The Blogaversary Post


So thanks to Facebook’s sometimes handy, often cringeworthy On This Day app, I learned today is the anniversary of the day I started this blog. My blogaversary, if you will. I figured I oughta write something, but don’t really have anything I feel like posting just yet (there are things in the works), so I turned to Person for a writing assignment. Sometimes I do that. Here’s a few she gave me today:

“Write about a song that means a lot to you.”

(cuz she was watching The Voice at the time): I’ve done that before. You can find that post here. Another fave would be Neil Diamond’s Done to Soon, and mostly I mention it because I heard it today. It’s the song I play whenever somebody dies (I find it oddly comforting), and one that I want played at my funeral. Dear Person: write that down; tell your hubs. Book a horn section, too, please. I’ll set aside some cash for that.

I’m pretty sure heaven has a good horn section.

I don’t plan on dying any time soon. It’s just good to be prepared. Just ask the Girl Scouts. Oh! I was a Girl Scout once upon a time.  No really, it’s true. I hated selling cookies, and now I’m in sales. Life’s funny that way.

“Write about anniversaries.”

No. Mostly because I suck at remembering them. I’m not that girl. I’m the “I think we started dating sometime in September, maybe? Or was it October? What play was happening at the time?” kind of girl. It would be best if I got married on a major holiday, just so I could remember the anniversary. Plus, built in themes!

I don’t plan on getting hitched anytime soon, either. But it’s good for the guy to know going in that I will probably not remember any anniversaries. I’m pretty good at birthdays, though. Usually.

“Write why yoga pants should be acceptable in the workplace.”

I mean, it goes without saying, really. Comfort leads to productivity, at least in my book. Plus you can drop into yoga poses to realign yourself after sitting at the desk for long periods of time. Yoga pants promote good workplace health, really.

I totally DO plan on wearing yoga pants to work next week. Mostly because I will be working from my Mom’s house.

“In honor of the Wasted series at church, write a list of your favorite time wasters.”

Easy peasy: Netflix, coloring books, looking up random crap on the internet, photoshop.

I do plan on wasting less time. Starting tomorrow. Probably.

“It’s National Poem Month! You could write a poem!”

Fact: In the early days of Facebook, I would compose birthday poems when FB reminded me of friends’ poems. They rhymed and usually made little to no sense. I’m not really sure why I stopped. I’d write one now but the Wondermutts are getting restless. Sorry, Person.

Right now. In my face.

Right now. In my face.

I plan on writing one soon, though.

& that’s the blogaversary post. If anything, it proves I suck at anniversaries, and excel at planning. If I knew ahead of time that my blogaversary was near, I would have planned a better post. One with confetti and unicorns, probably. Or confetti unicorns.

Opening Night Thoughts


My morning thoughts, from the time I woke up until I got into the shower:

