A Film, A Book, A Venomless Snake

So I have a confession to make.  I sent back my Netflix movie, rather than reviewing it, because it was "Patton" and I just wasn't in the mood.  AND, the movie that is coming is "Get Him to the Greek," which if you've seen it, you know it is in no way, shape or form an Oscar contender, and therefore not "blog material". 

My, my, my - how times have changed.  I sat through some serious barf bags for last year's blog-watched every minute of them-but I can't even bring myself to watch a Best Oscar Winner because I'm just not in the mood.  Amazing how not wanting to drown yourself in a bog 23 hours a day can change your perspective on life and your willingness to spend time watching movies that don't ring your bell.  But I am NOT, in no uncertain terms, off the hook.  I know I will have to watch Patton eventually...but when I want to.  Whenever that might be.  Just not today.

Speaking of which (life perspective, not bell ringing), I am starting a self-improvement book tonight (which, if you recall, still qualifies as a blog-related activity).  It was recommended by my bff.  Between us, we have 94 years on planet Earth, 6 kids, 3 failed marriages, and a plethora of questionable life decisions.  Peas and carrots.  Anyhow, it's called "Zen and the Art of Happiness" by Chris Prentiss.  There's a picture of a laughing Buddha on the front, and it's yellow.  I know what you are thinking, dearest reader - A CULT BOOK!  Well, fear not; I will stand in the gap for you and educate you as to the book's merits and downfalls.

So, it's like 150 pages or so, very small with lots of white space.  I'm surprised I haven't finished it yet, and I've only read the cover.

Before I sign off and read this entire teeny little book before bed, I would like to take a moment to extend my thanks to you, dearest readership, for your recent unwavering support.  Your facebook posts, phone texts, and postings to this blog have brought sunshine into my life this week.  We all know that the world is filled with Radio Jerks.  We can't stop them from biting us, but we absolutely can stop their venom from spreading through our bodies and poisoning us. 

Sleep well tonight, my friends.  I, myself, will be thoroughly zenned.
 

Cosmopolitan vs. Zen Habits

My daughter had sent me this picture from Denver several months ago.  Every time I look at it, it makes me laugh.  In light of all the crap that you, my loyal and dear reader, have had to put up with at the hands of Radiojerk this week, I thought I'd share it with you.



On a more interesting note, my dear son figured out why my dvd player hasn't been working, and voila, it now works again.  So I can now watch the backlog of Netflix movies sitting next to my tv, and regale you with my profound, witty and yet still easily understood film reviews.  No need to thank me, it's what I live for.

I've been writing...some.  I have the twin distractions of a houseful of kids, now that my son is home on leave, and trying to figure out what to do with LB.  While LB is a great guy and I'm enjoying his company, for reasons that I'm not going to bore you with it's pretty clear that this thing isn't really going to develop into much more than it is right now.  So, I'm mired in that dating quandary - do I go all Cosmo Girl, declare that he's just not that into me, and move on - or do I go all Leo Babauta, just enjoy the moment for what it is, and when it's done, it's done?  Seriously, it's not like I'm going to marry him anyway, right?   I've made sure that my life with my son and my life with LB are completely separate-so there's no entanglement there.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER****  It just occurred to me that my boyfriend's "nickname" has the same initials as Leo Babauta.  So, to clarify, I AM NOT DATING LEO BABAUTA (although, hello, the man is gorgeous-his photo is on his site).  But please visit his website, I go there constantly, and seriously, he has changed my life.

Okay, all that being said - I would love to hear from you on this.  If you were me, what would you do?

One other thing - I'm trying out this bigger font.  What do you think?

Leave It

So, my son is home on leave from the Army for a week.  He brought with him 2 tattoos on his arms and Seasons 1-6 of Little House on the Prairie.  That's my boy.

In An Unrelated Development...

So, dearest reader.  If you aren't in the usual habit of reading the comments that are shown below my posts, I highly recommend that you read the comments for the last post.  Priceless.

