Don't Go Speed Your Time Away

   
     As long as I can remember I've had a bad habit of wishing I was somewhere other than where I was at that moment. When I was little I wished I was big, when I was with family I wished I was with friends... I've since stopped doing it - maybe because I'm older now. Well, I've stopped in all but one area. I still find myself wishing I was somewhere writing while I'm at work! Horrible I know, but it's the truth.

     Don't get me wrong, I actually like what I do, but is it my passion? Not hardly! I normally do a pretty good job at staying focused and being productive, but every once in a while my mind wanders to that teenage fantasy of sitting at my desk or kitchen table in a sweatshirt, leggings and slouch socks (Ooh, I may have just dated myself!) cranking out my latest book or an article on my laptop while the cat naps peacefully at my feet... Never mind  that I don't own a cat!

     The fact is this: by the time I get home after 9 hours of pouring into someone else's dream, fighting through and hour and fifteen minute commute one way, dropping off and picking up, I'm shot! I don't feel like looking at a computer. I don't feel creative in the least. The weekends come and go before I get settled in good... It's quite a quandary it is.

     The reality is that not working is not an option for me right now. Not only does it lack wisdom at this stage in my life, but it would surely have me, my laptop, AND my imaginary cat out on the street!! So, my plan is to keep working and to make time, even if it's once a week, to WRITE; to use those rare 'spare' moments to WRITE; to look for outside opportunities to showcase my writing until the writing becomes my main source of income. I'm still ironing out what that's going to look like exactly, but it's not like I haven't got the time. Hey, and in the mean time, I may just get a cat before it's all said and done!

Free Writing Day #3...erhm.. I mean #4...

I didn't make it on here yesterday, which would have been the third installment in my free writing endeavor. My plan was to write for five minutes everyday no matter what. Here's the thing though, I missed yesterday and guess what? The world did NOT come to an end! Imagine that!!

I don't know where I got this notion that things will fall apart if I deviate from the plan even a little. I mean, my parents did not load me with guilt as a child nor did the people around me. Still somehow I took this load upon myself, this exaggerated sense of obligation. I became my own task master. I required my self to make bricks, but took away my supply of straw!* A lot of times I don't even realize I'm doing it because I've become so used to it over the years. If I don't catch myself I can become a big ole 'ball-o-stress' and then I have to talk myself down from the ledge.

Maybe it is partly because I am an inherent people-pleaser. I just hate to let people down. Or maybe it's because I don't like failing at anything. When you toss in a heaping portion of perfectionist, it's the recipe for the perfect neurotic!

But fear not, there is hope! You see, I'm aware of this tendency, and I'm working on it.My quest is to practice balance. I try to set realistic, achievable expectations of myself (no more making bricks without straw!); I make a conscious effort not to beat myself up if things don't go as I planned; and, most important, I remind myself often to HAVE FUN! I write because I enjoy it - a lot. The moment I forget that I've missed the point.

So yeah, today is day 3 or 4, and you know what? I'm perfectly ok with that. :-)


* Reference to Exodus 5:18 where the Egyptian Pharaoh decided that the Hebrew slaves should start providing their own straw to make bricks but didn't lower the quota of bricks they had to make. [can you say HARD LABOR?!]

Free Writing Day #2 - Home Sick

 I took a sick day today. For lunch yesterday, I went to the corner store near my job and got some fresh veggies and dip to snack on. Apparently the veggies [or the dip] weren't any good...

Five minutes from my house I started to feel queasy and my head started pounding... By the time I walked in the door it was all I could do to walk in the door and fall into bed.I didn't feel much better this morning so I stayed home.

Now, I can't speak for anyone else, but I always feel slightly guilty when I take a sick day; especially when I end up doing things around the house. It kind of feels like cheating on work... Like today, I did some cooking, washed and styled my hair read a little, and watched more television than the law allows...

I'm not sure what I think I should be doing but I have visions of a sick person in bed with a thermometer in her mouth and an ice pack on her head. That's not typically how my sick days look...

The good news is that whatever it was has passed and I will be heading back to work tomorrow... :o)

Free Writing Day #1

Have you noticed lately that:

• drivers no longer use their turn signals to let people behind them know which way they intend to go? It's like the new generation of drivers think the turn signal is optional because, since the world revolves around them, we should all instinctively know which way they are going to go. Really? I don't mean to sound so crotchety, but these are the folks that cause the accidents that back up traffic and make us all late for work - again... Sigh...
• that a lot parents ask their children what they want to do rather than telling them? What??? That is so not how it was for me growing up. I got told, I most certainly did NOT do the telling. It was crystal clear that I was the child not the parent. My mom and dad didn't care a lick about being our friends - they had friends. Their job was to raise me and steer me in the right direction and the friendship would come later... what a concept...
• the more connected we are [email, texting, IMing, Skype, mobile banking] the less connected we really are? When's the last time you walked in to your local bank and had a conversation with the teller who processed your transaction? I used to laugh at my mom about that, but when I went to deposit her check once when she broke her leg, the tellers all knew her and wanted to know who I was and what the heck I was doing with her check! Think about it...
• that the things "old" people used to tell you when you were growing up, the things that seemed so random  and irrelevant then, suddenly make perfect sense? Come to find out they actually knew what they were talking about! Makes me wish I'd paid closer attention... The scary part is, now I'm the old person telling my nieces and nephews things as they stare blankly convinced I must be from another planet... payback I suppose! 