  • OMG CHARLEY HORSE IN BOTH LEGS
  • I need to get black out shades.
  • Is that what they’re called?
  • It’s way too early & too bright.
  • Get off me, Stella.
  • OMG SERIOUSLY, CHARLEY HORSE.
  • I need to put a whole banana in my shake this morning. Maybe two.
  • Are they fracking in Walnut Cove?
  • Did I read that?
  • I wonder if flames are going to shoot out of people’s faucets.
  • Flaming showers?
  • Yikes.
  • Why is my left knee so sore?
  • WHY AM I WALKING LIKE NEIL?
  • When did I get old?
  • How much salt did I eat yesterday?
  • I need to hydrate.
  • Why is it called Smart Water?
  • Marketing!
  • It’s Opening Night!
  • It’s Opening Night & my knees don’t work!
  • Shit.
  • I’m so glad I have a dishwasher.
  • Are we in a drought or just the West Coast?
  • My grass looks like crap.
  • Why are the dogs barking?
  • I’m hungry.
  • How many calories did I have yesterday?
  • Not enough, clearly.
  • I want caprese after the show.
  • I want steak now.
  • Why is there no red meat in my fridge?
  • Ooh! Hard boiled egg whites!
  • Still not steak.
  • Didn’t I JUST get a massage?
  • DAMMIT, KNEES.
  • Why am I out of cream?
  • I need to check my tomatoes.
  • That requires real clothes.
  • Later.
  • Maybe I can do some yoga at lunch.
  • It’s too quiet in here.
  • What song shall I sing for mic check tonite?
  • Get it together, Pandora.
  • How much caffeine is in this cold brew concentrate?
  • Is that a spider bite?
  • I hope I get spidey sense & super powers.
  • Especially the kind that FIX MY STUPID KNEES.
  • I bet spiders don’t have this problem.
  • Do spiders have knees?
  • I should’ve ordered twice as much Deep Blue.
  • I’m gonna smell like an old lady all day.
  • How long is David at Disney?
  • I wanna go back to Disney.
  • I’ma need a hover round if I go, CUZ KNEES.
  • Do they even make hover rounds anymore?
  • Geodesic domes are cool.
  • I wonder if blue prints for Epcot are online.
  • Science!
  • Einstein was a perv.
  • Um, Bucky Fuller designed the geodesic dome, Suzanne, not Einstein.
  • Get it together.
  • Maybe I shouldn’t read Cracked articles before I go to bed at night.
  • But they’re so informative & hilarious!
  • Unicorns ARE jerks.
  • I gotta buy crayons.
  • Ooh, Jenga!
  • Hurry up, Sangria. I need a shower.
  • Wait…fracking?
  • The hell?
  • DAMMIT, KNEES.
  • I really need to do some yoga.
  • But first, shower!
  • UGH I need to shave.
  • I wish my legs popped off like Barbie legs.
  • Shaving would be easier if I had removable legs.
  • Do cyborgs have removable limbs?
  • Cyborgs are not real things, Suzanne.
  • Get it together, woman.

And this is what it’s like to wake up inside my head on the morning of opening night. Not one thing about lines, choreography, or harmonies, but plenty about spider bites, cyborgs & flames shooting out of faucets, cuz LOGIC.

Wait.

CYBORG SPIDERS WITH FLAME THROWERS AS WEAPONS.

I gotta go find some more coffee. How much caffeine is in the cold brew? Not enough, apparently. Not nearly enough.

Clearly.

Clearly.

Atypical Thursday


So after deciding that I was going to write, finish & publish all the authentic & potentially (probably) unfunny posts last night, my brain must’ve flipped out. It was all “YAY! ALL THE WORDS & THINGS!” and woke me at 4:50 am today. FOUR FRIGGIN’ FIFTY.

kinda like this

My brain

I laid in bed listening to Stella & Brando (the Wondermutts) snore for twenty minutes while my brain rambled about I have no idea what. Cuz it was 4:50. Bitter.

Eventually I conceded, slowly waking the sleeping Wondermutts (that whole “Let Sleeping Dogs Lie” is good advice, but more on that another day) and dragged them out of bed. Usually it’s the other way around. Typically Stella has to stand on me to force me into a vertical position. 60 pounds of Stella standing on your chest is NOT how you want to wake up, by the way.

 

funny hocus pocus quotes | Funny:) / Hocus Pocus is my all time favorite Halloween movie on ...

Me, every morning.

So I put on my Hi-Vis safety shirt (safety first!) & attached tiny flashlights to the Wondermutts’ collars & went for a brisk 45 minute walk in the dark. Because I was up before the freakin’ sun. So bitter.
For the record, this is why I got a Spaniel mix instead of a yorkie - I want my dog to run with me, not ride along on my hip.

Not at all how I looked.

Wait – I had coffee first. Cuz coffee. & I’ve had coffee ever since. So that’s an extra 1.5 hours of coffee consumption.
Funny Coffeeology | Funny coffee quote from Funny Technology - Coffee Every Day - Community - Google+ via Wyatt Martin | #funny #coffeequote #caffeine

not ashamed.

& I’ve been writing in my online journal (two different posts) all morning (while also doing the work that earns me the paycheck) cuz THE WORDS JUST WON’T STOP COMING & my brain is all THINK ALL THE THINGS. The only writer’s block I had was the one I put there, apparently.
Calvin and Hobbes on "Writer's Block". @Andrea Brown  I think I've found  your problem ;P

Calvin is of my people.