For those of you who don't know/don't care about how Blogger works - you have the option of responding to any of my posts by entering a comment at the bottom of said post.  When you do, it doesn't automatically show up; I get an e-mail telling me that I have comments to moderate.  I get to decide whether or not your comment appears in the blog.  I have never disallowed a comment on any of my blogs.  I've only had a few jackwad comments, and I figure that the laceration they usually receive from my readership evens the score.

Until yesterday, anyone who stumbled upon my site could post a comment.  However, after yesterday, I've decided to change that setting so that only registered users can post.  Note that you don't have to be a follower of my blog; but you do have to be a registered user with Google.  I realize that any jackwagon can create a false identity - and yes, I do have at least one of those already amongst my followers - but at least said jackwagon will have to take that extra step before spewing on me.

Unfortunately, this means that awesome people will be unable to do remote postings from their Iphone or whatever, unless they are logged in as users on that device.  Sorry, Kas. 

All that being said, if you do choose to create a false identity and insult me "anonymously" via my blog, prepare yourself to be pissed upon by my cousin Evie and probably a couple of my friends.  Also, if you truly want to remain anonymous, you might choose pop culture references from AFTER 1950 or so, so that people under 60 will understand them.  Idiot.

Side note - I texted LB yesterday about the posting to my blog, because as much as I hate to admit it, it upset me.  His sage advice - "Don't let assholes rent free space in your brain."  So there you have it.  Anonymous, you are hereby evicted.

Stop Looking and Start Writing

I'm 2 weeks into my deadline for my book and I haven't actually written anything yet.  I've been prepping.  Mental prepping.  Baby steps.

I went to buy a flash drive today to keep a copy of my book on, so that I can carry it with me and stroke it lovingly all day long when I'm at my paying job.  I couldn't find one that I liked.  Wrong design, wrong color.  So I didn't buy one.  And without my flash drive, I can't start writing, because what am I supposed to back up all my hard work on?  What if I write, oh, 200 words or so, and my laptop explodes?  Or what if I spill Pepsi all over it, or it accidentally falls behind the rear tire of my Trailblazer and I back over it?

It was at that point, standing in my friendly neighborhood Rite Aid, that I decided to admit I've been procrastinating a tad bit on this whole writing thing, and that I need to take action.  So I will.

Tomorrow.

On another front, I know you are going to ask, so suffice it to say that things are chugging on along with LB.  You know what I hate about dating?  I'll tell you what I hate about dating.  I've been seeing this guy for, oh, 2 months or so.  Two months.  That's like 60 days.  So now I'm getting that "look" from all my married friends.  You know, that "drop-the-chin-wiggle-the-eyebrows-knowing-little-smile look," with the cursory remark, "So, how's LB?" in that classic Nellie Oleson smarmy tone.  That look that says, "Have you decided who's house you're going to live in yet?  Picked out your towels?  Registered at Macy's?"  That's what I friggin' hate about dating.  Funny, my single friends aren't giving me that look.  The majority of my single friends are giving me the "why-are-you-only-dating-one-at-a-time" eye-roll and moving on to more interesting topics, namely what's for dinner and what kind of perfume samples they scored recently.  You know, important stuff.

And yes, my blog has morphed into a sounding board for how hard it is to write a book, and my love life.  Enjoy.

 

There's Writing,There's a River

The event I've anticipated since January has finally come and gone - the Write on the River conference in Wenatchee.

So, who goes to this kind of thing, you might ask?  Well, here's a synopsis:

50% - old women.  I mean, really OLD women.
30% - people who wear socks with Birkenstocks and don't shave any body parts
20%-tortured artists

And me.  I regret to say I can't find my sub-category.  Your opinion is welcome.

The keynote speaker was Chelsea Cain.  If you read thriller fiction, you've probably heard of her, and you know she's the real deal.  I'll save the details for later, but you would all be proud to know that I impressed her with my swagger.

