Updating.....78% complete

You know how full moons are supposed to make everyone crazy and certain astrological events have a profound effect on how people do things?  Well, if you're into new agey things like astrology, magnets and The Force and stuff then you might be familiar with that concept, but if you aren't then I'm probably about to sound like a crackpot.  consider yourself warned.

Okay, so in the last few weeks we've had some major planetary events.  One of the most powerful earthquakes in history, a devastating tsunami and then the Super Perigee full moon right afterward.  Now, I'm not saying I'm anywhere near Japan.  In fact, I thought I was probably on the exact opposite side of the world from it until I found this totally radical mapping website and found out the geographic other side of the world from my sofa is freaking NOWHERE in the Indian Ocean southwest of Australia.  Anyway, I'm nowhere near Japan is what I'm saying but I think the significance of all those events one right after the other served to shake up just about everyone on the planet.

As the world seemed to be finding its footing that whole week after the devastation in Japan, the Super Moon waxed to bursting overhead and I'm pretty sure that tipped the scales of the universe toward totally bonkers.

At least that's how it feels for me.  I was a guest on a podcast over at wyrd101.com titled "A Fistful of Silver" which carries a NSFW warning and also Not Safe for the Easily Offended which I find oddly flattering and a complete surprise because they told me it was an adult broadcast and I was just speaking freely and I didn't think I was so offensive that I warranted TWO different kinds of warnings.  I didn't even turn on the webcam.  It was fun to be a part of actually.  So, if you aren't at work and have an open mind and also an hour or so go listen and tell me why that event keeps playing in my head on a loop.  Because I can't figure out why.

Another thing that has me thrown for a loop is that I joined the gym last Friday.  I have been there every day except Sunday because my legs were on fire from 96 squat-related exercises but it still doesn't feel real.   I don't even know how to explain the gym thing except that I felt suddenly and overwhelmingly compelled to join.  An irresistible urge.  Which is the definition of compelled if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not because I just looked it up, thanks Google).

I'm trusting it though.  At this point in my life, I feel like I have to trust things like that because how much more time do I have to waste not listening to my intuition?  The more opportunities I squander, the less time I have to enjoy my success when I finally do figure it out.  So I think I should probably just do the right thing now rather than hold myself back any longer.  I think.

I have been wanting a reset button on my life for a while.  Of course I KNOW the universe doesn't give those out.  Well, not without actual death involved and I don't think I'm quite there yet.  But for whatever reason I feel like things got shaken off the shelves internally speaking and I'm reorganizing how they're arranged in my head.  Probably why I haven't been writing here in so long that I feel I hardly qualify as member of the blogosphere these days.  Even though there are a whole host of other things I could and have been blaming it on, it just boils down to me not have my thoughts nailed down in a way that I'm ready to share for a while.

Like this event planning business I mentioned a couple months ago.  I've been dragging my heels on that kinda.  Fits and starts anyway.  And it's driving me nuts.  End of April is when I expect to be fully legit.  I just have to quit talking myself out of it.  I read a quote in Inc. last month that pretty much summed up the mindset I need to keep:

Your competition is a secondary factor.  Analyze whether you think you can be successful or not before you size up your competitors.

Because I don't want to adopt the habit of knocking people down to make myself feel better about my chances.  You know how people do that sometimes?  They look at someone else and say, "What a piece of shit; they should be ashamed of themselves for that attempt." and don't take into account 1. There's always a learning curve and 2. It's pretty easy to sit back and be a critic without getting your hands dirty.  And, y'know,  bitter isn't my best side.  I'll let you know more about the event planning thing as it coagulates.

Having mentioned being critical, I have to admit that I absolutely love Regretsy, the website that snarks about ridiculous crafts on Etsy.  But that's because what Regretsy features is so head cockingly WTF you can't help but rubberneck and giggle yourself stupid.  At least I can't.  so, there's my smidge of hypocrisy for ya.

Men Who Write

Reading men who write is like flipping through a catalog of possibilities.  I like it much better than online personals sites even though most of you are married.  Because personals sites are full of weird as shit people who can't even string together a sentence and don't even get me started on spelling.  mother of god that is atrocious.  This is not a text message.  You look like an asshole.  You're around 40 years old; don't ever type like that out loud.