My time is up for today, but those are a few things I've noticed lately and I'm wondering if it's just me. I did minimal editing and it was actually fun! 47 more days to go! Make it a memorable Monday all!

Observation vs. Participation

I have spent the better part of 2011 trying to figure out why I haven't been writing like I once did. The discipline of physically sitting down and writing a simple blog post or journal entry remained elusive over the past 316 days.

I found this strange because so much has happened this year. I also find it strange because my love and passion for writing has not waned... So what gives?

After thinking on this issue for a bit, I came up with a few reasons and more important a few solutions so that 2012 [and the rest of 2011 for that matter] does not become more of the same. So here goes:

• I have fallen into a pattern of observing vs. participating in life. Odd considering our life experiences provide the fodder for our writing. No wonder I didn't feel like I had anything to say! The Solution? I am forcing myself to get up off the couch more and become a active participant in my own life. Not soley for writing purposes but who wants to play an extra in their own life??? I'm starting by FINALLY attending a local writing group. They have been sending me evites for nearly 2 years - this will be my first time attending... sad I know.
• I am too much of a perfectionist. If I don't think what I am about to write is going to be pulitzer worthy, then I don't bother to write... How dumb is that??? I'm glad the guy who penned Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer didn't think like that! The Solution? Stop taking myself, my writing, so seriously and just let whatever comes out, come out! I'm going to start by free writing everyday - no self editing, no trying to "make it make sense" just writing. I'm excited to see what will come of it!
•  I stopped reading. I was once an avid reader. If I had a question or wanted to know something, I'd read up on it. If I wanted to lose myself in a good story, I'd read. Then I went back to school as an English major and all I did was read... assigned reading. When I took a break from school I decided to just "veg" for a while.... Sadly I never stopped. The Solution? I've downloaded several books on my nook and I plan to take some time every day to just read. Reading is inspirational and motivational. I've often heard that good writers are readers, and I believe that.

So, it's day 317 and while I'd love to hang out here, I've got places to go and people to see and stories to tell! Happy Sunday all!

A Belated Thank You

Have I ever thanked you
For breaking my heart
Because I've been meaning to
And I don't mean it in a bitter or sarcastic way
at all....

See, it's because of you that I know
What a relationship can be
Because of you I know the depths that are possible
The heights that are scale-able

If not for you I wouldn't know
How it feels to open your heart and soul
To another without reservation
And still be accepted - oh the sensation

I wouldn't know it was possible to speak
Without saying a word
Or that eyes can convey what the heart seeks

So yeah, I've been meaning to thank you
For years I've been meaning to thank you
So... Thank You

Memories

How long has it been?
20, 25 years?
Yet when I close my eyes
your face appears.
I can still feel your arms
that strong embrace
I can still see the passionate
Look on your face
I prayed that the memories
would begin to fade.
But once they are there
They cannot be un-made
So all these years later
Though time has passed
The memories of you
continue to last...

Writers Write...

I always feel a little guilty when I hear fellow writer's use the phrase, "writers write." I mean, it's true enough, but it always triggers the nagging doubt that I manage to keep hidden most of the time. The inner voice that questions, "Are you sure you are meant to be a writer?"

I have been in workshops with writers I love and admire and heard them tell of waking up at ungodly hours to  crank out a chapter or two BEFORE work! What? Or burning the midnight oil to do the same. Not! I would leave these sessions calling my own commitment into question. Truth be told, some days it's all I can do to wake up when the alarm goes off at 4:30, stumble out the door get to work by 7, work for 9 hours, stumble back into the house and try to fit in some things before I fall into bed to do it all over again... Days go by when my pen never touches the paper or my fingers don't touch the keys. Does that mean writing is not important to me? That I am less than dedicated? That I am less of a writer somehow? Because I am not writing at a set time every single day does that necessarily make me less committed to completing my work? For those who would say "yes," I have to disagree.

Yes, writers write, but it may look different for you than it does for me. I may get a chorus to a song while stuck in traffic on the way to or from work and jot it down in black eyeliner onto a crumpled envelope. The idea for a scene in the novel I've been working on may come to me when I'm brushing my teeth and I pause to write it down. My method is not the most organized for sure. There is no apparent rhyme or reason, but it works for me... for now anyway. As I remain open to those idea moments the ideas continue to come. As I piece them together the tapestry they weave is a thing of beauty; a story that I allowed to flow through the available spaces in my life. I am so OK with that.

So yes, writers write, but the process is as individual as the writer himself/herself. My friend A writes to music, T prefers quiet, while I tune out the noise around me and write anywhere. The end product is the same - a beautiful piece of writing. Writers write indeed!

Thinking of You

by Esperanca Cardoso (c) 2011

I am thinking of you today

Smiling to myself about a joke we have yet to share

Longing for conversation with a voice I’ve never heard

I am thinking of you today

Hoping your day is going well

Wondering what you have planned for the evening

Wondering when those plans will include me

I am thinking of you today

Imagining how we will meet

Expecting to run into you at any time and just know

Until then, know that I am thinking of you…