A little cheese, please, to go with my whine

I’ll keep this short and sweet, because there’s some good stuff to report (separate post coming) and I don’t want this little “moment of negativity” to get in the way of reporting it.  But, just let me say that overall, it’s been a downer of a winter. I am normally an optimistic person, but I’m having a lot of trouble remaining that way on most fronts these days – I’m completely frustrated politically, sick of the cold, and sick of the construction going on across the street from our house that has blocked easy access to our driveway and torn up my front yard not once, but three times in the last three months.

On the plus side, there have been some high points at work lately including our recent Annual Dinner in which we honored some of the East Side’s best and brightest business, civic and volunteer leaders, and a huge challenge as far as finding creative ways to engage members and raise revenue to support the organization. And, my recent period of delving deeper into Facebook has resulted in some wonderful friendships from long ago being re-energized.

When I look within, I can always find something to feel positive about. For some reason, this year I’ve been less able beat back the negatives. All I can say is, I’m trying.

2009, let's think positive shall we?

Do New Year’s Resolutions tick you off? I mean really, what’s there to like about a weepy, nagging list of impossible must-do’s that force you to focus on your absolute worst qualities?

“Lose weight.”
“Stop (bad habit)-ing.”
“Stick to a budget.”

Blecch. Sounds like a lot of pointless self-loathing to me, so I refuse to participate. Instead, I’ve compiled a list of things I really like to do do – and therefore, will be doing more of in 2009, just because they make me happy:

Writing – blogging, novelling, etc.
Singing – specifically, perfecting my “signature set” in karaoke.
Riding – my motorcycle. Far too little of this in the year just past.
Appreciating – my home and family, especially marveling at the person that is my daughter.

Most importantly, though, in 2009 I’ll be looking for ways to pay forward just a fraction of the kindnesses shown to my family and I in 2008. A little Kevin Spacey, a little “My Name is Earl,” perhaps, but it sounds like a wonderful year.

What could possibly go wrong?

2008, please don't let the door hit you on the way out

You might think, after the year I’ve had, that I’d be reluctant to post a “year in review.” Although I did recently vote 2008 my Least Favorite Year in Over a Decade, there were a few good things that came out of it. So in the spirit of putting a positive spin on a truly horrible year, here are the good things that happened to me in the year just past:

I started a new job that I really like.
We bought a very nice new house. (Bonus: I got to experience the whole house-hunting/buying process for the first time ever.)
I was given, once again, the opportunity to purge my earthly belongings and redefine the type of “stuff” that’s important to me.
I learned a new craft/creative skill: digital scrapbooking.
I was reminded of who my true friends are.
I was given the opportunity to realize how well-liked and widely known my father was.
We had a lovely holiday season in our new house, with plenty of room for visitors and the amazing feeling of no longer being the largest object in any room.

How about you? In spite of whatever troubles you faced, were there positives that came out of them? Share them here!

UPDATED with video: She's going… but she's not going quietly

Got a call that they were set to demolish our flooded house today, so knowing that work goes quick, headed over to watch it happen. About 2 minutes into the work, something broke off the giant claw and just like that, they were done for the day. Now the house is sitting partially busted up and exposed and likely to stay that way for a few days while they wait for a part and/or deal with this week’s winter weather. I know, it’s just a house – and an empty shell at that. But it’s painful, seein’ it like that – seems like there’s just no dignity for this poor house. Video above shows the entire 2.5 minutes of work that was done on Monday, 12/8. The audio of a voice saying, “DON’T, no no no,” is me telling a news photographer I didn’t want my picture taken.

Out of hibernation… just in time for winter!

I said back in June that things were pretty overwhelming – I can’t even begin to describe the agony that was this past summer, so I won’t even try. I will just say that  “overwhelmed” doesn’t even begin to cover it. The long list of tragic things that occurred, coupled with the uncertainty left in their wake, actually began to change who I was as a person. A person I did not even like.

BUT – I daresay that things are slowly getting back to normal for my family and I, so perhaps I needed the period of hibernation. Here is a brief update.

Dad – I miss him terribly. I easily become wracked with guilt over various things I wish I could change (hey, I’m Catholic, it’s genetic), so I try to avoid thinking about them.