Between sessions, I had 10 minutes with a regional publisher to pitch my book idea for last year's blog.  Yes, that's right, a whopping 10 minutes; then they bring in the shepherd's crook and yank you out by your neck.  Believe it or not, Mr. Publisher is very interested in the project.  We spent 9 1/2 minutes tossing ideas back and forth.  He finished up by saying that when I had a manuscript, he'd love to see it; and by asking me, 'So, what's the title?"

I spent the remaining 30 seconds saying, "Uhhhhh...." like Patrick Starfish.  The name???  Are you freakin' kidding me????  I haven't written a word, other than the underlying blog posts, so the book's name wasn't first and foremost in my mind.  Mr. Publisher said that, since it's a memoir, I should plan on thinking of a title and a sub-title, which he will most certainly toss out and use one of his own liking.   Great.  Perfect.

I also spent some time talking to best-selling author and newspaper reporter Craig Welch, who even though he has published more words than I even know, took the time to encourage me about the book.  I guess I should regress a little and let you all know, dearest reader, that I, as a lowly blogger, am not held in such high esteem in the literary world as I am in your eyes.  In fact, amongst journalists and literary types, bloggers are considered the phlegm in the hankie of proper society.  There was one session when we went around the room and stated what we were working on - when I announced that I was a blogger, there was so much simultaneous sucking of air from the room that the National Weather Service registered it as a meteorologic event.  My point, now that we've run around the mulberry bush, is that Craig was totally down to earth, completely awesome and gave me some great tips.

So.....here we go.  It's time to write a book, because I know for a fact that Mr. Publisher won't sleep a wink until he sees that manuscript from whats-her-face.

Step 1 - I have a list of 17 non-fiction books to read which were recommended by Craig, to learn about non-fiction writing styles.  Don't panic, I read fast.

Step 2 - write book.

Step 3 - name book.

Deadline - May 1, 2012.  My goal is to go to the conference next year with something to hand that publisher in person.

There it is.

On another note, LB came down to Wenatchee and we spent the evening out on the town.  I went to my first sushi bar.  I ate sashimi.  That's RAW FISH for those of you who aren't fluent in Japanese.  It was very, very nice.  We never get to actually go OUT anywhere, so sitting side-by-side on a wooden restaurant bench, drinking wine and eating things that I normally wouldn't touch in a million years was pretty heady stuff.

So, what did YOU do this weekend?

A Time For All Things...

Sorry you've been neglected, dearest reader.  Life is full of twisty, turny little roads that distract us from our focus and send us into the oblivion of mediocrity - or so I've heard.  I don't really have that excuse, my life is pretty flippin' excellent.

My TV is going out.  Do you know how hard it is to watch a film when the sound on your set keeps going out every 3 or 4 minutes, only to be restored by your humble servant turning it off and on again?  Well, it's difficult.  I'm wondering if I hook some speakers up to it, if this will make a difference - or if it just flat-out don't work no more.  Thoughts?  Anyhow, so no movies to report on.  Netflix probably thinks I'm dead.

On a more interesting front, I'm still dating that guy we discussed a few weeks ago.  I'm thinking that at this point, we are actually a "couple," but I didn't get any sort of framed certificate or membership card or anything, so I'm not entirely sure.  I know what you are thinking - what a lucky bastard.  Yep, I'll support that.

And finally - next weekend - THE WRITER'S CONFERENCE!  I'm getting more than moderately excited, for at the end of this conference, I officially start working on "the book."  My excitement is tempered by 1) I don't really know what I'm doing, and 2) one of the events that will surely come up as I write is the demise of my second marriage, and I don't know now deeply I want to dive into that pool.  Funny thing about self-worth:  when you finally start to feel some again, you aren't jonesing to throw it away again by reliving a really horrible marriage on paper.  So I'm wondering if I can get away with glossing over that part, or Allah forbid, actually making it humorous.  Again, your thoughts are welcome.

I'm off now to put together a bookcase and a bench that I bought today at Home Depot.  It might be a good idea to have the EMT's on alert.