Anyway, I have always been drawn to men who write.  My best friends in high school were guys who wrote.  They still write.  They're still some of my favorite people on the planet.  Men who have the gift of observation, especially from a completely different perspective, have a special place in my heart.

I know, this is probably strange to talk about just coming off a conference of over two thousand female writers wanting to find their own voices and enjoy being a girl and stuff.  But it's true.  I love surfing the Daddy Blogs.  And the not daddy blogs.  I just love reading the other team's playbook and knowing that thinking men exist in the world.  Because thinking men are attractive if not downright sexy.  From a thinking woman's perspective I mean.  Which is my perspective.  So...um...hi.

Look, I'm not trying to betray my gender.  I'm not trying to say I don't value your voice, ladies.  I do value your voice.  I love reading you too.  But I mean, you write, you know, there's something about a man who knows his way around a thesaurus. He can untangle thoughts in a way that makes you smile.  He can crack your head wide open and pour in things you never considered quite like that before.  He opens a door.  And opening a door is gentlemanly in any circumstance, really.  So, I'm a fan.

Anyway, from what I have read so far since I entered the sphere o' blog I am *this* close to constructing my ideal in my head.  Sorting through aspects from each, piecing them together in just such a way.  It's like a Weird Science amalgamation of thought.  It's fun.

And ladies, no need to get jealous.  Like I said, I am reading you too.  But it's far less likely to get physical between us at any point and I hope you'll allow me my fantasies here.  thx.

Adrenaline Crush

The blog had to go dark for Blogapalooza.  I didn't even open my computer since Thursday afternoon til I got back home tonight.  This had to be a full 3D experience.  And it was wow amazing.

I will follow up and let you know that I did not find the Thousand Cranes scarf in New York's Chinatown.  I didn't even make it over to Chinatown.  I didn't even look.  This doesn't make me the least bit sad.  Because I didn't have to look.  I found a thousand pieces of hope smack in the middle of Midtown Manhattan. 

My standard line for most things powerfully new is a sarcastic steal from an 80s SNL skit: I laughed.  I cried.  It was much better than CATS.  I'll see it again and again. 

But this time I accidentally really mean it. 

I did laugh.  so much.  And I cried.  a few times.  

Blogapalooza,  Blogher '10, was one hell of a ride.  I'm not off it yet.  I even skipped Sunday night TV (sort of.  BigBrotherTrueBloodMadMenHungEntourage are all waiting for me in the magicness that is DVR) to revel in the weekend.  Replaying moments. 

A thousand big small moments that I love as much as I wished I would.  way more than cats of any kind.  maybe even more than cranes.

I met almost all the people I wanted to meet.  I met so many more people I didn't even know would have the impact on me they did.  bliss.  serious, breath-stopping bliss.  I can't imagine having not attended. 

It.  Was.  Exactly where I was supposed to be.

See?

I love that.

I'm adrenaline crushing right now but I did love sharing time and space with everyone.

Between panels and smoke breaks, drinks and elevator conversations and so many of the other big small moments during, I found you all quite genuine and I thank you for that.

For my writing friends who weren't there...I did miss the meeting of you.  I hope to make you three dimensional at some point. 

For my nonwriting friends who read anyway I wish for you a sense of place like that wherever you choose to find yourselves. 

But mostly, I wish you all the thousand pieces of beauty I found this weekend. 

. 

Blog crush

I am going through his whole blog. All the archives. BHJ (listed under "journal" in my blogs list to the side) hasn't written anything for 5 whole days and I weirdly started to get withdrawals. He's the one who thinks a ringing telephone is inherently rude and has other twisted, hilarious perspectives as well that make me think, laugh out loud and want to write. My current little blog crush. When he started his blog he wrote every day and I'm still on mid-summer 2008. I love this. I have been looking for something to read; I can see this is going to take a while. He uses much better words than I do. There are more of them and they're more complex. He has cool poetic and musical references that wouldn't even occur to me, but I get them when I read and sometimes they are just enough past my edge of obscure to be fascinating. I swear too goddamn much sometimes but then I throw in a word like inextricable and pretend like that evens it out. I need to use more words like inextricable. Profound, complicated words. I should have taken my Thesaurus back from my Dad's house when I was over for dinner last night.

