You Give Your Hand To Me

Tonight I posted something on You Tube for my sister-in-law to see. It was a video I made of photos from our last vacation. H freaked. He is unbelievably paranoid about putting anything personal out in the open or on the web. Opposite to me; considering I want to be a writer. I want to put everything and anything out there. I don't want to hide behind what we're supposed to. I think about if this is supposed to be one of those things I compromise on. It makes me realize more and more I am still a fish out of water. This job I am currently in is not for me. (Not the job of wife- my profession.)

So what job is for me! Artist, theatre, writer, poet, bum?

I feel like I'm getting real close to not being able to stand it any more. And then I'm going to have to do what I'm supposed to. This is officially a down time in life. Shit- how quickly the tide turns. Wasn't I just happy as a clam? I probably was pretending- was I? Now I can't STAND it anymore.

This is what happens I guess when you take the hand out.

Despite this, though, I am lucky. I just read this back over and I can't help to think of that.

Song of Myself... I'm Starting to Get It... Finally

And when there is the drowning sound of T.V.- let there be music.

How am I so many different people at one time?   Here I am complaining about my complacency and then I happen upon a new song- one I haven't heard before- and I remember an old craving.  I'm hungry for a new art project, new poem, new stance (not opinion, but posture)- or rather a resurrection of an old truthful stature of self. 

Self: Great subject.  Existentialism... always provoking to me.  There is such a wealth of opinion out there now.  I read other blogs and pieces of writing and I think- what is MY nitch?  Where is my stance.  Am I the new witty sex in the city girl (which sometimes I wish I was).  Am I  a cerebral loner, or your total stereotypical ex- sorority girl, or just some midwestern girl from some obnoxiously large Irish Catholic family who fell in love with her best friend and got married... or am I all. (purposeful lack of question mark)  I have to find- not myself, but the confidence and knowledge to define it.  (Hello Jo March- the theme still stands one hundred years later!)  

Conference the 20th century greats: Gardner and Sartre... I'm starting to get it now... finally. Calling all naturalists and existentialists; "I've always agreed... and now I feel it my heart."  

So what remains?

Who am I?  

The "greats" raised the question.  Actually many "greats" before them began the argument.  The only difference is; only I can answer for ME.  So maybe there is some room... for individuality.  Laughingly the idealist in me always seems to poke in it's rightous head!

I just read this over for grammar and it is riddled with multiple mistakes!!  How can I claim to be so involved with writing!  Answer... I read too much poetry!  Hard answer... I should know better.

I just love poetry so much better than pros.  Poems: The Literary Songs of Themselves

Sooo much better than Gossip Girl... what was I thinking??  (okay... I think I was trying NOT to!)

Gossip Girl Junky

Hello obsession with T.V.  If its trashy and caddy I'm addicted.  I feel guilty like I should be reading or doing some of my work, BUT I CAN'T STOP.  Okay harder answer... I know I could, but what if what I find during my own prime time is a slow and stupid monologue??  I thought starting this blog may jump start some of my creative juices, but it seems I underestimated the time frame.  I guess if I treat the retreat from my writing like a reverse break up (in head calculation: 1 year away = 6 months to get over hump); it looks as though I've got sixth months of boring crap to write about before something interesting might actually drop in.  If it is still in there.  What if its not?   I worry I'm becoming completely irrelevant on the page, while my personal life actually just keeps getting better.  Ying and yang: hello new wonderful hubby, goodbye relevance.     

Reference old adage: It's easier to be better when your going through something worse.  The question I guess I have to answer is it at least possible to get better when things are better? The answers that jump to mind sound like something my old coach or boss might say... "Set new limits, achieve a higher goal, blah blah."   ahhhh

xoxo Gossip Girl Junky

Treadmill Confession

When I run on the treadmill I always pretend I'm at a karaoke bar singing the song I'm listening to on my Ipod.  I imagine I have an amazing voice and I bring all the bar patrons to their feet.  Pathetic I know.  I'm almost positive there is another girl at my gym that does the same thing.  I always catch her lip-singing to her Ipod.

Other times when I'm on the treadmill I just imagine I'm on Oprah.

I live in Riverview, Fl.  It's a suburb of Tampa.  Ahhh Florida.  It's such a far cry from where I grew up in an old neighborhood on the east side of Cleveland, Ohio.  

Who decided that the best type of communities to build are the ones that look like they were plucked right out of a 1950s magazine?  Every house looks the same, hardly any yard, and not a single mature tree in site.  In Florida its compounded by sweltering heat.  I know not everywhere is like that, but its frustrating to see how many places are.

I find myself missing the midwest so much this time of year.  I'm so sick of the humidity and the heat.  I know there are those same 1950s communities in Cleveland, but along with them there are so many "old neighborhoods" as well.  I wrote a poem about this last year, and can't seem to locate it.. another time I guess.  It's stored away in my house in Orlando somewhere.  But then again what usually happens when I locate an old poem... I end up wanting to burn it.

I find the older I get the less and less interesting I become.  They never tell you that in grade school. "Listen up class.  When you hit your late twenties you start to realize you are not the least bit interesting or original.  The more you read and study the more you realize its all been said before- and better.  Keep studying!"  Maybe this is why so many of us in the late twenties start families and have kids- we're freakin' bored of being boring!  I know I sound like such a pessimist, but I'm really not.  Hey- the twenties took away some of my naiveness, but hell they also gave me wine.   Cheers, and here's to at least trying.

9/11/2008

I cannot believe it has been seven years since the attacks on 9/11.  It still makes me emotional to think about.  I was living in a green house called Ivy League with seven other girls.  It was as though everything was in solemn slow motion.  It was no longer 2001.  It was something from a history book.  We were listening to the radio while sitting on the porch swing.  I don't think I will ever forget that day.  My mother says that's how it was for her the day Kennedy was shot.  Now she has two days like that.  I hope I do not have another.

I just created this blog to re-organize all of my writing which is currently spread all over the place as well as to hopefully inspire more of it.  "Hot Child in the City" is one of my favorite songs.  It always makes me want to get in my old Jeep and roll around town with a cigarette in my mouth... no care in the world.  Now I'm on the patch, and the jeep was sold for a more "practical" car.   All I got left is the song.