Strange, non?

The desire to write more has been here for awhile, but I’m always bogged down by the question of what to write. Snapshots of the inside of my head are interesting only for so long.

When I was in grade four, my love of writing was kick-started by an awesome teacher named Mrs. Fabris (oohh, now Starbucks is playing Nick Drake. Purr…). One of the awesome exercises she did was make a huge pile of pictures she’d collected from old calendars, magazines, and books. We had to close our eyes and pick an image, or sometimes study them and select one, and then we had to write a short story about the picture. I’d like to start this again, somehow. It took all of the second-guessing out of the scenario. Perhaps random iTunes suggestions would work too (Lucinda Williams. Seriously, I could stay here all day.) or random people who catch my eye on the streets.

Also, I’m sad to say that I barely read anymore. I miss this incredibly, but I have rarely had the time to dig my claws into a good book. I’d also like a good reading list, so please feel free to share any recommendations.

I miss my  TTC commute, which was at least thirty minutes of guaranteed reading time. Audrey Niffeneger has a new book. Perhaps I’ll ease into my reading plan with that.

Sunday Poem (Freestyle)

Paperback Writer

Paperback Writer

Stop asking for feedback.
Stop speaking of loneliness.
Stop inviting us to engage in discourse,
Share our ideas,
Hear your voice.
Stop sharing snippets of your world.
Stop referencing your single status

If you are going to be
So cool
So aloof
So detached
So disinterested
So abrupt
So completely ambivalent

When someone who is amazing decides they want to poke you.