That or I’ve just hit manic mode.
Funny Somewhat Topical Ecard: Today's forecast... Manic with a slight chance of bat shit crazy.

probably this.

Apparently now that I’ve given myself permission to write (& therefore deal) with the heavy crap, my brain is all
Funny Pictures " go insane go insane lock me up and make it rain." said the mentail person!

I steal all these images from the Pinterest, btw.

Dear Brain:

shut it

You tell it, Chandler.

You could say it was the coffee’s fault. You would be wrong. The internal marathon monologue is finally slowing down. It took a pot of coffee to get to this point. Instead of overlapping thoughts, they’ve finally started forming an orderly line. WAIT YOUR TURN, THOUGHT.
Puppies!

Before

İşte bu.

After. Also? I feel like the tree.

So here’s where I am today: bitter about the 4:50 internal alarm, drinking lots of coffee, alternating between real work stuff, a private journal post, a journal post containing blog ideas, and this. And it’s only 2pm.

Oh, and as a teaser (warning??) here are the working titles of future blog posts. You’re welcome (I’m sorry??).

 

Don’t Take the ClickBait

Content Marketing is Killing Content

256 Shades of Gray (alternate: The Black & White Blinding Effect)

Riptide of Depression

Mania

How to Focus on Work When Your Brain Won’t Shut Up

The Joy Killing Laughter Thief

Group Texts, Group Messages & Reply Alls, Oh My.

Personal Brand vs Professional Brand

Facebook tags & Challenges & Why I Hate Them…Mostly.

Gossip Kills

Unplugging “Friendships” to Renew Relationships

Postcards from Pee Wee

Body Image Bullshit

The Haunt

A Bared Soul is not a Cry for Help (A Venn Diagram!)

Titanium Ta-Tas – The Cancer Scare!

Stop Telling Me What I Need (Clickbait Part Deux)

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie – Literally. No Really, Literally.

 

 Ok, back to work now. Stay tuned!

 

The Problem With Becoming Authentic


[aw-then-tik] 
adjective
1. not false or copied; genuine; real:

Genuine. Real.
“Be authentic in your relationships.” ~ That’s what the leaders of the church urge.
“Bring authenticity to your character.” ~ That’s what the directors say.
“Be authentic in your writing” ~ is what Therapist eludes to when I explain why I haven’t published any blog posts or finished any stories lately.
true statement, ya'll.

true statement, ya’ll.

There are many benefits of being authentic. I get that. Integrity: good. Trust: good. Realized potential: good.
However, the problem with becoming authentic is: often it’s difficult, and sometimes it comes with a price.
Becoming authentic means dealing with your crap – even if that means risking the loss of a relationship because you have to admit past betrayals.
Becoming authentic means taking off the mask – even when it means risking a friendship because you need to admit you want something more – or, conversely, admitting that you don’t want something more.

oh boy!

Becoming authentic means being honest – even if it means hurting a loved one’s feelings because you admit you hate they way they make grilled cheese sandwiches. (this rarely happens. grilled cheese is awesome)
burdened with glorious cheese

burdened with glorious cheese

A lot of risk is involved with becoming authentic. And what is risk? Risk is exposure to the chance of injury or loss; a hazard or dangerous chance. So. To truly “become authentic” means having to “take a risk,” and you can’t take a risk without first confronting the fear: the fear that someone won’t like you – the fear that you may not like you.
That’s the problem. If you are authentic, somebody is not going to like you, and you have to be ok with it.
I told Therapist I wasn’t writing because the posts & stories were too dark, too heavy. I don’t want to finish them. “But that’s where you are right now,” he nudged.
“But…I like writing funny posts. I like making people laugh.”
Because of course I do. Funny people are liked, funny people are loved.
Well, shit.
Soo…yeah. Those unfinished, unpublished (& probably very unfunny) posts about grief and depression and betrayal and all the other dark stuff I don’t want to write about? They’re coming.
 

