The Black Crowes and Teardrops

I don’t know why I’m even crying, I guess just too much has built up. I’m texting my best friend and trying to set up some girl time but that isn’t going to help. Pressure needs to be released before I explode and take someone or something out.

Today sucked, and it started sucking early, like before the alarm went off. Pre-Sunrise Suckage is a “Special Reserve” kind of beverage that leaves the shittiest taste in one’s mouth.

I have probably written 4000 or so words about it, the incident, the bitching complaining and moaning and even got the starter for a new story out of it, but that whole shit-tasting aspect leaves me in dire need to cleanse not only my proverbial pallet but my mood and gray matter from the more morose thoughts and tortures that I have imagined extracting on those that brought out the Temperamenta Fuerte.

I am in danger of breaking a Blackberry, firing an employee, disowning a family member or worse a combination of all three today. I need to just state for all of mankind, if I hang up on you, thank your lucky stars. I find that is much easier to come back from than verbally eviscerating someone via AT&T’s 4G network.

I can’t change other people, I can only change myself but I can’t change my DNA, my ancestry or the way I was raised. My hair will always have a red-tint to it, unless Ms. Clariol or someone else has a hand in it, my Irish and Native American blood will always be quick to boil and my expectations for people to do as they should and not as they prefer will always be there.

I may be naive but at least I have a set of lungs on me that you can hear my thoughts and a few frills and dressing over the rumble of today’s preferred mediocrity and the baah’ing of today’s mindless sheeple.

Is this where I should say I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore? Well, unfortunately, that is probably a lie. I will end up taking it and I just hope it isn’t up the ass without lube, but I won’t have to like it.

When my mom died, I thought that I was lost and adrift and I would never find the shore. Now over ten years later, I know that if I hug the shore I’m more likely to bash my head against immoveable objects or worse, give up on sailing into happily ever after and sit on the shore and wave as everyone else travels. Older me, hopefully wiser me, has to learn that I need to go with the flow, paddle like mad when the time is right and to not waste too much energy fighting the rip-tides in life and as Dory says, just keep swimming, even if it is perpendicularly, till the time is right to make my move.

Who knew Disney could do more than market to the childhood masses?

Listening To: Seeing Things-The Black Crowes                                                                                   Mood: Muddled


Writer’s Insight Required

I can not get my head to slow down so that I can do something, anything at this point. After such a good start to “The Clancy Chronicals” (Hey it’s just my own personal title!) I have run head-first into a brick wall.

There are so many things that are running through my mind. I’m all about the little details and I know that the perfectionist in me will get frustrated and give up on the idea soon if I’m not careful. I don’t want to give up, so how do I break through the bullshit?

Another part of me knows that I am a want-to-be writer, I don’t know that I can even consider myself aspiring at this point. No, right now I am farmgirl, business woman, caregiver, furmom and then probably a dozen titles away is the writing. Why is that important? One word: Isaac. While it looks like now it may just be a rain/wind event for us there was a point where everyone in my area was concerned because there was a chance, however small, that it could have been in our laps as a category 1 storm.

Preparations had to be made, that normally means spending money which I HATE with a passion. I can attest that in business sometimes you do have to spend money to make money, and sometimes you have to spend a little of it to not lose lots of it. Right now we are faced with both.

Now that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been writing. I have blogged and written small snippets each of three days since I have be challenged by my muse with this project. The only thing is I’m not putting out the numbers of words to the project that I would like. I don’t see any improvement, any advancement and it is making me cranky.

So after talking with my friend Jay I am considering a “non-flying by the seat of my pants approach” for a bit. Maybe if I am working on characters and outlines, plots and points-of-view then I can not feel like a failure before I’ve really given myself a chance to crawl, let alone walk, run or marathon.

So in the spirit of that hope I need some help from you all. You may not be use to my writing style, and while I realize that short works in the vein of role-playing won’t tell you much maybe the next part will.

I try to write like I live. I’m an earthy texture driven person. I like to roll things around in my mouth and mind and think if they sound and feel right. I want my words and my writing to have a texture to it. From starting with the character names “meaning” something in the story to the little hidden accents that although a reader may not catch them in the moment, they may have that a-ha experience later. I tend to write a lot and imagine the smells, like the warm apple pie the old man is having with his coffee two tables over while two girlfriends chat about their love lives.

Do I just have a vivid imagination that will constantly suffer from the lack of other skills I possess? Is there a book or a magic wand that we can beat me over the head with and stop this line of thinking?

What is my malfunction, because I’m feeling a blue screen coming along soon.