Flooded Home – we sold our home to the City through their buy-out program. We used these proceeds to pay off the mortgage and position ourselves to qualify for another loan. Fortunately, we hooked up with Bankers Trust. They were able to look at our specific situation and help us even though we weren’t their usual “perfect customer.” I thank them for taking us on.

New Home – We qualified for a mortgage and bought a wonderful new home on the South Side. We spent a couple of weeks cleaning, painting, repairing, replacing… and now it’s very nice. Here are the ‘before” pictures – I haven’t taken any “afters” yet, but I’ll share them when I do.

Flooded Friends – We have good friends, former neighbors, who are still working to repair their flooded home. It looks like they will be finished up in time for the holidays, as long as you don’t count Halloween. Nice to note that one of the two pieces of furniture in our house that survived the flood was the hand-made writing desk that Kristin’s grandpa made and that she gave to me. It’s now an “island workstation” in my new kitchen.

New job - I have a new job that started May 15, which I absolutely LOVE. I am still in the economic development industry, which is challenging now with the goofy economy, but I am in a leadership role and really enjoying it. Here’s hoping my board of directors loves me as much as I love them!

The Future – ah, who knows. My family and I are trying to figure out what “normal” looks like, and we are looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas in the new house. I hope to blog a little more – there have been many times this summer when I observed or thought of something that made me say, “I should blog about that” – and then just didn’t have the gumption to do it. Now I feel like my “gumption” (whatever that is!) is slowly returning, so maybe I am not done blogging after all.

More soon…

A writer's ideas: not scarce, but fleeting

Last week I quoted Virginia Woolf’s statement about women writers. I did so with only the most cursory of Google look-ups to get the quote correct, and I confess I had not read the entire essay from which the quotation was taken. My curiosity got the better of me, though, and I did finally go and look up the full text of “A Room of One’s Own.” And found this marvelous little analogy, not about writing, but about those nagging little ideas that come to you but get away before you can fully develop them:

“Thought—to call it by a prouder name than it deserved—had let its line down into the stream. It swayed, minute after minute, hither and thither among the reflections and the weeds, letting the water lift it and sink it until—you know the little tug—the sudden conglomeration of an idea at the end of one’s line: and then the cautious hauling of it in, and the careful laying of it out? Alas, laid on the grass how small, how insignificant this thought of mine looked; the sort of fish that a good fisherman puts back into the water so that it may grow fatter and be one day worth cooking and eating.”

I especially love how Woolf compares her seemingly insignificant thought to being “the sort of fish that a good fisherman puts back into the water…” beautiful! Of course, Virginia’s “insignificant thought” became the basis for her entire lecture on the “unsolved problems” of women and fiction.

In my world, I liken this to the process of collecting ideas for my writing. Ideas for stories, articles, bits of dialog, scenic descriptions… all the odds and ends I’d like to keep track of. Probably a thousand of them dart through my mind each day, but I rarely make time to lay them out in the grass – to use Woolf’s analogy – for real study. I do take one precaution, however, so they never completely slip away from me: I write them down, either in a notebook or on any slip of paper I can grab, then I drop them into a file for future browsing. It’s good mental exercise to go back and look through my notes once in awhile to see how many of these bring back the full original thought… and how many of them get “developed” in a direction completely different from the one originally intended.

Becoming the writer I want to be

Remember my post from the other day about the Writer’s Market reference book? And then the one about wanting to visit my childhood house because I might be unhappy with the present?

Well, further reflection on those recent bits of self-reflection have led me to a pretty important realization: I am a writer, but I’m not yet the writer I want to be.

The writer I want to be looks back on a writing career – not on a marketing, or a public relations, or a business communications career.
The writer I want to be holds a volume in her hands (fiction? non-fiction? it matters not) with the word “By” just above her name.
The writer I want to be feels like a writer – not like a cubicle dweller.

Remember my other post – the one about all the businesses I’d thought about starting? I think those may have been roadblocks. Roadblocks I was throwing into my own path, because I was afraid that the true path might lead to failure, or toil without gain, or something else undefined but awful.

