A Room Of Her Own

A Room Of Her Own

Step Away From The Lights!!!!

I'm writing in drips and drabs, fits and starts: not really accomplishing much of anything here lately. Even my blog is sluggish.




What's up with that? Is there some kind of Christmas Conspiracy that drains the brains of writers? Or maybe there is some kind of hypnotic effect from all those little twinkle lights. I think that has to be it, why I'm not writing like I want to.




It's those little twinkle lights that make me think of softly falling snow, and hot buttered rums before a roaring fire, safely snuggled into the arms of the one who loves me beyond all measure. Those little blinky white lights suck you into various holiday fantasies and when you blink, and see reason once again, the disappointment is overwhelming.



Yep - little twinkly lights will definitely suck all the get up and go out of your day so be careful, folks. They are every where! Protect yourself:



1) Wear dark glasses: this will cut down on the hypnotic effect and just leave a mild glow of Christmas confusion. Plus, people will think you are a celebrity (or totally crazy).



2) Repeat 'Bah Humbug' at 30 second intervals to keep away the lure of the shiny lights (and anyone else who may have been contemplating wishinig you Good Cheer this holiday season).



3) Turn off the TV - even that celebrity reindeer with his own movie has a twinkly light up nose! No where is safe, you know.



4) Decline all offers of holiday goodies. This will make you cranky enough to really start hating the whole holiday scene. Trust me on this. Did you ever say no to chocolate and cookies over Christmas??? It's like having a day without coffee...definitely not pretty!



5) Last but not least, don't go shopping. Do NOT buy gifts for anyone! Seriously, have you ever noticed that every street you walk down is lined with those pretty, sorry, pesky twinkly lights that lead you from store to store? It's part of the master plot to suck the brains right out of you and leave you in a mushy puddle in the middle of the street, pointing at a display and saying, "Oooohhhh, isn't it pretty?"



See what I mean? I'm so totally caught up in a white, twinkly light Christmas that my mind won't go anywhere else. I can't even concentrate on writing a humorous blog entry because.....well, because it's Christmas and .....the little twinkly lights have me in their spell. I'm a willing captive.



Merry Christmas everyone. I'll be back in full force after the holidays, after everyone has packed away those little lights that I just can't shut up about!



Thank you for reading my blog this year - I hope I didn't disappoint.

Thanksgiving - Again

Today is Thanksgiving all over again for me.  I am so grateful today for pilots.  Yesterday, my daughter's plane had to make an emergency landing - both engines failed while in flight.  The pilot landed the plane safely and no one was hurt.  God, Divine Providence, the Goddess, Fate, Kismet, the Universe - whatever you want to call the sacred energy that lives within us all - was with the pilot and co-pilot to put that plane, carrying my beloved daughter, down safely.  I am so grateful to them for allowing me the possibility of seeing my daughter walk down the aisle towards the man of her dreams, for giving me another opportunity to give her a big hug and inhaling the scent of her shampoo which always reminds me of  her baby scent (even though she is in her twenties), for the chance to tell her just one more time how proud I am of all the obstacles she has already overcome in her life.  I am grateful for the chance to hear her laugh again, and to see her grow into the woman she is meant to be.  I've been given another opportunity to watch her face light up as she rides a horse - such a deep passion of hers.  I've been given another opportunity to be joyful that even though my family (just she and I) is small, we love each other.

That's what it's all about, right?  Love?  I think so.  Yesterday I was reminded in a cruel way just how quickly you can lose the one you love.  I was emotionally devestated yesterday.  When Alysha first called me and told me what had happened, I couldn't breathe.  I literally couldn't breathe.  After she assured me that she wasn't hurt, the realization hit me of what almost-was.  I had a blinding flash of how empty my life would be without her in it.  We do a lot of things together and really enjoy being with each other.  We love to have adventures - we took off one day to western NC just to go gem-mining for the fun of it.  When she was younger, I took her to Shackleford Banks so we could see the ponies and have a nice little beach adventure.  Our nice little trip turned into a scary event for a few minutes - we were charged by a mama horse protecting a newborn foal and had to run like crazy to protect ourselves.  My point is, we always have adventures together and wouldn't have it any other way...it makes for an interesting life. 

So Mr. Pilot and Co-Pilot, I'm very grateful for your training and appreciative of your calm efforts to land the plane safely with harm coming to none.  Today is truly my Thanksgiving Day - thank you, thank you, thank you for keeping my daughter safe for another day.