NaNoWriMo Makes My Brain Hurt


After a long creative drought, I’m finally back to writing. Sort of. I signed up for NaNoWriMo this year in hopes to finally write a book that’s been swirling in my head for a few years. NaNoWriMo, for those that don’t know, is a writing challenge. It’s simple: write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. Easy peasy, right? Totally. So I was all, I’m gonna write the book this year! I have a title! I have a protagonist! I’m ready!

Big problem, though: I have no plot. Plots are hard and I’ve yet to really form even an outline for one. I’ve written more on my blog during NaNoWriMo than I have in the book. NaNoWriMo seems to be more of a path to self discovery than a novel writing experiment so far.

Here’s what I’ve discovered so far:

1) I’m really good at titles. If I could write a book of titles I’d be done by now.

2) Writing in third person is hard. I really have no idea why I started writing it in third person. Bad choice.

3) The Wondermutts are jealous of my laptop, which means so far I’ve only been able to write late at night after they’ve finally given up and passed out. At that point I’m too tired to form complete sentences.

4) The more I create, the more I want to create. This is a good thing. It would be a lot more useful if I could stick to one freakin’ subject or project at a time.

5) I get easily distracted.

6) I want to paint right now as much as I want to write. Why? See #5.

7) I’ve kind of forgotten how to write. Stupid creative drought.

8) I like lists. If I could write a book of lists, I would, but that’s been done.

9) I’m  more in the mood to write blog posts than a book. So that’s what I’m going to do. Why?

10) Cuz I do what I want.

11) The Wondermutts really need a bath. This has nothing to do with self discovery, I just wanted an eleventh thing. Cuz eleven is a prime number & those of you that like nice, even lists will be all “WHY ELEVEN, WHY NOT TEN??”

Here’s what I can tell you about writing: nothing. Well, nothing that wouldn’t cramp your creativity. If you want to write, then write. Write every day. Realize some of it is going to be total crap. Don’t wait to be a good writer to start writing. Just write. Crappy writing is part of the process.

So yeah, I’m quitting NaNoWriMo, at least for this year. I do intend to try and write at least one blog post every day for the rest of November. Get ready, cuz some of them will be crap.

And then maybe I’ll write one that will make you laugh & then I’ll be all “YAY!!! VICTORY IS MINE!”

The End.

Small Talk is my kryptonite


(pre-publish update) I started this post last week. I never finished it.  I’m posting it anyway. Mostly cuz La-Kresha said she wanted to see more blogs. :

So I’m sitting here at Starbuck’s waiting for a fellow lighting designer to come bring me a key to one of the theatre’s I’ll be living in for the next month and the lady beside me is totally having a conversation with her purse. She’s also had a conversation with each of the baristas (one of which is wearing a bow tie, awesome) and I’m doing everything in my power to stare at my computer screen and look busy because I’m afraid we’ll end up talking about coffee. or cats. or the weather.

Oscar Wilde said it best. “Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

Once a guy asked me to name a few things I enjoyed…we were stuck in a very generic line of “getting to know you” questions & I was bored. So I answered with bagpipes. I freakin’ love bagpipes. I can’t remember what else I said I liked, but I’m pretty sure the bagpipes are what scared him away. Oh well. I can’t help my love for celtic music. I also like funerals. I didn’t tell him that, though. But let me tell ya, a bagpiper at a funeral = awesome.

 

Ooh…my lighting compadre just arrived…time to talk lights. He skips the small talk, too. We get along well.

 

(pre-publish update) I can’t even really remember the point of this post. Except maybe if you talk to your purse I may try to avoid you. Even though I talk to my computer & other inanimate objects all the time. I just don’t do it in public. Or that maybe if you see me looking at you but not speaking, it’s because I’m trying to think of something to say. It’s not that I don’t want to get to know you (unless you look like a psycho – stranger danger!), I’m just socially awkward & figure that you’ll run away screaming if I start into a conversation about bagpipes. or funerals. or geodesic domes. I like them, too.

Perhaps you should pick the topic. as long as it’s not weather or politics, I’m in.

The end.