All of this means that I’m hereby vowing to become that writer. I’m going to stop thinking about being a t-shirt printer or a junk-shop owner, and start thinking about how to become the writer I want to be. Because that’s what’s in my soul. It’s who I’ve always been. And I think it’s time to get out of my own way.

7 Things About Me!

I’m delighted to have been tagged by Brett Rogers over at BeatCanvas to participate in a meme called “7 Things You Never Knew About Me.” I’m supposed to share some things about myself that might surprise you… and then “tag” (invite) a few other folks to participate. Here goes:

1. My first job was reading newspaper articles and business documents to a blind entrepreneur. This financed my purchase of a Honda Express. My second job, around age 16, was as a DJ at a roller skating rink. (“Are you ready to HOKEY POKEY??”) This financed my purchase of a pair of dance skates. I became a really good skater, and stayed that way well into my 20’s. These days… well, let’s just say I’ve noticed that my center of gravity has changed.

2. Back in 1993, the inside of our home and all its contents were destroyed in “The Flood.” I was pregnant at the time.We rebuilt the house and officially became the idiots you see on television who refuse to move.

3. After graduating from college, I began a book-length work in which I intended to analyze various elements of cinematic symbolism contained in the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers movies. I wrote detailed essays about several of the films, but stopped when I got to “The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle” because I didn’t like that one and didn’t want to sit through the multiple viewings it would have taken to do my research. My favorite Astaire/Rogers movies are “Swing Time” and “The Gay Divorcee.”

4. Writing – either by hand or electronically – is in my soul. Sometimes, I get “restless finger syndrome” where I literally must pick up a pen and write, even if I’m just scribbling my name. I’m addicted to pens, markers, paper, computers… anything that helps me get the words out.

5. I have a tasteful but discreetly located tattoo consisting of two hummingbirds. I intend to get a second, equally tasteful and discreet tattoo in the very near future.

6. Growing up, my nickname was Jay-Bird, often shortened to Jay. These days, my nickname is Corn Dog.

7. I am a brand-loyal Harley Davidson rider, and learned to ride motorcycles at the age of 40.  I’ve since ridden about 12,000 miles, including a 2006 trip to and from the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.

I’m going to specifically tag three bloggers to play along here - Shane, Iowa Harley Girl, and Steve Mathews – but if you’d like to participate without being tagged, feel free! Please be sure to link back here in your post so we can go and read it! And as always, if you don’t have a blog, feel free to post your “7 Things” in the comment section below.

Writer's Market: a writer's wish-book

We were at breakfast today at Porky’s, and our favorite waitress, Kristin, told us she is a writer. I was delighted – she has such enthusiasm for her own work, none of that “I like to write but I’m not very good.” So I was telling her about a reference book for writers called “Writer’s Market” – it’s an annual volume listing all the various outlets where writers can submit their work for publication.

When she had left the table, my husband asked me to explain again what it was, so I did, and I mentioned that I don’t have my 2008 edition yet because it’s kind of expensive. I told him I had been buying my annual copy every year for about the last 20 years. It’s a great browsing book, one that gives me ideas for stories and articles just by reading about what the magazines are looking for. He asked me why I keep buying it even though I don’t make a concentrated effort to sell much of my work. I told him the book is important for another reason… it was a reason I knew about in my heart, but had never shared before:

“Buying that book every year, even if I don’t sell a piece of writing, is a sign that I still think of myself as a writer,” I said. “It’s like hope. The year I don’t buy a copy of Writer’s Market is the year I’ve given up on that dream.”

At that point I had tears running down my face and my family looked a little stunned. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was that important to me until just now.”

Of course, there’s no way I’m not a writer. I write three blogs, I write daily at work, I have a novel in progress. But the fact is, it’s nearly impossible to find time these days to capture a moment where I feel like I did the day my great-aunt gave me my first pine study desk, when I sat down and just knew what I needed to be doing for the rest of my life – even though I was only in second grade.

So the Writer’s Market is kind of a short-cut… a visual cue that reminds me of who I am, even though I can no longer sit at my little study desk and soak in the feeling. Without it, I’m still a writer… but I’m not a dreamer.

Suddenly Writer’s Market doesn’t seem so expensive.