Not Gonna Make It

I really thought I could finish my Christmas novella on time (meaning before Christmas) but I can see that it's not going to happen.

I just can't seem to focus on this story.  I can't put my finger on any particular problem...it's just - not my style, I guess.  I really liked the idea and was quite excited about the plot (earlier entry about the sax playing guy) but it's just not coming together for me.

Maybe next year, I'll be able to present it as my gift to this special person.  For now, it's off to the stores to find a perfect gift.

Wish me luck!

The Blank Slate

For my followers, and those of you who aren't followers but read my blog faithfully, I must apologize for not blogging as often as I should.

Here are my excuses: 

1) Friday night I had a really bad date.  I mean, so bad that I did the unthinkable:  I cried at dinner.  This sounds weird but the guy was really nice and cute as all get-out.  He just was not able to stop making sexual innuendoes and I didn't know how to respond.  He admitted that he was a 'pretty intense guy' but he was 'a passionate person' and couldn't help himself.  He offered to rub my feet under the table.  Finally, I told him that I thought first dates were for getting to know each other and that I'd like to start over (I had been telling him that I didn't like and wasn't comfortable with the constant sex talk).  Well, that didn't go over so well.  After being honest with him - which was a huge step for me to actually voice my opinion to a man - he leaned forward and told me: "God damn it, I lived with that for 27 years.  This is me and I'm not going to change now."  I told him I wasn't his wife, didn't want to be his wife, that that remark was uncalled for and unfair to me AND to him.  That pretty much ended the evening.  He didn't even walk me to my car after dinner.  I really felt so disrespected as a woman...just because we met over a dating website doesn't mean that I'm not deserving of old-fashioned courtesy and respect.  Because of this, I let myself fall into the WTF mode and I didn't think about writing something up for Saturday.  Hmmmm, lesson learned here.  Note to self:  'Self, never use a man as an excuse for not working on your writing.'

2) Saturday morning, I brooded about what happened Friday night.  I had really liked this guy from his profile and also when we first were together, I thought that perhaps something could come of it.  This is a guy who actually understood that there are many layers to me and I'm much more than what you see on the surface.  I got over the shock and anger about 10:00 in the morning and went on to putter around my apartment in my PJs until it was time to get ready to go to a party with a woman's group I belong to.  What a marvelous time I had!  This is such a wonderful group of women; I think there were close to 30 of us there.  So...I didn't write Saturday because I was brooding about a man (see note to self above) and playing Suzy HomeMaker? I was being lazy. Come on, Cath, you're a writer. Can't you come up with something more exciting than the truth?

3) Sunday:  I spent the day doing laundry, ironing (I love it when I'm in the mood which I was at that time - I'm so over it now LOL), making my bedroom more feng-shui for romance and laughing that I had even entertained the notion of bringing HIM there. OK, I didn't write because I really was enjoying my day, doing all types of nesting, homey things and appreciating the foggy weather that forced me to stay indoors. It was great to re-charge my batteries.

4) Monday:  Work, work, work!  I didn't receive a paycheck so I was on the phone all day with various departments in my company, trying to track down how I could get paid.  I can't get to Arkansas for Christmas with my daughter if I don't get paid for the next three weeks.  Also, I really like to eat and that could get dicey without a paycheck LOL.  Not that I couldn't stand to lose a few pounds but I'd rather do it by choice than forced into it.  On a bright note, I got home to find 'Santa' had dropped off a gift for my cat, Sebastian, which really lifted my spirits. 

So, my brain has been taken up with the mundane aspects of my day-to-day life.  I'm hanging on by my fingernails but I'm hanging on.  I'll be blogging regularly again, dear readers, regaling you with my attempts at editing the novel I've written and also on my progress with the new works in progress.

Does anyone have a copy of Henry David Thoreau's "Walden" I could borrow?  I would love to read his experiment on living well.  More on that in a future blog.

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The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden
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I've Been Naughty, Santa

I know the jolly old fat guy is going to put a lump of coal in my Christmas stocking...I've been very bad the past few days.  Here's a transcript of my online chat with Santa:

M = Me
S = Big fat dude in the red velour sweat pants



M: Hi Santa. Glad I caught you on a break at work. Listen, I only wrote a few lines yesterday and I'm not sure how much writing I'm going to be able to get to in the next few days. You see, I'm working on my Sax story (see my earlier entry: Ain't Nothing Like Good Sax) and need to get it done before next week - the 19th to be exact - as it's a gift for someone special. I have good intentions, Santa, and I know they will be very happy that I wrote this for them. But I've been very naughty with my writing discipline here lately.