I wonder if I could write every day. I swear, nobody even reads this thing...well, besides you...and you too...and occasionally a couple of other people and then some other surprising and unexpected people and it really freaks me out when they bring up things from this little dear diary blather of mine when I run into them randomly after two years of nothing. I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, but also feeling a little like my windows have been peeked into. Strange feeling that. Like, I left the shades open but I didn't think anyone would really be looking...sometimes I am an idiot.

I would almost feel more comfortable if people from Turkey and Iceland were tuning in. Complete strangers who can compare none of my internal monologue to my outward reality in this small, gossipy, Pleasant Valley town. They could read my odd relationship with the X and his impending demise without using it as fodder for conversation at the next happy hour for charity. There's no way I'm going to look convincingly grief stricken at the funeral if people know that I'm contemplating starting a pool as to when he'll kick off.

Oh, he got out of the hospital today finally. I predict he'll be back at a poker table with an innocent looking beverage in hand before the week is out. It's vodka and water by the way. And it won't be his only one of the evening. That's what he'll tell you...that's what you'll want to believe. It won't be true. He is a work of fiction.

Now, here's how I really feel about what I believe to be his impending demise, ungraceful exit, human trainwreck activity...I cry my face off about it on a fairly regular basis. Late at night, when I'm watching The Secret Life of Bees or some other movie everyone else has seen that I am finally catching up on, it sneaks up on me. It doesn't even have to be a touching deathstory...I think I cried about this while watching Julie and Julia also, I bet Terminator 4 could find me there too.

Anyway, it's just like when you burn your hand on the oven rack or nail your funny bone. It's the same jarring, straight-to-the-nerve-center, moment and I well up and get all weepy because he just doesn't get it! (IT, by the way, is the bigger picture, master plan, higher purpose. IT is that thing that makes you do the things you don't want to do simply because you are a human being on this planet and it is your job to be a part of that. Beat of your own drummer? Yeah me too, 100% understand that, feel like that everyday...notice my crazy shoes. Sometimes you just have to do dumb shit like wash your own clothes or cut the grass because you fucking have to. period) He doesn't want to get it. Never did. He'd rather die than get it. This is why we're divorced most of all. The worst, best, most ironic part about it is that at the rate he's going he's gonna get it. Sooner than later. Then he'll know. That idea of him being on the other side, finally knowing (and being filled with regret at an unfinished life)...that destroys me and I wake up all puffy in the morning.

How do Things 1 and 2 feel about this? Thursday when I told them he was in the hospital:
Thing 1: [shoulders slumped in classic, defeated fashion] "Is it for the same thing as last time?"
Me: "Yes. Well, kind of. It's a little worse this time."
Thing 1: "When is he gonna start eating right?!"
Me: "I don't know, sweetie. Even if he does eat right, it's more than just that. He needs to change a whole lot of stuff."
T1: [shakes head, looks at floor]
Me: "Do you want to go visit him?"
T1: "Nah, not today."

I didn't take them to visit him this go-round btw...we're not there yet.

I asked Thing 1 during:
Me: "So, what are you thinking about your Dad still being sick?"
T1: "He can't take care of himself. His mom should take better care of him."
Me: "Uh, babe, he's a grown up. Don't you think when you're a grown up you should be able to take care of yourself and not have your mom have to do everything for you?"
T1: "Ummm..."
Me: "I mean, how would you feel if you were a grown up and I treated you like a baby who couldn't do anything?"
T1: "Good point."

I told them he was getting out of the hospital:
Me: "Hey, your Dad's getting out of the hospital this afternoon."
Thing 2: [walks out of the kitchen] "Cool. At least he didn't die."

My children.

Anyway, I'm going to see if I can dedicate myself to the blog thing better and write something everyday. May not be much. Just practice. Like I said, nobody reads this anyway. Except you. I hope you will be entertained.