S: Who is this?

M: It's me, Santa. Remember me from when I was a kid? I was the one that kept her sister and brother awake to listen for the reindeer feet - sorry - hooves - on the roof.

S: No, sorry. Doesn't ring a bell.

M: Short, blonde, six years old and a huge fan of Christmas!!!!

No response...

M: OK - my name is Cathy. I know you are the man behind the curtain so just listen, OK? I'm a writer. As I said earlier, *voice laden with southern sarcasm disguised as a sweet drawl* I've been just a little slack here lately. BUT...even though I've not been writing as much as I should during the last few days, I did write my first novel in a month. I gathered my courage to read the murder chapter of my novel at an Open Mic night. I give sincere encouragement and credit to my writer friends as much as I can. Does any of that count?

S: Nope. One oh-shit wipes out a thousand atta-boys.

M: What??? Who wrote that rule, Santa?

S: It says in my book of kids gone wild that it was a guy named Murphy who coined that phrase. Had a law named after him.

M: Whaddya mean, Murphy's Law? Come on, dude. Really? It's only been a few days I've slacked off. *whine* Please, will you bring me something pretty for my stocking?

S: How about you post a current pic on my personal web site?  Ms. Clause won't mind.

M:  What?  OK.  I just uploaded it.  Look, I just want something shiny, pretty, sparkly, or chocolate in my Stocking Christmas morning. 

S:  Nice picture.  What's your name again?

M:  Cathy.  C-a-t-h-y.  Caaaattthhhheeeee.  The little girl all grown up who believed longer than she should in a man in dirty red sweat pants.  Dude, don't you ever change those things? 

S:  Hey, shouldn't you be nicer to me?

M:  Sorry, Santa.  As I was saying, even a gift card so I could buy it myself would be great.  Can I count on you this year?  The last couple of Christmas's ... well, let's just say you should have changed your name to the Invisible Man.  Nothing in my stocking for three years now!!!  I WANT SHINY.  I WANT PRETTY.  I WANT SPARKLY.  GIVE ME CHOCOLATE!!!

S:  I just moved you from the 'Maybe' column to the 'No Way in Hell' page.  Finish your story.  Talk to me then.  And be prepared to grovel, bargain, and beg because I have connections in the publishing industry!

I HIT THE X IN THE TOP RIGHT HAND CORNER

I am so screwed for Christmas. Anybody need a lump of coal?

Feelin' The Need For The Beach

The last time I was at the beach I had the most amazing sense of quietude descend upon me, as if a fairy fog had settled on my shoulders and enveloped me in a soft, velvet mist of silence.  In this soundless void, I was able to think clearly, to see my life as it is and where I should go in the future.  Because I was safely nestled in this noiseless bubble of time, I allowed to finally emerge whole story lines and wonderous books that I have been coddling in my soul, nourishing the idea of them until they are ready to be birthed.  I heard them in the crash of the waves, I felt them in the salt spray on my face, I saw them in the sea foam that danced across the damp, packed sand. 

There is a distinct clarity of thought to be found in the silence of the ocean.  Silence?  Yes, I find silence at the ocean's doorway.  The steady ebb and flood, ebb and flood, quiets all the noise that constantly fills my head at such a high volume that I can't hear my soul or answer the call of my heart.  It's a hypnotic soothing, much like a mother gently rocking her beloved newborn and humming nameless, heartfelt tunes.

I need that babying of spirit, that cystal clear clarity of thought now. The high, the pride, the happy-dance phase of writing a novel (my first novel!) has gone.  The mechanics of what's next with my book have all been listed and categorized and research plans have been made.  This book will not be finished until probably April at the earliest.  My daily life is once again interfering with the life I want to live and I'm working hard to accept both sides of my life's equation: working woman/writer. Stifling my creativity is having some strange side effects that I recognize but would be inappropriate to speak of here.

I need to go back to the water's edge, I need to be absorbed in the rhythym of the waves and draw upon her strength to bolster my own.  I am alone and have to find ways to take care of myself, to nurture me.  This is my way to do it: the beach.

Until tomorrow....

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“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.” -- T. S. Eliot
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